So! This is a perfect case study in situations where you should be wary of misinformation.
Take a moment and ask yourself, a project like this requires a lot of time, money and dedication of resources, why would scientists dedicate that time to something that could just be done by a tree?
The answer is they wouldn't. So that means this claim requires further investigation!
This project is called LIQUID 3, and it's not meant for cities with wide open spaces, it's meant for cities like Belgrade in Serbia. These cities are densely populated and heavily polluted, to the point where pollution actually chokes out current trees and makes creating green spaces difficult.
Liquid 3 was a PhD scientists answer to these problems. The microalgae tank is intended for spaces where you either:
Don't have enough space to plant full trees, or
Don't have enough time to plant trees and wait for them to grow up.
The tank is extremely efficient when you consider the amount of space needed compared to the amount of CO2 turned into oxygen. The tank can operate throughout the winter. And most importantly, it can be quickly set up in areas that desperately need relief from air pollution NOW not in 10 years when trees are done growing. Children currently suffocating on polluted air can't wait for trees to grow, they need to be taken care of now, and Liquid 3 is one of the ways to take care of them. Depending on the species of microalgea used, a number have shown a pretty amazing capacity to pull heavy metals out of the air which is something trees can get choked up by.
The tanks aren't just tanks either! Liquid 3 have solar panels placed on top, they have lighting and mobile phone charging, and they work as public benches. The designers of it want to encourage green spaces where there's room, but where there isn't room or time, Liquid 3 can step in. Realistically, this isn't a replacement for trees. It's replacing boring metal city benches with new, cooler benches that also clean the air (and have at least some heating during the winter).
Not only that, but the microalgea that grows is native to Serbia and all that microalgea has a ton of great uses! It makes for great fertilizer, compost, wastewater treatment, cleaner biofuels and even for helping create new tanks for further air purification. They only require a quick algae divide once a month, and the produced algae can be carted off to where ever it's needed. This makes them effective solutions for areas that can't sustain complex installations.
So yeah, there's actually quite a lot of places that would like these. Lots of people currently breathing in terrible quality air would much rather have their boring city benches replaced with really fucking cool algae tanks that clean the air and can be used to help create + sustain future green spaces in cities. I dunno about you, but I'd take that over a dumb metal bench any day. Put these at every bus stop and I'd be delighted.
Good evening friends and enemies, it's time to learn how to source unsourced videos instead of perpetuating the chain of missing attributions that progressively obscure the original source with each repost. 😃
STEP 1: Take a screencap of the video, preferably while it's playing so that the PLAY button isn't blocking the image.
STEP 2: Reverse image search of choice. To my chagrin, I tend to end up resorting to Google's Search by image because Tineye keeps failing me and I haven't gotten around to doing a deep dive into currently available reverse image search services.
If you use the Firefox desktop web browser (untested: other desktop web browsers, Firefox mobile web browser) you can combine STEP 1 & STEP 2: Feel free to repost the video to Tumblr first, preferably as a draft or private post to prevent people from reblogging the uncredited vid, because this method doesn't work as well on Reddit videos.
Right-Click on the video. In the right-click menu, look for "Image Search Options" and hover over it to bring up a list of search options. I'll have to try out some of the other options later, but for this demonstration I used Google.
The search engine should open in another tab.
STEP 3: The Search. This part will be a mix of luck, tenaciousness, and deductive skills.
For Google, I recommend going to the "Exact matches" tab because it presents matches and their information in a much more condensed format than the other tabs. "Exact matches" is a misnomer, as is apparent in the screencap below. This search actually pulled up images from at least two separate videos by the same woman hanging from the same tree: one where she's wearing a slate grey pencil skirt and blazer (as in the video reposted by OP) and one where she's wearing a pale grey long-sleeved dress.
Ideally, a functional search engine would let you sort results by useful variables such as "date posted". Google is not such a search engine, and with its progressive enshittification you may or may not be able to bully Search by image into limiting results to certain date ranges. Luckily, these videos have been less flagrantly reposted than some, so I didn't have to scroll through too many.
When searching for a source, one of the primary things to pay attention to is date. Obviously, the original source has to be older than any of the reports. Unfortunately, not all the Google results have dates, so the earliest dated video isn't guaranteed to be the original.
