Throwing this out into the ether hoping someone knows this fic- (It could be either Sterek or Steter but I lean towards Sterek for this one) Derek gets help from … maybe … Stiles family and/or connections of his as Derek has pack bonds that need to be sorted through. And she (who I forget but it’s either Stiles aunt or a friend with magic or something but from outside Beacon Hills) yanks the bad bonds out. And one of the bond yanked is Jennifer Blake… which I think kills her.
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I was really hoping to get this finished before I started posting, but alas, it was not meant to be. That said, I'm 98% complete. Like 3-4k words left in the story close.
This is the story whose title I kept to myself. It was just sooo good, I wanted it to be a surprise for everyone.
Summary: Eddie and Steve are just two boys in their senior year of high school whose lives are about to be turned upside down. Eddie with a recording contract for his band Corroded Coffin, Steve with his mom dying. In a fit of rage Steve does the inexplicable. He destroys the drama room props and costume closet. When Principal Higgins wants to pin on Eddie. But Steve steps forward. Life moves on, but can they?
~
On opposite sides of the town, two boys are listening a lawyer that would change their lives forever.
Eddie Munson was sitting with friends; Brian Martin, Jeff Lawrence, and Gareth Hughes as the lawyer explained that the contract was very good and that for a first time band, they would make a lot of money. All they had to do was get on a plane headed for LA next Saturday and sign on the dotted line.
Steve Harrington on the other hand was at will reading for his mother, Sophia Harrington, who tragically passed away from a brain aneurysm. He was seated with his father. He listened stony-faced as everyone else in the room received something from her, even if it was a single piece of jewelry or a trust that could be used when x happened.
But there was nothing for him. Not even a mention. And if anyone had any notions that the will had simply not been updated after Steve’s birth was put to bed when Tammy Thompson was mentioned to get $5000 to pursue her dreams of Broadway, a girl in Steve’s year.
Her own husband got a mention, leaving the house to him and the rest of her material assets not mentioned in the will. But not her son.
Everyone was bursting with such joy to have been remembered by such a great lady that no one realized that one person had been deliberately left out of the will.
“Don’t worry about it, son,” Charles growled. “I’m sure it’s because she assumed I would die first and leave you all my money.”
Steve could only nod. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the end, fighting back the tears that threatened to overflow.
He hadn’t even been mentioned and it burned all the way down from his throat to his stomach. It was clear. Sophia Harrington had no need to mention someone she cared so little for.
The biggest slap in the face was the fact that the Hawkins High drama department got $2.7 million to completely revamp everything from the stage to their costumes and set pieces. It would absolutely revitalize how they put on productions. It would even allow them to set up a trust for scholarships.
It was as Mr. Miller, the drama teacher, sobbed, incredibly generous.
Steve went home and curled up into a ball on his bed as sobs wracked his body. He felt so alone. Nancy convinced him to throw off his asshole friends at the start his junior year and then went and cheated on him the following year, leaving him friendless and alone.
Even in his dreams he was all alone in a void of nothing but blackness. He sat in the middle, his head buried in his knees. Then the laughter started. First it was his mother, then it was Tommy and Carol, and then the rest of his old friends joined in. Finally Nancy and her new boyfriend Jonathan began laughing too.
Steve woke with a start, panting for breath. He rubbed his face wearily and then got up to splash water on his face.
He then took the time to do his bed time routine for the sake of doing something that felt normal. Even though nothing in his life would ever be normal again.
He got into his pajamas and laid down on his bed again, hoping that sleep would allude him. He thought of all sorts of things to make himself stay awake.
He named all the teams in the NBA alphabetically by name and then by state. He listed all the names of the Men’s Olympic swim team for 1984. But instead of keeping him awake, it soothed his mind and fell into a dreamless and deep sleep.
~
His dad hadn’t made Steve go to school the following Monday, but he did ask him to try going to school on Tuesday.
So Steve got dressed all in black and drove in silence to the school. Charles had offered to take him, but Steve had declined, saying that he if he wanted to leave in the middle of school, he would want to do so quickly.
Charles nodded and let him go.
Once Steve was far enough away from his house he let out a shuddering sigh of relief. He knew his dad meant well, but he was starting to miss the days when his parents would go on business trips for days leaving him home alone.
The hovering was starting to make his skin crawl, because when the fog cleared and the respectable amount of time for grief to have passed, his father would go back to being the hard ass he always was.
He pulled into the parking lot and rested his head on the steering wheel. Maybe he should have had his dad take him. With a heavy sigh, he got out of his car and walked into the school.
