as i am an honest puck

gay hockey show reblogs

[honeyybrii]

i swear the most glaring evidence of fake cool ilya being the biggest loser alive is him dressed up, fully ready to go be slutty in a club with probably the hottest woman alive - who he used to regularly hook up with - and while she's getting ready he sits in the dark moodily like a dramatic supervillain watching a documentary about his situationships cottage

[martelldoran]

shane knew ilya would make fun of him for the stylist thing. that was an olive branch. shane knew ilya wouldn't be able to resist such a perfect set up and he's right! this is coming off the back of ilya's very loaded "maybe it will give us a chance to get to know each other." and it just reads to me as shane going, "but we do! here is this dumb thing i've done and i'm giving you leave to make fun of me because i've missed you. i'm being boring! make fun of me, please"

[ilyapasta]

I still stand by my belief that show-Svetlana isn't in love with Ilya. Maybe there was a childhood crush, maybe there were some fluttery feelings at some point, but by the time we're in episode 4 I think they're settled in as friends who sometimes fuck. I think the show is pretty clear that Svetlana has her own life, and is in and out of Ilya's as she pleases. I don't interpret her as being at Ilya's beck and call. I don't interpret them as friends who even tell each other important things. Ilya postures with her as much as anyone, even though they have an easy friendly relationship. She's a friend who's sometimes there, sometimes not, as evidenced in the tuna melts scene when Ilya tells Shane that she's busy, "new business selling fancy cars." When we see her in Russia during Ilya's father's funeral, it can be interpreted that she was already there OR that this was a loving gesture for her friend and the family she grew up around.

I like to think, and now I'm in interpretation/headcanon land, that while there are no actual romantic feelings, or least very little, I think it's Ilya who thought that maybe he would end up with Svetlana. Both Shane and Ilya are affected by compulsory heterosexuality, even though Ilya is bisexual. Ilya never thought he would end up in a committed relationship with a man. And this goes with my analysis that Ilya believed that life would simply "happen" to him. That there are rules to be followed and yes, Shane, we can get together and fuck, it's simple and doesn't mean anything, but in the end we will take on the yoke of the roles that are expected of us.

Having Svetlana there as a close friend with history is a departure from book-Ilya, who doesn't have a person like this in his life, and is overall more alone. But even with the support from Svetlana, show-Ilya has far less hope for the future than Shane by the time we get to Shane's injury in episode 5. He's packing and heading back to Russia, back to his family's expectations, maybe to mend fences with his brother and fall back into his old role—we can't say for sure. Obviously, we see that Ilya has a change of heart, and decides to take the risk to be with Shane, and to leave Russia for good so that he can live an open life eventually.

This leads me to season 2 and the adaptation of The Long Game. Ilya isolates himself in Ottawa, cut off from the transient friendships he made in Boston. He's also not as close with his current team as he thinks he should be. He specifically regrets losing touch with Svetlana, who in the books is an old flame/hook-up situation, but I don't think, with what we've seen of Svetlana and Ilya's relationship in the show, that it has to be much different than the books in season 2. If anything, it's more heartbreaking and shows the stark reality of Ilya's worsening depression. I can see missed calls on Ilya's phone from Svetlana, and unanswered texts. We see in the show that she knows Ilya is in love with a man, but we don't know for sure that she knows it's Shane. What if Ilya doesn't tell her?

In this way, Ilya and Svetlana can still lose touch with each other. She's her own person with obligations, and friendships do fade. I think we can still get the scene in TLG where Ilya comes clean to Svetlana, albeit with more respect paid to their longer, deeper relationship explored in the show. It could have even more emotion to it, because Ilya was keeping this secret from someone he loved so much, and lost touch with her because of it. Not because Shane told him he couldn't tell her, mind you, but because Ilya is depressed and self-isolating, and trying to "solve" his depression on his own without support from others.

[urie]

does anybody know if route 96 kanata

[shanyshko]

ilya mad shane came up to talk to him like he wasn't stalking the fuck out of shane in that ice rink. yeah he just happened to be watching canadian men's figure skating the day after losing to latvia complete coincidence shane was there. it's like when cats bite you after following you into a room. shane's like omg kitty! and ilya is like NOOOO NO NO YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE ME OBVIOUSLY FOLLOWING YOU

[shanyshko]

this scene looks like this to me

[knucklecurve]

And they were "rivals."

