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@inthefoxholes
In this house we only loosely acknowledge current MCU canon. In my mind it's still around 2014-15. Winter Soldier just came out. We have such high hopes for the in-depth character arcs of our main babes, not to be turned into cash cows milked dry of any soul. The Avengers still all have their own floors in the tower and Bucky is coming to live in as Steeb's emo plus-one.
Let’s do a Wild Hunt larp where we kidnap Jeff Bezos and release him in the forest and then give all the larpers (who are amazon employees) weird masks and motorbikes painted to look like fucked up horses and wolves.
Somewhat disturbed at how fast this post started picking up notes.
don’t set out food if you don’t want us to eat
i love that i can’t write the word fuck on facebook without risking getting zucced and here I’m greeted everyday by posts like this
my only problem with this is that this sounds less like a larp and more like the actual Wild Hunt
Quality larps are as realistic as is practical.
Okay justice for Ilya Rozanov, a man who notably managed his entire families finances and his dementia-having fathers caretaking since he was literally a teenager, while also essentially raising himself to be an elite, generational athlete by himself.
like what is this ‘Ilya needs the threat of a sex ban to pick up his socks’ slander or this ‘Ilya has terrible financial literacy’ misinformation or this ‘Ilya only eats junk food and needs to be forced to eat his veggies’ tomfoolery
the first time ilya takes shane to the club after they get married, he shaves beforehand, puts on a tight black tank top and sprays himself with his fuckboy cologne from the hookup era. shane is already horny for him even before they leave the house — crucially, he loves fuckboy ilya, because come on, he’s been fucking this man for years when he looked exactly like this.
at the club, ilya buys out the entire dj set to only play 2010s club anthems all night long. he wants to give shane the ultimate 2010s clubbing experience he never had, but also make up for all those nights ilya had to spend dancing and making out with strangers and not the one person he wanted. but now he gets to do all this with his husband! who is delightfully hard for him by the way, because shane finds sleazy club slut ilya absolutely irresistible. ilya is gripping his hips, grinding against him, licking his neck and whispering the dirtiest filth into his ear, and shane gets dizzying butterflies he imagines all those girls got back then. and he isn’t even retroactively jealous, because now his ring is on ilya’s finger, and oh god, he gets to be taken home by ilya rozanov! he gets to have all his attention now and get railed stupid by him later!! in their shared home!!! shane is living his dream life, and ilya is right there with him.
One day ilya sits on Shane's back while he's doing pushups. He did it mid set to be an asshole but shane only stops for a second to swear at him and then continue with the push up with barely a noticeable difficulty. They fuck about it of course.
Loads of Hollanov fics have them getting walked in on while making out etc which is great
But I’d love a fic where one or both of Shane’s parents drop by the cottage for phone charger/laundry pod reasons and find Shane snuggled on the couch fast asleep on Ilya’s chest and that’s how they find out
They’re dressed in soft casual clothes, sleeping like the dead and wrapped around each other like vines and Ilya’s hand is in Shane’s hair and Shane looks so so comfortable and relaxed
Meanwhile his parents are staring slack-jawed at the sight of their son using his archenemy the Russian Rage Machine as a teddybear/pillow
i REFUSE to believe that during the secret relationship era shane and ilya didn’t take photos together…digital cameras exist and they are millionaires!!!! and i knowwww ilya loves a dirty polaroid…i just know!!
No I agreeeeeeee I think the only way Shane would have been okay with it is if they were Polaroids that he could look away safely, know where they are and keep them safe under lock and key. They each have their own fancy lock boxes that Shane bought them, keys safely stored away. They have a handful of Polaroid that are just for them. It is a bit over the top- Shane knows but this is the most precious thing to him he can’t risk it.
