My idea of myhollanov’s texting frequency/habits post-Heated Rivalry make me 🥹 I see their positions flipping a little and suddenly shane is always texting first and being clingy and concerned and boyfriendy where ilya is used to being the pursuer but now it’s not abt pursuit it’s about comfort and ilya brings shane comfort so he’s always like “i miss you already” “good morning, how did you sleep?” “just wanted to say hi and that im thinking about you” “i hate that you had to leave” like his earnestness really comes into play for me here and i just love thinking of double-texter sweetie pie shane once they’re boyfriends
and annotate them with who is in the photos and when and where the photos were taken!!! your extended family 50 years from now will be grateful, and so will you if you end up forgetting any details
they really don't respect the time of disabled people. your application can take up to 12 weeks. the specialist waitlist is 3 years. your assessment will be any time within the next 6 months. let us know if you cannot attend this appointment you waited 7 weeks for and we'll reschedule next year. we've decided to assess you at this time and day and you have to be available or any support you dared to apply for is not going to happen. and in between these long bouts of waiting you have to survive the everyday
This is so real and I have so many personal examples, but here are three:
I get told about my catheter changes on the morning of the day they want to do it. They don’t always give me a time either, they just expect me to put everything on hold until they get there. And they’re always completely baffled when I tell them they’ll need to reschedule because I’m at work or, heaven forbid, socialising.
There’s been three times now where I’ve travelled 2hrs+ to see a specialist for a 5 minute appointment where they basically just told me that they weren’t the right specialist and I’d need to go back to my GP to get a referral to a different hospital. 2 of those times they didn’t even acknowledge the wasted journey.
If you’re in work in the UK, the Access for Work scheme that provides vital support and equipment to help people stay employed has a waiting list of over half a year just to read your application. Which is a huge amount of time to spend trying not to get fired because you don’t have the equipment to do your job properly, and ends up with loads of people privately purchasing incredibly expensive equipment/ services that should be provided for them. (I’m currently weighing up the possibility of buying hundreds of pounds worth of equipment vs waiting potentially a year to maybe get it funded, other people I know of have spent literally thousands)
You know, there's this cliché that teenage boys always eat massive amounts, but teenage girls really aren't that different if they're not suppressed by diet culture and body shaming. Like, I was a teenage girl who frankly just stopped bothering to fit into mainstream beauty ideals at some point, and I would regularly make myself just one big massive pot of pasta and devour it completely. This wasn't even stress eating or anything, I just genuinely needed the energy because you know, I was a teenager and my body was developing. I feel like so many teenage girls think they need to eat as little as possible to be petite and pretty, but the truth is that your body is developing just as intensely as teenage boys' bodies. Eat more, please, your body needs it.
image description: tags reading #this goes double for trans girls who feel like they'll only look like girls if they're stick thin #you need food in you!! /end id
u people have got to get more normal ab people who don't make sense to u . I mean like people who ramble on and don't know how to have proper conversation . people who are completely incomprehensible . people who talk about delusions and hallucinations . people who can't understand social cues . people with speech impediments or no speech at all . people with vocal tics . not just because it's the decent thing to do but also bc this is most common in the most vulnerable marginalized people . youth , elders , mentally ill , disabled , addicts as well as more generally people with accents & non English speakers .
dan and phil really are so lucky they got famous off youtube because their skill set (lying and having separation anxiety) really don’t work in any other career, bless their hearts
and annotate them with who is in the photos and when and where the photos were taken!!! your extended family 50 years from now will be grateful, and so will you if you end up forgetting any details
Hollanov | Rated: G | 6.2K (Complete)
[Now with a Bonus Bit Chapter 2!]
A birthday fic for the lovely and amazing @typicalopposite! I feel so lucky to be able to share this wonderful space with you that we've carved out for ourselves. You're amazing! Thank you for being a friend. ❤️
The chosen theme was kids so this is what my brain came up with. 😂
Summary:
Some people are born great.
