Rose and Sveta bond over Ilya and Shane's stupidness about women
Rose told Shane she was sad she couldn't have sex with a new guy she was seeing because she was on her period. Shane suggested she just "hold it in"
Ilya thought Sveta needed a whole box of tampons every period
Their second time having sex, Shane took Rose's bra off over her head because he couldn't figure out the clasp
It took Ilya almost 10 years to realize Sveta wore wigs. He thought she was just really good at styling and manipulating hair
Shane almost screamed when he saw Rose remove her strip lashes
Ilya still cannot pronounce balayage
Shane cannot differentiate between Sandra Bullock, Anne Hathaway, and Julia Roberts
Ilya does not believe in zodiacs but is adamant that some women have an "inherent sense for the phases of the moon" and can recognize its power over people, thus being able to more strategically influence others. Sveta has no clue where he got this idea from
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Irina is deified in Ilya’s eyes. Preserved as the type of beauty that can only exist in the innocent love of a child. Even as he grows, this view hardly changes, because a piece of him, the piece that holds his love, and grief, and guilt, and jealousy for his mother, will always be twelve and hurting. So she remains perfect in his eyes, she is the only bright spot of his childhood, and he can’t bear to come from a history of only darkness. He holds her too close to be anything but blinded by his memories of love and affection, even if they may be slightly doctored by his sentimentality.
Shane is also too close to have an objective view, he is as blinded by love as Ilya, perhaps even more so. But his love is not for Irina; however much he may feel grateful to her for giving him the man he loves or pity her for her unfair fate, he simply does not know how to love her, not with the same fervent intensity with which he loves her son.
So, in that empty space where in a kinder world love for a second mother might have resided, there is instead hate, just a touch of it. Not cold hate, but a kind of protective fury that is all so rare in a man like Shane who gave himself and his image up to the world, keeping only a few things held close and dear, making them all the more precious in the process.
He loves Ilya too much, is too blindly devoted to him, to see how anyone could ever willingly leave him. Most of all how anyone could abandon a child version of Ilya, when he clings to every baby photo, of which he only has two, like the most devout of Christians cling to their Bibles.
He has to hate Irina, just a little, in a place tucked deep into his chest where it might never see the light of day. He has to hate her or else he will go mad trying to understand how she could throw away what he had spent a lifetime fighting for.
She was Ilya’s mother. She had an intrinsic right to him that no one could deny her; meanwhile, Shane spent over a decade battling schedules, teams, and his own family for a sliver of time with the man he loves. No one would dare question Irina’s love for Ilya, her devotion too him, Shane on the other hand has had to justify his love to everyone who discovered it, has had to weigh every decision in his relationship against it’s impact on those around him.
Irina had everything Shane would kill for, and she threw it all away.
Shane knows, he really does, that the Rozanov home was a cruel place to exist, he sees the scars it left in Ilya every day. He knows that to Irina it seemed like she didn’t have a choice, but to Shane, blind with love, drunk on devotion, desperate for every piece of Ilya he can get his hands on, all he can see is someone who abandoned his love, his Ilya, knowing it would destroy him in a way that could never truly be mended, and what else could he possibly feel but just a little sliver of hate in the deep, dark parts of his chest where he keeps every other feeling he can’t let others know about, right next to his love for Ilya, similarly hidden and taboo.
Hi my name is Shane Dirr’ty Fuckin Dangles Boys Hollander and I have silky fucking mitts (that’s how I got my name) and short spiky black hair that I bleached once for juniors and a lot of people tell me I play like Sidney Crosby (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Scott Hunter but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a hockey player but my teeth are still real. I have freckles on my face. I’m also in the NHL and I play for a team called the Voyageurs in Montreal where I’m the captain (I’m 24). I’m a forward (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly hockey gear. I love CCM and I buy all my gear from there. For example today I was wearing my Voyageurs jersey with the blue and white stripes and the matching hockey pants, black pads, blue socks and black skates. Underneath I was wearing black compression gear, a jockstrap and a helmet with a visor on top. I was skating in the arena. The Zamboni had just gone through so the ice was fresh, which I was very happy about. A lot of Raiders stared at me. I pulled a sick fucking deke on them.
people tend to assume medical transition is about the visuals (eg “how is this different from [beauty trend primarily engaged with by people whose income relates to appearance on visual media]”)
& it’s hard to explain that like, of my surgeries the only one so far that is externally visible is top surgery, and for me personally I went from having my chest be my most hegemonically “beautiful” trait (big round breasts) to my most hegemonically “ugly” trait (uneven keloid scarring) so that was not really for like aesthetics either.
the primary reason I get medical care is for my body to function comfortably. for it to feel comfortable.
like I remember reading this article by a trans woman discussing her decision to get very large breasts even though she anticipated it would draw her negative attention, and she talked about a lifetime of feeling off balance, and after surgery feeling the weight on her chest that she had been accounting for to be balanced correctly in the way she held herself and moved.
