Leaky Space Blob

| May | 18+ | I like things | Free Palestine | Occassional pencil wielder |

[akajustmerry]

may 2026 bring us closer to a Palestine liberated from zionist occupation, and a Democratic Republic of Congo and Sudan free from proxy exploitation. May 2026 see more people gain the courage to make the world a little better than before. May we all remember to tend seeds whose trees we may never sit beneath. Consider donating to/sharing The Sameer Project, or Khartoum Aid Kitchen or Focus Congo. All power to all the people. Happy new year.

[phobic-human]

O you who bow to America, I am innocent of you."

"Red lines are not to be crossed." Handala walks on the US flag anyway, holding a book "Returning to Haifa." #NajisAugust

[sleepyfortress]

Okay doesn’t technically fit in the timeline since Ilya would be with the Centaurs but I didn’t want to make up my own Centaurs jersey LOL

Sorry for the obnoxious watermark but I saw an A*I scam bot stole my work so now I gotta do this

Based on Weapons for Liberty by JCLeyendecker!

[kaijuerotica]

i need more fics to play with shane boasting about his ability in private vs acting super hockey player humble when he's on camera

[kaijuerotica]

shane texting ilya after a metros game like: im so fucking tired of carrying this entire team on my back like fuck sure we won tonight but i'd have had a goddamn hat trick if stevens hadn't been off fucking sides like at what point is it easier for me to be the only guy on the fucking ice at least then no one is gonna miss my fucking passes

shane 2 minutes later to the media: oh for sure it's a team effort, we all do our best to contribute 🙂

[reunionsdereve]

Indigenous children take part in the process of fishing and drying large Salmon catches, a Nivkh community in Kamchatka, Russia

[half-horny-half-hope]

i wonder who connor and hudson are playing in S2

[anincompletelist]

5 + 5 tag game!

i'm exceptionally late to this, but technically this is the 5 fics tag game (thank you @cha-melodius @onpurposewrites @onthewaytosomewhere @crownedinlove @theprinceandagcd for thinking of me!) except I'm adding a part to it and sharing five of my own fics that I'm proud of + reccing another five that I've enjoyed lately!

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I had a hot streak this year with some shorter, prose-heavy, ilya pov's that are still ones I enjoy going back to reread sometimes. I'll share snippets of each:

destroyer (e, 4k)

It’s a well-learned dance at this point, the plié of Hollander’s knees to his chest, the taps and clicks of the lube and their locked lips, the pirouette of Ilya’s fingers pressing in, opening him up and up. He yanks Hollander’s hips to the edge of the bed when he’s finished and takes the foil of the condom between his teeth, ripping it open and rolling it on, spitting out the trash to be dealt with later.  Ilya sinks inside of him and thinks he’s going to smell like me after this. Thinks, it will cling. Thinks, like a revelation, I fucking want it to.  He braces himself on a palm beside Hollander’s head, his upturned chin and open mouth where smoke still savors every exhale. One is not enough for an addiction; Ilya would know. But he’s taken something from Hollander tonight—another piece just for Ilya, wedged out by his fingers, molded by his palms, put back in a way that won’t ever be the same again. No matter how many showers Hollander takes, no matter how much he scrubs his tongue and douses himself in cologne, Ilya will be underneath it somewhere. They will know.  If Hollander had remembered that first time, when Ilya had fumbled his lighter and hesitated to shake his hand, he’ll remember this. Ilya will make sure of it. He won’t hesitate this time. 

refuge (m, 2k)

Hollander’s text stares up at him from the screen, sharper and more potent than the vodka on the nightstand or the cigarette tucked between his fingers. His coach and a few of his teammates have reached out over the last couple of hours, evidently having seen the headlines. Nothing from his family. And now, this. I don’t want to be alone tonight. Even though Hollander has two parents and Ilya knows they wouldn’t leave him alone, if he asked. Even though Ilya is drunk and miserable and mourning the past so much as he is the future, no energy left in him to do anything but take the next sip, inhale the smoke, blow it back out again. It’ll turn his lungs black quicker than it’ll make him clean, but is that not what a crucible is? He touches his fingertips to the cross at his chest and burns and burns. He supposes he can add this to the list of things he’s good at.  He stares at the text again. I don’t want to be alone tonight.  He wonders, briefly, if he is really so transparent. More concerningly, Ilya worries that Hollander seems to speak his language so fluently that he knows Ilya cannot say no to this; that he can’t deny himself when it’s packaged in something he can provide.  Penthouse 1, Ilya sends back.   Hollander promises, be there in 10. 

