I have a fleet of ships.

she/her, 30, INTP-T, Taurus, moviesbuff on ao3

[moviesbuff]

*after Shane gets hit in a game and falls on his ass.*

Lily: How's your ass?

Jane: Okay.

Lily: Let me see.

Jane: No.

Lily: I just wanna make sure.

[raelemond]

blood spray is just another kind of cumshot

[willgrahamscock]

if you see me liking contradicting headcanons for the same character just know it's because I do not give a fuck and I have an active imagination #hewouldsaythat

[smokingrozanov]

Shane in any pet store staring longingly at the cat trees and sighing every few minutes. Ilya is very deliberately Not Looking and trying to get Anya to pick out a toy because if he watches the way Shane runs his hands over a scratching post with his face all mopey then he knows he’s going to cave and drive straight to the nearest shelter

[smokingrozanov]

One day they go in to buy dog food for Anya and they have cats available for adoption. Shane makes eye contact with the smallest black cat he’s ever seen in his life and moves towards her like he’s being drawn in by a magnet. Ilya is marching behind him like ‘nono Hollander. We are here for ANYA. Remember? Dog?’ But Shane isn’t listening because this little black fuzzball has started arching her back and hissing like she’s an auditioning to be a Halloween decoration and Shane is looking at her like she’s the only thing in the entire world and Ilya just groans and goes to find an employee to ask about the adoption process. Because he realizes Shane is having that same instant connection that he had seeing Anya for the first time

[smokingrozanov]

He names the cat Puck by the way. Like hockey puck. But if you ask him he’ll get embarrassed and say like the Shakespeare character

[presidentdragon]

"that time of the month" "monthly visitor" "feminine hygiene products" GRRAH!!! SHUT UP SHUT UP!!! PERIOD!! MENSTRUATION!!!! TAMPONS!!! PADS!! MENOPAUSE!!!!!!!!!!!

[tyke-dyke]

VAGINA!!!!

[presidentdragon]

[lastoneout]

[ladyelspeth14]

in his last year in boston, ilya calls shane’s number a lot, mostly to listen to his boring voicemail message:

hi, you’ve reached shane hollander. i’m sorry i can’t take your call right now. i’ll get back to you as soon as i can. thank you!

one night, with the bribe of a lot of soft kisses, shane finally finds out why he always has so many missed calls from ilya.

“your voice makes me relaxed, shane,” ilya tells him. “is like you’re talking to me. i—i miss you, a lot.”

so shane records a new voicemail greeting every week, referencing something he loves about ilya, or jokes that only ilya could understand.

it became their little secret.

and yuna wonders why shane, who has never changed his voicemail message since he first got a cellphone, is suddenly doing all this.

[flowers-in-book]

The older I get, the stayer I home.

[rannulfr]

Home based.

[your-cab-is-definitely-here]

So one afternoon at the cottage, Ilya has been in and out of the lake all day, excited like a kid, splashing around and clowning and fascinated by the wildlife and showing off for Shane. And after they finally head back inside and shower off the lake smell, Shane settles on the couch with a book and Ilya flops down with him, stretched out with his head in Shane's lap and whining until Shane frees a hand to sink into his hair. And it's been such a nice full day and it's all warm dozy sunshine and the lovely earthy nature smell that's everywhere around the cottage and Ilya has his face tucked into Shane's stomach where he can breathe him in, the familiar scent of his detergent and body wash, and Shane's big warm hand is in his hair and Ilya's pleasantly tired and drowsy and so comfortable that he just... drifts off, the kind of wonderfully indulgent nap that he never really gets during the season and finds hard to justify when he's in Russia for the summer.

But this year he's not in Russia, and he slips into this warm syrupy slumber while Shane pets through his hair (incidentally making a disastrous mess of his curls) and reads his book. When Ilya eventually rouses, with a happy grumble of contentment, nuzzling closer into Shane's stomach, he can feels Shane laughing gently at him almost before he hears it.

"Did you sleep well?" Shane asks, and that sounds warm and syrupy too, and Ilya rolls over so he can smile at Shane and revel in the smile he gets in return.

And then Shane says, "Are you hungry? It's almost dinnertime," and Ilya realises he's been lying here, napping and pinning Shane to the couch and wasting both of their time, for hours, and he jackknifes upright so suddenly that Shane startles back.