Others have greatness thrust upon them and it drools on their shirt a little while it’s at it.
Ilya Rozanov was fortunate enough (???) to experience both.
Excerpt below the cut:
It started during his third season in Boston when Marlow approached him after a game on a random Tuesday.
“Roz, I got a favor to ask,” he said, leaning up against Ilya’s stall with a hopeful grin. “My sister’s coming for a visit and my nephew, Leo? Completely obsessed with you. Think you could score me some cool uncle points and swing by Friday afternoon to say hi?”
Ilya let the buzz of the locker room wash over him as he considered it. Kid had good taste. The least Ilya could do was reward it. “Yes, making you look cool is regular job for me,” he said. “I can do this.”
“That’s not what I—you know what, that’s great, I’ll take it.” Marly clapped a giant hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “Leo’s gonna be stoked. Thanks, dude.”
Friday afternoon rolled around and Ilya showed up at Marly’s place, as promised. Thundering footsteps sounded as soon as he rang the doorbell accompanied by a shrieking noise that became somewhat clearer the closer it got.
A thud shook one of the large windows beside the door and Ilya looked over to see a small child with dark curls pressed up against the glass, nose smushed and mouth wide open. “ILL-EE-YA ROOOOOOOZAAANOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOV!”
Leo, presumably.
Ilya waved.
The child took off screaming again.
Marly opened the door a moment later, looking more haggard than Ilya had ever seen him and they’d been through a playoff season together. “Hey, Rozy, thanks for doing this.” He motioned Ilya forward, stepping back to let him toe off his shoes by the front door. “Sorry about the mess, just watch where you step, I guess.” He dragged a hand through his hair as he huffed out a laugh. “Been a while since Ginny’s visited and I forgot how much stuff comes along when there’s a kid and now there’s two—”
“Two?”
“Yeah, my niece, remember?” Marly’s eyes went gooey and Ilya remembered that same look from when her arrival was announced a few months ago.
“Da.” Ilya sifted through his mental Cliff Marlow file until— “Emma.”
“Right! Man, that’s impressive.” Marly nudged him forward, cheeks busting wide with a smile. “Come on, come meet the gang.”
He led Ilya down a hallway covered in photos; the expected ones of Marly with the team, action shots of him on the ice, but also bright pictures of smiling children and adults with their arms around each other, many of them new additions to the walls. Marly had a lot of life to display.
They ended up in a sunny, open kitchen where a woman in yoga pants and a stained sweater—Ginny, he reminded himself—gave him a tired smile. “Hi, Mr. Rozanov,” she said as she wrangled a squirmy baby into a high chair. “I’m Ginny, Cliff’s sister. Thank you so much for doing this. It’s all Leo’s been able to talk about all week.”
“Ilya. Please,” he said as he crouched down to where Leo was standing beside her, vibrating as he held two mini-hockey sticks in his hands. “And could not disappoint biggest fan, yes?”
“That’s me!” Leo yelled, launching himself forward into Ilya’s space. “My name is Leo Davis Williams and I’ve watched all of your games, even when I was a little baby like Emma. This is you when you play hockey.” Leo started running around, waving the sticks over the floor as he made swooshing noises.
“Leo, hun, be care—” Ginny didn’t get to finish her sentence before Leo ran headfirst into the kitchen table, rattling everything on top of it. Ilya jolted, but was too far and couldn’t move fast enough as a pitcher of juice wobbled…
And then toppled over, drenching Leo and most of Ginny’s pants while it was at it.
“Whoops.” Leo froze in place as he dripped orange from head to toe. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to!”
“That was crazy, bud,” Marly said cheerfully, already wadding up paper towels to tackle the floor. “You moved so fast it was just like watching Rozy!”
“Really?” Leo beamed, bumping fists as Marly crouched down beside him and began mopping up juice. “Like a hundred miles fast, right?”