In this case, the earliest result was of the grey dress video variant posted on Instagram on Jan 17, 2026. However, upon checking the link it became apparently that the Instagram account was not the originator of the video and their repost was unsourced.
If the date check fails you, keep an eye out for any undated results that clearly stand out from the rest. In this case, I picked up on the following:
Which has the following unique traits:
A new outfit! This is the only result that features the woman in a pale brown blazer and pencil skirt.
Dimensions. This result is 1080 x 1920, while the majority of results were smaller in size. Reposts are more likely to be downscaled from the original than upscaled, so if the initial date-check fails you, you're better off checking the largest undated results first.
Specific username (Liang Li (@liangli521)). A lot of the other results just have captions or titles in various languages. Depending on the website, these are usually either captioned reposts or random search terms that don't even link to the actual video. Results with specific usernames are rarer and thus worth checking out, though some of them may turn out to be reposters.
In this case, I hit the jackpot! There they all were: OP's video, the grey dress video, the brown blazer & skirt video, and many, many more!
Legitimately, Liang Li's whole thing seems to be going ham in skirts, dresses, and frequently heels. Possibly for advertising purposes? Very beautiful. Very powerful.
Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.
I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.
FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterday’s night “just for fun and because I don’t want any bagel to be mad with me”, and today’s afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.
"This week I discovered the same pattern, executed by Google. Google Chrome is reaching into users' machines and writing a 4 GB on-device AI model file to disk without asking."
Google Chrome is downloading a 4 GB Gemini Nano model onto users' machines without consent, with no opt-in, no opt-out short of enterprise t
pretty sure I did the chrome//flags thing a while ago, but also i switched to firefox, which is not without the occasional bullshit, but is vastly less bullshitty than chrome.
This is why I treat genai "features" like the invasive blackberry bushes they are: cut, root, burn, and vigilantly watch for new shoots to uproot. I'm 54 years old and the world got by fine without genai for most of my lifetime.
tags via@KKglinka #psa#having read the article#it's not clickbait#chrome is reaching#across all chromium browsers#to link a prepatory structure#this malware packet#will therefore occur#with all chromium browsers#it has nothing to do#with the actual ai interface#instead chrome is either#using your personal computer#as part of a cloud server#the way bitcoin malware works#or it's recording your own#actions on the computer#with a continuously active#background module#either way#that's malware#a 4gig trojan virus
They put drugs in this show, and this edit is the closest I've come to being able to snort it like cocaine. Excluding binging the entire show in 6 hours after first turning on episode one to see what all the fuss was about.
"How do you think Canada is handling the news?" Vaughny flashes his phone screen at them all, and Scott catches sight of the picture of the Olympic rings and the word 'condom' and has to suppress an eye roll.
"Hollander's probably had the whole team on a sex ban this whole time anyway," Gishy jokes, and Scott's laugh only lasts long enough to catch Jordan's thousand yard stare from across the table. He'd played two seasons with the Cens. Won a Cup with them.
He tips his chin in Jordan's direction once he blinks himself back from whatever shadow realm the comment had sent him to. Jordan frowns at them all. "You never had to room next to them during playoff games. I can assure you there is no sex ban Shane Hollander has implemented."
That seems to weird out at least a few of the guys at the table, who go quiet and dart their gazes to Scott for a moment like they're choking down whatever cock swallower comment was on the tip of their tongues. He's used to it, by now. At least they still respect him enough to bite their tongues. Maybe one day something about the culture of this sport will change.
Carter is too busy wondering about Hollander and Rozanov's sex life to worry about saying something homophobic. "Oh man are they freaky?"
"Competition is foreplay for them, Vaughny, draw whatever conclusions you need to from that."
Carter blinks, and God love him, seems intent on drawing his conclusion right there, no matter how long it takes him to process what Scott was implying. Scott doesn't even know what he was implying, except that in hindsight it was obvious as hell that the rivalry schtick was an excellent excuse for Rozanov and Hollander to be freaky in public with very little consequence. After a moment, Carter grins.
"Well what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Johnston asks, looking like he really might die if he doesn't get to fuck.
Scott shrugs. "You want me to impose a sex ban? Might make you all feel a little bit better about not getting any."
Johnston sighs. Stares despondently out the window of the coffee shop they're in. "I'd know it wasn't actually your fault and feel guilty for being mad at you."
