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times ilya rozanov was so lost in the sauce that he ascended to a higher plane: in (mostly) chronological order from hook-up era to marriage
the first time shane rode him during the hook-up era. when shane was still hollander, still nothing more than a torturous daydream, something he could have for small, greedy moments before having to let go of again. and he's still in denial about it all at this point, unwilling to put a name to that echoey, achey feeling in his chest that blooms when hollander leaves their bed and puts his carefully constructed mask back in place. Shane Hollander--the captain, the teenage phenom, the golden boy, the pride and joy of Canada--replacing the boy ilya had just had under his fingertips, in his mouth, beneath his body. anyway. it's a heady thing, for ilya, to have this side of hollander. to have hollander sat on top of him, holding ilya down with his wrists pinned above his head, hips moving slow and confident and maybe a little mean as he pants and grins and teases "you okay there rozanov?" and ilya just nods. he's totally okay, he's not seeing god or nirvana or angels or whatever the fuck. it's just hollander, bent over him, pretty face full of open wanting, a flush high on his cheeks, his mouth bitten red and slack around sweet sweet little 'unh unh unh' sounds every time he rolls his hips just right. and ilya just lays beneath him and grasps at his hips as he bounces and grinds in his lap. when he comes it makes him dizzy, his heart pounding in his throat, warmth tingling down his chest to his toes. it takes him a moment, too lost in the sauce to notice that hollander is still hard but then ilya is quickly rolling them over and swallowing him down the second he realises. later, he showers and thinks of how to get hollander on top of him--bouncing and grinding and rolling those strong hips, flexing those thick thighs, ass jiggling--again.
obviously, the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov is at the cottage. post-iloveyous, post-shanewakesilyaupinthemiddleofthenighttoplanthenextdecadeoftheirlivestogether. it's that moment when they're tangled up together in the soft sunlight, rain pitter-pattering on the wide glass windows, shane looking back at ilya so sweetly asking "this is real right" with his big, strong hand gripping at ilya's curls. and i think we can all agree that moment is the first moment they don't use condoms so ilya is trying to answer--to give shane the verbal confirmation he needs--but his entire body is buzzing with sensation at how warm, tight, soft, close shane feels like this. his mind is just drowning in loud tingling pleasure, his body also. all of him honed in on shane, shane, shane. he couldn't think of anything else if he tried. all he can do is nuzzle his nose into shane's pit, smear kisses over his ribs, lap helplessly at shane's nipple, and watch shane beneath him. watch his pretty face as his freckles bunch up, as his big brown eyes water with pleasure, as his cheeks get ruddy and his brows pinch then relax as his beautiful boy sinks into the sensation. and when they're both done, ilya stays tight to shane's back, just stroking up and down the thick muscle of his lover's thigh, kissing at his ribs, enjoying the afterglow. enjoying it the way he's wanted to for so long, with nothing between them and no need to wash away his longing by showering as fast as possible.
maybe not that first summer but after a year or two ilya manages to convince shane to smoke a blunt with him. and shane is terrible at it; he complains that the smoke burns his lungs and he coughs violently and chokes on each inhale, barely taking any in. so, of course, ilya takes over. presses his mouth, damp and hot and full of smoke, to shane's and pushes his tongue past shane's lips. and that's how shane gets high, breathing in the smoke ilya traps behind his teeth. they smoke out on the dock, at sunset. shane says he feels nothing and ilya just hums, says "sure, hollander" and pokes shane's flushed cheeks, laughs at shane's wide pupils, lounges back against the wooden dock with a wicked quirk to his smart mouth. and he feels it. in his limbs, that heavy warm floaty buzzy feeling that makes him kinda feel like sleeping and kinda feel like bursting into a fit of childish giggles. it takes about ten minutes for shane's body to loosen, for him to turn to ilya with heavy, hazy eyes and then crawl over top of ilya, pushing him down into the dock to kiss him all sloppy and demanding and hot. and ilya's had sex high before, made out high before, but suddenly his heart is frantic. shane is heavy in his lap, shirtless and drenched in orange-gold light, freckles stark over his cheeks and shoulders. he's beautiful, his brown eyes turned amber in the sunset, his pouty mouth swollen and dragging heated kiss after heated kiss from ilya's lips. and ilya's heart is pounding, so fucking loud in his ears, he can feel the hectic thumping of it in his throat, in his chest, banging on his ribcage. actually, he's so violently turned on and the adrenaline is pumping so fast he feels sick and he wrenches away with a gasp and feels lightheaded and has to hold off shane who is pouting and whining for more kisses. all the blood in ilya's body has travelled to his dick and all that's left in his brain is a druggy haze of lust and cotton. this is the first time ilya rozanov ever freaks the fuck out on weed -- because his high brain got so turned on he nearly forgot to breathe between kisses. he has to lie flat on the dock breathing in through his mouth and out his nose for twenty minutes before he can get up and go inside.