The photos include:
Shane on his knees, face planted into Ilya’s crotch, Ilya’s hand cradling the back of his head
Shane laid on the bed, eyes closed, face blissed out with his face covered in Ilya’s cum, Ilya’s thumb playing with his lips
Shane on his knees, Ilya’s hand gripping his waist
Ilya naked and flexing with a big stupid grin
Ilya between Shane’s legs, Shane’s thighs over his shoulders, only his curls visible
Shanes ass, Ilya’s big hand gripping one cheek, able to see a hint of his hole, dripping out cum and puffy
Ilyas chest, covered in cum
Shane’s chest, covered in cum
Blurry photo of Shane sat across Ilya’s lap, mid riding him, cock hard and dripping against his tummy
And more and more and more I’m sure hehe
Steve "I have two two left feet" Rogers and Bucky "I'll die again before I give up on teaching you how to dance" Barnes. It's a battle of two stubborn idiots
It's a random day on a random week when Bucky takes Steve's hands, not even giving him a chance to protest before starting
"If I was going to hit you right here, where would you put your feet to dodge?"
Confused but demonstrating regardless, Steve is left to follow instructions
"I'm hit, I'm falling this way, where are you going to put your hand to hold me up?"
Steve holding Bucky by the waist and shoulder to sway him to the side
"A bullet is coming this way, hold my had get me out of the way."
Steve holding Bucky's hand and pulling him close while Bucky twirls and wraps Steve arm around himself. By then Steve's confusion is giving way to a smile as he holds Bucky
"The floor is filled with traps and they're going to come out of here, here, here, and here. Dodge them in order."
"We're holding hands but something is gonna hit. Step back to let it shoot through between us, then pull me back in."
"I'm pulling a knife on you, take my hand to stop me and redirect it this way."
"Pull your legs like you're going to kick here. Yeah, like that."
"Dip back, then step forward like you're avoiding falling off the edge."
"Okay, hold my waist ike I'm fainting and you're keeping me up. Yeah, yeah, dipping."
And before Steve knows it, in the course of a week and a half, he's dancing like he's born to do it and having an UNBELIEVABLE amount of fun doing it
And now Steve is the one putting the music on and pulling Bucky up to dance in the middle of the living room while both of them laugh like they haven't had in the last 80 years
ilya rozanov who’s known to boston as the mysterious fuckboy from russia who chirps like he’s getting paid for it and is crazy good at hockey. one day a teammate is absent from a few games in a row and turns back up to practice with a fucking newborn and they’re all in their hockey gear fawning over this tiny baby. then once everyone’s said hi before practice, the crowd parts and ilyas just stood by the doorway, a literal deer in headlights staring at the bundle of blankets in his teammates arms and-
“do you wanna hold him?”
ilya’s moving forward before he can process the words and everyone’s holding their breath as he gathers the newborn into his arms, pausing to take his gloves off first. it’s a few tense seconds before the baby babbles and shifts slightly before tucking his head into the crook of his arm and swiftly falling to sleep.
ilya looks up to see his whole team stifling grins, “i think we’ve found the new babysitter” and he bites back a chirp because he doesn’t want to wake the baby he’s holding so delicately to his chest.
he’s stuck on the sidelines for the whole practice while he rocks the baby through the slams against walls, waving its little arm towards its dad when it eventually wakes up.
and yeah pictures surface soon after of fucking rozanov staring down at the baby in his arms with the fucking softest eyes and twitter has a field day proving he’s a softie at heart
“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.”
- Q+ Magazine
Shane has a spreadsheet where he catalogs the name of every player who fouled Ilya, complete with exact date, time stamp, infraction, penalty called yes/no, personal confrontation, risk of repeated offence, and Shane meticulously updates his list after every game. Ilya thinks Shane is noting down hockey stats and Shane doesn't even need to lie when he agrees because, yes, this is the most important hockey stat ever collected.
The thing is, there is protectiveness and there is Shane Hollander's protectiveness over Ilya.
It's not a secret that Shane plays particularly ruthless against opposing players who fouled Ilya, hitting the ice with so far unknown levels of ferocity and dragging the entire team with him to mow down their opponents.
Ilya is flattered, or more precisely in a liminal space between horny and moved to tears, whenever he sees Shane step up to defend his honour, because yes this is his pretty, funny, polite, hyper focused future hall of fame hockey star of a husband, but all canadian manners and professionalism are forgotten the second someone dares to look at Ilya wrong, because first and foremost, Ilya is Shane's baby. That's heady as fuck.
That was until Ilya found the spreadsheet on Shane's phone. Neither of them has any desire to look into the other's phones but they are on share the same toothbrush levels of codependency, so it's a no-brainer that they let each other use their phones if needed.