"Fuck!" Ilya spits out. "I was--fuck, has been so long. Why didn't you wake me up?" already guilty because Shane had wanted to make some pasta thing that he was weirdly excited about and they'd talked about maybe playing more Chel but now the whole day's been napped away and--Ilya sneaks a look---Shane's book is lying closed on the couch, bookmark set neatly aside, so Shane had finished his book and not even been able to get up to go do something else.

And he's just smiling at Ilya, completely unconcerned that Ilya's been idle and asleep and... and... lazy, all afternoon, just glad Ilya had a good nap.

Shane's frowning in mild confusion at him. "Why?" he says, genuinely not seeing the problem. "You were napping, it was nice. I mean, if I'd needed to pee or something I'd have got up but I was fine." He reaches out and smoothes some of Ilya's hair down. "Oh, the pasta. We can do that tomorrow, we have all that salad from lunch and rolls and there's peaches if we want dessert."

Ilya must have responded somehow because Shane beams at him and says, "Cool, I'll go set the table if you want to go wash your face." He smirks and pokes at Ilya's cheek. "Got a little drool there." And then he smacks a kiss on Ilya's head, gets up, and trots over to the kitchen while Ilya just sits there reeling.

Anyway it's really important to me that Shane dismantles all of Ilya's awful self-talk about laziness.

[omar-little]

they should make more television shows that are from 2005. I will also accept 2013

[quillquiver]

They’re going through Yuna and David’s movie collection when Ilya comes across a VHS with ‘Shane - Bell Center 1994’ written on the sleeve and insists they watch it.

Shane isn’t super into the idea. “My parents don’t have a VHS player.”

“Is literally right beside your knee, Hollander.”

“Well, it’s boring! Why do you want to see a dumb recording of me as a kid anyway?”

“Because it’s adorable?” Ilya says incredulously. “And you are adorable?”

“Oh, I forgot we had that!” Yuna exclaims, coming to sit on the couch with her glass of wine. “God, I miss those days. Shane was the cutest timbit.”

Timbit, Ilya mouths to himself, his fingers curling around the tape. This is Shane as a timbit? In all his tiny little hockey gear at the Bell Center? Ilya needs to see it. “Shane.”

Shane looks at him and sighs.

They put the tape in.

Ilya almost dies as the grainy screen resolves itself into an MC and a tiny Shane, dressed in his hockey gear. His helmet is crooked on his head, his stick tap tap tapping against it as he stares at the interviewer, determined. His cheeks are big and round and pink from the cold of the ice, and though Ilya cannot make out his freckles, he knows from pictures that they’re there. The MC crouches down and a packed Bell Center is visible behind them.

“And here we have number 24, Shane Hollander!” The MC says in heavily accented English. “Let’s give him a round of applause. Shane, how are you feeling tonight, are you excited to be here?”

“Um. Yes.”

“And how old are you, Shane?”

Little Shane closes his eyes for a moment, taking a big, deep breath before reciting: “My name is Shane Hollander and I’m a hockey player. I am three years old and I go to Glebe Co-operative Nursery School in Ottawa and my mommy and daddy are Yuna and David. And I’m three.”

The MC laughs a little. “That’s a great introduction, Shane, thank you. Do you have anyone here with you tonight, cheering you on in the audience?”

Shane’s eyes open, but he doesn’t break out into a toothy grin. No, instead, Shane—serious, no-nonsense Shane—nods and leans in to the microphone like he’s giving a post-game interview. “Yes, my mommy and my daddy.”

“And are they big Metros fans?”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

“Yes, too. They’re gonna go all the way this year. They have all the pieces for a winning team.”

“That’s what we love to hear, Shane, we agree and we love the confidence. Can we expect to see you on the ice someday? Do you want to be a hockey player when you grow up?”

“Yes, I’m a hockey player.”

“Do you want to play for Montreal?”

“Yes.”

“Can we get some encouragement for the team from you, Shane? Maybe a Go Metros Go?”

This, Shane takes extremely seriously. Ilya watches him nod with all the solemnity of a general going to war, and then releases his own tiny, passionate battle cry: “Go Metros Go!”

“Shane Hollander, everyone, let’s give him another round of applause!”

Ilya watches Shane stick out his little hand and the MC laugh a little as he shakes it, before tiny Shane toddles back to his parents on his skates. The mic picks up, Mommy can I skate again nowww? before the tape stops.