i think their wedding night they are too drunk and delirious with joy to manage anything more than a sloppy, messy, grinding makeout in bed after everyone leaves. they're both coming in their pants and showering afterwards together and kissing some more and then falling asleep in a heap of tangled limbs. their honeymoon, however, is full of ridiculous, ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov sex moments. the most notable being after a night out at some club. shane had been just so fucking sweet and hot and joyful all night. dark hair styled nicely, big arms on display in the tight little sheer black t-shirt ilya buys him to wear out to the club, his fingers tucked into ilya's waistband most of the night, just a little possessive and a little clingy. but ilya just has such a nice night. he does shots with a drag queen and meets fun, attractive, queer people. he dances in public with his husband under pulsing neon lights and kisses shane in the corner underneath the speakers throbbing ear-splitting club music. he feels a little trashy and a lot young and infinitely in love with his husband who mostly just bobs his head awkwardly to the music and holds ilya's hand with a besotted look on his handsome face. and when they get in the uber back to the hotel at 4 in the morning shane doesn't even flinch when ilya plasters himself to his side, kisses all over his neck, gropes his chest in the backseat. and when they're finally in the hotel room and stripped naked there's glitter on shane's skin from brushing up against the other bodies on the dancefloor and he's sweaty and he smells a little musky and a little like alcohol and ilya just loves him. loves his husband for coming out with him to a club and indulging everything ilya wanted all night even if he was nervous. loves his husband for the way he'd just had eyes for ilya all night, not even noticing anyone else looking at him, dark eyes never straying from ilya. and they go into the bathroom to shower the night off their bodies but ilya gets distracted looking at shane in the mirror, looking at him standing there all naked and glorious in the soft yellow light, and he can't help but drop to his knees behind shane and pry apart his asscheeks and bury himself there, tongue lapping, pressing, smearing, sliding over shane's hole. and he sucks kisses into the skin, pushes his tongue in, drools over his own chin as he presses his face in deeper. eats shane out for so long that his neck cramps and his knees hurt but he's entirely lost in it. moaning and groaning and whimpering when shane pushes his hips back, when shane reaches back to grab his hair and hold him closer, when shane curses and pleads and whines for more. ilya isn't even thinking of fucking shane--he is enjoying this too much. at some point he started jerking himself off tho and he comes like that, tongue buried in his husband, moaning loudly and dripping saliva down his chin.
ilya has been injured for a week, on IR, out of commission. he's miserable about it. not just because of the hockey--not just bc he is captain and feels like a sack of shit for abandoning his team, to which shane had said "baby, it sucks but it's good it happened now and not later in the season. you'll be back on the ice in time to make sure we still make it to the playoffs"--but also because his injury has prevented him from doing much with his husband. shane has been on a roadie and ilya has been with yuna and david, being dotted on, which is a bit overkill -- it's just a sprained groin not even a severe sprain, the doctor had said it was only grade two and he'd been fine in a few weeks. but before that he hadn't been allowed to do much either -- nothing at all in the bedroom -- and he is miserable. when shane gets back he picks ilya up from his parent's place and anya too and they all go home to their quiet ottawa place. anya runs off to her favourite corner of the yard to reacquaint herself with her favourite pile of dirt in the bushes and shane fusses over ilya on the couch. ilya is NOT sulking at all, not at all bitching and whining like a child. he's just saying that he doesn't need all this fuss hollander, it's fine, please just come here and let me blow you at least. and shane--who is currently been bumped from A to C--is trying to be responsible and telling his husband "no, you will not go on your knees and strain your groin further just to suck me off" and ilya groans and says "okay, i will lie flat and you can sit on my face, do all the work yourself" and, well, shane's dick is a little interested in that. but no, he shakes his head. so ilya pulls out the big guns, he pouts, flutters his thick lashes, looks up at shane with his eyes all pleading and says "i miss you" and shane groans, rubs a hand over his face and stomps away. ilya thinks his tactic has failed but then shane is coming back, dropping lube onto the couch then climbing behind ilya, dragging ilya back to lean his back against shane's chest. and ilya is confused by this turn of events but says nothing as shane kisses at his throat, runs a featherlight touch up and down the ladder of his ribs, the other hand massaging ilya's thick thigh muscle, careful of where ilya's muscle tore. and shane does this for ages, just kissing at ilya's neck, biting