Carter stifles a laugh. "Jesus Christ what are you gonna do when you get married and go on a roadie, man?"
Johnston looks like he's about to say something really fucking stupid like "Cheat." right there in Carter's face, and Scott doesn't have time to deal with the first aid Johnston is about to require.
"I'll talk to Benny. See if I can convince him to make a special trip." Buying condoms for a bunch of sex-pests who can't go a night without getting their dick wet isn't really in the equipment manager's job description, but Benny speaks Italian. And like, four other languages, too, Scott has no idea what Benny is doing keeping track of dumb hockey players sticks when he could be out there figuring out how to rule the world, or something. He likes hockey, he always says, with a satisfied shrug. Scott gets it.
He shoots a text off to Benny and tries his best to continue keeping the peace.
---
Benny rolls his eyes when Scott opens his door. "That was fast," he says, and Benny sighs. Deeply.
The tote in his hand is already raised for the handoff. "Rozanov has some sort of black market condom exchange going on over at the hotel Canada is staying in."
That doesn't surprise him even a little, except - "There's like four boxes in here," he says, incredulous, when he grabs the tote from Benny. Benny sighs again.
"I had to promise them Canada gets first crack at the saws whenever they meet up with us."
"That's a hefty price."
"Hollander tried to negotiate some light equipment tampering and had to be talked down."
"You talked Hollander down?"
"No, Rozanov did."
Scott shakes his head. The Olympics have turned everyone fucking insane.
"To be fair, he mostly did it while laughing hysterically because Hollander wanted me to switch out people's stick tape."
Benny is well aware that would send at least three players on this team spiraling, but Rozanov's idea of a prank probably involves misdemeanors, so.
Benny tips his head back. "Still not the weirdest thing I've ever had to do on short notice, but I'm gonna go now and never speak of this again."
Scott dumps the boxes out on his bed. Goes to hand the tote back to Benny, and Benny shakes his head. "No, Rozanov said that was specifically for you."
Benny's out the door before Scott gets a good look at the array of dinosaurs decorating the outside of the tote.
---
"How the fuck many condoms did you pack?" Asks Markus when Rozanov barters for two of the German's phone numbers in exchange for two boxes. He'd been expecting maybe five total, not two fucking boxes. Markus has no idea what he plans to do with the numbers, but he knows Haas had shown a little interest in at least one of the men connected to them.
"Is Hollander's bright idea. He says 'they always run out too early, they need at least triple the amount of athletes for every single day' - he made me bring an extra carry-on."
"...you brought at entire suitcase of condoms."
"Was room for the little tote bags!"
Markus can still remember when he was terrified of Ilya Rozanov. Hell, up until about five minutes ago, he was still terrified of Ilya Rozanov. But now he's seen his true colors. He's just out here mama henning his way through life.
"How many do you have left?"
Rozanov looks shirty, for a moment. "Was a big suitcase."
Markus doesn't actually know the logistics of how team Canada got here, but he's imagining a customs agent scanning an entire bag filled with boxes of condoms and just...having to let that go.
Still. It's not like he'll have to fly home with many. Markus heard about Rozanov's stash through like six other people, including one of the Swedish curlers. By the end of the week everyone will be hitting up Rozanov for his goods.
"Take care of Haasy for me," Roz says, as he hands off a tote with a cartoon yeti on it. Or maybe it's a sasquatch - he's Canadian, after all.
"I would have given him Huber's number for free," Markus tells Rozanov, and slings the tote over his shoulder.
Rozanov smirks back. "I would have given you condoms for free. You're the one who came looking for a trade."
---
"No," Ilya says to the man at the door, and slams it closed so quickly the man has to stumble back to keep his nose from breaking. Shane glances up at him.
"His agent put out statement defending Dallas Kent," Ilya tells Shane with a shrug. "I hope his dick shrivels up and dies before an Olympian sleeps with him."
---
"I gave your equipment manager four boxes," Ilya says, and Scott sighs.
"I'm here on a social call."
Shane is already shrugging into his Lulu jacket and glancing apologetically at Ilya. "You said you didn't want to watch the men's free skate. Scott and Carter had fun the last time we went."