Ilya is going to fucking die. He already feels as if his heart is too big for his body, his fingers pressing into his knees to keep from grabbing Shane and doing—something to him. Kissing him or hugging him or fucking. Eating him. Consuming him. Crawling inside of him.

Shane is curled up beside the couch with his hands covering his face in embarrassment and Ilya is sitting less than a meter from him, dying of retroactive cuteness.

“You were so pissed when we told you that your turn to skate was done,” Yuna murmurs fondly. “Full meltdown.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Shane mutters, shaking his head in his hands. “JP made fun of me.”

Yuna scoffs. “JP was copying his parents, because they were pissed that you were better than him. And that we were out of towners but got the interview.” She raises a brow. “And now look: you’re a professional hockey player and JP is probably working at some office back in Trois Rivières and hates his life.”

“Mom, seriously?”

“What?” Yuna asks, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. “His parents were assholes. They made an asshole. I won’t apologize for that.”

Ilya takes the opportunity to crawl closer, slinging an arm around Shane’s back. He presses one kiss, then two, then three to Shane’s cheek. “Shane,” he breathes.

“Mm?”

“You were cutest fucking tiny hockey player in the entire world.”

Ilya feels Shane’s blush against his mouth. He kisses it again. “Fuck off,” Shane mutters, cuddling into him. He turns to press a soft, barely there kind of kiss to the corner of Ilya’s lips, burying his pink, hot face into his neck. “I was too serious. They called me a robot and did that stupid dance at me.”

“Well, they’re idiots. Hockey is serious, so you are serious, and they were probably ugly.”

“Ilya,” Shane laughs. Ilya feels his huffed breath in the juncture of his own neck and grins, thumb moving up to caress the small hairs at his nape.

They’re still too far away.

Ilya shifts, immediately attacking Shane’s face with kisses the minute he becomes visible. Shane laughs, shrieks, says stop even as he pulls Ilya closer, until they’ve toppled over onto the carpet.

Shane pulls back to look him in the eye, chewing his lip. “I think my parents still have some camcorder home videos of me.”

This is the best news Ilya has ever heard.

[thirstkanaphan]

[stonelionhearts]

sometimes i wonder if we have forgotten that sharing creative work is, fundamentally, a bid for human connection. like I'm not posting art or fic for 'engagement' i'm posting it looking for other sickos to play with! i'd be making it anyway for my own gratification because there's something wrong with me, i'm sharing it hoping we can have something wrong with us together <3

[001x456]

fanfic writers and fan artists are carrying fandoms. they are the backbone of fandoms.

thank you fanfic writers and fan artists

[bisexual-horror-fan]

[gjdraws]

I'm sure I've left some people out because I slapped this together in 15 minutes but it's a whole lot more, imo artists and writers are nothing without these other guys (gn)

It's an ecosystem guys, we need all of it

[hrast-ika]

and we can't forget video editors (amvs and such) - my fandom experience is not the same without some banger edits that i replay constantly throughout my hyperfixation

[creativepromptsforwriting]

For anyone worried because they write the same trope more than once: I love that shit. I will love that first one and I will still be excited for the thirtieth one. Let these idiots do the same thing over and over again. We deserve that.

[karen-writes]

Ways to fix writer's block

OPTION 1: Try turning the writer on and off (it works)

OPTION 2: if option 1 doesn't work, try putting the writer in rice.

[fellangel]

OPTION 3: if both aforementioned options show no effect, try putting rice in the writer

[toasted-rivalry]

Ilya and Shane, but it’s just them seeing each other as a version of their husband no one else understands them seeing.

To Ilya, Shane is the funniest, sexiest, bitchiest and downright FREAKIEST person he knows. He tells everyone he knows this, yet for some reason no one seems to believe him. His husband is such an asshole, and Ilya loves him for it.

While to Shane, Ilya is his soft and most precious baby. A heart of gold and with feelings so wide and deep he is breathless at just how much he CARES. Sunshine itself. Shane laughs at how people describe his ‘scary, no-smiling Slavic nightmare of a husband.’ See Ilya! He DOES get sarcasm (he does not.)

[shanesloverboy]

I think we forget that at the end of the day, Heated Rivalry is a story about two boys falling in with each other as they grow up. They both learned how to love from the other. They learned who they are together. They're childhood sweethearts in the purest sense of the word. They're just boys with crushes.