hey white people . if u dont know how to pronounce an ethnic persons name *google it* or if its someone ur talking directly to *ask them*. dont fucking do that "erm i dont know how to pronounce but __" or "im gonna butcher this haha" or "im not even gonna bother trying" . ur not funny. do u know what poc think when they hear u saying that ? u sound like a loser asshole and we dont want to spend time with u . im so fucking tired of watching youtube videos about media from my country and hearing those phrases. im tired of people saying that to my face . i respect someone who clearly looked it up and is tryong but says my name wrong over someone who just goes with whatever bad first guess they had without trying. u have too many resources at ur disposal to keep doing this. for the love of god just Fucking Try. if ur confused Just Try.
I highly recommend Forvo.com, the website where native speakers of a language contribute their time and voices to read words and names in their own language. It is a fantastic way to expand your world, open up your ears, and it's way more likely to nab a hit than just googling.
Modern AU where Eddie is the frontman of one of the most popular heavy metal bands in the world and Steve is in the comment sections of every single thing he posts like, "Have we considered using a defuser?"
"Have you ever used curl cream?"
"Your hair looks like shit. Fix it."
"STOP BRUSHING YOUR CURLS OUT."
Eventually, Eddie responds to him like, "Fix it yourself, coward."
Steve tells him to come to Hawkins and he will. Eddie is just impulsive enough to do just that and...begrudgingly. His hair looks really good.
The abled almost never understand that we don't live in the same timeframes. We just don't. I've faced condescension or frustration at demanding a double standard but I'm sorry, there entirely is one. I can not, no matter how hard I try, and trust me, I try every day, live at the standard I was able to live at without much struggle before I got sick. If I try I'll faint then and there, collapse from pain, have to seek immediate help, spend several MONTHS in recovery. So fucking miss me with your judgment. The truth is we do live in two standards. To illustrate July has 31 days for an abled person, but for me, a sick person, it had 5 days. And I don't mean 5 days of fun or entertainment or productivity, no. For only 5 days this month I was able to get out of bed, care for my basic needs on my own, take care of a BASIC IMMEDIATE responsibility of some kind like go to the store, go to the hospital for my check up, go visit a friend, bake or cook, do work on a computer. Not all of them, not a couple of them, just 2 at max a day. And each of that day had resulted in very painful consequences that made days before and after that activity just not exist. So no, we do not live in the same timeframes, and stop treating disabled people like they can conform to you.
the foxes visiting california, hanging out with jean, jeremy, cat, and laila and kevin heard jean laugh with jeremy and realizes that’s the first time he’s ever heard jean laugh.
i think one of the funniest aspects of andreil that ive seen portrayed in fanfic a lot is neil's relationship to orgasms and intimacy w andrew being similar to that of someone w their adhd meds. and andrew is aware of this. neil, vibrating at the speed of light and on the verge of crawling out of his skin bc he's so restless: im fine. andrew, witnessing this: i need to fuck him. HE needs me to fuck him.
After a meeting with the Centaurs management, Ilya finds Shane crying in their walk in closet | Words: 1444
Ilya and Shane are both home on this lovely Friday afternoon, a rare occurrence for them these days. Shane came home from a meeting a bit ago, and headed upstairs to change. He’s been up there for a while, and Ilya is getting impatient.
He’s hoping to spend the afternoon playing some video games, or doing a workout. Or really, whatever Shane wants to do, as long as they’re together. Because they’re out, they’re engaged. And they’re going to play on the same team (bearing all went well with Shane’s meeting today).
Ilya wanders into his (now their) bedroom and doesn’t see Shane, but he does hear something coming from the big walk in closet.
The door is closed, so he moves a little closer to investigate. As he places the sound, he immediately feels a knot well in his throat.
Shane is crying. All alone. In his their closet.
And Ilya doesn’t know what to do. Obviously, Shane is hiding because he doesn’t want Ilya to hear him. So, maybe it’s best to give him some space. But also, he can’t just leave him to cry. What if he needs help?
So, Ilya quietly sits on the other side of the door, ear pressed to the wood.
He doesn’t know how long Shane has been in there. He got back from the meeting with Farah and the Ottawa management about half an hour ago, so it can’t be that long. He decides to give Shane five minutes, and then he’s going in.
