Neurofancier



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    Shane Hollander is a man who thrives on structure, routine, the solid ground of a ten-year plan. Ilya likes that about him, likes the embracing squeeze of having a life organized in tandem with Shane.

    No one would call Ilya a man who thrives on structure. But it’s there, if not in his DNA then in the patterns of his brain. A call-and-response of: they do this, I do that.

    When Ilya’s life is flayed open for the world to dissect, how will they push-and-pull their way back towards what was once a well-organized life?


    “I thought we could go through the schedules and figure out what days we’ll be in the same cities this season, or when either of us have a couple of days off in a row. Maybe make a shared calendar, so we c—”

    “A sex calendar? Your parents are arriving in thirty minutes, and you are proposing making a sex calendar?” Oh, this was delicious. He’d be able to eat out on this for years, if Shane was willing to give him that long.

    “It’s not a sex calendar! It’s just … when we might be able to see each other,” he finished, already sounding defeated.

    “And what are you planning on doing when we are seeing each other? Not fucking?”

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    21 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    21 Jun 2026

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    On the bedside table is a framed picture of Shane and Rose. Hugging, noses touching.

    “What is this?” Ilya asks, grip tightening on the back of Shane’s neck. It’s not in character. He needs to know that this is not what he thinks it is, or Shane will not leave this room in one piece.

    Shane whimpers, long and pitiful. His hands clench into the bedsheets, once, twice. Bracing. Then:

    “My wife,” he whispers.

    Or: Fix-It for Ilya’s Rose Landry related pain, but its a perverted sex freak role play with a twist that Shane cooks up in his pretty little head.

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    25 Apr 2026

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    That next time, Shane had thought to get ahead of it.

    It had been— difficult. Doing it himself, without Ilya there to monitor. And then he had knelt apologetically at Ilya’s feet, confessing shamefacedly that he’d done it again, he’d come when he wasn’t supposed to. And Ilya’s face had changed— not to anger, it was never anger, even when he pretended at it, just a kind of electric anticipation, his lips curling back over his teeth like he was trying to taste Shane in the air— before Shane had blurted out I ruined it, though. He’d sat up a little straighter.

    A pause. Ruined it, solnyshko?

    Shane had nodded.

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    12 Apr 2026

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    In preparation for their second team game of Never Have I Ever with Ilya Rozanov, newly married with his husband in attendance, the Ottawa Centaurs prepared a curated list of kinks in advance.

    Little do they know there’s a dark horse among them.

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    20 Mar 2026