sophia

That’s the headline Ilya reads on his Google alerts when he’s home alone. More and more articles start coming out, his phone pinging with different versions of the same sentence over and over. Every website claiming this horrible, twisted lie that Shane Hollander is dead.

It has to be a lie after all. This must be wrong. They’re all surely misreporting things and it’ll turn out that Hollander is alive, safe in his boring home in Montreal. Ilya’s confident there will be a statement made soon but he’s too impatient to wait for that.

Sure, they haven’t spoken since the day Shane fled from his home, leaving Ilya to clean up half-eaten tuna melts and their mixed come off his chest.

And Ilya didn’t reach out after Shane got a nasty hit in San Jose a few weeks ago— one that left Shane with a fractured collarbone and concussion. He tortured himself with the footage and drafted an “are you okay?” text but he never sent it. He had been a coward.

He wishes more than anything that he sent it now.

He calls Shane. It’s 8PM in Boston, which means it’s 8PM in Montreal and even Shane isn’t lame enough to be in bed so early.

No answer to his call. No answer to his texts. Nothing.

He calls and calls and calls and fucking calls but there’s nothing. No response, no answer. Not even a ‘read’ receipt. Shane isn’t cruel. He would call him. Even with this fractured something that they are (or were), he would have reached out. He would have heard about the news by now and called Ilya back or texted to say it was fake. That he was fine. That it was idiots being idiots and talking about something they knew nothing of.

So why the fuck is Shane not answering? The only reason he wouldn’t is if… is if…

Ilya doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s in his car and headed to Montreal. His phone dies halfway through the trip from attempts to get in contact with Shane. Still nothing. He’s in a state of delirium when he crosses the border into Canada, with no plan other than making it to Shane’s house.

If Shane’s alive, he’ll be in his home and he’ll answer the door. And if not… Ilya doesn’t want to think that far.

Shane’s lounging on his couch, half asleep and frustrated at the world. He’s still reeling from getting the worst, most frantic phone call from his parents earlier that day.

And all because he’d gone to the hospital earlier. There had been unforeseen conflicts with his medication and some supplements he’s taking, something that risked leading to an overdose if not caught as early as it was.

Somehow that afternoon trip led to someone violating HIPPA and even more confusingly, led to quite a bit of the population mistaking him for being dead.

For once Shane’s thankful his mom talked him into keeping a landline when buying a home. “You never know what may happen Shane,” she had said.

Wasn’t that the truth? The whole reason for the urgent visit was because he got dizzy that morning, his vision and balance going off kilter, and he had dropped his phone, breaking it beyond repair. It was added to his list of annoyances with today. If not for his parents and Hayden having his home phone number… they might have believed the news for much longer than they had to.

It’s 1AM when furious knocking wakes him up. He must have fallen asleep down stairs. Shane’s groggy before it really hits him that someone is at his front door. No one in their right mind visits at one a.m.

He gets up and peeks through the peep hole and swings the door open before he even knows he’s going to do it because it’s—

Ilya.

He looks like shit. Eyes red-rimmed, hair like he went through a wind tunnel. He’s wearing flannel pajama pants, slides, and a sweatshirt. He looks like he just rolled out of bed.

He doesn’t get any words out before Ilya knocks the breath out of him by collapsing into him. It’s a hug but feels a bit like a tackle too. If Shane weren’t as athletic or as on guard at seeing Ilya, he may have fallen backwards.

It takes several moments to register Ilya is shaking in his arms.

No. Ilya is crying in his arms.

Shane’s brain searches for anything that would make this confusing thing make sense. He begins to think it may be a dream he has yet to wake up from but then it hits him.

The article. His phone being broken. His parents had called everyone they thought was important.

What he sees is desperate relief creeping up on Shane's face and it makes Ilya feel like he ate rocks for lunch.

His husband, one of best players ever to grace the ice, amongst the most decorated players in the league...stares at his own hands in disbelief....

Like he didn't know if he could still do it....

Like he needed permission to be there....

Like he had to prove his worth....

