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.
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“If a friend of mine gave a feast, and did not invite me to it, I should not mind a bit. but if a friend of mine had a sorrow and refused to allow me to share it, I should feel it most bitterly. If he shut the doors of the house of mourning against me, I would move back again and again and beg to be admitted so that I might share in what I was entitled to share. If he thought me unworthy, unfit to weep with him, I should feel it as the most poignant humiliation.”
the first thought that crosses aaron’s mind is that andrew is going to kill him. he doesn’t remember exactly what happened, but the mas is a wreck, and he doesn’t feel much better inside it. sticky fluid is pouring into his eyes, and he immediately recognizes it as blood, but he’s afraid to move.
“damn,” he blurts out, and his voice sounds so defeated that for a second he thinks he’s dying.
he’s scared and in pain. aaron reaches for his cell phone on autopilot, without stopping to think about what just happened. the car is a total trash. he probably is, too. only god knows what will kill him first: a hemorrhage or an enraged andrew.
he dials the emergency contact without immediately realizing that his brother’s number is saved there. by the time he hears an irritated “hello?” on the other end, it’s too late to hang up.
“andrew…” aaron barely manages to get the words out, trying to keep track of his own racing heart. “drew, fuck, i’m sorry.”
“what happened?”
“i think i crashed the car.”
he’s already thinking about what kind of flowers would look good on his grave when andrew blurts out, “fuck the car, what’s up with you?”
“nothing good.”
colorful spots flash before his eyes, and aaron drops his phone onto the dashboard before he can really explain anything.
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It was one of those absurd situations that could only happen in the Foxes room. Nicky, fascinated by a new self-defense gadget he’d bought, decided to check how it works. He hadn't expected a stream of thick, orange gel to shoot out with such force, hitting Neil right in the eyes just as he was walking into the living room. Neil let out a choked cry and instantly doubled over, clutching his face. The burning was immediate and overwhelming, as if someone had pressed red-hot coals against his eyes. "Oh my god! Neil! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know... I thought the safety was on!" Nicky shrieked in a panic, waving his hands around and nearly dropping the canister. Andrew stormed into the room a second later, drawn by the noise. His gaze instantly locked onto Neil, who was choking back a groan of pain, and then shifted to Nicky. Andrew’s face hardened, turning into a mask of pure, icy fury. "What did you do?" Andrew growled, taking a single, predatory step toward them. "I... I just wanted to see how it worked! Andrew, I didn't know it would spray like that!" Nicky was close to tears."You are a complete idiot" Andrew cut him off. He grabbed Neil by the arm and began guiding him toward the couch. Neil was completely blind, his eyelids clamped shut as tears mixed with the orange substance streamed down his face. "Sit. Don't touch your eyes, Neil. You'll only make it worse." Andrew pushed Neil back against the cushions and bolted into the kitchen. The clatter of bowls and the sound of running water echoed from the room. "Neil, I am so, so sorry!" Nicky was kneeling on the floor next to the couch, shaking. "If you want, I’ll spray myself right in the eyes, just please don't hate me! Seriously, I'll do it!" Neil, gritting his teeth against the pain, managed to wheeze out through a tight throat: "Nicky... shut up. And get out. Just get out." Andrew returned with a bowl of lukewarm water and a clean towel. He shot Nicky a look that promised a slow death. "Call Abby. Now." Nicky scrambled out of the room, practically tripping over his own feet. Andrew immediately knelt between Neil's legs. He soaked the corner of the towel and very gently pressed it against Neil's eyelid, wiping away the excess gel. Neil flinched violently and hissed, trying to pull his head back. "Stay still," Andrew muttered, his voice still rough but stripped of that murderous edge. "I know it hurts. Stop thrashing." Neil was breathing rapidly. "What the hell was that? " - "Pepper spray. Calm down, Josten. I got hit in the face with it once myself. I survived, and so will you," Andrew said quietly, wiping around Neil's eyes. "We just need to flush it out." After a few minutes, Andrew set the bowl aside. Neil’s eyes were still tightly shut, his skin flushed and irritated. Andrew rested his hands on Neil’s knees. "Neil," he murmured. "Yes or no?" Neil took a deeper breath. "It's always yes with you." Andrew leaned in and gently pressed a brief, soothing kiss against Neil's lips. It was a rare gesture, almost impossible under these circumstances, but it worked better than any cold compress. Neil slowly began to relax. (...)