After a grueling home game, a hard fought win, they basically collapse on their couches, when Ilya suggest ordering food in, the meal prep just doesn't cut it today, and Shane agrees.
Ilya's phone is dead (damned candy crush) and he just makes grabby hands for Shane's phone, "give". Shane more than a litte exhausted is glad that Ilya takes over the decision making on what they should eat, hits a button and tosses the phone over to Ilya and rest his eyes for a moment.
It is pure accident that Shane missed the button to close his notes app, so immediately when Ilya opens the phone the color coded spreadsheet jumps into his view; initially Ilya wants to dismis it quickly but fuck, why does Shane keep a list of names active male hockey players?? Is this a list of guys he finds attractive??
He frowns, carefully scrolling through the rows of names and their demeanours and fuck???? Does Shane fancy bad boys?
He makes a grumbling sound that pulls Shane out of his highly efficient minute nap.
"'s up? That Italian place closed?"
"Shane, what is this?"
"Wut?"
"Is this a fuck list, Solnyshko?" Ilya pouts, more attitude than actual anger, that is simply too good of ammunition to tease Shane with.
"The fuck you're talking about?" Shane is definitely awake now.
"Is this a list of guys you want to fuck you?" Ilya taunts, keep on scrolling through the list.
"I don't have a fuck list!" Confusion and irritation cloud Shane's face.
"O'Neil, Schneider, Fitz... why is Wilson listed twice?"
Ilya looks up, turning the screen around and a grin on his face and Shane's mouth falls open and he turns red - but not the caught-being-a- horny-bastard kind of red.
Shane jumps forward to snatch his phone back but Ilya anticipated that move and hides the phone behind his back and starts wrestling Shane. Ilya barely wins the fight, luckily he knows Shane's ticklish spots so well, and they both start laughing, and Ilya is pinning Shane to the couch by collapsing on top of him and they catch their breaths.
Ilya produces the phone and looks at the document again, with his chin propped on Shane's chest.
"Okey. No fuck list, obviously. You only want to fuck good hockey players."
"And why do I let you hit then?", Shane grumbles, but a playful spark in his eyes.
"Bescause I'm not good, I'm best hockey player", Ilya grins, eliciting an eye roll from Shane that can't diminish his fond smile. "Second best maybe."
Ilya peppers a few kisses on Shane's chest before studying the list again and realisation dawns as he looks at the most recent entries.
"Gustavson, high sticking. Foster, roughing. That is from today."
Shane starts squirming again but Ilya just makes himself heavier on top of Shane to stop him.
"You keep track of people hitting us?"
"No..."
"Still a bad liar, Hollander."
Shane sighs. "Only you. The guys who played dirty against you."
Ilya has to let that sink in for a while, equal parts touched and confused. "But why?"
"Don't laugh ok?" Shane looks Ilya straight in the eye and the determination in his face sends a pleasent shiver down Ilya's spine. "I know that this is petty, okay. It's unsporting and too personal, like that's not what Hockey is about... but it is personal to me, okay?"
"Shane..."
Capitalising on Ilya's momentary weakness, Shane frees one arm and cups Ilya's cheek, his earnest dark brown eyes are hypnotising as he quietly speaks. "I don't like it when you get hurt. And I want to make sure these guys never do it again."
Ilya let's out a stream of consonants and fractured expletives, and fights the urge to bury his face in Shane's chest, losing it ultimately.
He squeezes Shame as tight as he can, his Shane, his sweet, protective, wonderful Shane who never fails to suprise him, and Shane nuzzles his cheek against Ilyas head in answer. A few moments pass, and suddenly Ilya has to giggle, because yes this list is absolutely fucked up and probably one of the most romantic things Shane did, and Ilya loves it. "That's fucking insane", he let's Shane know, smiling brightly.
"Yes. Because I'm fucking insane about you, baby", Shane says quitely and with so much sincerity that Ilya melts again against Shane's chest, listening to his strong heart, beating just for Ilya.
Shane let's Ilya crush him untilhe gets squirmy again in his trapped state and Ilya gives Shane's other arm free and immediately gets rewarded with Shane's fingers playing with his hair.
Ilya sneaks a last glance on the spreadsheet before he actually wants to order them food (Shane's heartbeat can only drown out his grumbling stomach so much), and spots the next column.
