I love this post because the replies are like "for anyone who doesn't know what nestle did, they benefited from [insert human rights violation here]" but nestle has done SO many fucked up things you get a different topic in every comment
Drained water from places suffering from drought for absolute pennies.
Made African mothers dependent on their milk formula, which they gave for free, until their milk dried up. Then they required them to purchase it, mothers could not afford it, mixed in too little to fulfill nutrient needs, and mixed it with polluted water. Children died.
Used slavery to produce their cocoa.
Pushed for water to be considered a “want” not a “need” and is at the forefront of arguments that water is not a human right.
Poisoned Chinese infants with melamine in their milk formula.
Demanded Ethiopia pay a debt owed to Nestle, during a FAMINE.
Price-fixed food items.
Contributed to deforestation for their cocoa farming.
The worst thing is, Nestle owns TONS of other brands, making it difficult to avoid for certain products.
They have an entire page on Wikipedia just for the problems they've caused.
It seems like they know people are trying to boycott them and are trying to avoid advertising a brand is theirs as much as they legally can get away with on the packaging.
His senses come back to him slowly. He hears the low hum of the brown noise machine Shane insisted they needed, that Ilya now cannot sleep without. The room is perfectly cool, and Ilya’s snuggled down beneath his favorite blanket. And best of all, Shane is tucked up close behind him, warm and heavy, one arm draped across Ilya's waist, soft breaths stirring the hair at the nape of Ilya's neck. Through half-lidded eyes, Ilya sees gray-blue light just beginning to filter through the curtains. The suitcases they abandoned earlier that night cast lumpy shadows on the floor. Early is all his brain supplies before he starts to drift off again.
But then he feels what woke him.
Behind him, Shane’s hips are twitching, and the hot, hard length of him is pressed against Ilya’s ass. Ilya’s not totally surprised. Their energy after a win often results in a fast, hard fuck. But tonight they’d been too tired from the roadie to do more than exchange a few soft kisses around their yawns before sleep claimed them both. Except now Ilya’s awake. And even though his limbs are heavy and his eyes are like sandpaper, he’s struck by the thought that Shane is here, right here, sleep-warm and restless and needing him.
Ilya still has days when he feels like pinching himself. He’s just had one of those days, actually, what with the win and the team celebration that followed, and Shane. Always, always Shane. First, a blur of speed on the ice, later a steady presence by his side. It’s more than Ilya ever dreamed he’d have. So why shouldn’t he let himself have it?
Ilya turns under Shane’s arm to face him. The light is too dim to see much, but Ilya has gazed at Shane’s freckles enough to map them even in total darkness. He runs his thumb over them now, the lightest touch, and follows his thumb with his mouth. His mind clears enough to register the soft whimpers escaping between Shane's parted lips. Ilya wonders what Shane is dreaming about to get him like this, so hard and needy even in his sleep.
Gently, Ilya slips a knee between Shane’s thighs, puts a firm hand on Shane’s lower back to guide his thrusts, kissing kissing kissing over his freckles as he moves Shane where he wants him. Maybe it’s the kisses, or the movement of his hips, but Shane wakes with a slurred, “Wassit?” as his eyes flutter open.
“Shh, sweetheart,” Ilya whispers between kisses. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.” Ilya reaches down to cup his hand around Shane’s straining cock. Shane’s mouth drops open, and his hips fuck down into the firm pressure of Ilya’s palm.
“Oh, oh, Ilya,” Shane groans, voice low and gravelly from sleep.
Ilya wiggles his eyebrows and teases, “Hmmm, malysh, were you dreaming of this? Of me?” Ilya moves his hand away to press his own cock right up against Shane’s.
Shane whines as he speeds up the thrust of his hips. He pulls Ilya in for a kiss, hungry and sloppy and perfect.
Ilya could finish this here, just let Shane rut against him until he comes. He lets the thought drift away. Shane would hate the mess, and Ilya has a plan. So he takes control of the kiss, cradling Shane’s head and coaxing him onto his back. The movement rocks Ilya’s hips down against Shane’s, and he lets out a needy whimper.
“I know, I know, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, ok?” Ilya says, pressing a kiss to Shane’s heart before moving lower.
“Yeah,” Shane sighs, “ok, Ilya.” His eyes drift shut.