I know cis people see transition through photographs and assume it is a primarily visual thing, but in my experience it is much more experiential. it is about how we exist physically and sense the world around us. it is our bodies not just how our bodies look & are perceived
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a ton of people have unexpectedly followed me over the last 2 days so here is my rent-lowering gunshot:
the american south is the most racially diverse and poorest region of the united states, and any political sentiment that treats the south is stupid or expendable is inherently racist and classist. a lot of y'all are racist and classist. the south is also the heart of american culture. argue with a wall. you cannot deny that everybody in the entire world does not emulate artists from atlanta. there is vested interest in keeping the south poor and uneducated BECAUSE this is the most racially diverse region in this country. if you actually give a fuck about progress, you would fight for the south, not mock us.
Yuna realizes that Shane and Ilya are in LOVE love when she hears singing coming from the kitchen.
“Chopping carrots with Ilya,” Shane sings under his breath. “Making salad with Ilya.”
Yuna smiles softly from the dining room. This is one of her favorite things about her son. From the time he could (barely) talk, he made up little songs about anything and everything. The first time he’d done it, he’d been strapped into his car seat and watching cars go by. When he’d caught Yuna’s eye in the rear view mirror, he’d smiled with all 8 of his little teeth and waved.
“Dwiving,” he’d sung, all of 18 months old and barely able to say the word properly. “Dwivin’ wi’ Mama. Wuv Mama.”
Yuna’s not sure if it’s Shane’s way of processing the world around him, just A Thing some people do, or something special about her baby boy. All she knows is that from the first time he’d made up a little tune about Driving With Mama, everything turned into a song. When he’s comfortable and feeling at ease, Shane turns little things around him into music.
Learning to tie his shoes? “Daddy’s teaching me to tie my shoes. One lace over the other. Make the bunny ears!”
Gearing up for practice when he was 8? “Going to practice. Gonna be great. Gonna score a goal!”
Studying for a science test? “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Everyone says it because it’s true. Moving on—organelles and cell walls.”
Gearing up for his first Metros game as captain? “Taping my hockey stick. Going out on the ice. Gonna kick some ass.”
It’s something so uniquely, adorably, perfectly Shane.
Today, though? As Shane’s in the kitchen preparing a salad for lunch? For the first time, someone else sings along. For the first time in Shane’s life, someone hears the tune and lyrics that only exist in his head and joins in.
“Making salad with Shane,” Ilya croons along, hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder and wrapping strong arms around his waist. “Preparing lunch with my love.”
Shane smiles and sings back as Ilya nuzzles his neck. “Being domestic with my boyfriend. Thinking of boring things we can do together.”
Ilya laughs and kisses his ear before finishing the song. “I love to be boring with yooouuuu.”
…okay, that’s a lie. It’s a tie for the best song Yuna’s ever heard. Maybe. It’s definitely at the top of the list.
Shane pauses on the other line, breath catching as he holds back overwhelming emotion.
“Mom,” he croaks. “I…fuck.”
Yuna stays calm. She mentally takes stock of the situation. Ilya’s fine—he just texted her, a few seconds before Shane called, to warn her of the incoming storm. David’s fine—he’s sitting right next to her, confused and alarmed as their son has some manner of episode on the phone. She’s fine. So what’s—
“—wi’ Dada!”
…oh. Oh.
It’s soft at first, but picking up in volume. Tiny pit-pats in the background accompany the most beautiful little voice Yuna’s heard since Shane made up his first song, Driving With Mama, from his car seat all those years ago.
“Eating,” the little voice sings in the background. It’s garbled by what Yuna assumes are half-chewed remnants of an afternoon snack; probably organic peanut butter on apple slices. “Eating wi’ Dada. Eating wi’ Papa. Dada on phone! Who on phone, Dada?”
There’s wet laughter in the background, further from the phone. “Oh God, Shane. It’s genetic. She’s a little you!”
More tearful laughter, this time from Shane. “That’s not—she’s adopted, Ilya.”
“I don’t care what the papers say. She is you. Listen to her, she is perfect. She must be part you, sweetheart.”
Driving With Mama. Making Salad With Ilya. Top three songs for sure, as far as Yuna’s concerned. But this one? Eating With Dada and Papa, written and performed by her granddaughter for a live audience? A platinum hit. Give this baby a Grammy.
thinking about shane and his parents again. there is something to be said about the lack of awareness there. your parents love you, sure, but do they know you? and the answer is no. because you hid yourself. because you weren't sure if they'd love that about you too. because you're too scared to try. because it's better to be loved as half a person than to be pitied for it all - or even worse, to not be understood even then.