hope is a heartache (m, 3k)

But the smoke clears and Hollander is gone and Ilya is alone again on this rooftop, and the cold is sobering, the tie at his neck too tight. Hollander knows fear too: No one is looking. You don’t know that.  And now he is somewhere downstairs again, with aged liquor in his stomach and Ilya’s smoke on his breath, alone but in a different way. This, too, is Ilya’s fault somehow—the rooftop, his absence, the cigarette. The way Hollander had come up here in search of something and left with less than even that.  Ilya looks down at his hands. He knows how to do more than just take, he thinks. He just has to remember.  Have you earned it yet?  He curses, jabs the flame out until it’s ash, and finds his way back inside. 

the fics in my chronic illness club series are also very special to me, since many of them are things I'm going through in real life at the time I'm writing them. two that are most prevalent right now are:

the way to his heart (m, 10k)

When Hollander turns enough that Ilya’s palm slips over his lower stomach, Ilya asks, “This okay?”  “Yeah,” Hollander breathes into the crook of his own arm, eyelids fluttering. “Yeah. It feels good, actually.”  Ilya hums. He finds the spot where neck meets shoulder, the freckle Ilya likes to think is a secret only for him, and touches his mouth to it.  He lets himself map things out more freely now with the affirmation. His fingertips, naturally thick and rough with over a decade now of hockey and bad decisions, trying to be gentle as he touches the soft skin between Hollander’s hips, the places where the same sort of work has yet to dig deep enough and scar.  It’s different from usual, like Hollander said. The area underneath Ilya’s palm has been many things the times they’ve been together. Flat and smooth under Ilya’s mouth, rippling underneath a cascade of sensation, pulled taut just before a trembling release. He drifts to the spot often, the delicate stretch of skin from one hip to the other, the pocket of softness in the middle that feels almost forbidden on someone like Hollander. It’d been privilege enough to go searching for it. But to have found something? To be allowed to put his hands, his lips, his tongue and teeth to it and draw it out, to inadvertently stake that sort of claim—Ilya feels nearly as dizzy and covetous of it as he had when he won the fucking Cup. 

collateral (m, 34k+)

Really, it’s the fact that his entire life he’s been told he’s exceptional and special because of the skills he possesses, the things he accomplishes. But when it comes to the things that he struggles with, pain or stress or the things in his head that don’t always make sense, suddenly he’s yanked back down to earth again, reminded that everyone has their cross to bear; that whatever he’s feeling isn’t something that requires extra time, attention, or help to deal with. Or worse, that the struggles he has are to be expected. As if they’re something else Shane should have seen coming and prepared for ahead of time.  It’s all he does. Even when he doesn’t want to be, he’s aware of everything. Every noise in a room, every scent in the air, every minute shift that happens that could throw off his equilibrium. Is it a byproduct of a fundamentally unsteady body? Or is it simply how he’d been raised? To pick up on everyone’s feelings but his own? 

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and then five fics I've enjoyed lately!

chills by laundry (loves jar) (e, 2k)

The dream of Irina is nearly wrung from Ilya’s body. The remnants are only particles of dust, sitting inside the seams of his eyes. Ilya blinks. Blinks to look at what he’s doing to Shane.

skipped practice by schittyfic (e, 9k)

“Mmm. You want it bad,” Ilya purrs, teeth grazing the column of his throat. “Yeah,” Shane whines, hating how petulant it sounds. A fresh flare of determination rises up in response. “Just give it to me. Ilya. I can—just go hard. Just make it fit.” Ilya laughs quietly, incredulously. It’s hot against Shane’s ear. “Make it fit." [Or: in the midst of a stressful season, Shane's a little... out of practice. He's not gonna let that stop him getting what he wants.]