"Retilition successful? Seriously Shane?"
"Yes!?"
"I thought you want to teach them manners not punish them."
"Well, that kinda goes hand in hand, doesn't it."
"But Retiliation?" Ilya grins brightly. "You sound like fucking mafia, Solnyshko."
"I do not!"
"Shall I call the bratva for some tips, da?"
"Don't be silly."
"No, please tell me, what is your plan for retiliation, hm?"
"That is not exactly a plan. I just hoped that I could convince Coach to put me on the shifts against these guys for our next games. And then we'll see."
"We'll see? You wanna kneecap them or what? Land yourself in the sin bin?"
"Obviously not. I'd be cleverer than that."
And Ilya doesn't doubt that for one second.
"You're right, we won't need bratva, we got criminal mastermind here with hitlist spreadsheet."
"It's not a hit list!"
"If it's not a fuck list, it's definitely a hit list, Shane. Maybe we should give you new nickname. Killer, maybe."
"Stop it, I'm not injuring anyone. Not badly anyway. Mostly I want to embaress them on the ice and dress them down But you can't expect me to watch people hunt you and think they can get away with it!"
That shuts Ilya up quite effectively.
Shane pouts up at Ilya, his eyebrows still pinched together decisively. "Too far?"
Ilya immediately shakes his head. "No. Not if it's you."
"But you still think this is crazy."
For a moment Ilya considers that he might be married to a hockey terrorist and he finds that he doesn't mind, quite the contrary. "If it's crazy then we are crazy together." And he kisses the rest of Shane's frown away from his face.
"My knight in shining hockey gear", he grins before finally pressing a hot and greedy kiss on Shane's lips.
Something about how on their wedding night, they stay up so late chatting with friends and family, dancing to Harris’ increasingly cheesy playlist, and just sitting and watching everyone they love… that when they go to bed they just can’t even muster the energy to fuck. They shower together and kiss and touch and grope and grind their bodies against each other, but by the time they’re toweling off they just tumble into bed and barely awake kiss and touch a little more but then they’re happily humming into each others mouths but the hums turn to deep breaths and then little snores and they’re dead asleep.
Sometime just before 5am, Ilya sits up with a start like he’s breaking out of a bad dream, gasping, as he realizes they did not fuck on their wedding night. Isn’t that bad luck? Or like some sort of curse? They cannot start off their marriage as a sexless one. That is not who they are. This cannot stand. Ilya has to remedy this before they are doomed.
The sun isn’t up yet so it’s still kind of the same night, right?
Ilya feels himself getting hard through the panic, and that animal part of his brain clicks on. This, this he knows how to do. Seducing Shane is his favorite pastime and he’s got to get to work.
He turns towards his sleeping husband (god, Ilya can’t actually believe that just yet), seeing that Shane he curled towards him, his hand on Ilya’s thigh, he’d hardly noticed in his panic.
Ilya gently lifts Shane’s arm so he can slide under it, lying down now facing Shane, grabbing his hip and pulling their bodies flush together. Shane sighs and his eyes flutter but he keeps sleeping.
Ilya peppers kisses over his eyelids, his freckles, the one ear he can reach. As he starts kissing down Shane’s neck he feels a small gasp against his shoulder, and Shane’s croaky sleep voice says, “Ilya, what are you up to?”
Ilya lightly bites Shane’s shoulder. “I’m trying to seduce my husband.”
Shane softly laughs and pulls his head back so he can see Ilya’s face. “What time is it?”
“It is still our wedding night.”
“Is it? Where’s my phone?” Shane tries to turn away to look for his phone and Ilya grabs his neck and pulls their naked bodies back together. He can tell the moment Shane feels Ilya hard on Shane’s thigh, because Shane rolls his hips a little and starts to harden too.
“Mmm. Fuck, Ilya, I was so tired I barely remember getting into bed.”
“Do you feel rested now?” Ilya nips up Shane’s neck and under his chin.
Shane runs his hands down Ilya’s bare back and grabs on to his ass, pulling himself harder against Ilya so they both can feel the friction.
“I am definitely less interested in sleep. Did you get so horny in your sleep it woke you up?”