Steve went through the motions and there was not a single teacher he had who dared call his name even for roll call.
He didn’t even sit with friends at lunch time, the librarian letting him have lunch on one of the studying tables. He wouldn’t say he ate, but she allowed him time to himself to push his food around his plate before he gave up and tossed it.
Steve decided that he was just going to go home. He went to the office to have them notify the rest of his teachers and then walked the full length of the school to where his car was located.
But as he passed the drama room, he saw the door swinging back and forth, as if someone had slammed the door, but instead of latching shut had bounced back.
He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he was filled with a rage he couldn’t even begin to describe.
How dare they? How dare they leave the door open so callously like they didn’t care about the stuff anymore. And why would they? Everything was going to be replaced with better stuff anyway.
Steve stormed into the drama and began ripping all the clothes off their hangers, stomping on them and kicking them into a corner. He found a real baseball bat and went to work on the backdrops and props like lamps and shit.
He went through the closet like a tornado through town. He got to the last bit of furniture in the room. It was a large black throne with skulls on it.
Steve wasn’t even sure what play they would have even used it for, but that thought. That one moment of clarity gave him pause. Just enough.
He sunk to his knees and began sobbing. Just large hiccuping sobs of pain, anguish, and despair.
He picked up the bat and then turned on his heel and ran. He yanked open his car door and just gunned it out of the parking lot.
Not a single light or speed limit was respected in his rush to get home. Somehow, someway he made home without killing himself or someone else and avoided every cop in town.
Once he got to his house, he parked and just broke down again.
Steve finally picked up the pieces of his soul and got out of the car. He went through the motions of getting into the house, toeing off his shoes and walking up the stairs to his bedroom.
He stripped out of his clothes and crawled into bed with just his socks and underwear on. He pulled the blanket over his head and stayed there until his father got home.
Charles knocked on his door and let himself in when Steve mumbled something in reply.
“I’ve got dinner in the fridge,” he muttered, “just heat up something when you get hungry. Just make sure you do eat, do you understand me?”
Steve nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Charles nodded and then went back downstairs.
Steve laid in bed until almost midnight before venturing into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out the Tupperware and huffed out a laugh when he realized his dad had filled it with spaghetti. Something he would have not done under pain of death when Mom was alive. Because it would stain it orange.
He splashed a little bit of water on the noodles and stuck it in the microwave.
Then suddenly the microwave was going off and making noise, Steve rushed forward to turn it off, but it was too late, his dad had heard.
Charles came out of his office and leaned against the door frame. “Cutting it kinda fine, aren’t you?”
Steve looked over his shoulder and huffed a laugh at the smirk on his dad’s face. “It’s still today.”
“Yes it is,” Charles agreed, coming into the kitchen and pulled up a chair at the island, sitting down. “You want to talk about today? Because this isn’t you.”
Steve took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I don’t know how to feel, how to act, how to breathe knowing she didn’t even think of me at all.”
Charles let out a pained sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. He walked into the room as the microwave went off.
Steve got the food out and set down with it and fork to eat.
“I wish I could tell you I knew why. But I don’t know anymore than you do,” Charles huffed, leaning against the counter. “I knew that there was some discontentment with being a mother. I think that she only had you because that’s what was expected of her and you shouldn’t have to bear the burden of that. But you’ll have to anyway, because you are in this world even if you didn’t ask to be.”
Steve nodded and then took a bite of the food. “Did Mrs. Oldman make this?”
Charles straightened up and cocked his head to the side. “Yes, how did you know?”
Steve stabbed at the spaghetti with his fork. “She’s the only one I know who uses breakfast sausage instead of hamburger or Italian sausage in her spaghetti.”
Charles blinked his eyes for a moment. “I don’t think I realized.” He took the fork out of Steve’s hand scooped up some of the sausage. “You’re right, that is breakfast sausage. Well, regardless it tastes good.”
Steve nodded and took the fork back to actually eat. Charles stayed to make sure he ate enough to fuel a teenaged athlete body before letting Steve give up.
“Principal Higgins called me today,” Charles said dryly. “Apparently someone trashed the drama room closet and they think it was the Munson boy. He was the last one in the room during lunch.”
The spaghetti in Steve’s stomach turned to lead and sat heavily. He swallowed thickly. “It wasn’t him.”
Charles’s eyes cut to him with the sharp precision of the top notch lawyer he was. “And I’m declaring myself in this instance as not your father but your lawyer so anything you tell me from this moment on is protected.”
