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  1. Rec 7

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    “First rule of bye week is no talk about bye week,” Geno had agreed with a shrug and a tap to the side of his nose, after they listened to Horny explain this year’s version of the game following their last team practice. He kind of doubted that Geno knew what any of those things meant, but it made him stop and smile for a second.

    “I bet you fifty bucks that I can guess where you’re going,” Sid challenged.

     
    Pens bye week 2018. Sid goes to a cabin. Geno goes to Miami. Somehow they still manage to find each other.

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    16 Apr 2018

  2. Rec 27

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    27 Aug 2017

  3. Rec *

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    "You're on Puck Daddy," Taylor said, instead of a greeting.

    Sidney sank back into the pillows. "So? What's new?"

    "The headline is 'Best Hockey Player in the World Sidney Crosby Taken Out by Eight Year Old, Breaks Arm in Mite Hockey Game.'"

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    01 Aug 2017

  4. Rec *

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    (dezinformatsiya: disinformation; the deliberate spreading of false information to mislead an enemy as to one's position or course of action)

    Sidney leads them to a fallen log, just off the bank, still shrouded by trees. They can see the river, but no one can see them. If he were there with anyone else -- if he actually wanted to pursue Zoya the way everyone at work wants him to -- the spot would be romantic. But this is Sidney, and Zhenya knows he can’t have that.

    “Nice spot,” Zhenya announces. He brushes some leaves off of the log then lowers himself to sit. “Very nice. Quiet, you hide back here. Bet you take pretty girls here, be alone.”

    Sidney stops before he sits and looks at Zhenya; the hurt expression that crosses his face slides away so quickly that Zhenya isn’t even sure that he saw it at all. “No,” he says finally as he sits down. “No, only surly Soviet defectors who ask too many questions.”

    (or: Sidney Crosby and the spy who loved him)

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    01 Aug 2017

  5. Rec *

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    “Hello?” Sid tries and the bear huffs at him, shaking its head until its ears flop and then dropping to sit on its butt with its hind legs sticking out in front. “I’m looking for Geno,” he tries again, and the bear heaves a long sigh, sticking a front paw dripping with honey in its mouth. It gnaws inelegantly until the fur is matted more with slobber than honey before rolling forward to all fours and sauntering to the other side of the copse. Geno saunters back, hands red and spitty and face visibly sticky over a shameful expression.

     

     

     

     

    A beekeeping bear and a witch who loves to bake: the love story.

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    01 Aug 2017

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