letssharelove



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    When Shane was born an ocean away from her homeland, Yuna Hollander, who did not pray, whispered into the world: Let every door open for him, my son.

    OR: Yuna Hollander learns to appreciate Ilya Rozanov, one step at a time.

    Language:
    English
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    1/1
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    05 Jul 2026

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  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane lifts one eyelid again to look at Rozanov. His eyes are red-rimmed. Like he’s been crying. “Why…why aren’t you in Boston?”

    Rozanov’s brow furrows. “Why would I be in Boston?”

    “You, you’re captain. Raiders. Boston.”

    The room is silent except for the beeping of monitors.

    In 2023, Shane takes a bad hit on the ice. When he wakes up, the last thing he remembers is a tuna melt.

    There’s a lot to get used to.

    Language:
    English
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    43,230
    Chapters:
    9/9
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    25 Jun 2026

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    Amnesia takes Shane back to 2016.
    Ilya is the absolute best of the best

  3. Public Bookmark 67

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    Im Sol decides that rating her husband's reaction to the names she calls him - on social media - would be a fun way to cope with her missing him while he's on his world tour (Eclipse's fandom agrees!)

    Language:
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    14 Jun 2026

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  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “I do not have the words,” Ilya murmurs, lowering his head so that their foreheads are nearly brushing. “You have taken them straight from the center of me, moy lyubimyj. It would—I would not be myself if I did not have love for you strung through my soul.” His mouth curves up, even as Shane's face blurs through the tears. “You are my greatest—” He shakes his head, his hands drifting up, clad in the matching mittens of Shane. “If there is something that I was born to do, sweetheart, it was to love you.”

    “Ilya,” Shane breathes out, a wretched, tenderhearted expression on his face. He looks as though Ilya has torn at the core of him, has unwound some great secret and pulled it into the light. He looks as though he is love made flesh, beautiful and mutable and ruinous.

    You said my name and offered your hand, Ilya thinks, and oh, how many years have they bled for this honesty, for this peace, and I was lost.

    OR: Of all the aftermaths Ilya had imagined, he was never so greedy as to hope for this.

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    26 May 2026

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  5. Public Bookmark *

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    The first sound Ilya hears is a thin, discordant symphony of beeps and whirs. Something vibrating. 

    The next thing he hears is…wet. A sort of shaking, gargling sound, that feels like the ugliest crying he’s ever heard. And through it, Shane’s voice. 

    “I’m with him now, mom. He’s— he’s not fine. He’s not. I know—”

    Ilya wants to ask who's not fine, but he can’t feel his own body, his mouth, enough to ask.

    “Yeah,” Shane is saying, only slightly calmer. “I know. He wasn’t breathing—"

    Ilya knows there's a link, between the clinical musicality of medical settings, Shane’s audible, awful distress, and his own physical incapacity. It’s just, it’s so tenuous, and the air around him is so thick, so heavy. It would be easy, to sleep, a little. 

    -
    Footage of the last game between Ottawa and Montreal is everywhere; it’s breached containment from the sports world, and now it seems like everyone is baying for Montreal’s blood. Except, Ilya is oblivious. Not exactly blissfully so, but as the fight for accountability within the league rages on without him, Ilya just wants someone, anyone, to tell him what happened.

    Language:
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    23 May 2026

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    FUCK MONTREAL