SPROLQUIO

the dua lipa of it all

and ☝️ i do think douchebag bisexual supreme ilya should keep a notes app list ranking all his hookups+locations and what they did and how good they were at taking his dick (sometimes complete with contact info for repeats). and ☝️ i do ALSO think the man is aware that There Is A Problem when the top of the list starts looking like:

jane, mtl, first time backdoor like a fucking champ. soaked the bed and me. moaned like dying in reverse. why do some holes feel so much better than others

jane, mtl, nose to the bush and kept me there for fucking forever. fuck

jane, mtl, begged for anal plus two fingers. bit a circle out of my throat. payback with belt to ass after. crazy brown eyes beautiful crying

jane, mtl, thick goddamn sexy thighs. four fingers touching back of the throat and moaning for more. slut slut slut

Shane comes out of the closet sometime after Scott does, and in some random, lighthearted interview, they ask him what he's looking for in a man. And Shane's just, off-hand like, "Well, he'd have to have at least one Stanley Cup. Obviously." And when he gets a good reaction from that, he keeps going, like "Needs to be amazing at hockey. Definitely needs to be at least an All-Star, if not a captain. Hot too. If he can't bench-press me, I'm not interested."

I used to prep, wash dishes, and cook at mellow mushroom. I had chronic pain that wasn't NEARLY as bad as it is today, but it was still very debilitating. I told my employer "i cannot stand more than 4 to 6 hours. I CANNOT do shifts longer than this due to my illness." And even though i made my boundaries VERY clear, everyday i worked it was 8 hours at the least and 10 or 12 at the most. I would go up to my manager and say "look i really need to leave, my shift is over, my chronic pain is killing me." And he'd say "we really need to here, you HAVE to push through." And so i did, and after one, ONE month of that job my crps got incredibly worse to the point where i could no longer walk my dog around the block which was .5 miles. I quit, and that was FOUR years ago, and ever since that day I HAVE BEEN BEDRIDDEN AND HAVE TO USE A WHEELCHAIR. It is my biggest regret in life.

My best friend who has seen my whole journey has recently developed undiagnosed chronic pain, and she is in the EXACT same scenario i was 4 years ago. Busting her ass at a pizza place with extreme pain that hurts her so much she tells me "im in so much pain i don't even feel like a person." She doesn't feel LUCID. And her manager and coworkers are saying the same thing "if you don't help us you will let us down, we'll be in the shit."

After I came out to him as bisexual, I brought him a pride flag that I had gotten at a parade… it’s still, to this day almost a decade later, hanging on his dining room wall.

To celebrate the reprinting of our anarchist cookbook Recipes for Disaster, we present a guide to installing unsanctioned mosaics in asphalt streets and parking lots:

http://crimethinc.com/asphaltmosaics

Some people know of these as the mysterious "Toynbee Tiles," the stuff of urban legend. Our researchers cracked the method two decades ago. Ever since then, we have been trying to make these as ubiquitous as spray-paint.

MARAKOV (C) 24 - BARRETT 17 - KENT 32 - MEURIAX (A) 04

and on and on and on. and for a second ilya thinks holy shit, is this a list of shane’s freaky hockey sex dreams? so he all but runs downstairs, holds it out to shane and wiggles his eyebrows and says i found your sex diary, hollander, very scandalous. and shane looks so confused, because the only sex dreams he’s had for the past ten years have been about ilya (and once, embarrassingly, stephen colbert)

so he looks at the notebook and looks kind of embarrassed and says “oh. no, ilya, that’s not a freaky sex book. don’t be such a pervert.”

which, honestly, ilya is kind of relieved— he doesn’t want to think about shane having sex dreams about troy barrett. but shane still looks kind of uncomfortable, so ilya keeps prodding. and shane sighs heavily, like he really doesn’t want to say, like he’s ashamed, and says

“i just. i don’t know, i guess i knew we’d come out one day. or i hoped we would. so i wanted to write down whenever someone said something, like, homophobic to me. or racist, too, i guess. so when we came out, if these guys started being like wow fuckin’ a, boys, we love you guys, like. y’know. i’d have a record. that i’m not crazy.”

ilya frowns, and puts both of his hands palm-down on the counter; his legs suddenly feel very weak.

“not crazy?”

shane shrugs. “i mean, i’m not— chirping is one thing, y’know? i only wrote them down if it was really bad. like, slurs, and stuff. i don’t know. it’s stupid. i stopped after we got engaged, i just… it didn’t seem important anymore.”

and ilya isn’t sure what to say, standing like an idiot, eyes fixed on this unassuming, beat-up notebook that holds a record of all the times someone tried to make his husband feel small because it was the only way they could even think of getting a one-up on him in the rink. and that he’d written them down not as a way to try and get some small justice for himself, but, what? as a record. a list of names of people they couldn’t trust if they ever offered their public congratulations.

If you don't already know you have issues doing so, squat down real quick. Bend your knees all the way and touch the floor. Just make sure you can do it. Okay? For me? And then stand up all the way and make sure you can balance on one foot.

If there was ever a tumblr post worth sending to your mom, it's this one.