at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, scratching blunt nails over ilya's sides and rubbing his thumb over ilya's nipple. ilya is hard as fuck and wants to squirm away but shane holds him tighter and sucks a bruise into the soft skin behind his ear. eventually he's pushing down ilya's pants and briefs and slicking his hand with lube and slowly, torturously, meanly, stroking ilya's cock in lazy drags. his palm and fingers applying the faintest amount of pressure, dragging over ilya's cock lazily, like he has all the time in the world. and ilya can't fucking do anything about it. shane has one leg clamped over ilya's knee to keep him from moving and has his other hand wrapped firm around ilya's hip. he keeps kissing wet and messy and biting at ilya's throat. keeps stroking just on this side of too little. he maybe spends half an hour like that, nosing at ilya's jawline, murmuring softly to him saying "baby, baby, shh, just like this" and ilya is going fuzzy at the edges. forgetting all about being annoyed abt being on IR, forgetting all about feeling lazy and useless. "let me take care of you, you do so much, work so hard," shane sighs "just enjoy it" and ilya, strangely, does. the world's slowest, lightest, sweetest handjob reducing him to a puddle of goo melted between shane's thighs. when ilya eventually comes it's with a soft whimper and then shane is cleaning up his tummy and kissing his forehead and making him a nice meal and getting him an icepack for his groin.
their first wedding anniversary is probably the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov. it's the anniversary of their pikelet wedding -- during the season and not a public date that their team, friends, or the wider hockey world is aware of. it's just a date for them. the day ruby and jade married them with children's plastic rings in stupid costumes. ilya doesn't really tell shane in the lead up to it that he has a plan -- and he doesn't know that shane has one either -- so they're both going to practice on the day and acting coy when asked abt their plans for the evening. (they both made dinner reservations at the same spot where they had their first date post telling Crowell to fuck himself). and so they get home after practice and shane says -- before ilya gets a chance -- "i booked us a dinner for tonight, since it's our anniversary" and ilya is briefly overcome by joy, elation, absolute ridiculous gooey sappy emotion before he says, outloud "fuck!" and shane is blinking like ??? and ilya says "nothing, lyubimy, nothing" and then "i am excited" even though internally he is like fuckfuckfuckmyplans but then they park outside the resturant and he bursts into laughter and shane is again like ??? and ilya explains through hysterical bursts of laughter that he booked the same place and when they get inside they ask to see which table each reservation had assigned to it then pick the best one -- shane's table because he remembered the exact table they sat at that first time. and they eat a beautiful dinner together, without any nonsense from paps or fans, ankles tangled under the table, smiling stupidly at each other over the massive chicken parmesan ilya ordered. and when they get home they kiss all the way from the front door to the bedroom, hands wandering all over, careful, tender touches. and we all know ilya "loverboy" rozanov loves to make love to his husband missionary so shane is on his back with his legs around ilya's hips and his ankles hooked around the small of ilya's back and their fingers are tangled above shane's head on the mattress and their foreheads are pressed together as they breathe into each other's mouths just moving slow slow slow. and ilya gets lost in it. the slow rhythm of their bodies, the wet drag of their mouths, the press of shane's slick tongue, their noses rubbing, their foreheads touching, lips smudging and panting together. it's probably a good half hour of just slow rocking, quiet moans, soft sighs, until ilya picks up the pace, presses in harder, and sends them both over the edge. and ilya fades out for a bit, laying on top of shane's chest, ear pressed to shane's heart, listening to its steady pulse. shane's arms around him, caressing and rubbing his spine. and maybe he rolls shane onto his side and slides back into him and fucks him again twenty minutes later, fingers locked around shane's hip, pulling him tighter, burying growls and whimpers in shane's neck, nipping at his earlobe. he starts crying at some point, but shane is too, though he thinks shane's tears are from pleasure. ilya is just happy and sad all in one confusing tumble. both so joyful he got this and so scared that there had been a moment where he might not have gotten it. and he comes again, rutting deep into his husband's body, clutching him close, wiping his tears away by dragging his cheeks over the wings of shane's shoulder blades. and after, shane rolls over, grabs either side of his face, kisses him all over, forehead and brows and eyelids and mouth and nose and cheeks and chin, and murmurs "love you so much, husband" and ilya garbles something back along that same sentiment and bites at shane's chin. he wants to eat him, devour him whole, swallow him. it's ashame they can't be one being. but this closeness will do.