Amber Glenn and Lena Lemon for HBO Max

[idiopath-fic-smile]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 9/11 Fandom: Heated Rivalry (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Characters: Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, inspired by Station Eleven (but you don’t need to read Station Eleven to understand it), implied secondary character death but no specific deaths are ever confirmed, absolutely zero zombies if that is a concern for you, high levels of pining, rated E because this one is a slow burn until it isn’t Summary:

The Boston Raiders are making decent time heading up into Michigan when one of the horses almost breaks an ankle on what’s left of the road.

A highly lethal—and highly contagious—virus has swept across the planet, taking down the power grid, toppling society, and leaving behind only a tiny fraction of the population. For a while, it seems like everything is over. This is not the case.

Or: The world ends. Shane Hollander starts playing for Boston. Yes, in that order.

[fractally]

I'm not sure who recommended this series by emerillon to me but I LOVE it. One of my all time Shanes

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Just really nice, feels realistic, especially with Shane being about 30 in this fic and feeling 30, thinking back on his youth with Ilya with a more adult perspective. Very good hockey details too. It's a WIP but I'll be following for sure

[agnost]

sgjkdfjgmldfkgldf mgkdf gdf gfd when the handmaiden / feudal lord meme takes over your dashboard lmaooooooo

[lookataleaf3000]

This is the night lesbian tumblr peaked

[ticklefighthockey]

i'll never be over i don't think i can keep pretending i don't like you / [quick, dismissive, definitive] you don't like me / [incredulous look] i think i like you maybe a little too much. ilya shame thesis baby!!!!! he's like oh my god be so for real shane hollander of course you don't fucking like me. i'm not the kind of person people love like

[garagepaperback]

fic: decadent stress chamber pairing: hollanov tags: frat au excerpt:

From the vantage of halfway up the stairs, the bodied sea almost makes sense, has a certain current to it. Parting and cresting, surging, slowing down. There’s a guy right in the middle defining the tide. He’s not huge huge—he’s like, Shane huge. Just noticeable. Anything so sturdy in the middle of the ocean would be. “Who’s that?” Shane asks, and regrets it.

[garagepaperback]

chapter 7

“Come,” Rozanov says, and then nothing else. His mouth stays open after, wet shine where the light licks over his bottom lip, something more and then not.  “What?” “You should leave with me.” Lingering open, slick of his lip, gone. “I need cigarettes.” Shane laughs. “You’re drunk.” Rozanov shrugs. That shoulder. There is some blue left in his hair after all, the slightest sea tinge. Hard not to wade a hand into. “I am very good drunk driver.”

[gaynehollander]

Some of y'all won't like this but I think people fundamentally misunderstand the "you really think that far ahead Hollander?" scene and it leads to misreading Shane's entire character. He says it himself: "I do. About this."

Shane isn't planning out every detail of his day ten years in the future. He isn't out here reading the instruction manual of his microwave, he isn't making excel spread sheets on every little detail or pouring over the settings on his washing machine. He hopes to still be playing hockey, he hopes to still be with Ilya. He will do everything he can to bring about that future. If it isn't about those two things, he's not really that bothered.

Shane is a jock who has spent his whole life building towards becoming the best NHL player in the league. He moved out of his parent's house as a teenager, after he secured an NHL salary. He has a team of people who organise his schedule. He has an interior designer. He has a stylist. He definitely has a cleaner, a trainer, a nutritionist. He gets his meal prepped meals delivered and only has to worry about heating them up.

Like, I get that neurotic planner Shane is a fun fandom trope that I, myself, often enjoy and engage with but I do think it's rooted in a misunderstanding.

[finelytaylored]

no it’s fine I wanted to cry today 😭 (x)

[ellisonwongparty]

kinda need a hangover-esque au where the raider's 2014 cup win coincides with ilya's 22nd birthday so the team parties in vegas and connors, marleau and ilya wake up in a hotel room they did not book with no memory of last night a baby in the bathroom an exotic bird eating bar peanuts out of ilya's designer jeans and 34 angry omnious texts that ilya can't figure out the context of from shane

[ellisonwongparty]

happy birthday ilya rozanov.

--

"Yo! Who's fucking baby is this?!"

Ilya slowly blinks into consciousness. His head is pounding. He sits up, and realizes that he'd fallen asleep on the floor, with a woman's underwear stuck to his right cheek. Ilya peels it off, makes an interested face when he also realizes its sticky, and tries to survey the damage from last night. The first thought he has is this is not my hotel room.