Fast forward a couple of months, the Centaurs are playing LA. Shane is sitting out the road trip due to a minor injury. Ilya meets up with Rose at a small restaurant to avoid the press, but they get caught by paparazzi. And they get absolutely swarmed. Usually, Rose can handle a few paps going after her, but this time there are so many, they block the way from the restaurant’s door to where her car is parked. Rose was just caught leaving a party hand in hand with another actor a week ago and the paps are after her like crazy and because she and Ilya were meeting on the dl she didn’t bring security. Turns out, she didn’t need to. The paparazzi are in their faces, yelling at Rose about her possible relationship with her actor or whether she’s hooking up with her ex-boyfriend’s husband now, shoving them around and flashing their cameras. Unfortunately for the paparazzi, none of them have a lot of experience with professional hockey players. Hockey players who can fight and are good in a scrum. So Ilya drags up his I’m gonna drop my gloves and punch out your teeth persona and yells at them loud enough that at least two of the paps drop their cameras. Even these hardened vultures don’t know what to do in the face of Russian hockey player fury. Ilya doesn’t punch any of them, but he doesn’t have to. Just wraps an arm around Rose and clears a path for her with the other, his broad shoulders and the murderous expression on his face equally well suited to get them back to Rose’s car. The clip goes viral, especially because it catches Rose’s absolutely vindicated expression when Ilya basically glares the last photographer out of his way, and says, just audible for the camera, “next time we go out, we bring hockey sticks and just sweep them out of the way like ugly overgrown pucks.”

not because he's a baby a la classic man cold

but because he will AGGRESSIVELY try to pretend he is not sick

he is trying to gaslight others but ALSO himself

he has a gold medal immune system thank you he did NOT get taken down by ill pikeling spreading Elementary School Plague to him

not happening

as an itty bitty he lied so he wouldn't have to skip hockey, and that has NOT changed as an adult

his true toxic trait is that he WILL be typhoid mary in that locker room if it means he doesn't have to stay home and miss playing

like. no one else on the team understands Hollander Illness Behavior yet, so they're teasing ilya about being overprotective because shane is SO underplaying it and meanwhile ilya is just, "no, i am so fucking serious. get a medic and then call an ambulance."

and shane who is barely on this realm of existence and about 0.2 seconds from having Involuntary Floor Time is just, "don't worry :) i'll just take an advil or something :)"

However, Ilya starts this bit where whenever someone at practice or at an event calls for Hollander he acts like he thought they were calling for him, usually saying something like "you said Hollander! I am a Hollander!" And it's so stupid but Shane is charmed and amused every time, and he starts doing the same thing when people say Rozanov.

“…You mean Hollzy?”

“Amber can I step here or is it still lava?”

“Oh hey Ruby, you’re on a new area in Zelda, you finally beat the water temple?”

“Jade, how did the slumber party at Rachel’s go? Did Emma cause problems with Kaleigh or did it end up being fine?”

“that’s our daddy! hi daddy he’s so fast”

“he’s nubber 35”

“arthur you can’t count that much. only to 12”

(mum voice) “jade don’t be mean to your brother”

“oh oh, he’s got a boo boo” (jj fell on his ass)

“i fell on my butt yesterday”

“ha! butt”

“butt butt butt butt butt” — cut off

“uncle shane! hello uncle shane we love you!”

“he can’t hear you arthur, its a bideo”

“video, ruby not bideo”

“who is that man, he looks sad” (coach)

“i think he’s the boss, he’s wearing black”

“mummy calls him mr poopy pants” — cut off

“oh there’s uncle shane again! he’s the bestest”

“nubber 24! …i can’t count that much either”

“mummy can uncle shane read to us tonight?”

“sure, but let’s focus on the video girls”

“where’s daddy this video is boring. can i have a snack?”

(small interruption of juice box slurping)

“arthur stop eating the mic”

“baawahaa” - cut off with a wet sloppy sound

“oh there’s uncle shane again! why is he the only one playing?”

book grace: rocky would you still love me if i were a worm

It feels like a uniquely American capitalist take to assume these traditions will make you completely self sufficient. You need a lot of people, a lot of time, a lot of knowledge across a lot of subjects, and a lot of luck to provide for everyone's nutritional needs.

So should you even bother trying to be more self sufficient with your food? I argue yes. Foraging and gardening are fun and will teach you so much about many things. They are deeply rewarding activities that can supplement your diet. There are herbs I haven't bought in years because I grow my own. There are dishes I can only make with foraged ingredients because I can't get them in stores.

In a good year, these efforts account for maaaaaaybe 15% of our food intake.

We still rely on grocery stores for the majority of our calories and nutrition and that's ok. It doesn't mean the garden is a waste of time or that hunting is a waste of effort.

The first eggs all of my niblings ate as children were from MY chickens, that I lovingly raise in a healthy, humane environment. I start every morning with a mug of black tea sweetened with honey from the bees that industriously pollinate my garden. I can't remember the last time I bought salsa, marinara, or bone broth, but I had to build new shelves to store my abundance of canned food only last week!