#happy one year anniversary to this mating dance

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Stranger Things
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

shark vs the universe
Misplaced Lens Cap
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
we're not kids anymore.
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
taylor price
Sade Olutola

pixel skylines

titsay
ojovivo

Discoholic 🪩

JVL
almost home
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from Netherlands

seen from South Korea

seen from Croatia

seen from Mexico
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from South Korea

seen from Brazil

seen from Türkiye

seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia
@reinflawed
#happy one year anniversary to this mating dance

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the moral of heated rivalry is that yes, he will still love you even if you DO just repeatedly guess random afflictions he could be referring to when he tries to tell you his father is sick instead of simply letting him explain the situation
@sprylittleboy this made me laugh out loud
I wonder how it feels to be a therapist or psychiatrist in 2026 and watch the despair of young patients and realize it’s not attributed to mental illness but a rational response to the state of the capitalist hellscape world we live in
I’m not depressed because I need a higher dose of my mood stabilizer. I’m depressed because I spent years of my life working my fucking ass off to get a degree in biochemistry from one of the top universities in the world only to apply to over 100 jobs and the only one I land is one I hate every second of doing, the work is literally useless, and in spite of being there over 40 hours a week I still don’t make enough to pay rent. The food benefits I get can’t even feed a german shepherd. I’m 23 years old with a college degree asking my parents to take me grocery shopping so I don’t starve. I’m not upset because of my mental illness I’m upset because I work my ass off only to be broke and miserable
less than a week until the first day of summer.....aka less than a week until wet hot shane summer begins.....
may hr fans never stop noticing things until s2 drops

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Happy birthday Ilya ❣️ From orgo_HR:
on “the blond,” “the older man,” and other crimes against third-person limited
You know that thing where a story is written in tight third person limited — we’re meant to be inside someone’s head, seeing the world through their thoughts — and then suddenly the narration says “the blond frowned” or “the shorter woman sighed” about a person the POV character knows really well?
That’s called antonomasia — using a descriptive label instead of a name. And it’s fine when we’re talking about strangers: “the cashier handed her the receipt,” “the tall guy blocked the door.” The POV character doesn’t know their names, and we just need a quick way to tell people apart.
But the moment it’s used for someone the POV character already knows, it breaks immersion. Because that’s not how our minds work. We don’t think “the older man smiled at me.” We think “Mark smiled.” Or maybe “my boss” if that relationship matters in the moment.
Third person limited means the narration sits inside someone’s perception. Their inner monologue is the story’s voice. So when you switch from “Mark smiled” to “the blond smiled,” you’ve pulled the camera away from their mind and turned it into an outside shot.
If you want to create distance or irritation, you can do it on purpose —
“The idiot from accounting emailed again.”
That’s character voice. That’s judgment. That works.
But otherwise?
As soon as your POV character knows someone’s name, use it. While we do tend to worry about repetitions, names rarely register as such to the readers.
If you need variety for rhythm, use relational or emotional identifiers that make sense in their head: her friend, his partner, their teacher, the person they loved.
Because inside someone’s thoughts, there are no “blonds” or “brunettes.”
There are only people they know.
Loyalty (1869)
— by Briton Rivière
Loyalty (2025)
— by Ilya Rozanov
the dua lipa of it all
81% !!!!!

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I mda aLive
Okay, I may have regained some sense. It wont go that bad
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
"Would you ever want to go to space?"
Ilya is sitting on top of the toilet seat lid, phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder, cutting his toenails. 300 miles away, Shane is ironing his game day slacks, phone on speaker.
"No. Not really."
"Never?"
"I don't know, it seems hard. Like, the training and stuff."
"You're Shane Hollander. You would do it so easy."
Ilya says this a lot: You're Shane Hollander. Like that explains everything.
"I don't know if I want to. Don't you have to eat, like, freeze dried food?"
"Oh my god, Hollander. Imagine it is luxury spaceship. You have full gym and hockey rink and yummy homemade food you can eat and a giant window to watch the stars from. Would you want to go to space?"
Shane is silent as he thinks. Ilya carefully clips a toenail and watches it fly across the bathroom. Then, Shane:
"Are you going with me?"
"Would that change your answer?"
"Maybe."
"Then yes."
Shane thinks some more, focusing on folding the pleat of his slacks just right, then presses the hot iron on top. He makes one, two passes over the fold, then sets the iron down.
"I don't know. I kinda like it down here."
"You would rather be at your cottage?"
Shane squints at a spot on the leg of his pants. Leans in closer, tries to smudge it away with his finger.
"Yeah. I like hearing the birds sing." Licks his finger, tries again. "In the morning."
"You could have recordings of it in space. Listen every day, like an alarm."
"Well then that's not birds singing. That's recordings of birds singing."
“Shane fuck Shane help we fucked up, we lost Ilya, I swear he was here one second ago and now-“
“Haas, where are you right now?”
“The club by the hotel.”
“And he’s not in the bathroom?”
“No.”
“Not on the roof?”
“No.”
“Not trying to access any of the dancers poles?”
“What? Why would- Oh, Troy says no.”
“Is he hanging out with drunk girls in the women’s bathroom?”
“Umm, one sec. Harris, can you ask her if Ilya is in there? … Harris says no.”
“Ok. What were you talking about before he disappeared?”
“We were trying to figure out where to eat.”
“Did anyone bring up sushi?”
“He didn’t say he wanted-“
“Just answer the question.”
“Uh yeah, someone suggested it, but he said he wanted-“
“He’s at the pier.”
“What?”
“He got bored, sushi put fish on his brain, which made him think about water, and he likes going to piers, and the hotel is walking distance from a boardwalk by the water. He’s there, most likely trying to look at fish going under the dock.”
“… How do you know that?”
“Do you have any ideas how many times I have gotten this exact phone call? He’s easier to catch if you bait him with mozzarella sticks but make sure he knows he only gets them if he comes quietly. If you let him negotiate he will take the sticks and run. Cliff always fell for that.”
@bolshe-ilya Big fan of your tags

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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
Genuinly last post of the day but if i dont absolutely ruin it tommorow and wont get yelled at by my proffesor, i owe it to the tumblr gods and my hyperfixation on queer little gay man.