Ilya can feel cartilage crunching when he rolls his jaw. Damn. "Fine, I will go with." The last time he'd watched figure skating he'd been so fucking miserable he'd wondered how badly it would mess up the performances if his body landed on the ice mid triple axel. He'd yelled at Shane. This time will be better.
"You need a ticket," Scott says, and Ilya narrows his eyes.
"Does Kip know you are trying to steal my husband?"
"Kip is coming too," Scott parries. "Kip is a good husband who doesn't refuse to go to events his husband wants to go to."
"This is because I am bisexual. Not gay enough for the rest of you."
"Carter is also going," Shane reminds him, working on the laces of his right shoe.
"Carter would fuck you in heartbeat if not for his beautiful movie star."
"Carter is right out here in the hallway begging you two to be cordial."
Ilya has to bite down the urge to blow a raspberry. "What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"
From the inner pocket of his jacket, Shane produces a second ticket. He's been tricked. This was all a trick. And he enlisted Scott fucking Hunter to help him
He loves his husband so fucking much.
---
"I never got the sex ban, to be honest," Shane is saying, when Ilya settles back into his seat. It's taken years of being an absolute nightmare to get Shane to even say the word sex to other people without blushing. Well.
His ears are a little pink.
It's fucking adorable.
"Yeah, we hear you guys have a different set of rituals for playoffs than the rest of us."
Shane blinks at Carter Vaughn. There's a bit of pink in his cheeks, now, too.
"Some people say the tension makes you more aggressive," Carter blazes on, unaware Shane has just had to factory reset himself.
Or not. "Some people should know the endorphins make you better rested and more focused," Shane argues.
Vaughn laughs, and reaches over Scott and Shane to smack Ilya in the chest. "Is that how you added all that hardware to your collection? A scientific release of endorphins?"
Two more Cups since Shane came to the Cens. A Conn Smythe for each of them, two Presidents trophies. It's far less about the sex than the fact that Ilya gets to wake up to those freckles every single day and admire them as much as he likes. He's not telling Carter that, though. "Yes, my release is very potent."
"Gross, Ilya," Shane says, simultaneously with Hunter's "Gross, Rozanov."
---
Ilya downloads a translation app on his phone the fourth time a Japanese athlete knocks on his door. He's starting to realize that broadcasting information about his supply was not the smartest idea he's ever had. Shane has threatened to get his own room the last two times someone showed up after ten-thirty.
He's in over his head.
Ilya just wants to fuck his husband without getting interrupted by other horny athletes.
He shoots the text off to the only person he can think of who might actually be a little responsible about this.
"You can fuck right off,' Hayes says, before Ilya can do so much as greet him after answering his call.
Thankfully, Ilya traded for a trump card two dozen boxes ago. "Georgian skier traded me for something called Batman Adventures #12. You can have it if you take The Suitcase."
"Fuck you, no they didn't."
"He said I had to keep it in the plastic," Ilya continues. "But I can't read it if I keep in plastic, so -."
"Fucking fine. I'll keep this entire damn village supplied, do not open the plastic."
Ilya doesn't really get the whole comic books thing, but he knows when to have an ace up his sleeve.
---
"I do not have them anymore," Ilya says to the approaching group of snowboarders, who all deflate. It's been six days. The Village is fucked. Or these athletes don't know how to use fucking condoms, in which case... the Village is fucked. "You have to talk to Hayesy."
"Who the fuck is Hayesy?" American. New England, if Ilya had to wager a guess. Either a former fan of Ilya's who hates him for moving to Ottawa, or a fan of a rival team who hates him for boosting Boston to stardom for almost a decade.
"Is goalie. For Team Canada. Looks like massive nerd." He rolls the phrase over in his head. "I mean, he is very large, and also a nerd."
The kid stares at him for a long, long moment. "Good luck against Germany tomorrow."
Ilya grins. "Good luck spinning and twisting and flipping with your legs in shackles."
When Shane sits down beside him thirty seconds later, he has three tiramisu and a bemused grin on his face.
"What?"
"What what?" Shane stares at him like he has no idea what Ilya is asking.
Ilya gestures. "That smile. Who is that for?"
"Oh. Um. You, I guess."
Shane doesn't elaborate. He's too busy shoving a forkful of dessert into his mouth, and Ilya has to take the opportunity to admire him for at least a few seconds. He's indulging, in Milan. Ilya has watched him eat more pasta and delicate desserts in the week and a half they've been here than he ate for at least the first three years of their relationship.