Connors is already up, fully dressed and anxiously pacing back and forth. He seems to be distressed about something in the bathroom, shouting unintelligibly, English too panicked and incoherent for Ilya to make out what he's saying. Marleau is still facedown, also on the floor, completely naked. Ilya looks down. Miraculously, he has clothes on. They are not, however, the clothes he started the night in. He's 99% sure he's wearing a woman's crop top. And women's pajama shorts. He's also fairly sure they are bedazzled on the butt. "Guys! Wake the fuck up!" Connors shouts again. Ilya starts feeling his way around the floor for his clothes, phone, and wallet. His search gets him to peek up from the suite's coffee table, which brings into view a gorgeous exotic bird, almost as tall as the men in the room, voraciously eating something from Ilya's jeans, which hang suspended on the hotel's chandelier. To put it bluntly, the room is trashed. Furniture that isn't broken is overturned to its side. Strange stains that smell alcoholic in nature pervade the hotel floor. Women's thongs, bras, and other undergarments scatter themselves all across the room, with their owners nowhere in sight. Ilya walks up to the exotic bird. The bird stops his eating, turns a yellow, predatory eye in Ilya's direction. Ilya pets the bird once, twice, and then spots his phone hanging out of his back pocket, to his relief. Ilya fishes it out of the air, and finds a charger conveniently strewn to the side. He plugs his phone in. He leaves the bird so it can keep eating at his jeans. While he waits for his phone to power up, he walks over, nudges Marleau in the ribs. "Wake up," Ilya orders. Marly groans. Ilya nudges him again. "Captain's orders," he says, deadly serious.

Marly, on command, slowly comes to. "Jesus fuck, what happened last night?" Marly groans. He realizes he's not wearing any clothes, looks at Ilya, then shrugs. He then checks the ceiling, at the chandelier, and the bird stretching its long magnificent neck to feast on Ilya's designer jeans. "Yo, who's bird is that?" "We can worry about the bird later!" Connors shouts, flying back in from the bathroom. "We are three grown men with a fucking baby that isn't ours in our bathtub! We are going to get arrested if we don't identify who it is right now!"

Ilya and Marly make eye contact with each other, making a face, before joining Connors to head back into the bathroom. Ilya almost trips and falls on an empty Svedka bottle that he kicks to the side with a disgusted sneer.

Three grown men peek over the edge of a bathtub. There is indeed a baby in there.

Well," Ilya says, cheerily. "It has brown eyes, so it cannot be mine."

"Is it like a dog situation?" Marly asks, genuine. "Where they like, come with identification tags?" "Maybe we should take it to the police," Connors says. "And we leave out the fact that it was here all night surrounded by drugs and booze."

Ilya ignores both of them as he walks back into the suite's common room. His phone blinks to life--10 percent battery. It helpfully reminds him that his flight to Moscow is in 12 hours. Ilya swipes the notification away. He dials Svetlana's number.

She doesn't pick up. He calls again.

"Bluh," Svetlana answers.

"Where are you?" Ilya asks.

Shuffling. "Our hotel room?" Svetlana grumbles. "Where the fuck are you?"

Ilya switches to FaceTime. Svetlana picks up. She looks terrible.

"Look," Ilya orders. He swings his phone around the room. He holds for a couple more seconds on the bird, so Svetlana can get a good look at it. Svetlana hums appreciatively, so Ilya takes her into the bathroom. "Hey Svetlana," his teammates chime. Svetlana grunts in greeting. The three of them, plus digital Svetlana, peer over the bathtub.

"Do you guys remember anything from last night?" Ilya asks the room.

"Nothing," Connors says, despondent.

"Nothing," Marly confirms.

"Nothing," Svetlana says, cheerily. "I do know who's baby that is though."

All three of them swing their heads to Ilya's phone. "What?" Connor asks, hopefully.

Svetlana smirks. "Yeah, it's Marly's."

Silence. Then--"Fuck off Svetlana," Marly responds.

"No, I'm being deadass," she says, somber. "Marly married a stripper last night, and that's her baby."

Even more silence. Ilya, Connors, and Marly look at each other, stunned.

Then, Ilya bursts out into uproarious laughter.

"Daddy Marly!" Ilya crows. Svetlana starts laughing too, joining in. "Daddy Marly! Daddy Marly!"

