Karpov had cemented his position as the world's best player and world champion by the time Garry Kasparov arrived on the scene. In their first match, the World Chess Championship 1984 in Moscow, the first player to win six games would win the match. Karpov built a 4–0 lead after nine games. The next 17 games were drawn, setting a record for world title matches, and it took Karpov until game 27 to gain his fifth win. In game 31, Karpov had a winning position but failed to take advantage and settled for a draw. He lost the next game, after which 14 more draws ensued. Karpov held a solidly winning position in Game 41, but again blundered and had to settle for a draw. After Kasparov won games 47 and 48, FIDE President Florencio Campomanes unilaterally terminated the match, citing the players' health. Karpov is said to have lost 10 kg over the course of the match. The match had lasted an unprecedented five months, with five wins for Karpov, three for Kasparov, and 40 draws.
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"The word pandemonium was coined by John Milton as the name for the Parliament of Hell" is an all-timer etymology. Oh yeah did you hear that Mrs Higgins's dogs got loose at the village fête? It was like a vast golden edifice in which fallen angels debate their strategies for vengeance against god, yeah.
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I think Luo Binghe would turn into the world's #1 Mingling shipper the second he finds out that there's something going on there, for three reasons:
The literal most beautiful woman on Cang Qiong Mountain, whom Shizun keeps looking at approvingly and who also happens to look a lot like Liu Qingge (who Shizun thinks is pretty), would be off the market.
It'd get Sha Hualing to stop chasing after him, which would make her infinitely less annoying to work with.
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Boston and Montreal are at the same club. They're at different tables, but they were all sat in the VIP section - it's a little more secluded, offers the facsimile of privacy more than anything - and the Boston boys are loud, loud enough to be heard even over the thumping bassline of the music. Loud enough for Shane to hear them from where he's sitting in the corner of his booth, nursing his drink.
"Okay, best lay. Go."
"Sorry fellas, I'm a gentleman - I don't kiss and tell."
"That means you have nothing to tell, Connors?"
"Suck my fat one, Lenny."
"And become your best lay? Pass."
"For me, it was twins. In Vegas."
"Yeah, their names were right and left, surname hand. Gimme a break."
"Ye of little faith!"
"Ey, there's nothing little about me, bud. Just ask my best lay - Laura Steeler."
"What, the chick from the car commercials?"
"Oh yeah."
"No wonder she was your best lay, Petey - she was the only one of the poor girls you picked up who could act."
Raucous, jeering laughter drowns out Peterson's objections. It doesn't drown out Marleau's voice, clear and sly:
"We all know who Rozanov's best lay is."
Like they'd rehearsed it, the Boston Raider's all cry out in lilting sing-song unison: "Montreal Jane!"
Shane stops breathing. His skin goes hot, then cold, prickling, his hair standing on end. There's no way. He must have heard it wrong, there was no way-
"Now why are you limp dick losers talking about my best girl?"
Shane has to shut his eyes. This is not happening, surely. Ilya Rozanov is not swaggering up to the next table, calling Shane his - his -
"Ayyye, Cap. We were just talking about our top fucks."
"Ah, I see. You all had nothing to offer so you had to talk about my conquests, I understand."
Boos briefly follow.
"No but seriously, Cap. Yours has gotta be Jane, right?"
Rozanov hums, slow, indulgent, like he's savouring something. "Mmmh yes. My Jane."
Some catcalls follow, lurid. Shane's pulse is in his throat, thumping thumping thumping. He stares out into the throng of writhing bodies on the dancefloor, unblinking.
"Yeah okay so you love banging this chick, but that still doesn't answer the question: what was your best fuck with her."
Rozanov's laughter is rolling, incredulous. "This I cannot answer - no, no it is true!" He adds when he's met with crows of denial, "My Jane, she is always surprising me. She is crazy for my cock. You would not understand what this is like, for a girl to want your dick so bad she is biting your belt buckle."
It's like getting shoved in the solar plexus, hard. Boston's jeering rises but it doesn't dim the memory - they hadn't seen each other in weeks, and it was coming off of summer besides, and Shane had felt like he was on fire, like he'd die if he didn't get Rozanov's cock inside him now now right fucking now, and in his desperate rush, mouthing his way across denim, over Rozanov's zipper, he'd clipped his teeth against -
"I call bull. No way she's that easy for it."