hi beautiful buggy. your soft smut makes me happy and calm and fuzzy. i have been having a bad time can you write something really soft? whatever you want 🥺
Hi bugggybabe! I’m sorry things are tough, here’s something warm and horny and sweet for ya ❤️🔥
“It’s cold” Shane’s voice is a low simper, and Ilya turns his head once he hears it. His boy is here.
His heart brightens, chest warm at the creak of the outdoor floorboard under his foot. His boy is here!
Ilya shifts from where he’s sat on the rocking chair they’d put out here last summer. (They’d been watching a movie at Ilya’s place in Boston- Ilya can’t remember what but there had been a scene of a character sitting in a rocking chair watching the sunrise, drinking a coffee. Shane had sighed and snuggled closer to Ilya and said “that looks nice baby”. And Ilya knew Shane was thinking about their summer mornings together, curled up on the large rock by the lake, or sat on the deck or the outdoor lounge watching the sun rise up over the water. It would be nice, Ilya thought, a big wicker chair for the pair of them that they could gently rock in, share coffee while they watched the first light of the day. Ilya had gotten one made for them for Christmas, handmade big enough to fit them tangled up on it together. It had been waiting on the deck when they arrived this summer, and Shane had been glowing with happiness to see it in person.)
He watches Shane shuffle across the deck to him from where he’d walk out of the home. He had the blanket from the end of their bed wrapped around him, thick and fluffy soft, Shane’s favourite, and Ilya could see the peak of his bare chest under it, his sweatpants slung low on Shane’s hips. Shane’s breath clouded out in a haze into the fresh morning air, and Ilya took a slow drag of the cigarette he’d been smoking, savoured the hum of the nicotine as he savoured the site of his boy sleep disheveled and summer tanned, half asleep walking over to him. Ilya can’t believe it sometimes, that Shane is his. What they have.
“Come here then, get warm” Ilya says, motions to his lap, arm spread to the side and he exhales the smoke before he stubs out his cigarette on the side of his mug of coffee and drops it to the small side table it was resting on.
Shane wrinkles his nose at the smell of the smoke and Ilya hopes his boy is feeling sweet enough to kiss him despite the taste. He didn’t expect Shane to join him out here, he expected to have time to brush his teeth and use mouthwash before he crawled into bed to pout and ask for morning kisses.
With a huff, Shane is standing between the spread of Ilya’s knees, and Ilya can see the softness of his chest, his stomach, the skin goose bumped in the breeze. Ilya can’t wait any longer to touch him.
“Here” Ilya says again, looks down at his own lap and back up to Shane before he shoves his hands under Shane’s blanket cape to grab at his hips. He’s so fucking warm, his skin is so fucking soft it makes Ilya feel hungry. Fuck he loves him. He squeezes Shane’s hips hard, and Shane just grunts, takes a small step closer and then he’s placing himself in Ilya’s lap because he’s a good boy. Ilya leans up and smudges a kiss to his chin as a reward.
Shane squirms closer in his lap, thighs either side of Ilya’s legs, and he grips the edges of the blankets in his hands and wraps his arms around Ilya’s neck, taking him into his warm sweet cocoon. He smells like their bed, like sweat and sun cream and his body wash. Ilya leans in and rubs his face all over the soft warm skin of Shane’s neck, smooth and warm and lovely. He pulls in deep heavy breaths, taking hungry inhales of Shanes smell, the smell of home. His boy.