The five minutes are absolutely painful. Hearing Shane cry and sniffle. Occasionally Ilya hears him take deep breaths to try and stop his tears, only for them to start again.
Ilya makes it about … ninety-five seconds before he’s opening the door. He probably should have knocked first, but unfortunately he’s not thinking and bursts right in.
He finds Shane on the floor in the middle of the room, sitting crisscrossed. His body is sort of slumped over his legs and one of his hands is covering his mouth, trying to hold in his sobs.
Shane turns his head towards the door as Ilya enters.
“Hey,” Ilya tries, using a soft voice. He immediately sits down next to Shane and pulls him into his side.
Shane buries his face into Ilya’s armpit, and although his tears were finally slowing down, they pick up all over again. Ilya wraps an arm around Shane and soothes his hand up and down his freckled arm.
“I’m sorry—“ Shane cries, turning his face further into Ilya’s shirt.
“No, no,” Ilya says. “Is okay. Cry. I just didn’t want to leave you alone.”
Shane shakes his head but doesn’t move from Ilya’s shoulder.
The tears continue for a bit, and the way Shane’s breath sometimes catches, almost hyperventilating, is what really freaks Ilya out.
After a few minutes of that, Ilya guides Shane to sit on the floor in the space between his outstretched legs, facing him. Shane’s legs wrap around Ilya’s torso and he grips onto him for dear life, tucking his face into Ilya’s neck. This position is better, with Ilya able to squeeze Shane with firm, even pressure.
Eventually, Ilya turns Shane’s face towards him to kiss him a bit, which often works as a good distraction when Shane is upset. Shane responds and kisses Ilya back for a minute before pulling away and tucking his head once more. That’s when Ilya is unable to stand it anymore.
“Okay,” Ilya says decisively. Not even the kissing helped! “Tell me what is wrong.”
Shane shakes his head.
“Tell me one thing,” Ilya repeats.
Shane shakes his head again, stubborn as always.
“Shane,” Ilya says, voice coming out sounding too stern, because he’s terrified.
This snaps Shane out of it, and finally he shares what he’s been crying about for half an hour.
“My number is retired,” Shane mumbles.
“What?” Ilya asks, not understanding.
“The meeting. With Ottawa. My number is retired, so I can’t keep it when I switch teams.”
Ilya takes that in for a moment. He visualizes the rafters of the arena he plays in every week, trying to remember if he’s ever seen 24 hanging there. He honestly doesn’t look upwards much, since there are no cup trophies hanging. But still, he should have known.
“Oh,” Ilya says, at a loss for words.
He knows why Shane is upset. His legacy, everything he’s built with Montreal, gone. He’ll never get to retire his number in the Bell Centre with his old team. Even if they were homophobic assholes, this is still hard on Shane who has made hockey his entire life. Well, his entire life until Ilya came along.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid,” Shane says, voice dripping with guilt.
“No. It’s not, Hollander.” Ilya realizes, “is that why you were hiding in the closet?”
Shane nods his head, and Ilya feels it rather than sees it. “I didn’t want you to feel bad for me. You moved to the middle of nowhere in Canada to play on a shit team for me. The least I can do is take a pay cut and give up my stupid number.”
“It’s not stupid Hollander. It’s all your goals and your wins. And your stats. And your number. And your … наследие” Ilya struggles with the english word, but he knows Shane will get it, even if he doesn’t know the word in Russian. “You are allowed to be upset.”
Shane starts tearing up again. “It just feels like I’m losing everything I worked so fucking hard for,” Shane says, miserable.
“I know, moya lyubov. But you are not. Your name is what matters, not your number.”
Shane’s face crumples again with pain. He thunks his forehead on Ilya’s shoulder. “Stop being so nice to me,” he sounds pitiful. “You’re making it worse.”
“What?! How?” Ilya says, exasperated. He frowns, his concern deepening.
“I’m selfish. You would give up even more for me. Hell, you already have. Your country, your city, your team.” His voice breaks when he adds, “I don’t deserve it.”
Ilya shushes him immediately, not having any of that.
“Yes, and I would do it all over again. I do not have regrets.”
“But—” Shane starts, and Ilya cuts him off.