"Oh, but she is," Rozanov's voice is inescapable, like he's whispering straight into Shane's ear, "I go to eat her out and I can already work three fingers inside - she opened herself up for me in the shower because she needs it so bad."
That's not fair, Shane thinks dizzily over Boston's whooping, that wasn't the same night as the belt thing.
Ilya is still talking, rapturous now:
"- but it does not matter if she does not open herself up before I get there because the way this girl gets wet for me? Oh my god, she is like - like faucet, just dripping, always, making a mess in her little panties -"
And suddenly Shane is standing, uncaring if the movement is obvious through the dim lights of the club. He's weaving, stumbling his way to the bathroom. Jesus, people probably think he's wasted what with the way he's walking, but he doesn't care, he doesn't care about anything apart from getting behind a locked stall door right fucking now.
When the lock clicks shut, Shane is scrambling for his pants. He's so hard he's throbbing, hot to touch. And he's - he's dripping, all down his shaft, down to his fucking balls, making a mess of his -
Panties, Shane hears in Rozanov's indolent drawl, and he puts his fist in his mouth and bites down, hard.
It's enough to muffle his noises, if not the shwick shwick shwick of his hand jacking his cock.
It's enough so that he doesn't miss the door handle of the bathroom turning.
Shane's hand doesn't (can't) stop working, neck arching as it flies over his dick, but he's not worried, not really.
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To be clear. Shane's whole thing about Ilya being a Sex God is because of the limerence. Ilya is nineteen and he can get a rhythm going and that's about it. He was throwing shit at the wall when he hit that 'Get on your knees' in Nashville but only he knows that because Shane's brain turned OFF. Ilya said "Let's do a little experiment here" and the results were "Oh my god oh my god oh my god." Shane came hands free because he was that obsessed with the idea of Ilya Rozanov being inside him. Ilya said "Do you like that do you like that" because he's nineteen and he needs the validation and Shane was like "YES YES YES I LIKE IT OH MY GOD YOU'RE SO DEEP YOU'RE SO GOOD" and objectively. It was okay. Ilya fully did not know where to put his hands a couple of times. He forgot about Shane's dick. Luckily, Shane is God's special angel who can come from the idea of Ilya's cockhead being in proximity to his prostate a few times. Mind over matter, says Shane Hollander's dick. And then Ilya said "Oh God Hollander" because it was also, objectively, one of the hottest things that had ever happened to HIM, Ilya Rozanov. Shane sits on that step afterwards plotting about how he's gonna get this over and over and over again for the rest of his life and he has no idea that there are women in Boston who have Ilya listed in their contacts as "Hockey Guy 6/10". Shane Hollander cannot fathom a world in which Ilya Rozanov doesn't lay the maddest pipe this side of Lake Michigan. "Ilya Rozanov is a some kind of nineteen year old sex God" No Shane honey he was just designed in a lab to score goals and make you cum and he's done scoring goals for the night.
Personally I do think that sometimes non-hockey fans can end up mischaracterizing Shane and Ilya because they don't know enough about hockey/hockey playstyles
The Ilya we see in Heated rivalry would not be throwing the first punch, he's not an enforcer. Ilya is a star center and a Pest. He wouldn't be doing his job correctly if he was punching players every other game, it would end up with not enough ice time to let him be the playmaker he's paid to be.
But being a pest can be playmaking! Find a player to bait, emotionally push them just enough that they try to fight you, and then get the fuck out of there before the ref gives you both penalties. This gets your team the power play. There is probably someone on Ilya's line dedicated to helping him get out of the fights he starts, and finishing them for him!
I also think this is also something that Shane would respect. Ilya is good at it and it's a good strategy for his team. I don't think Shane would see it as some dirty tactic, because Shane probably thinks everyone with a brain can see it for what it is! He probably thinks everyone should be able to see that being an asshole is a tactic for Ilya, that it's something to ignore and not fall for, that it's a strategy and not personal beef.
I think Shane's more disappointed when a Metro falls for it. Shane sees it as Ilya set up a Looney Toons ass obvious trap and one of his teammates ran into it. Why be mad at Bugs Bunny when you can be mad at your defenceman for falling for a fucking Bugs Bunny trap.