Ilya had only been outside for less than an hour but he’d missed Shane, and was thankful now for his warmth in his lap. The way his fingers were gently dancing over his shoulders. Ilya wraps his arms tighter around Shane’s waist and squeezes, squeezes, pulls until Shane is pressed completely to him and he feels Shane let out a throaty tired laugh.
“You feel good” Ilya sighs, dizzy from the sensory pleasure of the soft of the blanket the warmth of Shane, the smell of him, the joy of seeing Shane, Shane being his to pull into him. Shane hums and squeezes his thighs around Ilya, shuffles closer in a way that makes the rocking chair roll back.
“Thank you for letting me in your cocoon Zaychik” Kay whispers into Shane’s neck, bites to the left of his Adam’s apple.
“S’okay Ilya. Why’re you awake?” Shane asks, words are slurred together and his voice is so lovely and rumbly. He must have woken up and stumbled right out here first thing, he still sounds half asleep.
“Nothing bad” Ilya assures him, slides a hand down to find a handful of Shane’s ass.
“Just was up, couldn’t sleep and wanted a smoke” Ilya explains because it’s true, it had been as simple as that. He’d been cutting down in the cigarettes as much as possible, but during summer he did allow himself the pleasure a few times when he could tuck the habit away from Shane.
“Sorry” he adds and Shane rests his cheeks in Ilya’s head, shakes his head.
“S’okay. But no more now yeah?” Shane says and Ilya smiles into the skin of his neck.
“No more” Ilya nods, he doesn’t need a smoke not when he can rub his lips over the warm skin of Shane’s neck in little circles.
“Sleep okay?” Ilya asks, because he wants to know, likes to know how Shane has slept, if he feels well rested if he had any weird dreams. He wants to know everything he can about Shane, what he thinks of the dinner they made, if he likes the movie they are watching- what tshirt he likes on Ilya better. Ilya loves getting the see the world through Shane too.
“Mmhm, good” Shane agrees and he lays the blanket over Ilya’s shoulders, his hand smooths up into the back of Ilya’s curls, fingers tangle in and scratch scratch. Ilya shivers, and he feels his cock twitch in his boxers. Cheap shot.
“But then I woke up and you weren’t there” Shane’s voice is soft and little whiny and his fingers are needing through has hair, thighs squeezing around Ilya and oh. Oh.
That’s why Shane hadn’t given him shit about the smoke. His boy woke up needy.
“Yeah?” Ilya asks then, and his other hand slides to Shane’s ass too, uses his grip to pull his his down into Ilya’s lap and there, there is the hot press of Shane’s cock through thin fabric, pushing against him.
“Yeah” Shane sighs and he repeats the down rolling motion without Ilya’s hands prompting. His hips grind down in slow pretty circles.
“Woke up needing me?” Ilya whispers, low into the curve of Shane’s jaw and Shane nods, his fingers tighten in his hair.
“Just wanted, wanted to cuddle” Shane stutters out and Ilya smirks, parts his lips and bites at Shane’s Adam’s apple. Little liar.
“Cuddle huh?” Ilya asks, and then he’s pushing his hips up now too, matching Shane’s slow rolling thrusts. His cock hardens with every rutting movement, and Ilya feels Shane’s fingers tighten in his curls with each one.
“Yeah. Cuddle” Shane replies. Horny little devil, little deceiver. Ilya thinks and he draws his nose up Shane’s neck, along his jaw, bumps his nose against Shane’s soft pout and then up to rub their noses together.
“And what about kiss?” Ilya asks, hovering his mouth a breath away from Shane’s, his hard cock pressing against Shane’s, the friction of it hot and mouth watering. The chair rocks with each honey slow rock of Shane’s hips down into him and Ilya’s thrusts up to meet him where they both ache. “Did you wake up wanting a kiss too?” Ilya breaths.