“No, I was having nightmare that I didn’t fuck my husband on our wedding night. Was horrible.”
Shane laughs into Ilya’s neck, but is now rolling his hips, grinding himself on Ilya’s thigh. Both of their mouths roaming each others throats, faces, anywhere they can reach. “Ilya we fucked twice the day of our wedding. Once in the morning, once right before my parents arrived because you said you had to or you might throw me over your shoulder right after the ceremony.”
Ilya stops Shane with a long, deep, exploratory kiss. Shane chases his mouth after they break from the kiss, as Ilya says, “Yes, but we weren’t husbands yet.”
“But we are now.” Shane leans in for an awkward smiling kiss, where their lips don’t meet quite right and their teeth almost bump. He’d gotten used to these kisses over the years, and he loved them in all their awkward glory.
“So, we’re both awake and it’s still our wedding night. What are you going to do to me Mr. Hollander-Rozanov?”
Ilya growls as he finally rolls on top of Shane, nestling between his thick thighs. He grabs Shane’s wrists and locks them over his head with one hand, while the other gets to work opening Shane up.
“You should find something to hold on to, husband.”
(This just randomly came to mind and I’m tired so forgive the typos, grammar, etc. I’ll probably edit it in the morning.)
Fascinated by the concept that Shane just. Only lives for this tiny fraction of his actual life. What Shane wants, what he shapes every facet of his life and self around for twenty odd years, is to be in the rink, with the stadium bellowing and the scoreboard in his favour.
all he wants is to fucking play hockey, but it’s so LITTLE of his actual life.
it’s all transport and training and exercise and dieting and emails and modelling and coaching and sleeping and cars and planes and locker rooms and hotels and clubs and bars and there’s so little HOCKEY
is it all a fugue state for him? Just a thousand miserable unskippable cut scenes he has to move through until he can be on the ice again?
and what must it be like for him to meet Ilya, for their relationship to gradually develop and intensify until suddenly he’s experiencing the only other thing he would die for.
it must be so identity shattering to find something ELSE you care about that much, and a crisis of faith that would force you to reevaluate everything.
I think that’s an underrated factor behind the tunameltdown, Shane realising that this foundational cornerstone of his identity, that he cares about hockey so much that it degrades everything else in life to him, now has competition.
because he cares about Ilya so much that he is risking hockey.
he wants Ilya in his life properly, not just as another tiny flashpoint between dull, drawn-out moments. but for Ilya to be in his life like that, he would be putting hockey at risk. It’s something he practically has a mental block around, is literally INCAPABLE of considering.
he’s let it decide every single part of his life: his miserable diet, the horrible modelling shoots and brand deals, missing his parents, repressing his attraction, distancing himself from his friends and team…
all for the benefit of hockey, and all with no hesitation or internal conflict
and now he wants Ilya so bad that it will threaten hockey.
hockey, which he let threaten his family and friends and body and health…
because he wants Ilya more then any of those things.
when brandon sanderson talks about villains in his famous free youtube writing class video lectures he'll say 'what's the difference between gollum and sauron' and of course he means the villain that's present in the narrative and characterized in a way the audience can potentially relate to or sympathize with vs. the looming threatening anonymous far-off force (among other things). but every time he asks that i think 'well one of those guys tracked down frodo and got his ring back'
Brandon Sanderson: What's the difference between Gollum and Sauron?
OP: Skill issue.
I have been trying to push hollanov’s Oboe Son on all of you for months. I had to hide him in a post about Ilya becoming a bear in retirement. But now that I have you—
- oboe son likes to blast the Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring and like headbang to it and Ilya joins him and learns about Russian symphonic music from his Canadian son
- crucially, oboe son DOES like hockey, but he breaks his arm one season and it puts him out of the honor band, and he’s like shaking in his boots like “Dads, I don’t think I should play hockey anymore, I don’t want to jeopardize being able to play the oboe please don’t be mad” and Shane is like “I know we need to optimize and make a strategy being well rounded is overrated we need to get you into oboe intensives. Is that a thing?” completely oblivious that his son was petrified to tell him
- ilya is asking where he can get a slice of pizza at the conservatory concerts
- also in the beginning when hollanov are still playing Yuna takes oboe son to all his lessons, learns to play herself! They put on little concerts of course
In conclusion- they love their oboe son.