Steve let out a shuddering breath. In that moment he felt a surge of love and respect toward the man in front of him.
So he told him everything. From the bad dreams to the rage he felt in that moment seeing the drama room door swinging on its hinges.
Charles nodded. “All right. Here’s what we are going to do.” And he mapped out the next couple of days, leaving Steve stunned.
“I deserve to go to jail,” he whispered, pained.
“I’m not going to tell you what you should do,” Charles said with a heavy sigh. “I am only saying that you need to think about your future and what kind of man you want to be. Because you’re still a kid Steve. And while the law could go either way for a seventeen year old on whether or not to treat you as a juvenile or an adult, you are just a kid.”
Steve let out a shuddering breath and then another. He nodded.
“What I want you to do is think about it,” Charles said. “Then I will do whatever you want me to do, okay?”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Charles stepped around the counter and gave Steve a hug and kissed him fiercely on the forehead. “I may have made some mistakes in my life and far too often in my marriage, but I am proud of you, okay.”
After the wedding (and all of Ilya’s citizenship paperwork is secure so that a name change won't fuck everything up) their legal names are Hollander-Rozanov but they keep them the same for hockey to avoid confusion.
However, Ilya starts this bit where whenever someone at practice or at an event calls for Hollander he acts like he thought they were calling for him, usually saying something like "you said Hollander! I am a Hollander!" And it's so stupid but Shane is charmed and amused every time, and he starts doing the same thing when people say Rozanov.
Eventually the team just starts using their numbers to refer to them, and Ilya follows one time when Wiebe calls for "24" because "I am a 24 by marriage!" And the whole team groans at them and someone throws a ball of tape at Ilya's head.
Yeah, yeah. I know it's not a real thing, but it's funny when you get into the story.
Summary: Eddie just wants to cash his first check and go out celebrating with friends, but fate has other plans. A freshly released from Pennhurst Hospital Steve Harrington comes into the bank looking for answers into the deaths of his best friends Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins he accidentally triggers a series of events that leave Eddie as his hostage. Now it's a race to find out what happened that night because Steve is suddenly on borrowed time.
~
Eddie was having the best day of his life. He had gotten a job at Thacher’s Tires thanks to Brian and had worked enough to get his very first paycheck.
He had promised the guys to meet up with them at Benny’s Diner to celebrate his first check and to treat them all to milk shakes. He knew it was going to take him longer because he had to open an account in his name, so he told them meet him there in an hour.
His van roared to a stop in front of the bank and he slid out, locking the door behind him as he slammed it shut. He walked in and never felt so out place in his entire life. The floors were black marble and walls were stark white. Not off-white, not eggshell. Pure blindingly white. There were sofas and tables in the black and white theme. Hell even the little counter thingy where you filled out deposit and withdraw slips was white.
He was standing there in ripped black jeans and a Megadeath t-shirt that had seen better days. He was so grateful he had pulled on his clean white sneakers this morning otherwise he would look like one hell of a sight.
Eddie looked around. There were a couple of people in line for a cashier, an old man with a cane and half moon glass, and a mother with her toddler on her hip, there was a young couple getting their first mortgage, and young man speaking with another agent, probably about a cash box. Then he spotted the agent who could help him off to the side. He walked up to the employee’s desk.
“Hey, I would like to open up an account here,” he murmured. He wasn’t sure why, but speaking loud felt worse than shouting in a library.
The man at the desk brightened. “Of course! I’d be happy to help you with that. Please have a seat!”
Eddie sat down and filled out all the paper work and the guy even helped him cash his first check and determined how much Eddie should put away.
As he filled out the paper work, the woman with her kid and the old man had finished their business while the couple argued over whether or not her name should be on the house, and the young man was getting more and more agitated.
Just as Eddie was finishing up a business man in a suit and a young woman came in. He honestly couldn’t tell if she was his daughter or his girlfriend, but he kept one hand on her waist the whole time.
Then as he stood up to leave suddenly there was a loud crash as all the gates to the exits dropped and the alarm overhead started blaring.
There were screams from the wife and one of the tellers and shouts from the mortgage guy and the business man demanding what the hell was going on.
“Shut up!” the young man growled, rubbing his temple with what looked to Eddie like a small pistol. Thankfully the guy was at least keeping his finger off the trigger, but that did nothing lessen the tension in the room. “Shut up! Shut up!”
The room became so stone silent that you could hear the ragged breaths of the scared people around him.
