I'm married to my work...and Jesus.

I like to imagine that, partially due to the Hockey Robot stereotyping and partially due to his watertight media training, commentators are constantly going on about "What's going on in Hollander's head? What was Hollander thinking there? Can't help but wonder what the Metros' Captain has on his mind right now." and it's like. Well statistically speaking. Cock.

do not go gentle into that good night

be a bit of a bitch about it

i understand words and phrases. my dialogue is natural and in character. i know where the plot is going. my word count is reasonable. i am not scared of my document

I am once again calling for us to recentre Hollanov's bruise kink. I need Ilya pressing into Shane's bruised ribs until Shane sees stars. I need him sucking hickeys into preexisting bruises to hide his marks and overwrite the ownership of them; making them his own. I need a choked, half-swallowed gasp of pain escaping Shane's lips as his cock jerks violently against Ilya's hip from the way he's grasping his thigh, right where a dark bruise paints his skin. I need Shane coming hands free while Ilya pounds into him and I need the moment that pushes him off the edge to be the way Ilya shifts his hold to push his thumb directly into a deep purple mark on his hip. I need it.