The irony of this being the most laid back Ilya has ever seen him in a competition setting isn't lost on him. The media had gotten a single soundbite out of him before the round robin had begun, some beat reporter Ilya didn't know asking Shane if he had any plans for what he would be doing to enjoy himself in between games. And Shane, without a hint of a smile, had told him he wasn't there to have fun.
Of course, he'd immediately made himself out to be a liar by getting caught on an arena camera joining in with the rest of Team Canada in a crowd wave.
"Me why?" There's a better way to phrase the question, but sometimes Shane gets pissy when Ilya falls back on the "language barrier" and Ilya likes it when he's riled.
"Two of the Australian skiers gave me their tiramisu? Said they made a deal with you."
"Is not my fault they all thought condoms were given through a bartering system. You are one who tried to get Benny to switch out American's stick tape."
"You spent a stupid amount of money on them."
"Shane. We are very rich."
"Well how come we're the only ones who planned ahead?"
"Who is this 'we' you speak of? Only one of us boarded two different flights with whole suitcase full of condoms."
Shane grins back at him. Ilya sometimes wishes he could burrow under Shane's cheeks, count the freckles from inside his skin. "I carried it for you at least once."
Shane's mock outrage when Ilya stuffs an entire slab of tiramisu into his mouth is entirely worth it.
---
Shane gets the text from his mom twenty minutes after Ilya has sucked his soul out of him. He has his head pillowed on Ilya's arm, his phone balanced on his chest and his glasses propped too far down his nose because he's too comfortable to move enough to push them back up, when the notification slides across the top, and he glances up at the preview, sure he's about to get some insight into the weaknesses of the Hunter led US team.
Mom: Can you explain to me why Trojan just reached out to
His phone knocks his glasses off the tip of his nose when he drops it straight onto his own face.
"Shane?" Ilya's been snoring in his ear for the last ten minutes, but he blinks blearily now as Shane shuffles into a sitting position, staring at the phone that has tumbled into his lap.
"Uh. Mom just...uh."
"You are freaking out." He goes from sleepy and ruffled to serious and alert in a heartbeat. One day, Shane will be able to tell Ilya how much he appreciates that about him. "What's wrong?"
Shane takes a deep breath. Flips his phone back into his hand and opens the thread of messages from his mother.
Mom: Can you explain to me why Trojan just reached out to talk to me about an endorsement with the two of you?
Shane nods his head. Yep. Yeah, that's about what he expected. They've given out so many at this point, Shane couldn't even begin to say who would have spilled the beans.
He passes the phone off to Ilya in silence.
Ilya's laugh breaks the silence. "You think chances of landing this deal change if we tell them we only brought Durex?"
"Ilya." He's trying desperately not to smile about this, the absurdity of it all, the pull of Ilya's wide grin as he hams it up.
"Could invite Hayden to join. Consequences of not using contraceptives: thirty children and premature greys."
"Hayden does not have grey hair."
"Oh, so you are looking closely?"
It's bait. It's a trap. "He's a very handsome man." Shane tosses his phone onto the nightstand and pretends he isn't getting exactly what he wants when Ilya pins him to the bed amidst both their peels laughter.
---
The game comes down to double OT. Shane can't fucking believe Hunter managed to wrangle his team of degenerates into a cohesive group in time for this.
Tuccard throws caution to the fucking wind with four minutes left. "Hollander, Rozanov, Barrett. Go out there and end this shit."
It takes them seventy-two seconds. It's not the longest shift Shane's ever skated, but as he finds a streaking Troy barrelling through the neutral zone, it certainly feels like it.
Ilya makes it over the blue line just after Troy, and Troy's pass connects. The puck wobbles, Ilya corrals, and Shane watches four US players converge in front of the net. Ilya twists out of a poke check and sends the puck careening Shane's way.
There's a screen. For half a second too long, the D pair shift in front of the crease, and Shane sends a wrister flying through the air.
Troy is in his arms before Shane has had a chance to do more than raise his arms in celebration. Ilya collides with them both and sends them careening into the boards, and then the rest of the team is there, screaming and yelling and definitely crying because they played a game and two thirds of another one before they could pull away.