anyway good morning a crucial tenet of hollanov’s relationship is that they’re equals and they’re the only people in the world who could ever be each other’s equal. they were supposed to stand alone at the top but they’re there together. shane does not view ilya as a lazy useless inconvenience. ilya does not view shane as a nagging killjoy. they are equals and they both think the other is the best thing since sliced bread and they love each other but more importantly they LIKE each other. stop making them not like each other!
like ilya spends his entire life being told (by people objectively shittier than he is) that he’s not good enough, he’s lazy, he’s undisciplined, he lets people down. and then he meets the one person who would actually be in a position to assess whether ilya is any of those things, and shane just earnestly looks into his fucking soul and says no, they were wrong. ‘you’re an awesome player to watch’ ‘i don’t know that side of you at all’ ‘this isn’t what this is. me and you’
and it’s such a fucking tragedy that people are trying to push MyIlya back into a setting where he’s constantly being lectured about his inadequacies by the very person that canonically reminds him all the time that those inadequacies were figments of his dad’s imagination
Assorted free-range headcanons about Hollanov at 45-55 years old:
Shane starts getting grays at 35, so by 45 he is a salt-and-pepper kING. It makes for a distinguished photograph on his memoir. He has a ghostwriter, obviously, how do you expect him to just sit and write all day? He writes the chapter about his and Ilya's rivalry though, only at the end of the chapter is he like "And we were married in the summer of 2021 with a honeymoon in Spain. He's the best person I know." after just a dry comparison of all their stats Pre-Centaurs.
One child. Boychild. Shane's genes and a Russian name. Conceived via surrogacy after Ilya retires first due to busted ass knee syndrome. Child enjoys hockey. Not great at it. Looooves playing the oboe in school band. Shane checks it out and AS IT TURNS OUT the oboe is a difficult, competitive instrument. They proceed with characteristic intensity, as if this was athletics. Son, you're gonna win at the oboe.
Ilya needs glasses. He just steals Shane's off his face and it's a whole ritual that ends in them kissing. Boychild is mortified every time they're trying to read a take-out menu.
Shane gets into hockey commentary/podcasting and is notoriously. Um. Not Nice. A lot of "What?? What did I say??" It's never personal though. Just about players' shitty game.
Ilya is Big. Chunky. He's glorious. Muscle that now has fat over it. Arms like tree trunks. Torso: round. 100% Naturalized Canadian Citizen Beef. Hair, everywhere. Shane must BITE to check it all out and make sure everything is in order.
Shane gets really into individual athletics- rock climbing, marathons before he also gets busted ass knee syndrome, biking, swimming, anything where it's like testing the limits of his body against himself. Ilya is like a "fifty push-ups every day keeps me in shape enough to fuck you right" kind of guy, but he joins in sometimes just to make Shane get furious with competition
New rookie/juniors player billeting every year once boychild goes to music conservatory so they build a whole separate wing for the youngsters so it doesn't interfere with empty-nest fucking
Once they hit 50 they do get up stupid early like old men do and have old man coffee shop time with David Hollander (professional boring old man) at their favorite diner. Shane really cherishes this time with his dad and makes it a point to do it as often as they can. Conversely, they build Yuna a mother in law house when David passes away (death comes for us all) and she becomes crazy hockey mom to all their rookies.
Add your ownnnnn
there's a theragun in every room of the house and trying to unfuck their various Busted Ass Issues becomes just another step in sex prep
Shane is terrorising the local birdwatching community
Ilya is personally if inadvertently responsible for at least four divorces among his kid's schoolmate's parents
every time they attend a Centaurs game they end up on kiss cam (which isn't even a THING Shane is convinced they do this just to fuck with him) and they always pretend to be reluctant and roll their eyes and oh, fine, if you insist *smooch* *deafening cheers*
they're not really famous anymore anywhere EXCEPT Ottawa, where they're very famous but everybody's kind of agreed to be chill about it and also now that they ACTUALLY have time to spare they're just like, doing stuff. so you get an excited insta post from somebody new in town like omg i think i just saw shane hollander at tim horton's??? and the comments are all "dude obviously he always gets a coffee and a box of timbits thursday afternoon, where else would he be"
