okay but for sure baby shane on his first hockey team got to play on the ice during an intermission at a centaurs game in the 90s. he scored a goal and did a cute little celebration jump (and immediately lost his balance and fell on his butt). harris pulls the clip from somewhere deep in the centaurs archive. he makes an insta post after shane's first game with the cens and includes the video with a caption about tonight being shane hollander's second ever centaurs goal.
ilya just barely manages to keep himself from sobbing in delight at the video.
at some point in your life you will be boiling fruit, water, sugar, and lemon juice in a pot to make a syrup or jam. the instructions will tell you to simmer for a certain amt of time. your timer will go off and you will look at the pot and go, "hm, this doesn't look thick enough. maybe i'll let it go for another 10 minutes." this is the devil speaking. it's only so liquid right now because it is at boiling point. it will thicken when it cools down. learn from the follies of my youth and do not let this happen to you
at some point in your life you will be making a sauce or a stew in which you need to add cornstarch to thicken it. and you will prepare a slurry of starch in cold water and think "this looks like way too little starch to thicken this amount of liquid." this is the devil speaking. cornstarch instantly polymerizes at 95°C and if you add too much it will turn into an impossibly thick goop.
at some point in your life you will be making some sort of cream based dessert that requires gelatin to thicken it. and you will soak some gelatin sheets in water and think "this is too few gelatin sheets for this amount of cream." this is the devil speaking. it will thicken in the fridge and if you add too much you will end up with milk jelly
at some point in your life you will be baking cookies. you will take the sheet out after twelve minutes as the recipe instructs and the cookies will still be glistening and soft. "these don't seem cooked enough," you will think to yourself, "i should place them back into the oven until their edges are nice and golden." this is the devil talking. this is how you get dry, overdone cookies. the cookies will continue to bake on the warm sheet for several more minutes and then harden up after sitting on a rack for a while. trust the process. trust the process.
at some point in your life you will be adding a small pasta to a soup and you will think "that is not enough small pasta." this is the devil talking. the pasta will absorb the stock and expand. this is how you end up with a soup that is a solid mass of soggy ditalini.
At some point in your life you will be adding garlic to a dish and you will think "that is not enough garlic." These are angels speaking. They are correct. Add more garlic.
nothinggg is more ilya than the tampa hotel room sequence where shane comes out, ilya acts like a dick while keeping himself physically as far from shane as possible, shane gets his feelings hurt and starts looking a little chin-wobbly, and ilya audibly GROANS and flings himself across the room to sit next to him on the bed. but he’s still not looking at shane or touching him because ilya is NOT here to comfort him or anything ok he just randomly and totally unrelatedly got tired of standing up at the exact moment that shane’s big brown eyes started getting all wet and shiny with tears and the nearest place to sit down happened to be on the bed next to shane. do NOT read anything into this none of this means ANYTHING (in under two minutes he will be crying in shane’s arms btw)
It's not r*pe, it's rape. It's not su*cide, it's suicide. Not unalive, dead. The backbone needs to be reintroduced en masse because softening the blow of these concepts with advertising language does absolutely nothing but allow people unaffected by them to feel not even a sting of what they can do, prompting inaction.
And it's been proven that on certain websites, you don't even face a repercussion for using the words as they are. People just started censoring themselves because they feared the potential lack of views and likes and followers which is so nasty itself.
I attended an anti-suicide seminar in college. One of the big takeaways from it was that stigmatizing suicide increases the rate of suicide, because people who are feeling suicidal feel like they can't ask for help. Every time I see babytalk garbage like 'unalive', I think of that.
it's very funny how people immediately forget a character is disabled as soon as their character arc stops orbiting around their disability. like he's missing a leg.
still thinking about ilya teaching shane how to fuck his girlfriend in this university au, and well.
* * *
“Oh my god, Hollander, what are you doing?”
Hollander throws Ilya a dirty look and throws his free hand up. “I’m trying to finger my girlfriend,” he snaps. “Like you asked, asshole.”
