Arwin01



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    “Go?” Rozanov repeats, and Shane thinks he manages to nod, thinks he manages to spin some kind of excuse that he knows Rozanov doesn’t really buy, but he needs to go. He needs to get out of here. He needs to find somewhere quiet and calm where he can ride out this panic and painful tightness until he can catch his breath again. He needs-

    He needs to go.

    “I’m sorry,” he says, turning heel and resisting the urge to just book it right for the front door only because he’d rather not have to explain to Hayden why he returned from a hookup with Boston Lily in men’s clothes that he certainly didn’t leave in.

    It’s not until he makes it halfway up the stairs to Rozanov’s bedroom that it occurs to him in a cold rush that it isn’t just anxiety that makes it this hard to breathe.

    “No,” he tells himself firmly, white knuckling the bannister and trying to take a deep breath just to prove that he can.

    It wheezes.

    (how the tuna meltdown is averted through the power of food allergies and anaphylaxis)

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    23 Jul 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 96

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    What's the worst that could happen? What would happen if the worst happened? What's the most likely thing to happen? "I could eat something I'm allergic to and go into anaphylactic shock and die."

    Leon will do one of those things Shane appreciates about him so much: ask a direct question. "Do you think that's a rational or an irrational fear?"

    Heart racing in his chest, Shane will dig his fingernails into the meat of his thighs and say, "Well, I didn't die, obviously, but the other part. That did happen."

    Shane Hollander has severe food allergies. Fortunately, his teammates don't know that. Unfortunately, his teammates don't know that.

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    22 Jul 2026

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    It does mean missing out on things like barbeques and team dinners sometimes, but it’s not as if he would have been able to participate anyway. At this point in his life, risking someone not taking his allergies seriously would mean potentially missing games, which makes it unacceptable. Jackie always makes sure he has a dish or two that’s safe when he’s over at their house, but if he was going to be the one guy sitting and drinking ginger ale instead of taking part in sharing nachos or Korean barbeque or burgers or any other delicious thing he goes in knowing he can’t have anyway, there’s no point in making a fuss about it. He eats at home, has a drink with everyone else, and he calls it a day. Easy. Safe. Foolproof.

    But also the reason it doesn’t occur to him that he hasn’t actually told Ilya about any of his allergies until it becomes immediately relevant five days into being at his cottage together.

    (how ilya learns about shane's food allergies) (and how shane learns what it's like to have someone who always saves him a seat at the table) (and who also makes sure there's food he can eat on the table to start with)

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    22 Jul 2026

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    When Ichigo coughed, he felt the familiar taste of iron slip from his lips. He inwardly cursed, both at his injuries and at the weak voices he couldn't make out. He shouldn’t have let his guard down, just because Ginjo and Xcution was dealt with. The Dangai was always dangerous. He shouldn’t have forgotten that. A brush of reiatsu and something moved in his vision- gray and purple. Ichigo pried his eyes open, catching a glimpse of a familiar face.

    “Jii-san.”

    Yamamoto Genryuusai placed a gentle hand on his face and Ichigo leaned into it, allowing the darkness to overtake his vision.

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    31 Jul 2020

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    “It’s okay. I don’t need anything.” 

    “I am not going to eat in front of you while you have nothing, Hollander,” Ilya scoffs. He plucks a can of cold ginger ale from the top shelf as casually as he can manage and slides it over the island, interrupting Hollander’s fidgeting thumbs. “You must be hungry, yes? It’s been hours since you left hotel. I can make something. Easy.” 

    “Make… what?” he asks warily.  

    Ilya rolls his eyes and tosses a look over his shoulder. “Do not worry. I will find something that works for your special hockey diet,” he teases. He reaches back into the fridge. “Tuna melt okay?” 

    “No,” Hollander says primly. “And it’s a disease. Not a diet.” 

    He pulls his hands out of the cold and turns, blinks. “What?” 

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    22 Jul 2026