In the chaos, Shane only catches snippets of what everyone is screaming and yelling around him. A couple "Captain fucking Canada"s break containment, and when the dog pile finally eases a bit, Ilya kisses Shane's face about fifty different times and Shane isn't even mad about it, even when Barrett, Hayes, and at least three other team members follow suit.
It's not until after the podium that Mom sends him the clip of Ilya yelling "wrap it up", and informs him that Durex and SKYN have both reached out as well.
somewhere in the pavus history, their house sigil contained the peacock feathers for the animal of their namesake. a proud, beautiful thing.
quietly, paperwork is filed. a motion of writ that will garner no question; those feathers become beautiful coiling snakes, inlaid with jewels. a striking thing becomes common, only different to almost every other tevinter house in minutae. snakes wrapped around staves, swords, flowers, each other. a great many tired variations on a theme.
dorian pavus has a pet snake as a boy, and some fondness for their likeness. he names it for one of the great dragon gods, but calls her lucy. he releases her into the gardens before his term in nevarra in a fit of pique, and never sees her again.
peacocks roam the ground of the qarinus estate, the males squalling and shaking their great feathers. a riot of colour amongst the flowers planted to match, one particular ornery bird - the most beautiful of them - eats millet from his hand, and does not permit any of the garden slaves to approach him. he does sometimes wonder if lucy met her fate at the beak of this vicious lout, small as she was.
he wears his birthright on the night he flees, the scent of blood in the air. the peacocks are oddly silent as he escapes through the grounds, allowing him time to break the wards and slip out through the south gate unnoticed.
it weighs heavy on him, as he travels, depending on the hospitality of peers, few friends, and only those trusted to not tell his father where he is. he soon runs out of those, and his coin dwindles through the inns and brothels as he gets closer to the border with antiva.
he sells the birthright in orlais. it fetches a decent price, and the buyer barely even tries to swindle him. it is worth it, to curb the hunger that has made him thin.
the inquisition provides, and this leaves space for him to regret. how fortunate, then, that nearly a year later he is given an offer to buy back his birthright. the cost not even inflated, so he suspects another cost.
favour for favour, ornate snake pendant for the inquisitor's influence. as much as he wants it back, he wants more to repay her kindness and consideration. cadash of course will not suffer fools, and a deft hand applying the right pressure sees his birthright back around his neck with only a minor inconvienience that mostly sits at josephine's feet to sort.
she does not hold it as a debt. he takes care to believe her.
it's a heavy, lonely thing strung around his neck, feeling rather like an anchor in the small hours. it is who he is, where he comes from, to where he must return if he is to truly change anything.
one day it is joined by half a dragon tooth, and he learns the feeling of how the two pieces rest together, how they jostle, how they fit.
to show one proudly and tuck the other away is a grief he lives for the better part of a decade. more than once he has taken it and flung it across the room, the golden snakes clattering over the tile. but it always returns, as it must.
someone gifts a flock of peacocks to the archon's palace; amusing, in the attempt at mockery, but he has missed the sound of them, the great display amongst the flowers. he has never before let someone use what he is against him, and he doesn't mean to start.
he will be the last pavus. he will have no children.
quietly, paperwork is filed. a motion of writ that will garner much unexpected discussion in the magisterium, for naught because he is the one that gives final approval on these statehood matters anyway.
the snakes stay, as dorian has remained fond. peacock feathers return, bejewled in colour. the abstract shape of horns, set wide - a dragon's, to those without the will to see otherwise. an emerald where an eye should be. the representation of knotwork that few understand.
he is the last of the pavus bloodline.
but in time, others trade their name for it - those who wish to unburden from their own family name, from what it means as the old names cling to the old ways.
somewhere in future histories, pavus and tilani become shorthand both, houses that live on not through blood, but by a call for action, of change, of redemption.
Okay, I've finally finished the hockey show, and I think it's kind of cute that Shane thinks they've taken the next step in their relationship and Ilya took All The Steps At Once and is now locked in for all time. Shane is still like "would you maybe come with me to see my parents?" and "are we saying boyfriend now, is that okay?" Meanwhile, Ilya Rozanov is over here like, I told you about my mother and you saw me cry during sex. Your family is my family. We're dying together. I'll pay for the tomb. There are no more questions.
