summerraymond



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    “Just got the word from the officials, Metros are shutting Miitka down for the night," LeClaire says almost dispassionately. “Third period we’re up against,” LeClaire consults his clipboard, “Shane Hollander. Drafted 2009, current starter for the Laval Maples, posts a .905 save percentage.”

    Ilya stays where he is, rolling the name around in his head once, without much interest.

    Hollander.

    Doesn’t ring a bell.


    Inspired by that one twitter post, what if Shane was a goalie?

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    23 Apr 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 17

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    "So, me and him, we were kind of on and off? For a long time? Just in a casual way. And not while I was dating you, obviously."

    "Obviously," she agrees like he didn't even need to say it.

    "Yeah. But, uh, after you and I split, he and I started talking again. Like, properly talking. And it. It kinda seemed like we were gonna try again?"

    "Still in a casual way?" Rose asks.

    "Uh. Turns out that was sort of open to interpretation."

     

    AKA Shane didn't get injured in Montreal

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    12 Apr 2026

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    “I think we need a plan.”

    “I thought we have a plan?” Ilya asked, gruffly, his brow furrowing in confusion.

    “I just mean…” Shane’s face was serious; his eyes were doing that puppy-dog thing that Ilya couldn’t resist, where they looked earnest and soft and serious all at once. "What if we didn’t wait to come out? Rather than waiting until we retire. Maybe, I don’t know, stopped hiding quite so much and just… let people figure it out, eventually.”


    Changing the Narrative, or; Hollander and Rozanov's Guide to a Gentle Take-Off

    Shane and Ilya are done hiding. Coming out, however, is another story. Between family, friends, fans, teammates, and a league still grappling with inclusivity, changing the narrative might just prove more complicated than they expected.

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    06 Apr 2026

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    “You have a ride back home, right? Please tell me you aren’t going to drive. You’ll crash one of your stupid sports cars and get a concussion. Or die.”

    “Awe, so sweet to me, worrying. But no, I am in Moscow. I have no good cars here, only shitty Marussia B2. Stupid purchase. You know, the B2 is just B1 but with fancier clothes? Look better than B1, though. B1 look like low-money 80’s future movie.” He makes an annoyed sound. “No. I do not have word. научная фантастика. What is movie type that has flying cars?”

    “Jesus,” Shane says, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much.”

    “You like my voice, da? So is no problem, for you.”

    “Fuck you. Do you mean sci-fi?”

    Rozanov makes a triumphant sound. “Yes, that! Sci-fi. B1 look like that meme of a cat’s face covered in cream. Ugly car. So, at least I have better choice. I can look at it and not wish to drive it off cliff and into garbage land.”

    “...You’re thinking of a landfill.”

    Or, Ilya keeps calling Shane at odd hours to talk about nothing and everything. Shane, for some reason he can’t quite rationalize, keeps answering. And texting. And then things get a bit out of hand.

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    31 Mar 2026

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    “H’rder,” Shane whines into his mouth, not even trying to interrupt the kiss but speaking pathetically muffled and slurred around Ilya’s tongue.

    Ilya knocks their foreheads together, smiles.

    Nooooo Ilya, not before the game, Ilya,” he whines, a sweetly mocking imitation of Shane, “and now look at you, mhm? Why should I ever listen to your complaining, baby, when you’re gonna be such an easy, perfect slut for it anyways?”

    Or: Shane plays four-dimensional chess to get Ilya to fuck him even when he tells him no, for Shane-typical control freak reasons, in Shane-typical convoluted ways, with Shane-typical unawareness of this being a sex freak thing. Ilya provides, of course.

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    30 Mar 2026