Oh hell no, this was not happening. Not today. Eddie really had places to be and he wasn’t going to be stuck in a bank being held up by some yuppie jock, judging from his clothes and the very expensive swim watch on his wrist.
The sirens continued to wail and Eddie could see that the guy was starting to pace back and forth screaming obscenities at the teller who had obviously been the one to trigger the alarm.
“Everyone just stay where you are and don’t move!” the guy yelled, still rubbing his temple like it pained him.
Eddie just wished it wasn’t with the barrel of a gun.
The screaming from the bank patrons started up again and he was starting to get a headache.
The guy pressed the heels on his palms into his eyes and bellowed. “Everyone fucking shut the hell up!”
That’s when Eddie got it, whatever was going on here, the bank robber had no idea what he was doing and before rational thought entered his head, he was on his feet and loping over to where the guy was standing.
“Hey, darlin' is this your first robbery,” Eddie said cocking his head to his side, “because wow, you sure are riled up. Now, look this little hold up is cute and all but I really have places to be, so can we just call it a day and no one gets hurt?”
“Hold up?” the guy echoed and Eddie was suddenly more confused than before. “Unless you can do something about the fucking alarm get the fuck out of my face!”
Eddie blinked at him for a moment and then he was being pulled away. He was forced to sit down and he noticed his ‘rescuers’ were the mortgage guy and the safety deposit lady who started this whole mess.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “What do you think you are doing? Don’t you know who that is?”
“Well, no,” he said rearing his head back. “Is there a reason I should know this guy?”
The mortgage guy whose nametag read Riley looked around to make sure the bank robber wasn’t looking their direction.
“That’s Steve Harrington,” he hissed under his breath. “He went crazy and killed his best friend and the guy’s girlfriend.”
“His rich father got him off and sent into Pennhurst Asylum,” the manager whispered, frightened. Eddie could finally see that her nametag read Karen. “My daughter went to school with him.”
Eddie’s whole head snapped over to the bank robber who was shouting for the alarms to stop and the recognition hit.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. “I went to school with him too.”
But this creature before him was not the Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High Eddie knew back in the day. That boy was athletic, tanned, fitted clothes and a confidence that could only be bought by swaths and swaths of his parents money.
This was not that. The clothes he wore were ill-fitting and stained. It was clear that someone had tried to get the blood stains out but couldn’t. His belt was doing a lot of heavy lifting to keep the man from indecency.
His once beautiful hair hung limp in front of his eyes and he did nothing to push it out of his way. He was pale and more than just a little frail.
It was clear that he had been released from the hospital and came straight here. For whatever reason he was holding up a bank.
Not even Eddie’s dad was stupid enough to go from jail to a bank robbery right out of the clank.
Fuck.
Eddie was lucky to be alive.
~
Chief Jim Hopper was having a bad day. He had stopped drinking, then his ex-wife called and told him she was getting remarried in the fall to a nice guy named Paul of all things, the new rookie on the force had already got in trouble for waving his gun around, and the coffee machine in the office was broken.
Then as he was trying to copy a report, the copy machine ate it. Ate the whole god damned report.
He was so fucking done.
Hopper was grabbing his coat and calling it a day when the call came in.
There was an active robbery at the bank.
His eyes slid shut and he opened them slowly.
“I can take it for ya,” Powell said cocking his head to the side, “if you need to cut out of here.” He jutted his chin at the coat in his hand.
“You got an experience in negotiation?” Hopper growled, almost hoping the guy would say yes and he could in fact go home.
“Sorry, Chief,” Powell replied with a grimace.
Hopper let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I was afraid of that. Find out as much as you can and get at least three cars out there. Call Callahan in and tell him that the apartment building across the street has a clear line of sight to the front doors of the bank. Tell him to grab his rifle and head on up.”
Powell nodded and everyone rushed to do their jobs. Hopper let out a pained sigh and head not to his truck, but to his patrol car.
Once inside he started banging on the steering wheel and cussing and spitting. He threw the car in reverse and peeled out of the parking lot as if the devil himself was gunning for him.
It had taken less than twenty minutes to get everyone into place, but they still had no idea who the were dealing with.
They didn’t even know how many people were in there, let alone anything like demands.
“I want eyes in there!” Hopper growled. “I need to know what we are dealing with here! I need number of unsubs and hostages! I need the phone number of the bank, not the cute one they hand their customers, the real one, the one that gets me to someone in charge. And I need it yesterday!”
All around him people scrambled to do as they were told.