In the pale gray light and the hush of the room, Ilya feels like he might be dreaming. All he knows is Shane: his smell, his heat, his taste. He breathes in deep as he noses over soft cotton, feeling Shane's cock twitch and jerk beneath him. He runs his tongue over the wet spot on the front of Shane’s boxers. Just a taste, but enough for a soft moan to slip from Ilya's throat. Shane often wants Ilya to rush this part, to skip right to the point when Ilya takes him deep in his throat. And when Shane is groaning and arching his hips up toward Ilya’s mouth and gasping out, “please, Ilya, need it, need you,” well, it’s not always easy to resist. But with Shane like this, all loose-limbed and hazy, Ilya lingers, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the covered length of Shane’s cock.
“Mmhm, s’good. Love you, baby,” Shane mumbles, carding clumsy fingers through Ilya’s hair.
“Shane,” Ilya groans, the cotton barrier between them suddenly unbearable. He tugs Shane’s boxers down enough to get a palm full of Shane’s ass and a loose fist around his cock. Ilya’s lips chase his thumb again, this time brushing across where Shane is wet and leaking at the tip. Shane gasps and spreads his thighs in invitation, but Ilya keeps things simple, all gentle licks of his tongue and the easy press of his lips. Soon, it’s more than Shane can stand. His hand grabs Ilya’s in a hard squeeze, like words are beyond him. Still, Ilya knows what Shane needs, can almost hear Shane begging, more, more, Ilya, please.
Shane’s moaning with every breath when Ilya finally takes him fully into his mouth. Ilya works him over slowly with long, hard sucks that are loud in the stillness of the room. It lights Shane up, draws out tight ah, ah, ahs that nearly make Ilya lose his rhythm. But Shane's thighs are tense and trembling, and Ilya knows it won’t be long now.
The room is bright enough for Ilya to see Shane biting at his lower lip, his free hand clenched in the sheets, his eyes soft and wide and fixed on Ilya. Their eyes meet as Ilya swallows Shane down again, and Shane’s tossing his head and groaning out, “Ilya, oh fuck, thank you, thank you.” He sounds more awake than he has all night as he spills down Ilya’s throat.
Ilya keeps his mouth on Shane’s cock and shoves a hand into his own boxers, giving a few desperate tugs before he comes over his fist with a groan. Shane’s still catching his breath when Ilya brings his messy hand to Shane’s lips and whispers, “Time to clean up, malysh.” Shane’s mouth opens at once, dragging his tongue over Ilya’s fingers and palm.
“There you go." Ilya brushes his clean hand over Shane's cheek. “So good for me.”
Shane lets out a contented hum as his eyes flutter shut. "Love you, Ilya."
Later, they'll wake up again, tangled around each other in the brightness of the morning. Ilya will pull Shane closer, and Shane will smile and bury his face in Ilya’s chest. “So,” Ilya will say, pressing a kiss into his hair, “tell me about this dream of yours.”
given the current climate this pride especially i feel i must mention that i love my trans friends, i stand with trans people in the fight against transphobic legislation and those who would enforce it, and this blog is not a good place for you to be if you do not vibe with that
do you think when arthur was going through the five stages of grief post merlin's confession he had time to think about his meeting with ygraine and wonder if merlin had lied about her being a trick? cause I'd be pretty pissed off about that honestly
see unfortunately I have this condition where if I am not explicitly told that I am a part of the ingroup then I will assume I must be part of the outgroup
It's never not funny to me that Leon, the most by the books Knight in all of Camelot, hears Merlin say "I need a crossbow to kill the king right now." And his first thought is "Damn Merlin is being funny as hell today" and hands him the best crossbow in the armory.
it’s so special to me that so much of fan culture is textual analysis for the love of the game. like thank god there are people in my phone who are also thinking about this thing i love so much that they are writing transformative fiction as character studies and setting clips of the show to music with theme-relevant lyrics and writing long text posts analyzing every line of dialogue like!! yay!!!
I've been doing my exercise video every other day for about six months now. I don't think I'm getting any better at it. In some ways, I feel that I'm actually worse (definitely wobblier).
“Williams’ victory feels especially well deserved because Shane Hollander is not an easy character to portray. As we wrote in our review of the series, Williams delivers “a masterclass in micro-expressions and physical restraint.” Shane spends much of the story fighting against himself, suppressing emotions he barely allows himself to acknowledge, and Williams manages to communicate entire emotional arcs through a glance, a tense jaw, or a slight shift in posture. Every crack in Shane’s carefully constructed armor lands with devastating impact because of the work Williams puts in throughout the series.
Seeing that performance recognized on one of Canada’s biggest stages feels incredibly rewarding. Williams’ win is also historic in its own right. At just 25 years old, he became the youngest performer ever to win Best Lead Performer, Drama, at the Canadian Screen Awards, accomplishing the feat on his very first nomination.”
germansingergirl
izzy806
baratheonpilled
snowghoul
titsay
yousharknotpass