"Oh shit,” Shane muttered as he watched LaPointe get obviously cross checked. Luckily, the whistle followed.
“Ok, ok, we got this. Power play line one, let’s go!” Coach called. Shane glanced at Ilya who was grinning. They scrambled over the boards. The crowd was on their feet, always excited when Shane and Ilya took the ice together.
Ilya bent for the faceoff. Shane was on his left, Troy on his right. The ref dropped the puck and it was on. Ilya won the faceoff. He didn’t even have to look to know Shane was skating even with him, Troy a little ahead as the opposing defense came toward them. Their line moved in perfect harmony, as if the other team wasn’t even there.
Ilya passed to Troy, who got shoved into the boards but was able to move the puck forward into their zone. Ilya picked it up again as Shane got into position. The other defenseman was even with Shane so he passed back to Ilya, who took a shot, which clanged off of the goal post. Shane was right there to tap it in while the goalie’s attention was on Troy and Ilya. They both skated into Shane, hugging him roughly as the siren sounded. Shane grinned as they switched lines for the latter minute of the power play.
Ottawa won the game, and the reporters followed them back to the locker room. “Ilya, you had a goal and two assists tonight. How does the win feel?”
Ilya grinned as his eyes sought Shane. “Every win feels fantastic.”
“Your two assists led to goals by-”
“My husband, yes,” he said, winking at the reporter. “I know. I was there.”
The reporter chuckled, perhaps unsure if Ilya was making fun of her or not. “Have you noticed that Ottawa draws fewer penalties because other teams-”
“Can’t handle us on the ice together? We have noticed this,” Ilya said amused.
“And what do you think of that?”
Ilya glanced up as Shane joined him. His hair was sticking up from his helmet and his face was flushed. Ilya wanted to bite him. But he kept it together in front of the reporter. Instead, he slung an arm around Shane and turned back to her. “If there are fewer penalties, still leads to more points for us.”
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Thank you for the tags, @brandileigh2003 , @sorealis, @shunstanpike! My main WIP is for the R/S Big Bang, which means it's a secret, but I'll share a bit of something else I wrote recently:
A soft knock at the door. Remus answered, finding himself face to face with a bedraggled Sirius. “He’s back, Moony.”
“Who?”
“Voldemort. He’s back. Harry saw him.”
Sirius sat down at the table. Remus waved his wand at the refrigerator. Bread, cheese and meat came flying out. As Sirius talked, Remus fixed him a thick sandwich, a cup of tea.
“So what do we do now?” Remus asked, sitting down across from Sirius. Sirius looked tired, pale, worried.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
Remus took his hand. “We’ll get through it together. We always have. Now eat. You’ll feel better.”
No pressure tags for @barkingatthemooninsteadofwriting @missmoonfrost @mikibou @ixiedust-writes @lena-hills @mrsmungus @oceangirl24
(In which Shane and Ilya meet in Vermont during Ilya's last year in Boston)
Snippet:
The small jazz combo was playing to a mostly empty lounge. Shane felt the music wash over him. This music was much more mellow than music in a club, or whatever the guys played in the locker room. It didn’t set his teeth on edge or make him feel overstimulated, which he appreciated. The song didn’t really have a beat and it sounded plaintive, like the sax was longing to be reunited with its long lost love…
“Want to dance?” he asked quietly before he could think about it too much. Ilya’s eyebrows went up in surprise. Shane almost never wanted to dance.
“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” Ilya teased, already sliding to the end of the booth.
“If you’re going to make a big deal-”
“No, you can’t take it back now, Hollander…you asked me to dance.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Ilya rolled his eyes good naturedly and held out his hand, pulling Shane out of the booth. “Yes. I want to dance with you.”
(I saw a a couple of posts about Hollanov crashing when the season was over so here's my two cents)
Yuna checked her phone again, no new texts or voice messages. “I’m going to take that.” David said, looking over at her from where he was stacking glasses in the cupboard. “They just got in this morning. They’re probably exhausted.”
She digested her husband’s words and nodded. Of course Shane and Ilya were exhausted. The Centaurs had gotten knocked out of the semi finals only two days before. They’d fought hard, but it just didn’t happen this year. But they usually let her know that they’d gotten to their cottage safely. What if something happened?
“I’m going to check on them,” she said.