“At least.”
Ginny’s groan turned into a laugh as she picked him up. “Let’s get changed, wild man.”
“That was pretty good check,” Ilya called after them. “Keep practicing.”
“Kid’s gonna destroy my apartment by the end of the weekend,” Marly chuckled, knees cracking as he reached under the table to tackle the last of the puddle. Above him, Emma started whimpering, big brown eyes filling up with tears. “Hey! What’s going on, baby girl?” He grunted his way up to his feet and dumped the soaked paper towels in the garbage before washing his hands.
Emma’s whimpers had turned into wails by the time he returned to take her out of the high chair. “What’s up, ma’am? Why are we crying?”
Ilya stood awkwardly in the kitchen as Marly bounced the increasingly enraged infant, trying to calm her. Failing to calm her, more accurately.
It wasn’t like Ilya had any experience to bring to the table. He’d never really been around any babies before—he wasn’t home often enough to see his own niece after she’d been born and when he was there, he was busy dealing with his father. And Alexei. His brother certainly wasn’t bringing his family with him when he came by to demand money for his various vices. A few of Ilya’s teammates had started families over the years, but he’d only ever seen those babies through pictures or in passing.
Although as the minutes went by and Emma continued to cry, Ilya began to think that experience wasn’t necessarily helping in this case. Marly might just be bad with babies.
“You’re dry,” Cliff muttered as Emma sobbed and kicked in his arms. “You’ve been fed. I don’t know what you want, kiddo!”
Okay. This was too painful to just stand by and watch. Ilya stepped over to them, grabbing Emma’s little socked feet in his hands and giving them a gentle squeeze as he bent down.
“Hello, my little howler monkey,” he said, switching to Russian. “I agree. It is unfortunate that you are stuck with an uncle who has more jawline than brains, but he is trying, yes? You can still be upset. It is okay to cry about it.”
That earned him another high-pitched scream and he nodded. “Yes, yes, let it out. You know, he also skates very slow. I cry about that sometimes too. We can cry together.”
Emma stared at him, chest still heaving occasionally, but her cries quieting down.
“Holy shit, Roz,” Cliff whispered and Ilya shook his head.
“And he swears! Such a bad example for his little monkey. What are we going to do with him, Emmochka?” A little smile poked through Emma’s tears. Ilya grinned back at her, tickling her tummy. “Look at that. So brave. I think you might survive having such a silly uncle. At least your brother is very cool. Tell him to keep destroying Marly’s apartment to keep you entertained, okay?”
“Everything good out here?” Ginny asked as she returned to the kitchen, Leo running along beside her, wearing a fresh, tiny Boston jersey.
“Uh, yeah,” Marly said, shifting Emma in his arms as she snuggled in, eyes already drifting shut. “Roz just hypnotized Emma or some sh—something. It was crazy.”
“Was just talking,” Ilya shrugged. “Told her to give tired, ancient uncle a break.”
“Nice, Rozy.”
“That’s amazing.” Ginny stared at her daughter, who was very nearly asleep at this point, and shook her head. “She hates travelling and she’s been so cranky this week. Can you stay? Travel back to Michigan with us? I’m not even joking.”
“Ah, no, sorry.” Ilya leaned against the kitchen counter with a heavy sigh. “Team needs me. Would lose every game if I left.”
“That’s true, Mom,” Leo piped up, nodding his head too. Vigorously.
“Leo, what the heck, buddy,” Marly huffed out a laugh, but Leo ignored him in favor of turning to Ilya, half climbing up his legs.
“Ilya Rozanov, will you sign my sweater?” He flipped around, pointing out the ROZANOV clear across the back with Ilya’s number below.
“Double betrayal!” The outrage was whispered across the room, Marly clearly not willing to wake Emma despite the crimes of disloyalty being committed.
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
vaporwave
areudirty
annaxmalina
gummygunk
pixelskylines
