mangledangle



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    In late 2014, celebrity photos start dropping. Ilya deletes his texts, his photos, a video he should never have taken. It isn't soon enough.

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    14 Apr 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “You are…” Ilya licked his bloodied teeth and tried to remember the word. “Squeamish?”

    “No,” Hollander said. His eyes were still so wide, tracing over Ilya’s bruised face like searchlights. “Fuck. Just—”

    He stepped back, stumbling a little on socked feet, and jerked his head at the doorway. Get in.

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    09 Apr 2026

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    [Cliff chews on the inside of his cheek, staring down at his dark phone. The reddit people said ‘just wait’ and ‘be supportive’, like waiting and being supportive weren’t two total opposites. And ‘waiting’ feels too close to ‘pretending’, too much like doing nothing, and Tess always said doing nothing was a choice and not an excuse and—well, she said a lot of things. But either way, it feels like giving himself an out, so Cliff takes a deep breath and makes himself use the only play he thinks he has left:

    Cliff (12:02): dude come on

    Cliff (12:02): please]

    OR,

    In the aftermath of realizing who Roz's Montreal Chick actually is, Cliff knows that Roz doesn't know that Cliff knows about Hollander. But Cliff's not going to let something like knowing stop him from having a bros back with the whole...secret closeted gay love thing.

    He's got reddit, he's got twitter. He can figure this out. And he's got one other person he knows is in the know—Hayden Pike.

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    08 Apr 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya is a young man in America. Here he is in the off hours.

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    08 Apr 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “What did she look like?” asked Hollander.

    “She was brunette,” said Ilya. Marleau’s eyes trailed along the hard lines of his traps, past the glint of his crucifix, the swells of his pectorals, towards the trail of hair disappearing into his shorts. They landed on the thickening outline of his cock. “Pretty little thing, with freckles. Big, brown dumb eyes, begging to be made to cry.”

    Hollander’s breath hitched. Marleau realized, perhaps belatedly, that this was a game in which truth was incidental.

    In 2014, Ilya and Marleau went to Paris on a girl to celebrate the Stanley Cup win. Ten years later, on a balmy evening spent in the Hollander-Rozanov Ottawa home, Marleau reminisces and, courtesy of Shane and Ilya, re-enacts.

    It’s just a game of play pretend.

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    04 Apr 2026