David rolled his eyes affectionately at her. “Remember what happened last time you didn’t text first?”
Her face heated at the memory but she shook it off. Instead, she kissed David’s cheek and got into her car to drive the short distance to the other cottage.
Shane’s SUV was in the driveway when she got there, so she knew they at least made it there. The front door was unlocked, so she poked her head in and was immediately greeted by Anya, who barked and wagged her tail expectantly. “Hi pretty girl,” she said, leaning down and scratching her ears. “Do you need to go out? Where are your dads?”
The house was quiet. She went up to Shane and Ilya’s room with Anya at her heels. She found them fast asleep, tangled together in their bed. She breathed a sigh of relief as she listened to them snore softly. Anya made a move to run into their room but Yuna caught her and coaxed her outside. She found a ball and threw it to the enthusiastic dog.
The day was starting to heat up, but it was tranquil out on the lake. Birds and bugs called to each other as the late morning light glinted off the water. Anya brought the ball back, proud of herself. Yuna threw it again.
Once Anya was tired and panting, she brought her back inside and refilled her water bowl. Before she left, she went back upstairs with a couple of water bottles to leave on their nightstands. Shane and Ilya had rolled away from each other but were still touching. Shane’s face was buried in his pillow but he had an arm draped across Ilya’s chest. Ilya was sprawled on his back, with one his legs hooked around Shane’s. The sheet and blanket were on the floor, so she picked them up and covered them gently. Neither of them were wearing shirts; it looked as though they’d both stripped down to their underwear as soon as they arrived and fell into bed.
They both had yellowing bruises on their sides and legs. That last series was brutal. She knew Bood had his arm in a sling and Troy had a black eye when the series ended. Yuna made her way downstairs, leaving a note on the counter, letting them know she’d let Anya out and to call when they woke up.
just thinking about how sirius was the only person harry ever felt comfortable venting to. about his scar hurting, about the first task and the dragons, about how ron wasn't speaking to him, about how nobody believed him. because harry knew that sirius listened, sirius cared about his feelings just as much as he cared about his safety.
thinking about how harry sent a pages long letter after the first task, explaining in detail how he defeated the dragon. around sirius, harry could act like the child he really was.
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Stuck at a job he doesn't know how to quit and in a house where the silence takes up too much space, Remus Lupin has forgotten that there could be something better. Then, at the bottom of a takeaway receipt, six little words appear. Through late-night deliveries and chocolate milkshakes, Remus starts to remember that he's allowed to want more. And maybe he's even capable of being wanted in return.
Customer request: Please send your cutest delivery person.
wolfstar | explicit | 15k | written for moony's midlife crisis fest 2026
if you repeatedly find yourself fighting with everyone and feel like they're all against you and it keeps happening with more and more people... i have some news you might not want to hear. you are the problem
Ilya's and Shane's first commercial together as husbands
After getting involuntary outed, Shane loses a few endorsement deals. He doesn't really notice at first; of course Yuna told him, but he had way bigger things to worry about than doing fragrance commercial shots, thank you very much.
Ilya and he get married, they honeymoon in Ibiza, they do their hockey camp, Shane signs a deal with Ottawa. The dust settles a bit. Only then he realises that he didn't do an underwear commercial for Manmade, like every summer. And Yuna hasn't pestered him about Reebok for a while.
Shane doesn't really care, he always hated doing these adds and honestly, he made enough money to live comfortable for the rest of his life, so it's whatever.
But...but it's not whatever. Shane does care. It stings. He hates that it still feels like getting punished just for being who he is.
A luxury fragrance brand calls of a deal and at Yuna's inquiry they let Shane know that it doesn't have to do with Shane's sexual orientation (well, because that would be downright illegal to admit but okay), but rather that they don't see how their quite luxury concept and his boulevard paper, attention seeking lifestyle fit together. In other words, the shit show around their coming out was to messy for their liking. Another thing Shane is innocent of, another thing he gets punished for.
Fuck them, Ilya and Yuna say in unison and Shane has to smile again. Seriously. Fuck these companies. He's got everything he needs, everything he wants is just right here. Minus an additional Stanley Cup or two.
Ilya didn't do as many commercials as Shane did, but he lost a deal with Bugatti as well ("Thank fuck I sold that car before I came to Ottawa").
Still, Shane is getting more and more worried, which brands might want to let go of them next. Who really is to trust in that political climate? Which clothes will feel shitty on his skin, knowing the people behind them hate people like Ilya and him? Will they be ostracised forever?