"You two shut the fuck up!" Marly orders. "I didn't marry anybody--"

Connors' face is white. "Marly, your hand."

They all look down. There's a cheap, chapel ring on his fourth finger. Ilya starts laughing so hard he almost falls over.

"Svetlana," Marly begs, desperate. With fatherhood on the line he's locked back into life. "Do you remember anything else from last night? Do you know how we got here?"

"Literally no," Svetlana says, already burying her face back into the hotel pillow. "I only remember you getting married because it was so fucking funny. Then, we got back in the limo, I blacked out, the next thing I knew I am back in my hotel room," she waggles her eyebrows. "Seems like you guys had fun without me though."

"Come over," Ilya demands. "Help us solve the mystery of the missing baby. We can get burritos after."

Svetlana laughs, indignant, "Fuck that. You guys are halfway across The Strip from me. You come here."

"We literally cannot leave this room," Connors says, panicked. "Until we absolve ourselves of all guilt for everything that happened here last night."

Ilya sighs, starting to get irritated. "This is not a big deal, okay?" Ilya says, to the room. "I wake up to worse when I party in Moscow. Fix is very simple. We talk to hotel, tell them we do not know where we are, they insist we pay for damage we pay damage and leave and someone comes in to clean everything up. We tell call girl service about Marly's wife and tell them we have her baby, we call police about bird, and I head to airport. Easy peezy, as you say in your country."

"You aren't curious about what happened?" Marly asks. "You don't want to find out how we got here?"

"What is there to find out?" Ilya says, easily. "We have fun fucking night on my birthday and we black out. Is price of doing business."

As he says this Ilya opens his phone, reads through more of his messages.

His heart sinks into his asshole when he sees 1 new message from one Jane.

To start, everything from their text thread has been wiped from his phone. This is horrible news to Ilya, whose nighttime ritual the past six months had been reading all of Hollander's messages, jerking off to the memories of when Hollander let him fuck him, before continuing to not reply to any of his correspondences.

Also, it means he has no explanation for the single text that remains in their conversation.

Jane: goodbye, rozanov.

Ilya hasn't responded to Hollander in over six months. Yet, this singular message is enough to get him type, panicked--

Ilya: lol wtf are you talking about

He hits send. The message doesn't go through. Ilya's heart starts pounding in his ears.

He does something desperate. He calls Hollander.

The call doesn't go through.

Ilya has pissed off enough hook ups to know exactly what this is.

Hollander's blocked him.

The little fucking asshole.

"We must retrace our steps," Ilya announces, out loud to the room. "Starting with pregame bar."

"Yo, are you serious Cap?" Marly asks, hopeful. Connors looks equally relieved that Ilya has decided to take charge of the situation.

"I'm going back to sleep," Svetlana says, definitive, and hangs up.

"Men," Ilya says gravely. He clutches his phone tightly in his hands. He's already brainstorming ways he will try to get back in contact with Hollander. "We need to solve the mystery of what the fuck happened at my 22nd birthday party."

[idiopath-fic-smile]

Chapters: 6/11 Fandom: Heated Rivalry (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Characters: Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, inspired by Station Eleven (but you don’t need to read Station Eleven to understand it), implied secondary character death but no specific deaths are ever confirmed, absolutely zero zombies if that is a concern for you, high levels of pining, rated E because this one is a slow burn until it isn't 

Summary:

The Boston Raiders are making decent time heading up into Michigan when one of the horses almost breaks an ankle on what’s left of the road.

A highly lethal—and highly contagious—virus has swept across the planet, taking down the power grid, toppling society, and leaving behind only a tiny fraction of the population. For a while, it seems like everything is over. This is not the case.

Or: The world ends. Shane Hollander starts playing for Boston. Yes, in that order.

New chapter is up! Here we get the first real inkling of what Shane has been up to for the past seven years.

[downdrafts]

anyway. here's a fic where shane hollander has an existential crisis about the fact that he's a character in a dating sim

[tokkibean]

i do not “delete sentences” when they start “hindering the plot” i COPY PASTE THEM into a SEPARATE DOC made just for keeping all my USELESS LINES that i will also NEVER USE so therefore i should JUST DELETE THEM but i DONT because id FEEL BAD if i did

[harpyharpyharpy]

You don't actually have to kill your darlings. You can just put them in the oubliette #myoubliette