“But, no. You have always cared more about hockey than I do. I am good. I am happy. But if you are not happy, I won’t be happy.” Ilya takes a deep breath, and as much as it pains him to say the words, he gets them out anyways. “You will be my husband. That is enough. If you need to stay in Montreal, then that is what you will do. We will make it work.”
Ilya finds Shane’s chin and lifts his face up until Shane’s eyes meet his own. “But I do not think you will be happy in Montreal any longer. You are not treated well. I think you will like it in Ottawa, as number twenty-four or number five-two.”
“I know,” Shane looks away, embarrassed.
“You have time. Think about it. Ottawa will wait for your decision.”
Shane shakes his head. “No, I want to do this. I’m just feeling sad.”
“You’ve been through a lot this year, Hollander. It is catching up with you.”
“What do I do?” his voice is small.
“We,” Ilya corrects. “Just keep going. Live how we want to live. Not worry about the NHL or the homophobes anymore.”
Shane nods and wraps his arms firmly around Ilya again, hugging him tight. Ilya suspects a few more tears escape, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll rub Shane’s back for as long as he needs.
———
Three weeks later, Shane comes home from his contract signing and finds Ilya in the living room. Shane’s wearing his new Centaurs jersey with a small, resigned smile on his face.
It’s still weird, and it still hurts to have a different number on his back. But maybe a new number is good for a new era.
Ilya has a serene smile on his face that takes Shane’s breath away.
“So, what did you choose Hollander?”
Shane smirks and turns around to show him.
Ilya takes in the number 18 on his back, and now it’s his turn for his eyes to well.
Ilya tackles him immediately, and is pulling down Shane’s shorts and getting on his knees as Shane laughs happily.
Shane thinks he’s going to like being a Centaur, even if he’ll no longer be number 24.
(Ten years later, number 18 and number 81 are both retired at the Canadian Tire Centre in Ottawa, the banners hanging next to each other in the rafters.)
I know Tumblr is full of posts about the virtues of commenting on AO3 fics and such. But like. It works.
I just knocked out 8.5k words in one single day for a chapter update because of one reader leaving one of the most absurdly endearing comments I’ve ever gotten. That is unheard of levels of productivity for me.
The power of the fandom. The power of the comment.
The Ottawa Centaurs franchise takes part at a local pride event and Harris makes it clear that attendance is not optional, not when they are literally the queerest team in the MHL and he looks at Shane in particular. Because, while Shane is at peace with being gay and supports the importance of queer rights and representation, he still doesn't like being reduced to his sexuality in the eyes of the public.
Of course they all attend, and, as per usual, Shane and Ilya stick together as close as humanly possible all the time, but at some point they do get seperated for a moment as they get called to sign rainbow jerseys and take pictures with kids.
Ilya starts looking for his husband - he gets fidgety like a chihuahua with seperation anxiety when Shane is out of sight for too long, a fact that he conveniently avoids talking about in therapy, as he knows that Shane is not much better, so obviously they are both perfectly fine and well adjusted.
Anyway, he spots Shanes scribbeling something as he is standing next to a participation wall that is covered in colourful sticky notes where people write their thoughts for the question that is printed in big letters on the top: "What makes you Proud?"
Ilya's immediately sprints over to Shane because that is NOT the time and place for his sweet and lovely husband to write "being a olympic gold medalist, world champion and four times stanley cup winner :)"
He reaches the wall, just as Shane is ready to turn around and leave; a big smile hits Ilya like a ray on sunshine as Shane spots him.
"Solnyshko", Ilya wraps his arm around Shane's waist and presses his forehead against Shane's, allowing himself a moment to revel in the relief of having his Shane back, before turning them both back towards the wall. "What did you write?", Ilya asks and carefully trying for a carefree tone.
From the side, he can see a blush creeping up Shane's cheeks and he looks so cute, flushed and freckled and Ilya wants to eat him up and- omg Rozanov get it together, Shane being so pretty really fucks with your concentration.
"You know, just the normal stuff", Shane mumbles and tries to turn around, but Ilya presses his body even closer to his side - not that Shane fights against him really hard.
