Mel > Recent Status Updates

And here's where I just can't with fated mates. Like, if you're drugged up on each other's presence and barely know each other, here I'm screaming, "Detox! Go back to Vancouver and sober up. Only then can you be sure that this is a good decision."

But nope. Trope's gotta trope.

Salal berry lemonade. Mm. Makes me wonder if the author is originally from Vancouver or British Colombia.

I can't remember the last time I encountered an actual, "Magic is real?" conversation.

Oh no. I thought the fear of dying in a thunderstorm was a bit much, but sure, phobias exist. But how exactly is it better to abandon even the most run-down cabin to instead hike for miles in the pelting cold rain? This is safer? Yeah... I came for the cosy tropes, but the plot IQ is bumming me out.

Dammit Reid. How can you take me from laughing to crying in just a few pages!?

Every queer orphan out there is sobbing right now.

“It’s not fair that you don’t have your family here on your wedding day,” David said, “and I’m not trying to overstep, but—”
That was all Ilya let him get out before he engulfed David in a tight hug. “My family is here,” he said simply, and with surprising steadiness.

Bwahaha, I love this flirty teasing so much.

"Can I take you to bed now, then? And you wear only that jersey?"
Shane leaned in and kissed him. "Is this a hazing thing?"
"Yes. I do it to everyone."
"Shut up."
"Troy was incredible."

He reached for Shane’s hand and they walked, fingers tangled together, down a busy street in downtown Montreal with their heads held high.

There are the big grand moments and gestures, and then there is this. Quietly revolutionary. Holding hands, like a goddamn miracle.

Then Shane stood and said, "I choose him. Come on, Ilya."

Motherfucking legend.

"If anything freaks Anya out, it’s going to be this weird creepy-faced stuffed banana toy you bought her."
Ilya heard the squeak of a toy being squeezed over the phone. "Do not wear out the toys before Anya gets to play with them, Hollander."
Shane laughed and squeaked the toy twice more. "Better hurry, then."

The team was heading directly from the arena to the plane that would take them to Tampa Bay. They’d have the rest of the night and all of tomorrow off to enjoy the warm Florida weather.

Y'all. Don't. Skip. Role Model. This is the Scott Hunter Stanley Cup final all over again. We already got this scene in the last book, but we didn't get THEIR version of events. The dramatic tension is through the mutherfuckin roof.

"You’re a leader, but you’re also, like, cool."
"Ilya's Eyebrows shot up. "Cool?"
Troy’s lips curled into something that was almost a smile. "Compared to Hunter and Hollander."

I love Ilya and Troy teasing each other together.

"Isn't that why I'm here?" Ilya asked with a hint of irritation. So I don't have to burden him with this? I thought I could talk to you and fix myself so I can be good enough for him. A heavy silence hung in the room for a moment. Then, Galina said, very gently, "What do you think Shane would say, if he heard those words? If he knew you didn't want to burden him, or didn't think you were good enough for him?"

Ilya slammed the remote onto the sofa cushion beside him. “Hayden is on FanMail?”
"Yeah."
Ilya launched off the sofa and darted away.

Bwahaha! The enthusiasm! The absolute JOY. That's my Russian troll!

Their texting convos are so good. In the fun banter. In everything they miss or don't say.

Feeling so vulnerable and lonely, and then overwhelmed by the relief of an unexpected reprieve... I would be a puddle too. Because in that happiness you realize how you were hanging on by a thread.

“Good party, Maximus,” Bood said, grinning lazily. “You should throw them more often.”
Ilya stretched his arms across the back of the sofa. “I won’t.”

Oh dear Lord. I just realized that we may actually get Connor Storrie, that absolute Roman statue of a man, dressed up like Maximus.

“We are getting a team puppy! Harris told us today at practice.”

See, this is why you gotta read the books in order. The way the timelines overlap makes it so satisfying.

Shane nudged some fish around with his chopsticks. The restaurant had allowed him to substitute the rice for extra kale, which was nice, but also sucked.

Baby boy. Eating healthy is one thing. Eating what you hate is another. All this anxiety surrounding food, but because he's an athlete, no one questions it.

“I like it,” he admitted. “Do these pants come in other colors?”

OMG, the way I know this is AND and not INSTEAD OF.
Shane absolutely would buy the same pants in multiple colors.

Sometimes on nice days he rode his Ducati, but both Shane and Yuna strongly disapproved of his decision to buy a motorcycle, so Ilya didn’t take it out often.
Shane was so sure Ilya was going to die in a crash. It was annoying.

Another example of how Ilya erases himself. Taking on others' anxiety. I'd also be wary of a motorcycle, but geez, you'd think they'd understand having a risky hobby.
Also: *sniffle whimper*

Ilya: Are you awake?

God damn it. So much pain in such a brief moment.
Even if Ilya never heard the way Shane scoffed.
It awakens that vulnerable, inner child.
"I needed you."
The hurt, impulsive thought, "What if I killed myself? Then you'd wish you had cared."

He couldn’t imagine being on a team like Ottawa. Ilya rarely complained about it, but Shane wouldn’t be able to cope with the embarrassment of losing that often. It was a bit disappointing, if he was being honest, that Ilya didn’t care more.

Shane here is exactly the kind of privileged ass I can't stand.
"Wow, I can't believe that person is working at such a demeaning job. Clearly they have no self-respect."

Ilya rocked them a bit, gently, from side to side, and enjoyed the quiet. He closed his eyes and focused on how good it felt to be with Shane, alone in the dark, and tried not to wish it could be the same in the light.

Aw, honey. <3

“Easy for you to say,” Shane grumbled. “Your mom hasn’t been texting all week with stressful details about this damn camp.”
Ilya’s hands dropped to his sides. “No,” he said quietly. “She has not.”

Holy SHIT, Shane! Yikes!
And then he's too preoccupied to even catch it.
And Ilya lets it slide, even when he's clearly hurt. ( ;_;)

Shane, you're taking too long coming outside. Ilya's waiting and wants to introduce you as his boyfriend. Hurry up and come out.

Yeah, Ilya, your reoccurring dreams are a little on the nose.

"Wait- Do I have all of the kids? How many kids are here?"
"Three. Ruby is hiding behind you."
"Okay." Hayden exhaled. "I can't believe we're having another one."
"You sure it's just one?"
Hayden's eyes were pure terror. "Don't even joke, Hollander."

Heh. I almost forgot about Shane taking the piss sometimes too.

Instead, I pull on the robe I wore when visiting with Rath, pulling it over my head.

Such a visually baffling sentence.

Others are sewing together clothing with rusted needles.

No. No no no no no. Rusted dripping pipes are one thing. But no. You can NOT convince me that anyone is sewing with a rusted needle. Or, that upon waking and looking around a room, that it is something he could even see. What next, they pass around a single stick of gum and tear off pieces to share? And gah, why is this conflict cropping up now, at the end?

So disappointed in what promised to be a fun ridiculous romp. I'm so gosh darn bored. Like, a couple of no-name thugs attack for no reason to stir things up, but there's no tension. Boring couple. I feel like I've passed to point of no return and will at least skim along to the finish.

Okay, so I'm fine with the whole milking farm premise of it all.

Absolutely not fine with the toxic behavior allowed to fly. Telling him to blindly sign a contract. Not allowing him out of his sight to talk with a friend. Involuntary piercings. Like dude, no one should be irrevocably changing their body for a partner, much less a fucking job.

Possessive impulses are so much sexier when they are held back.