Microwaving them gay hockey bois

We can tell youth that they are basically “rapists waiting to happen” (anti-rape initiative), or we can tell them that we know they would intervene if they saw harm happening to someone and we want to help empower them to do that (bystander intervention). The kids jump in with both feet for the latter! It was amazing to see children (and young boys in particular) excited to do this work and engage their creativity with it. Also, studies show that not only do they go on to intervene, but they also do not go on to sexually assault people themselves. Bystander intervention also takes the onus off the person being targeted to deter rape and empowers the collective to do something about it. It answers the question in the room when giggling boys are carrying an unconscious young woman up the stairs at a house party, and people are not sure how to respond and are waiting for “someone” to say or do something.

Ilya awoke in the middle of the night, the strange sounds of a foreign place enough to make him restless.

He was still nervous. The jitters of finally being here, of what he might slip up and reveal of his feelings, weighed heavily. What might happen from here?

Doing everything he could to not wake Shane, he slipped from the bed they were sharing and padded into the pristine kitchen of Shane's cottage (a word that he decided Shane needed to relearn the meaning of) and looked around for something soothing to eat.

Honestly, his hopes were not high. As ridiculously thrilled as he was to be here, in this place, with Shane, for a whole two weeks, he had not travelled here for the food. He knew that he would likely be subjected to horrors like zucchini pasta and breakfast smoothies and spinach hidden in ungodly places.

But fuck, it was worth it to be here with Shane.

So he started quietly opening cabinets and drawers, hoping maybe he would find a protein bar with a drizzle of dark chocolate or something.

He was shocked to find so much more.

Bags and bags of chips and snacks and other junkfood, all of the things he loved. Reusable grocery totes stuffed with all of his favorites. Beaming, he pulled one out from a shelf and reached for a party-sized bag of Doritos, only to see a slip of paper fall.

Absent-mindedly, he picked it up.

Things to buy for Ilya, it read at the top.

Ilya stilled.

It was a list. A long list, written in Shane's cramped, slightly-messy handwriting, not only detailing Ilya's favorite things but annotated with Shane's thoughts about them.

He couldn't help but break into a smile. Of course Shane Hollander didn't use something as simple as his phone's notes app. No, he was a pen-and-paper guy, walking around the grocery store like an old man with his list in his hand and his stupidly attractive glasses perched on his nose.

Ilya knew he was smiling like an idiot at the thought.

Cokes, one line read, Cans, not the bottles, enough for two a day.

Swallowing, Ilya bit his lip. Yes, he did prefer the cans. But he'd never said anything. Had he told Hollander this?

Doritos, another entry detailed. I think red? They were in his cabinet. Get both to be sure.

He snorted lightly. Of course, Shane would cover all of his bases. But he remembered what Ilya'd had in his cabinet from that night so long ago?

The notes went on.

Guesses at Ilya's preferences in coffee, cereal, cookies, and meals. Ingredients for traditional Russian dishes. Memories of things Shane had seen Ilya consuming in photos.

It was a wonder the cabinets weren't bursting with food.

And Ilya stood there, in the early hours of the morning, staring at the undeniable evidence that this man knew him. Or, at least, was making a very good effort to try to do so. 

Suddenly, he did not want to eat Doritos anymore. All he wanted was to go back to bed and hold Shane in his arms. 

But as he placed the unopened bag back in the cabinet, he slipped the list into his pocket.

“That’s extremely selfish of you have you considered that maybe you deserve to be abused?”

I'm pretty sure you know more than me on the subject I'm pretty sure that wasn't how they did that in ACTUAL Roman times

Same with crucifying people

Ceasar in New Vegas though talks about it like it’s a common practice in his army.

He also executed Joshua Graham for losing the battle of Hoover dam which isn’t really a thing that the Romans did very much. There were ancient Mediterranean cultures like the Carthaginians to a certain extent who brutally punished their generals for failure but the Romans weren’t really like that. It was considered extremely taboo at certain points in their history to execute official citizens, in fact. The most severe punishment that most high ranking members of society got under normal circumstances was banishment or house arrest, though there were of course a few extreme moments of political executions under some leaders. Those leaders weren’t often remembered fondly however.

Caesar also talks about Lucius, the leader of his praetorian guard, like he’s old, but given the timeline of his personal story and how long he’s been in the guard he’s at the oldest in his late 30s to mid 40s which isn’t that old. The Praetorian guard initiation ritual involves a fight to the death with one of the current guards which doesn’t exactly encourage the group to prioritize those with experience.

Caesar is in his 50s or 60s and is likely the oldest person in his entire army. Nobody else seems to be close to him in age. People don’t get old in Caesar’s legion which is a major problem. Armies are quite often staffed with mostly young people but the ability to get old in the army is crucial to building a core of experienced tacticians and logistics officers.

Experienced soldiers and tacticians were extremely valued in Ancient Rome because it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you can’t make a successful nation with only young men in charge. Any healthy organization has a variety of people of different ages bringing in a mix of experience and new ideas and the legion simply does not have that. All of the experience is concentrated in one man because he killed off his most experienced commander.

“I almost let you win.”

“Liar.”

“The view was not bad. From behind. Almost worth staying there.”

Shane didn’t know how his boyfriend was able to speak in full sentences. “Shut up.”

“I like those little shorts.”

Like, they're no longer competing *against* each other, but that doesn't mean they're no longer competing. Shane would rather die, actually. So he starts coming up with little games. Games like:

"Hey Ilya. You get to cum tonight as many times as we get to do a power play together. 😇"

and

"Hey Ilya. Remember that plug you bought me? Well, we're only playing the Metros, so I decided to wear it. If we win, you get to decide when I take it out. 💕"

and

"Okay Ilya, you you're right. No sex during the playoffs is literally impossible to follow-through on." *Pause* "No orgasms unless we win is much easier to enforce."

"Shane Hollander Swims", Shane Hollander [Hudson Williams] from the Heated Rivalry AO3 fic Untouchable Face by ZenaidaMacroura, inspired by AO3 user Halloweenqueen369's comment.

I'm sorry I didn't go for one of the all zipped up versions of the professional swimming uniforms, however I found this uniform from team Canada (don't @ me, I think it's from 2020 but close enough), I jazzied up the background to look like a pool, added the London 2012 mascot/logo, pulled in the amazing pic of Hudson in the pool scenes from Laufey's music video, and... well. Here you go. I'm posting it now before I keep making changes and ruin it.

Jul 2026