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My Vegas breakdown is making the rounds again and I would like to remind people that DOM DROP is real and also Ilya Rozanov has no idea that it's happening to him. Yes Ilya is a mean dom, especially that night, but the cigarette and vodka conversation was not part of the scene and the reason he's choosing not to communicate in that moment is because he is fully in Dom drop and literally feels like he cannot communicate. Shane, sitting next to him, is fully in sub drop and ALSO feels like if he actually opens his mouth to ask for what he wants (Kisses) then he's going to throw up or ask for something insane. Also they're in love and hiding it badly. Also Ilya is going back to Russia in a matter of days. Also Shane has been feeling some version of chewed up and spat out for over six months at this point. They're not doing WELL. And they're not doing it to each other it's just. Happening.
hello, would you mind expanding on your shane thrives in grroups of large men tag bc i would like to hear more if you're willing.
Okay so I'm gonna try to put this into words but I also need you to bear with me because it's gonna sound a bit wild at first.
Shane Hollander is a pick me.
STOP THROWING TOMATOES HEAR ME OUT. Yes I know pick me is a loaded term. I've known a couple of pick mes and they were actually really lovely girls who had been so conditioned to behave only in the most male-attention-oriented ways that it literally broke them. Yes I know this is not the universal experience but honestly I think it's more common than anybody realizes. We live in a society etc. etc.
So enter Shane Hollander who grew up in locker rooms. He has spent most of his life courting and thriving on male attention purely by necessity. If you want to do well at sport you need to perform at a level that catches the attention of your (male) coaches and your (male) teammates and your (male) rivals on the opposing team. As a gay man, this almost definitely crossed some wires for him. He wants every man in that room to want to be him. He wants every man in that room to want him, sickly and carnally. And some of this is latent and internalized to hell while some of it he is painfully aware of, most notably when he is jerking off and allows himself to think about kneeling in a room full of men who are all fighting over who gets to fuck him first--
I mean, you get the POINT.
So yeah Shane thrives in groups of men. He's their guy, he's their good hockey boy. The inherent assumed heterosexuality of the spaces he orbits in allow him to flirt kind of WILDLY with some of these guys and nobody is any the wiser because these highly masculine spaces are also, paradoxically, highly homoerotic to the point where male bonding is valued highest above almost any other relationship one can have. And Shane, who is Actually Gay and genuinely does WANT that attention, even latently, is very good at male bonding (read: flirting.) You'll look great in silver, Vaughny. See You In October [wink].
Crucially, Shane doesn't really realize that he's doing any of this.
It's probably part of how Ilya clocks his shit. The way Shane behaved around him at the CCM shoot is probably not all that different from how Shane approached other men in his social sphere who he wanted to impress or to be impressed by him. But Ilya, who is enlightened to those tactics by being actually queer, sees it for what it is.
The other major key factor in Shane's ability to thrive in rooms full of men is that he very early on becomes an object of envy for these guys. He's hockey Jesus. He's a generational talent. Honestly, some of these guys probably WOULD like to fuck Shane Hollander if they had it in writing that it didn't make them gay, no way, doesn't count if it's Shane Hollander, that's basically the same as putting your dick in hockey itself,
And yeah maybe that's also something that Shane has fantasies about.
Then again, the pick me analogy isn't perfect because Shane actually IS in a position to be coveted by the people whose attention he craves, just not in any way that is actually accessible to him. And not in any way that he would actually admit to himself he wants.
Again, this is part of the reason why his relationship with Ilya goes down the way it does. Part of Shane KNOWS that he is Ilya Rozanov's perfect little slut and that Ilya Does Not Know How To Quit Him. At some point years down the line Shane will actually be able to admit this to himself and it WILL make him a slightly worse version of himself, but only in ways that make Ilya that much more insane about him.
Grace sees his house just after it was built on Erid for the first time, and the only Eridian he has seen so far is Rocky for various reasons. He examines the interior, taking in everything with awe until he gets to a large door looking thing in the back. It goes from the floor to the ceiling, and is quite wide.
“Rocky, what’s this for?”
“Is for Adrian!”
“Adrian…?”
The door slides open and standing Infront of Grace is a massive (relative to Rocky) blue green spiky Eridian.
“Hello Grace.”
The pitch is so low he can barely hear it. Goddamn Rocky bagged a baddie.
gay scott hunter in the brooklyn art gallery: they’re going to kill me for talking to another man
shane hollander in his fortress of isolation: nobody will shoot me with a gun for being gay in my canadian mansion, because they can’t, because i am off the grid
ilya rozanov [thick russian accent]: i am going to live forever and never die and if i die who gives a fuck theyre pussies for killing me honestly
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ilya realizing in real time he will never have to Guess what ol dave's opinion of him is like Oh thank god. hes just going to say crazy shit exactly like his gay son.
if you want butterflies, you need to live with caterpillars.
i am not being metaphorical, i work in a garden center, stop buying plants 'to bring in the bees and butterflies' and then immediately poisoning every caterpillar that dares to consume a single leaf
you will not get butterflies if you kill all the things that turn into butterflies! what are you doing!
getting a lot of responses to this going 'ok but it would be good as a metaphor though' so I will accept a metaphorical interpretation as long as you ALSO (!) promise to be considerate towards larval forms of insects specifically and biodiversity in general, deal?
