DaisyJackson

Brown/Blue haired Camp Halfblood Camper



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    It does mean missing out on things like barbeques and team dinners sometimes, but it’s not as if he would have been able to participate anyway. At this point in his life, risking someone not taking his allergies seriously would mean potentially missing games, which makes it unacceptable. Jackie always makes sure he has a dish or two that’s safe when he’s over at their house, but if he was going to be the one guy sitting and drinking ginger ale instead of taking part in sharing nachos or Korean barbeque or burgers or any other delicious thing he goes in knowing he can’t have anyway, there’s no point in making a fuss about it. He eats at home, has a drink with everyone else, and he calls it a day. Easy. Safe. Foolproof.

    But also the reason it doesn’t occur to him that he hasn’t actually told Ilya about any of his allergies until it becomes immediately relevant five days into being at his cottage together.

    (how ilya learns about shane's food allergies) (and how shane learns what it's like to have someone who always saves him a seat at the table) (and who also makes sure there's food he can eat on the table to start with)

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    14 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Shane and Ilya had mutually agreed to keep their whatever-they’re-doing out of Sochi. It was an easy decision to make: this was bigger than any MLH rivalry and definitely bigger than a few hotel hook-ups. There was no room for distractions, not with Olympic gold on the line.

    So it’d be really fucking great if their daemons could get on the same page and stop trying to cause an international fucking incident.

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    13 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 46

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    The chime sounded as the elevator arrived. Shane rolled his shoulders back and gave himself one final look in the mirrored surface. His reflection split in two as the doors opened in the center like a hungry mouth about to swallow him whole. Where Shane’s face had stared back at him a split second ago stood Rozanov.

    A black hole opened itself in the center of Shane’s torso, dragging his organs, muscles, bones, nerve endings from the furthest points of his body inwards to collapse upon themselves. His brain was static on a muted television. Instructions failed to materialize; he had no plan for this.

    Rozanov stared at him, unmoving except for an almost imperceptible hitch in his breath. Time slowed. It had a funny way of doing that around Rozanov.

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    09 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “Where was this in Sochi, huh? Where was this in Las Vegas? You’ve had me every way you could’ve fucking wanted me, made me turn myself inside out with wanting you, with goddamn embarrassing myself all for a fucking shred of your attention, and all of a sudden now that you have decided you want it, what, I have to play along like a good little boy? Fuck you, how about that?”

    There is a moment of ringing, brutal silence. Shane’s chest is heaving like he can’t quite get air in. Rozanov is staring at him across the few feet of space between them, gaze darting across his face quickly. “Las Vegas?” He finally asks, voice sounding smaller than Shane ever thinks he’s heard it. “What are you talking about, Las Vegas?”

    God. Fuck. That’s infinitely worse, that Shane has carried this hurt for all these years and Rozanov - he doesn’t even fucking remember.

    Or,

    Another post-tuna-melt-Shane-stays story.

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    08 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 57

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    "What do I have to do with anything? And obviously I can fight, I play professional hockey, I–”

    “No Shane,” Rose laughed, louder this time. “She’s saying she wants Ilya. That she’ll fight you for him. It’s a…a thing. A saying, it’s…”

    But Shane wasn’t listening. He was too busy digesting that information, fury and an unfamiliar amount of possessiveness flooding his body in such levels he suddenly felt lightheaded, a plan formulating in his brain.

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    27 May 2026