artifice



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Recent series

  1. Words:
    51,065
    Works:
    2
    Bookmarks:
    208
  2. Summary

    My little-worlded self! the shadows pass
    In this thy sister-world, as in a glass,
    Of all processions that revolve in thee:
    Not only of cyclic Man
    Thou here discern'st the plan,
    Not only of cyclic Man, but of the cyclic Me.
    Not solely of Mortality's great years
    The reflex just appears,
    But thine own bosom's year, still circling round
    In ample and in ampler gyre
    Toward the far completion, wherewith crowned,
    Love unconsumed shall chant in his own furnace-fire.

    excerpt, “from the night of forebeing” - francis thompson

    Words:
    6,645
    Works:
    2
    Bookmarks:
    35

Recent bookmarks

  1. 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:
    English
    Words:
    90,785
    Chapters:
    12/12
    Collections:
    4
    Comments:
    1,519
    Kudos:
    4,863
    Bookmarks:
    1,831
    Hits:
    120,231

    08 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Why would anyone want to mic you up, Hollander?” Ilya asked, getting down to his knees next to Shane to join him in his stretches. “All they will hear is you discussing boring statistics and complaining how I am so much more talented than you.”

    ___

    Or, Shane and Ilya on the ice, over the years

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    4,491
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    195
    Kudos:
    5,084
    Bookmarks:
    909
    Hits:
    26,889

    04 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    "He said it was just a stronger edible," Wyatt says. "Apparently it was supposed to be super natural, and relaxing and rejuvenating, not the weak Canadian shit, and—"

    "You say a bad word, Hazy," Ilya interrupts, pointing a tiny finger at him.

    "Right." Wyatt winces. "Sorry, kid."

    Rejuvenating. Shane turns the word over in his mind a few times, while readjusting Ilya’s little body in his arms.

    Jesus fucking Christ.

    -

    or, with the help of some mysterious russian candy and a very loving husband, ilya rozanov heals his inner child.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    15,633
    Chapters:
    4/4
    Comments:
    542
    Kudos:
    5,360
    Bookmarks:
    1,222
    Hits:
    37,839

    29 May 2026

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    Ilya was good at noticing things about people, and he was good at understanding them. Shane was not. That was okay. Shane had developed his own way of getting to know Ilya. It involved a lot of inane questions and, more importantly, no longer involved condoms.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    9,686
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    373
    Kudos:
    5,536
    Bookmarks:
    1,840
    Hits:
    45,460

    29 May 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

    Words:
    31,871
    Works:
    3
    Bookmarks:
    327

    28 May 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    babushka's back!