Shane lets out a soft huff through his nose, pouts his mouth in the way he always does when he’s silently asking for a kiss and Ilya has to bite his tongue to stop himself from giving in. The hump of their hips gets better, lines up just right fuck yes the drag of fabric between them, the matching rigid lines of their cocks, fully hard and aching bumping and dragging perfectly against each other. Ilya wishes he could just part Shane’s ass and push into him, that he was ready and slick and he could feel him tight and gripping.
He pulls back just enough to look over Shane’s face through low lidded eyes. Shane’s face is puffy with sleep, eyelashes clumped, a sheet crease across his cheek. The morning light is tangerine warm behind Shane, lights him like a halo, the sun behind his head, his sun warm and brilliant and beautiful and shining in his lap. Ilya pulls a hand away from Shane’s ass to cup his face in one hand, he twists his head and takes a bite of Shane’s cheek instead of his mouth and feels Shane slump into him, heavy warm, all muscle and man lovely and loose in his lap.
“Ilya” Shane whines, and Ilya smirks, presses his lips to where he’d just bitten, a tiny kiss and he smooths his hand over the back of Shane’s head. The head of his cock nudges the thickness of Shane’s and Ilya chases the exact same hot drag of that once, twice more, rocking Shane in his lap.
“Well?” Ilya asks and Shane nods, “yes, and kisses” he mutters petulantly and Ilya beams, shark smile, and tilts his head up to close the distance between them, kisses him slow and sweet, before he pushes his tongue in behind Shane’s teeth. Shane’s hand grips his hair, pulls, pulls as he kisses Ilya back, shivery and sweet. Ilya kisses the taste of coffee and cigarettes into Shane’s mouth and then they kiss the taste away all together, until they just taste like each other, saliva and skin.
Ilya’s hand slides down Shane’s neck to his chest, thumbs his nipple and Shane rolls his hips down in a heavy needy shiver, so strong the chair rocks back and the blanket slips down Ilya’s shoulders. The cold morning air prickles his skin, sharp contrast to the boy burning in his lap, the warmth he’d bought with him, Ilya hadn’t realised how cold out it was until he had a lap full of his boy.
Shane’s hands reach up and tucks the blanket back around Ilya’s shoulders, rubs his hand over the fabric as if to warm him. and Ilya grabs Shane’s face, kisses him wet and messy till his jaw aches from it. Fuck he loves him.
They cum like that, rutting against each other in sway of the rocking chair, kissing hot and messy wrapped in the one thick blanket. Shane’s big hand between them, wrapped around both of them with their spit making it a nice wet glide. when the mess of their cum is between their stomachs and hands Ilya strips his boxers fully to clean them up, and then stands with Shane gathered in his arms, walking them up to shower as Shane tucks his head into Ilya’s neck and talks about what they should make for breakfast.
Do you think Shane ever comes home with Ilya from a long day of practice and his brain is a little scrambled because it's full of plays and strategy and how to tighten up their passes. So when Ilya hands him a ginger ale and says he's going to order in something for dinner, Shane's like, "Sounds good. Thanks, bro." And then as he realises what he's said, he's like, "Shit, I mean—"
"Bro? BRO?" says Ilya, his hands on his hips. "My name is Baby, or 'Love-Of-My-Life', or 'Beloved Husband', or 'Rozanov' if I'm in trouble. Just like you are now, Hollander."
And that's all the warning Shane has before he's tackled to the couch, and Ilya's kissing him relentlessly all over his face and neck, more to tickle him than anything. In between all the kisses, Ilya is like, "What do you say, Hollander? Do I have to keep helping you remember my name?"
And Shane's laughing so hard he's crying like "No, no, I'm sorry, baby! I'm sorry! I'll never call you bro again." And finally Ilya stops and presses one last kiss to his lips, this one softer and sweeter.
"Okay, good. Now let's get some dinner, bro."
And Shane rolls his eyes, but he leans up to get another kiss from Ilya.
