ineffableink
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Episode 1: Auspicious Beginnings by ineffableink
Fandoms: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
19 Feb 2025
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Summary
Esmeralda Underfoot is the anchor for Knightly Tidings, the recently created crystal newscast from Waterdeep's Trades Post newspaper. She's hungry for the scoop that will finally lead to her big break. Meanwhile, the story that could make her career is brewing right under her very nose.
Series
- Part 1 of Knightly Tidings
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 839
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Hits:
- 7
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Summary
Title pretty much explains the poem.
Imagery poem that was written in real time.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 31
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 3
- Hits:
- 27
Recent series
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- Words:
- 839
- Works:
- 1
Recent bookmarks
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Shane Hollander, Man Who Would Eat Hockey If He Could by elumish
Fandoms: Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
21 Feb 2026
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Summary
[Scott Hunter]: thanks
[Shane]: I meant it.
[Scott Hunter]: I know
[Shane]: Please don’t have sex in the locker room.
[Scott Hunter]: lol
(or: four moments throughout the years, as seen through the eyes of the camera)
Bookmarked by ineffableink
22 Feb 2026
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Ridden Hard by Moorishflower
Fandoms: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
20 Feb 2026
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Summary
"Are you nose-blind, man?" Ser Manfred asked. The old refrain came to Dunk's lips – thick as a castle wall, slow as an aurochs – but he held it back with an effort. "Haven't you seen a heat come on before?"
Bookmarked by ineffableink
20 Feb 2026
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Summary
When he presses the button on the doorbell, he hears the digitally-produced ding-dong echo from inside. There is a tiny box halfway up the adjacent wall that immediately beeps and emits Shane’s voice.
“Hey, you can just leave it on the step, thanks.”
Ilya presses his nose into the digital doorbell, which he knows to also contain a camera, and says, “Shane.”
A pause.
“What the fuck.”
A brief cacophony of noise that Ilya can hear even from outside the house. The multiple successive thumps of something falling, Shane swearing loudly and the sound of what can only be a hockey game being paused on the television.
He opens the door to reveal that he is nap-rumpled, wearing two pairs of socks and carrying a child in his arms. The only really surprising part is that the socks don’t match, though the child is interesting.Ilya takes an impromptu trip to Montreal. There are unforeseen consequences.
Bookmarked by ineffableink
20 Feb 2026
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Summary
unconnected hollanov/heated rivalry fics all by the same author (it's me, i'm the author) // blanket permission for translations (posted on ao3/linked), podfics (posted on ao3/linked), art of any kind inspired by the fics in this collection! i would love to know about them though
- Words:
- 129,221
- Works:
- 8
- Bookmarks:
- 1,319
Bookmarked by ineffableink
20 Feb 2026
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Summary
The Swiss National League doesn’t care about the legendary Hollander-Rozanov rivalry. When the MLH can’t negotiate with the Hockey Players’ Union in time to prevent a hockey lockout at the start of the 2015 season, the Zürich Lions jump at the chance to sign both Shane and Ilya to short-term contracts. For four months in Switzerland, they share a team, a line, a house, and a bed.
Then the lockout ends in January, and it’s time to go back. Back to different countries, cities, lives. Beds.
Reentry is harder than expected.
Series
- Part 8 of my heated rivalry anon fics
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 38,174
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 1,274
- Kudos:
- 4,873
- Bookmarks:
- 1,798
- Hits:
- 54,321
Bookmarked by ineffableink
20 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Then Ilya smiles, a small sliver of a smirk that doesn’t really reach his eyes. “We had quiet days,” Ilya says in the video. “I am sure is normal with all roommates, no? We are not special.”
“Oh,” Shane breathes, an exhale, and he doesn’t even mean to allow the sound to leave his mouth. It just does.
It’s not a lie. They’d had their share of adjustments, of quiet days, of learning to give space and give way. Once, back in November, they’d been so angry at each other that they’d only spoken in Russian and French all evening, even as they fucked on the couch in the living room. It wasn’t like it was perfect.
It’d just felt like it, more times than not.
“C’mon, man,” someone says on the video, “give us something. One thing.”
There are so many things Ilya could say, Shane knows it. Obviously not the sex stuff, which is a relief. Obviously, he’s not going to tell Johnson from PuckNet that by the end of December, Shane’d hated sleeping alone so much that he’d risked catching Ilya’s flu just to curl up next to him in his bed.
Or that they’d accidentally swapped over half their closet of athleisure wear without even realizing it and a teammate had to point out that a shirt Shane wore to practice once had Cyrillic on the back.
Or that Shane hated mornings even if he always forced himself out of bed before the sun rose and it took him two cups of coffee before he felt human, but they discovered in November it only took three soft morning kisses from Ilya to make him feel human again.
Like, obviously Ilya isn’t going to tell Chester from Crease Talk about the morning kisses.
But Shane’s chest feels tight like he is. It isn’t—he doesn’t—
On the screen, Ilya is looking thoughtful. “Hollander is a very good roommate,” he says finally, firmly, like he’s daring someone to argue. Shane’s mouth is dry. “I liked living with him in Zürich, was good experience. Less good experience almost tripping over shoes by the door every morning, but it has made me best skater in the league, I think. It sharpened all my reflexes.”
“Hollander’s shoes?”
“Yes,” Ilya says, and he scratches at his cheek again, glances down and away from the reporter with the very first smile that looks real curving softly across his face. “He takes them off and leaves them at the door. Right in front of the door, always. First time, I told him we are on same team now, no need to try and kill me with broken neck. Second time, I put them away for him in nice, convenient shoe-rack also by the door, and he thinks I stole them.”
Shane’s stomach flips over itself, and he lurches upright in bed, half-afraid that he’s going to be sick.
With shaking fingers, he exits the video, leaves JJ’s text unanswered, and tosses the phone facedown on his bed.
There are a thousand things Ilya could have said, and it’s not like the story he picked is bad or anything. It’s probably one of the best things Ilya could have mentioned, if Shane’s thinking about it logically. It’s harmless, the sort of small everyday annoyance that housemates learn to live with. It probably, like, humanizes Shane or something like that. He could have said way worse, something that would feed into all the conversations on Twitter that are always happening about how weird and frigid and stiff Shane is off the ice.
He could have said that Shane hated having his food touch on his plate or hung up all his clothes to dry as soon as the washing machine was finished so nothing got wrinkled or folded his socks or vacuumed every Sunday before lunch. He could have been crueler, maybe.
They hadn’t talked about it. What they were going to say when people asked them about living together. Apparently, it wouldn’t be enough to gloss over it. Apparently everyone wanted the details, one thing, just a little small thing they could pull apart and write articles about and tweet about and repurpose and repackage and sell.
So Ilya didn’t—it wasn’t wrong, the answer he gave. It was probably a perfect answer, but Shane feels wrong anyway. Small and unstable, like a glass teetering on the very edge of a counter.
It’s just shoes. But it’s theirs. It was theirs, and now it’s everyone’s.