dwyn

small snail on a leaf with raindrops



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    When Shane reluctantly agreed to kick off his MLH career with a photoshoot, he imagined, somewhat vaguely, a hockey uniform and some dramatic lighting on the rink. Shoot a few pucks. Pose intensely. That kind of thing.

    The marketing agency, apparently, had other ideas.

    A plane flight gone wrong, a desperate crash landing, and suddenly hockey’s two brightest young stars find themselves stranded in the heart of the Canadian wilderness. With no way home and no rescue coming, they only have one hope for survival -- each other.

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    15 Jul 2026

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    Shane was twelve when hockey scouts started showing up to his games. He was barely fifteen when a check went horribly wrong, fucked his knee to hell and gave him a grade III concussion. During rehab he found swimming, and he was seventeen when he went to the Olympics as a relay-only swimmer who only swam the prelims.

    He’s 24 and working for his mom’s sports PR company when he meets Ilya Fucking Rozanov.

    May contain: Shane Hollander navigating what it means to be mostly normal when your whole childhood was about preparing you for greatness. Shane Hollander attempting to flirt. Possibly less than 100% accurate descriptions of what a sports PR agent does.

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    14 Jul 2026

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    When Ilya is concussed during a game, he experiences a weird gap in his memories. He has completely forgotten two people he should apparently know: his longtime rival Shane Hollander, and a regular hookup named Jane.

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    13 Jul 2026

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    “Uh,” he says, looking up from his screen and feeling his ears go hot, realizing for the first time that this habit of his hasn’t actually come up before until this exact moment.

    “What?” Rozanov asks, sounding more amused than anything else. “You are one of the people who does Instagram for food now?”

    “No,” Shane says, stalling between answering and finishing his Snap so he can send it to Melissa, “one sec.” He finishes typing out 'Tuna melt. Chips. Pickles. It smells really good. Swiss cheese, I think.' before he looks back to Rozanov, putting his phone facedown on the coffee table. “Just sending it to someone on the staff. She likes knowing what I’m eating.”

    He doesn’t know if Melissa likes knowing what he’s eating, per se, but she also seems pleased when he talks about enjoying food for things beyond how many grams of protein it has in it.

    “Ah,” Rozanov says, in a tone Shane can’t quite read. “You always send her your food then, this girl?”

    (shane has a habit of sending his team's dietician his meals for approval) (the problem with this habit? he forgets to tell ilya exactly what it is that melissa does) (how the tuna meltdown is AVERTED through the power of miscommunication)

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    04 Jul 2026

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    ”It’s not bad” says his mom, carefully. “Very Canadian, sponsors are happy about that.” That, and not much else, he can tell. A loon is neither masculine nor impressive. A disappointment, to those who hoped he’d have something like a wolf, himself included. His dad tries to bake him the traditional settling cake, in the shape of the new adults’ daemon, but his cake decorating skills aren’t great, so it mostly looks like a grey football. And Shanes’ strict diet doesn’t allow for cake.

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    Shane Hollander, the soul he didn't choose to have, the boy he didn't choose to love, and the life that, despite all odds, might just end up worth living.

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    14 Jun 2026

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