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everyone's talking about the ibs/autism haha funny comparison thing while I'm still stuck on the concept that hamsters exist in the wild. like naturally
tf do you mean they're a wild creature. you find those ankle-biters at the pet store
Not a biologist, but the evolution of mammals is way more granular than you might expect. Humans are the sole surviving species of the genus Homo, which was a real party before the other ones went extinct. You're in for a fun time.
Domestic cats are believed to be domesticated not from tigers, but from the African wildcat:
Which evolved to be small just because it's sometimes more useful to be small.
And no, hamsters are not off-brand rats. They're part of the rodent order, which includes beavers, moles, capybaras, guinea pigs (yes, also wild) and lots of other fun things:
it's all there in shanes eyes. the way he relaxes the second ilya touches him. like he's suddenly remembering that whatever waits for him at the end of that drive he won't have to face it alone.
you know what’s wild is that all these crazy standards we hold ourselves to are things that we don’t even value in another person? like i’ve never been like “wow I love that this friend of mine is too proud to ask for help and never complains about their feelings” or “my favorite quality about this friend is that they get straight A’s and never get overwhelmed and has never told me about a problem” or “i love that this friend has never been wrong about anything or slipped up and said something embarrassing once in their life” and yet here we are, pushing ourselves past our limits for and beating ourselves up over slipups of things that our friends probably wouldn’t even rank in the top 50 reasons they like us
Headcanon that Neil, fully delirious from pain, and being an little shit started talking French in the Nest to piss Riko off — full butcher grin and laughing as Riko beats the fuck outta him
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Someday your hands will be old and wrinkled, the skin spotted and bunching over your knuckles. And a child will watch you make something. It's a simple task, you'll have done it a thousand times before. But to that child, the smooth, confident way your hands move will seem like impossible magic. You have to keep living.
Jason: I'm bringing my boyfriend to dinner at this month's family game night. I need you all to be chill about this.
Bruce flipping a table covered in glass figures: YES! YES. BOYFRIEND! MY BOY HAS A LOVER.
Jason: Bruce this isnt a football game stop-
Dick pull out his phone: TIM GET THE FIREWORKS!
Tim on face time: What for?
Dick: Jay has a Boyfriend! ONE HE WANTS TO INTRODUCE TO THE FAMILY!
Tim: WHAT?! YES. GOD YES! I'LL GET MY GUY FOR THE FIREWORK SHOW READY IN A HOUR
Jason: Tim has spontaneous fireworks shows guy?
Damian: Of course, he does. He's not a barbarian. Why are we celebrating?
Jason: Oh, hey, Dami. Sorry to wake you up from your nap. Bruce and Dick are just being dramatic about meeting my boyfriend.
Damian: You have a paramour?
Jason: Yes I do. What's with the tone?
Damian: I'm just surprised anyone would agree to that type of relationship with you.
Jason: The hell is that supposed to mean!?
Damian: I hear you tell Harper once that you would only enjoy the pleasure of flesh and that you would never commit to a relationship. I assumed that meant you would only have brief lovers for debauchery.
Jason: Oh. Yeah I told Roy that but that was before I meet Danny. He's more then a one-night stand.
Damian: Hmm. What does this Daniel-
Jason: His name is Danny
Damian: No. What does this Daniel do for a living?
Jason: He's a brain surgeon
Damian dropping to knees and ripping his shirt from overwhelming glee: YEEEEEESSSS!!!! OH MY GOD, HE'S A BRAIN SURGEON!!! TODD IS BRINGING A BRAIN SURGEON HOME!!! THERE IS HOPE FOR THE BLOODLINE!! FATHER TELL DRAKE TO CALL HIS BOUNCR HOUSE DEALER. WE MUST CELEBRATE TO THE FULLEST!
Jason: This is why I dont bring anyone home. Bruce, you good?
Bruce foaming at the mouth: SON-IN-LAW BRAIN SURGEON.
Jason: Mmh-okay. You're too far gone. I'll have to put you down.
Dick: *Twitching on the ground overwhelmed by happiness*
Jason: This one needs putting down too. Damn, I liked that one.
