Niriaden



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    He opens his eyes, and stares up at the canopy of the four poster bed he's in. It takes a second, his vision is a bit blurry, but it clears up quick enough.

    Two seconds.

    Three seconds.

    Four seconds.

    Part of Jason keeps the count going, while the rest of him kind of just...seizes. Because he knows this canopy. He knows the the posts it's attached to. He—fuck—he knows the notch in the bottom left post he'd put in it when he'd stolen one of Bruce's batarangs when he was twelve and thrown it around like the stupid kid he'd been.

    This was Jason's room.

     

    Or, the one where Jason gets zapped with magic, wakes up in his teenage body, and decides to let the timeline know exactly how fucked it is. He also becomes the president of the Tim Drake Appreciation Club.

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    10 Jan 2026

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    Against every instinct that had guided Shane his entire life—the instinct to be careful, to be reasonable, to not rock the boat—he leaned into the moment.

    “Well,” he said lightly, the words tasting strange and powerful on his tongue, “it’s nice to have a regular man like that.”

    The phrase echoed something Rozanov had once said about women, casual and dismissive back then.

    Now, it landed like a match.

    Shane watched the exact second it ignited.

    Or, Shane tells a small, stupid lie because he’s tired of being boring—and accidentally finds out just how much Ilya Rozanov cares.

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    29 Dec 2025

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    It’s been almost three years since the last time they played against each other. Not in an exhibition, not a ceremonial puck drop or a smiling photo op. A real game, with real skates and real hard contact. Shane could swear, right now, that if he closes his eyes he’d remember the crack of sticks, the echo of blades against ice, the roar of the crowd rising and falling like a living thing by its own right. He won’t even have to try hard. It’s always there in the back of his mind. The way Ilya skated across the rink, visor fogged slightly, mouthguard half out of his mouth in that familiar, infuriating way.

    Three years is nothing in the grand scheme of things. Three years is also an eternity. Long enough for routines to change and for habits to calcify like bone. For absence to become a kind of presence all on its own.

    --- In which Shane and Ilya break up in 2017, after Florida. It's 2029, and both have retired and put the game behind them. An invitation to a charity event sets things in motion. Or, another alternate take on what happens after Episode 4.

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    21 Dec 2025

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    The Voyageurs ask Shane to join FanMail in order to foster a better connection with fans. Internet sleuths start to notice some interesting details in the background of Shane’s videos, and then the internet does...what the internet does.

    Or Shane and Ilya are granted an opportunity to come out on their own terms. Sort of. And in they do it in a very Ilya way. (Surprisingly, it is Shane’s idea)

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    20 Dec 2025

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    “More,” Rozanov grunts in English, but Shane is transfixed on the bead of sweat rolling down his temple, down to his tense jaw. “Say more, Hollander.”

    “Mm, more–”

    “No, more– Блять–”

    “No more?”

    “Ни хрена себе– Say more Russian, Hollander.”

    or, Shane knows how to say about four words in Russian, and Ilya loses his mind

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    19 Dec 2025