I'll be softer (like your mother) by aislinn (e, 8k)

Shane felt unsteady, like he didn’t quite grasp something, because the way Ilya began to mouth at his nipple was too shallow, rhythmic, and slow to really be erotic. Well, it was erotic, of course; in the way that any touch from Ilya was, inherently, to Shane. But there seemed to be no particular purpose. He just — sucked. Or, perhaps more aptly, Shane realised, with a bolt of hot, twisting confusion, suckled. “That’s good,” Shane said, voice cracking. It wasn’t what he meant to say, because he hadn’t meant to say anything, too worried the only thing that would come out would be a what the fuck. But Ilya moaned, leaning more heavily against Shane, hands fisting the hem of Shane’s shirt, as he applied a little more pressure. OR: Ilya’s fixation with Shane’s pecs turns into something unexpected.

the strict dogma of teeth by yourinsomnia (e, 9k+, wip)

Shane had been doing this job for too long. He’d visited too many fuckass gas stations. He was bound to come across a real doozy. A genuine mindfuck. or Shane is a trucker who picks Ilya up from a gas station.

any requests? by johyong (e, 46k)

Shane Hollander has everything. He's married, has sweet children and a very successful business... living a life everybody envies. But Shane Hollander also has a secret. He turns every gala, party or auction into an opportunity to get his guts rearranged by the hot catering waiter. On his forty-fifth birthday though, Shane finds out that it's about to end. Or: Shane and Ilya spend one last night together, both knowing it will never be enough.

you can find my other recs under the my fic recs tag on my blog!

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I know this game has made its rounds already so no pressure if you've already done it! I copy/paste tags for games and wip updates etc, so make sure to like this post if you want to be added to the list :)

@russianblush @intosnarkness @eusuntgratie @rain-universe @thetimesinbetween @potato-jem @dearseaglass @mayflowersinapril @tiptoethruthetulips @seths-rogens @miss-minnelli @lem0nademouth @zwiazdziarka @doubleappled @thorun93

and open tag to anyone else who wants to play along! x

[twirlingfreckles]

the first time I watched the rose sex scene I thought “WOW SHE’S HOT!” and then the next time I watched it I was slightly less distracted by her ass and I realized that the framing of Rose taking her dress off and going upstairs was, like, perfectly framed so you can’t see her face at all and I was like hang on did they get a a Sophie body double?? And then someone showed me an interview where Sophie mentioned how they had to work really hard to get the timing of that shot right, so it can’t have been a body double.

anyway I’ve given that shot some more thought and I think it’s framed that way because all night Shane’s been able to focus on the fact that it’s Rose, and Rose is perfect and he likes her so much, more than he’s ever liked any girl. But now it’s not Shane and Rose, it’s Shane and a woman he’s forcing himself to have sex with. And the framing makes her body a little more objectified, a little more anonymous. She could be any woman. because this is kind of Shane’s last dying hope that he can make sex work with a woman.

[gentlergunler]

Doors of Djerba 💚💙

[rchrgd]

my favourite scottish tradition, traffic cones on statues

[enba-and-luka]

[jewelcoatfish]

one night when shane falls asleep before ilya and ilya was scrolling on his phone shane suddenly jerks awake and before ilya could react shane turns over to him and whispers “oh thank god” in an almost raspy voice and glues himself around ilya who is still very confused until shane speaks again in his sleepy voice “i was so scared you wouldn’t be here when i wake up” and falls right back asleep.

he does not remember any of this the next morning

[rawcunningmaster]

A Christian wedding during the Lebanese Civil War, Beirut, Lebanon, 1986. 🇱🇧

[zygon-commander]

[athena5898]

(The Cradle)

"Why are children being killed in Gaza?"

Speaking at the funeral of 112 killed in the Israeli massacre of the Abu Sharia and Al-Hasayneh families whose bodies were recovered following earlier massacres carried out by Israeli occupation forces during their genocidal war on the strip, Gaza Civil Defense spokesman Mahmoud Basal stated:

“We ask the world: Why are these children being killed? Why, O world? O consciences? O societies? O free people? O nations? Why are children being killed in Gaza?”

[khaleesiofalicante]

i laughed for a good five minutes 🤣🤣🤣

[kosmogrl]

valentine's day is every day because I'm always looking for love in everything