1 – 3 of 3 Works in mssarahx

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  1. Montreal tried to get Shane Hollander back. Shane and Ilya laughed, stayed married, and won anyway. Montreal realizes they want Shane Hollander back the same way people usually realize irreversible things: too late, through a screenshot, with a sense of dread they can’t quite justify. The photo is innocuous. Shane and Ilya in Ottawa, post-practice, arms slung around each other, Shane mid-laugh like happiness is no longer something he has to ration. Someone captions it culture matters. The replies are feral. Ilya notices first. “They follow you again,” he says mildly, scrolling. Shane squints at his phone. “Who?” “Montreal.” Shane blinks then barks out a laughs, “Oh my god. That’s hilarious.” They don’t start with a call or an apology or an acknowledgment of Shane's contribution. No, they start with interest; Likes on old photos, A vague article about unfinished business, A beat reporter using the word homecoming like it hasn’t already been poisoned. They don't come to Shane first, they go to the press, like they think peer pressure will make the offer taste sweeter. Shane reads headlines aloud like he’s doing a dramatic reading. “‘Sources say the organization has grown,’” he says. “Grown what? Regret?” Ilya hums. “They grow desperate.” The first email arrives a few days later. Shane opens it, reads one sentence, and hands his phone to Ilya. “They miss my leadership.” Ilya scrolls. “Do they miss apologizing?” “Nope.” “Then,” Ilya says, handing the phone back, “they miss the wrong thing.” Montreal escalates to an alarming degree. If Shane didn't know better, he'd think they actually wanted him back and not just the cup's he provided for them. Private calls, followed by carefully worded leaks, culminating in a handwritten letter that arrives in Ottawa like it expects gratitude. Shane opens it at the kitchen counter and dissolves into laughter. “They offered you the bigger closet,” he gasps. Ilya blinks. “They think I am movable.” “They think shelving fixes homophobia,” Shane wheezes. “I’m obsessed with how bad this is.” Ilya folds the letter neatly and drops it into recycling. “We are very happy,” he says calmly. “Somewhere else.” Ottawa, for their part, does not flinch. They know what they have and they know how to protect their own. They don't issue statements, no grovelling post's declaring how much they love Shane, they don't advertise that Shane's happy with them, they just let the fact's speak for themselves. They simply let him exist—loud, married, joyful—and the contrast does the work for them. Montreal’s locker room, however, implodes. Voyagers Group Chat: Jean-Luc: Ok, so this is officially bad right? Marc: This feels worse than bad Luc: The internet is calling it “aggressive flirting” Antoine: They sent him a LETTER Jean-Luc: I don’t get why he won’t even talk to management Hayden: Because the last time he talked, they told him to make his marriage disappear. Marc: That’s not how it was meant— Hayden: It’s how it landed. Antoine: They say they’ve changed Hayden: Did they apologize? Luc: …

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  2. Montreal's new starting centre fires shots at Yuna online. The centaurs respond. @DomMav_Montreal: Crazy how some people talk like they’re part of the game when they’re just watching from the stands. Maybe focus less on tweeting and more on cheering your boy through another invisible night. @DomMav_Montreal: Ottawa media hype is hilarious. One decent winger and suddenly his whole family thinks they’re untouchable. @DomMav_Montreal: Shane Hollander plays like he’s scared to disappoint mommy. Hockey’s a man’s game, not daycare. #mamasboy @DomMav_Montreal: Tell your son to keep his head up tonight, Yuna. This league eats soft players alive. @DomMav_Montreal: Some guys bring skill. Some bring grit. Some bring their mom to fight their battles online. Guess which one Shane is. #mamasboy @DomMav_Montreal: Hope Ottawa enjoys defending feelings instead of the neutral zone tonight. Northern Ice Sports – Live Broadcast Ottawa Centaurs vs. Montreal Voyageurs Play-by-Play: Jack Mercer Color: Paul Levesque Mercer: Five minutes left, tied at two, and nobody on either bench is pretending this is just hockey anymore. Levesque: Jack, this stopped being about points in the standings the moment Maver opened his mouth about Hollander’s family. Every shift since has been payback. Mercer: Hollander carries through the neutral zone—hooked by Comaeu, no call—he keeps his feet, dumps it deep, and Maver drives him face-first into the boards after the puck’s gone! Levesque: That’s predatory. That’s intent. Mercer: Rosanov is on Maver in a heartbeat—shoves him down—refs screaming for space, but nobody’s listening! Levesque: Rosanov’s not even arguing. He’s staring. He’s remembering. Mercer: Play resumes—Young wins the draw—shot from the point—rebound—ROSANOV SCORES! Levesque: That’s a pressure release. That’s rage finding the net. Mercer: Montreal pulls Stedlund—six attackers—Maver over the line—he fires—Hayes blocks it—covers— WHISTLE —and Maver slashes Hayes after the save!

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  3. a series of unhinged posts by the First Husbands of Hockey

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