Ilya bites his tongue so he doesn’t grin, or worse, laugh. Hollander’s irritation buzzes over his skin, making him giddy. “Are you? Because it looks like you’re trying to find your boring car keys in there.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Ilya sees Jessica purse her lips until they’re bloodless. Her hand twitches, as if to fly to her mouth, but instead, places it on Hollander’s forearm.
“Fuck you.”
Oh, a boy can dream. Maybe one day. Maybe soon.
Ilya traces the sullen, embarrassed look on Hollander’s face and grins to himself when Hollander won’t meet his gaze, eyes skirting around. He shouldn’t have pity, he normally doesn’t have, or at least not with most people. But Hollander is...Hollander is so boring, it’s hard to not take pity on him.
Carefully, Ilya shifts. Hollander’s eyes immediately zero in on his movement, tracking it warily, and it’s hilarious, really, but right now, Ilya does not want to spook him. It’s important that he doesn’t spook him.
Hollander’s fingers have slipped out of his girlfriend and Ilya grabs his wrist. Hollander jolts as if Ilya has shocked him with a taser. As if he’s always taken by surprised to be touched. Touched by Ilya. Hollander isn’t afraid of touch. He’s not afraid of bodies crashing into him, checking him, pushing him.
And yet, he startles whenever Ilya touches him and his eyes drop to where they’re connected.
Hollander’s breath hitches a little. He turns his big brown eyes on Ilya. It makes his stomach do funny things, Hollander’s attention. His naked wish to be guided. He regularly tells Ilya to fuck off and die, but it’s always so plainly in his eyes, his desire to be good for someone.
Ilya wonders if Hollander knows who he wants to be good for.
He guides Hollander’s hand back to Jessica’s pussy. “Imagine you’re looking for new tape.”
As far as comparisons go, this isn’t ideal, but then nothing hockey related works for trying to teach Hollander how to fuck his petite little girlfriend.
“What?”
“I’m tape now?” Jessica asks at the same time, head raised to look at him. There’s a grin on her face, though. She always surprises him.
“Yes, now shhhh,” he tells her and she drops her head with a huff of laughter while Ilya focuses back on Hollander.
“Why would I look for new tape?” he asks with a frown. His wrist is heavy in Ilya’s hand. “I like the tape I’m using.”
Ilya breathes through the raw urge to kiss him. “Is metaphor, Hollander, focus.”
Hollander’s cheeks pink up so sweetly and he nods, mouthing okay.
“You’re careful, yes? Getting a feel for it?”
Hollander scowls but it seems like he’s doing it to himself more than to anyone else. Gingerly, he pushes two fingers back into Jessica’s cunt when Ilya nudges his fingers against it.
“See how it feels and moves when you touch it,” Ilya continues. He lifts his gaze to look at Hollander and finds him already staring back at him.
Ilya watches his face, watches Hollander’a eyes flick down to his lips and linger there. It sets off a buzzing in his head whenever he catches Hollander staring at him like this: lost in his own head and with a hunger in his eyes that looks like he has never even thought of sating. Ilya wets his lips unthinkingly.
Hollander blinks rapidly when he shakes himself out of it, eyes skittering away again, and he licks his lips, too.
Ilya shifts closer to him again, remembering why he’s here. With sure fingers, he grips Hollander’s wrist and enjoys the full-body shudder that runs through him at the touch. Slowly, Ilya pulls his hand back.
“The...lips are very sensitive, too,” he points out and draws Hollander’s fingers over her pussy. Hollander’s breath brushes over his cheek, little shallow shivery things that tickle the hair at Ilya’s temple.
Ilya lifts his head again and Hollander jerks back, as if he suddenly realized how close he’s drifted.
“I can do it,” he mutters, pissy, and shakes Ilya’s hand off. His hand looks huge against her cunt.
“Yes, sure,” Ilya says and shrugs, curling his hand into the sheets. “You don’t need me at all.”
“Fucking asshole.” Hollander looks deliciously flushed and angry.
“No, we have to teach you how to fuck pussy first.”
“Oh my god.” Jessica covers her face, trying to hide her laugh, but her body almost shakes with it.
Hollander has this look in his eyes like he’s considering murder while also looking utterly mortified. Ilya winks at him and ignores the way his stomach flutters at the way Hollander’s flush deepens.
prguitarman
stormborns