Powell came running up to him. “There is one perp with a what looks to be a pistol and about a half a dozen hostages.”
“God dammit,” Hopper swore. Six hostages was six hostages too many. “Is there a way we get ahold of whoever is in there?”
Powell nodded. “There’s a direct line to the manager’s office and from what the alarm company said, that’s where the distress call originated from.”
“Do you have the numb–?” Hopper began to ask when Powell shoved a boxy mobile phone at him and a piece of paper. “All right let’s do this, let’s see if this guy can be reasoned with.”
He dialed the number and immediately the line picked up, but before he could utter a word, someone screamed into the receiver, “Shut the alarms off! For god’s sake shut them off!”
“Well, hello to you to,” Hopper snarked. “I’ll turn the alarms off, but first you have to work with me. I’m Jim Hopper, chief of police. Who am I speaking to?”
“Oh well, fuck,” the robber hissed. “Yeah, I know who you are. I’m Steve and the alarms are really making my head hurt. I can’t think, I can’t breathe!”
Steve, Steve, Steve... why did that name ring a bell? “I’ll tell you what Steve, let go one of the hostages and you’ll have your peace.”
Then the phone disconnected and Hopper stared at the phone in his hand in horror. “Well shit.”
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So apparently, over the summer, Quibi (the shortest-lasting streaming service ever lmao) did a quarantine project called “Home Movie: The Princess Bride” where a bunch of celebrities recreated The Princess Bride in tiny chunks at home.
And like there was no permanent cast, all these celebrities seem to have gotten a scene or part of a scene to do (i’m not sure exactly, I did not ever watch Quibi and thus haven’t seen this yet), and then they just… recreated it as best they could. At home. Under quarantine.
So like, you had Jennifer Garner in a blanket cape playing Princess Buttercup AND the Booing Old Woman with a crowd comprised entirely of stuffed animals:
Or Taika Waititi paying Westley off a badly-drawn Inigo on a piece of cardboard held in front of someone’s face:
And it’s all just delightful.
But my absolute favorite part of this thing that I’ve sadly never seen but assume is probably absolutely hilarious and a treasure and I want to find it some day and watch the whole thing… is that Carey Elwes is in it.
In case you need a comfort watch and because Youtube search nowadays sucks rancid putrescence, I remind you of the Princess Bride Home Movie from the lockdown, starring everybody
This is why Pride is not just a party. It's a joyful celebration, but it's also a pointed and colourful two-finger salute to a world that stood back whilst so many of us died. And we'll never go quietly, never again.
unreasonably amused by the idea of itty bitty shane not wanting to get off the ice after practice to the point that david gets ON the ice to get him, so itty bitty does the "my bones are gone now" resistance move kids are so good at.
but fails to consider that ice is. so slippery.
like stage your protest all you want, buddy, but you have literally never been more move-able.
Read the post and loved it exactly for the potential of what's in the tags: uh oh now David made it funnnn and Shane, quick little bean that he is, riiiight as he's getting to the edge of the rink, about to be picked up and passed to mom, gets up and skates away to the middle of the rink and PLOMP lays down on his back, giggling and kicking his little skates. "Again, Dad (Shane does not call David daddy in front of his friends, he's not a baby!), again!!"
It doesn't help David and Yuna that everyone and their mother thinks this is the funniest, cutest thing ever and laughs, just spurring Shane to do it more and more.
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Thanks to ultrasounds, the genders can be assigned before birth. The people are so excited to conform they throw “Gender reveal parties” to make sure their offspring exist in a strict binary since before they can even form thoughts.
one genre of fanfiction that seems to have mostly disappeared since i became an adult is shenanigans-type fics. like not exactly crack but just "the gang goes to 7-11" type, extremely low-stakes plot stories. the beach episodes of fanfiction. i just feel like i don't see those around so much anymore. whered they go. i miss them :(
Talk about posts that reached up and attempted to strangle me with a reality check. I think the answer is two-fold. (I miss these fics too, and I didn't realize just HOW MUCH I missed them until OP mentioned it.)
People... don't DO those things anymore.
2. Readers don't often engage in crack fic/drabble/ficlet fic nearly as much.
Number one is sad, so we'll tackle this one first. But between urban sprawl, the loss of teenager 'hang out' spaces, and this huge push from anime and television (often) to get away from having "filler episodes", there's so much less general exposure to it.