He just waits for the call of Speedo or Under Armour, telling him that they don't want a gay man presenting his package on big billboards.
A few weeks pass, the season starts and Shane really can't worry about endorsement deals right now. He is even more annoyed, when Yuna tells him that there is this marketing guy who wants to talk to Shane directly, but he caves in after the third reminder.
The call leaves Shand actually a bit lightheaded, smiling brightly even. The money is decent but thst absolutely doesn't matter. What does matter was that Ilya and he had to extend their stay in Toronto after their next game.
When Shane tells Ilya about their appointment soon, they both start to laugh, and maybe there are a few tears hidden in it.
A few weeks later, after an easy win against Toronto, they enter the Varsity Arena, hand in hand, more than ready for their second CCM commercial shot together.
The producer Kim greats them enthusiastically, talking about the poetic beauty of doing another shot with the two best hockey players together over ten years after their iconic pre-rookie season shot. Kim quickly explains the concept behind their commercial: They want to fuse old footage and new shots together, emphasing the development of their skills on the ice. "From rivals to husbands. From rookies to legends. Always supported by CCM. With us players become champions."
Shane and Ilya almost burst into giggles again thinking about how supportive CCM, or more likey the showers in this Arena, had been on their way to become husbands indeed.
It is the most fun they both ever had while shooting. Skating as fast as they can, showing of their almost telepathic dream passes, chirping and then battling for the puck, trick shots on the net, celebrating each other's goals.
They let themselves be filmed while trying out every piece of equipment, give comments on different stick flexibilities, show their taping techniques (and teasing each other obviously).
Ilya grows suspicious how patient Shane is with commercial shot, how willingly he is to pose for pictures, participates in games for social media clips. He nudges Shane and raises one eyebrow, that is question enough.
"CCM launches that campaign everywhere. Instagram. TV spots. Catalogues. In the stores. At games." Shane smiles smugly. "A queer couple, the face of one of the top hockey equipment brands. Almost every hockey player, from amateur to pro, will see us, one way or another."
"Even in Montreal."
"Even in Montreal", Shane agrees and Ilya
Ilya laughes fondly, he loves when Shane is a menace.
Kim calls it a day, shakes their hands and thanks them for all the amazing footage they got and politely suggest they hit the showers.
They turn towards the lockerroom and Shane blushes. "Maybe you should go shower first. Considering.... well and I should check...this thing."
"What, are you afraid you can't keep your hands to yourself, Hollander?"
"I'm more afraid you do keep your hands to yourself, Rozanov," Shane winks but he stops at the door in safe distance. "Maybe I go call Mom that the day went well and CCM is actually a good partner."
"Is nice of them, hire us both. Tell Yuna thanks for getting me on the deal, too."
"Oh no. It was my idea."
"What?"
Shane's cheek turn several shades more pink but holds Ilya's gaze. "I told them that I'd only do the commercial together with you."
Ilya fixes Shane with a penetrating stare as he saunters over to him dangerously slow. "Now you will definitely come to the shower with me."
No, there’s actually nothing more important than kindness. Not in fandom.
Maybe in my clinic—where I have a responsibility to make the best possible medical decisions together with my patients.
Maybe in motherhood—where safety and raising a capable future adult are highest priority.
But not in fandom. Not in a community that only exists for its own sake. Fan spaces are not government or commercial entities. They aren’t a public service. People who volunteer their limited free time to organize events and communities are not beholden to strangers online who might sometimes have chosen to organize things differently. And actually, anyone is free to organize anything they’d like to at any time! That’s part of the fun of it.
We are all just people, here in good faith, trying to do our best in the midst of busy lives.
Saying “no offense” before you make an offensive statement doesn’t make the statement inoffensive.
Saying “out of kindness” before discussing unkind actions doesn’t make them kind.
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they’re sitting side by side in the bench, third line is on the ice. shane is without his helmet and ilya took of one of his gloves and is stroking shane’s hair. shane is so used to receiving affection from his husband that he’s not minding at all even though they’re in the middle of a game right now. he’s focused on the game while his husband is showing him affection but without realizing he turns toward ilya’s hand, takes it, kisses the palm, and turns back. ilya keeps stroking his hair and then laughs and mutters “fuck”. noticing that something went wrong shane looks back and asks “what’s up?” and ilya nods upward and shane follows the direction his husband is pointing and comes face to face with his own face on the jumbotron. he goes “shit” and looks back at ilya and they both laugh and ilya says “at least harris will be happy about this”. harris and a million people.
