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  1. Rec *

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    “Whatever happens I swear to all that is holy, I will never hate you,” Kent vowed. Then he kissed Alexei before the other man could promise the same thing—because Kent knew who he was, he knew what he was capable of drawing out in other people. He couldn’t allow Alexei to make a promise he couldn’t keep.

    The journey of Kent Parson and Alexei Mashkov from draft to retirement.

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    06 Jan 2026

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    “What…what are you want?” Alexei muttered, drawing his face back just far enough to speak. “I give. Anything you want, I give.”

    “Just touch me. Fuck just…please just touch me.”

    Kent just needed to feel present, and wanted. He didn’t need love. He didn’t need forever or marriage proposals or all that other shit. He just needed to be wanted for fucking once. Wanted more than hockey, more than escaping a famous father’s shadow.

    It was unfair of him to hate Jack for all that, but he couldn’t help it. He had never been put first ever. Not by anyone, even himself. He didn’t expect that from Alexei, not all the time. But maybe just this once…

  2. Public Bookmark 15

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    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.

    Language:
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    03 Jun 2026

  3. Rec *

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    30 Mar 2026

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    And all at once, Shane hates everything about this stupid fucking wedding with a viciousness that surprises him. He hates the stupid uncomfortable chairs, and his stupid uncomfortable suit, and the fucking picturesque golden hour-before-sunset-light, and the fucking flowers that smell so strong they’re starting to give him a headache. He hates the stupid glass photo wall, and the stupid guest book, and the delicate white fabric laid down on the center aisle. He hates the fucking champagne. He hates the people sitting next to him. He hates that this whole thing is just Scott Hunter’s fucking victory lap. And, most of all, he hates that he hates any of it.

    And then the music starts up with no warning at all; the couple next to him whisper it’s time! to each other and start tapping their feet relentlessly, but Shane doesn’t care. He’s locked eyes with Ilya, and Ilya has locked eyes with him, and they’re both already on the verge of crying, a little bit. Shane’s eyes feel wetter than usual, and Ilya’s mouth has gone tight, the way it always does when he feels something too big to carry inside.

    And, so. Shane sits there, listening to the opening notes of some soft, floral number played live by a quartet of violinists. He finally, finally manages to tear his eyes away from Ilya, and bites furiously at his lip. He pinches his empty ring finger until the skin goes white and bloodless, and for a brief moment, he hates Scott Hunter with everything he has.

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “They need to return to a conference based system,” Svetlana said, slamming her hand against the table. “It was fucking fine the way it was, why are we handing out participation trophies to shitty divisions?”

    Ilya raised his eyebrows from where he hovered in the kitchen, cracking open another Red Bull.

    “This is fun,” he said, deadpanned. “You guys should start a podcast or something. I would not listen, you are both terribly boring.”

    * * *

    Or, after an injury on the ice forces Shane into an early retirement, he and Svetlana start a podcast.

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    08 Apr 2026

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  5. Public Bookmark *

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    02 Jun 2026