As a teenager, just dicking around with my friends through my early teens and 20's - the amount of shenanigans we got in at gas stations, 7-11's and Wal-Mart just being fucking TEENAGERS was substantial. Today, there's a huge pushback against that because of how many people have become "anti-teenager" for a variety of reasons. If you're not doing those sorts of shenanigans yourself, and you're not seeing them in your media... the new generations of writers aren't going to write those types of fic.
...fuck that made me so sad, teenagers and young adults right now have shit fucking HARD. I feel for you all.
Number two. Readers don't often engage with crack fic, or 'lol what if' fics nearly as much as they used to. With the advent of being able to search for precisely what you want, and often having more than enough to be picky about what you read, AND the fast fandom turn-time that so many people go through - this is a niche that... most people aren't interested in any longer, so it doesn't get attention.
There are groups of folks who only want to read canon divergence - so there won't be 'gang goes to 7-11' in a lot of fandoms. Or people hear the "writing advice" that everything has to drive the story forward and has to have a point or they should cut it - so there's this press to move away from things being silly.
That leaves very little room for people exploring filler fic and having fun with it, and just writing what your heart desires. Slice of life stories are bucketed in "college AU", "coffee shop AU", "Roommate AU", and I love all of those, and enjoy writing all of them - but it feels like a lot of the filler has been stripped out because that's what is considered "good writing" these days.
I miss slice of life fic, too, OP.
Might have to go write some in your honor.
There aren't any 7-11's in E33, but some slice of life does the soul good.
Modern AU where Eddie rides a little viral moment into a music career, becomes one of the biggest acts in music...and now he's being trolled online.
There is a guy across social media platforms who comments under everything Eddie posts with a little 'Eddie Munson Fun Fact.'
It's very annoying because these facts range between mundane to embarrassing, and they're all true. This is clearly someone who is from Hawkins and went to school with him but Eddie has no idea who it could be.
Their profile picture is a poorly made ice cream cone and all their non-Eddie related posts are about StarCourt Mall conspiracies.
He'll post a little thank you to the fans or give updates on show dates, and without fail, Ice Cream Guy is there like, Fun Fact: Eddie Munson is a three time senior.
Fun Fact: Eddie Munson fell off a cafeteria table into a trash can once.
Fun Fact: Eddie Munson is a String. Cheese. Hater.
This guy is trying to get him canceled by Big Cheese.
Eddie's label hates him but his fans like him so Eddie kinda just deals with it because the engagement is good.
And then Eddie comes out.
He lets the whole world know he likes men and Ice Cream Guy is the first to comment under the post like, Fun Fact: I knew it.
Followed by: Fun Fact: Eddie Munson has a crush on me.
Eddie comments back: Prove it
Ice Cream Guy replies: Fun Fact: Ask me on a date first, freak
Eddie replies: How would I know it's you if I don't know who you are??
Ice Cream Guy says: You'll know.
Eddie's fan eat this up. They start bringing ice cream to his shows. They start making ice cream themed fan merch. They're drawing NSFW fan art of Eddie with a sentient ice cream cone.
Nothing really comes from this interaction and hype died down until one day, Eddie posts a photo of him and Steve 'The Hair' Harrington with the caption, Fun Fact: He was right.
i love the “hollanov has a crush on carter vaughn” take not necessarily in a “i think they would invite him to watch” way but more in a “ilya would accidentally let it slip while chirping at shane to fluster him that vaughn is at the top of their ‘would’ list and vaughn is a little thrown off and straight so he’s like “are you guys asking?” and ilya laughs and pats his shoulder and assures him “absolutely not, i do not share my shane, we just think you are good looking man, i like that you are pretty and fun and my shane likes that you are serious about hockey and have good grooming habits. is not serious, do not worry vaughny we will not be asking you to witness me and my beautiful husband ever” and vaughn low key is overjoyed about it, his teammates who are around and hear the exchange are sometimes like “that doesnt bother you? you dont find that a bit weird?” but vaugh genuinely is just like “rozanov just called me pretty and fun enough to hang out with and hollander thinks im good at hockey and clean enough for him, you could hand me a nobel peace prize and it wouldnt come close to this achievement” and eventually it gets out to the general public so vaughn is captioning his instagram posts shit like “#1 contender for being the hockey husbands third goes fishing” despite shanes mortification about this getting out and vaughns clear delight with it” way
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This is a great point about proper protocol when talking to a deaf signing person with interpreter. Always look at the deaf person and talk directly to them. Dont stare at the interpreter or act as if the deaf person is not there.
The character is played by a deaf actress and deaf rights advocate Jessica Flores!