Ilya scans the wall, taking in the heartwarming messages of people being proud of being out and happy and living their best lives, of finding joy in their communities, of embracing their identities, of finally being comfortable in their bodies, of fighting for their rights and through hardships, of celebrating life and joy. And all this joy is so much and wonderful and it makes Ilya's knees wobbly and he is once again very lucky to have Shane to lean on.
And then, right under the "What makes you Proud?" print Ilya spots that purple sticky note, covered in chicken scratch. Obviously the author tried very hard to write neatly on this one, but still, it's unmistakably Shane's writing.
Ilya's breath catches as he reads: "My husband. The strongest and kindest and funniest person I know. Who takes care others and of himself, every day. Who loves life and makes mine so much better. I love him."
Ilya reaches for Shane's hand. It is barely Shakespeare, but the sheer earnestness of Shane's note make him feel like being checked into the boards, his knees really are close to give up now, his fingers seeking purchase in Shane's flesh it must be painful and he let's himself be hold by Shane's solid and warm body.
Of course he knows that Shane loves him, he tells Ilya every day, and he knows that Shane is proud of Ilya for going to therapy, for being a good captain... but reading it, here, and for everyone to see?
No, Ilya does NOT want to cry about it, not before he's got his mouth on Shane's cock and then fuck them both to tears afterwards.
For now he presses his nose in Shane's hair and whispers: "Kindest person? Seriously? What have I have done to be insulted like this, Lyubimyy?"
"What the fuck, Ilya?" Shane's face scrunches up in that adorable way that makes it hard for Ilya to suppress a smile.
"No it's true, ask entire league. They all say I'm biggest asshole. I worked very hard for that reputation."
"Oh don't worry, you earn that." Shane huffs.
"See, even my husband agrees."
Then Shane turns his head around just enough to eye Ilya with this open, soft glance of his and Ilya knows already his heart will give up. "Yes, you are the biggest asshole, but you also have the biggest heart. And I'm very proud of you, baby."
No need to say, Ilya and Shane disappeared pretty quickly from that event afterwards, but not after Ilya snapped a pic of the wall with all the sticky notes.
A few things the Foxes have noticed that they find adorable about Andreil (except for Aaron obviously)
they orbit around each other. When noticing that the distance has become to great they always come back together even if it's just a few too many centimeters on the couch. They do occasionally spend time apart but mostly stick in each other's orbit, never too comfortable without the other in sight.
they know what the other wants without saying a word. One time the Foxes where celebrating another win and brought a buch of different snacks to share. Without Andrew having to say anything Neil already got up to walk all the way across the room to get Andrew's favorite snack of the day. It's never the same one but Neil for some reason always gets it right.
Their little moments of affection, ruffling each other's hair, small kisses when they think no one is watching, leaning on each other and much more.
The way they seem so incredibly peaceful around each other. Moments where Andrew falls asleep in Neil's arms while watching a movie or Neil visibly calming down for another anxiety spike when Andrew enters his field of vision.
Neil excitedly running over to the goal every time they win a game just to bonk his head against Andrew's.
Andrew gifting Neil a camera for his birthday and Neil actively using it to capture his life. Most of wich end up being pictures of Andrew with the occasional auburn hair strand hanging in frame.
Andrew helping Neil with making a new binder with the pictures Neil took.
Andrew claiming to hate a tradition like baking Christmas cookies just to end up doing exactly that with Neil when he finds out Neil never had the joy of making some and looked like a kicked puppy when everyone around him recalled how much fun they had while making some in the past.
Andrew barely awake having pulled a beanbag all the way to the door to sit and wait for Neil to return from his morning run.
i really thought the point of "being lgbt+ doesn't absolve you of racism as a white person" was that white people arent absolved of racism by being marginalized but it really seems like people think other marginalizations make it okay. no being disabled doesn't do it. no being poor doesnt do it. we need to fight against racism actively no matter what.
Woke Boston Fan after Ilya and Shane are outed: Guys what the fuck are we gonna do when Rozanov plays in Boston? We always boo him for being a traitor and leaving us for Ottawa, but apparently he did it for love?? I don’t want people to think we’re booing because we’re homophobic! Can we wave the rainbow flag while we boo him?
Ilya in an interview: It’s so sad that Boston doesn’t like gay people. 😞 I guess they just don’t want to see gays win. 😢
