Untitled @crocogatorjaws - Tumblr Blog

Me, before I saw this: old timey dancing in cartoons has to be over-exaggerated for effect

Me, now: old timey dancing in cartoons had to be toned down to promote a sense of realism because they were too good at it

beehivedemocracy

I know Shane loves using pet names and having them be used for him despite them being sappy and the real reason he associates it so heavily with casual affection that he doesn't even care about it being sappy is because I believe David used cute little pet names and nicknames for Shane is whole life. When he was a baby/toddler he was bug. Still to this day he'll call him sweetheart or my dear. And of course he calls Yuna a plethora of pet names so Shane is just so used to that being a way his family expressed affection towards each other and he does the same with Ilya and when Ilya starts to understand he definitely doesn't have crazy emotions about it

haedraulics

shane and yuuri met and became friends while yuuri was training in detroit.... victor and ilya have each others' numbers and have drunk called the other on several different occasions... this is what divine winds have told me 😌☝

okoyestrainee

Ilya using Shane’s pecs as stress balls.

Stubbed his toe? Shane. Shane, come here. I need you. Da, shirt off. Thank you, sweetheart.

Frustrated by the English language? Shane, can you—oh, you just got out of the shower. Perfect, no clothes on. Come, I need you.

It’s Tuesday? Shane! Shane, where are you? No, is not Taco Tuesday in this household. Is Titty Tuesday. You are holding them hostage with compression shirts. Off, please. I don’t even know why you wear clothes at home. You are too beautiful for clothes!

Ilya makes a TikTok account and all of his videos are about Shane. The video with the most views, likes, and saves? His first video, showing a shirtless Shane with sweat running down his chest. The video itself is benign, but it’s the audio that gets people’s attention.

“Take them titties out cuz I’m tryna see ‘em. AM to the PM, double D them and I need ‘em.”

okoyestrainee

The Centaurs do silly Try Not to Laugh challenges for social media engagement. The rules are simple:

1. You laugh, you’re out.

2. Shane and Ilya CANNOT sit next to or on each other.

It’s not that they strategize to get everyone else eliminated first (although that would absolutely make sense and wouldn’t be a stretch). It’s not even that they’re too difficult to crack; Ilya can be taken down with the right facial expression and Shane’s a hockey robot, but he’s not an actual robot.

No—the problem is that they radiate joy when they’re together. Infectious, contagious, overwhelming joy. It’s uncontainable, uncontrollable, and impossible to resist. No one is immune.

The first challenge Harris tried filming, he’d let the team choose their seats. Ilya, being Ilya and team captain, chose to be front and center. He also (1) removed a chair to ensure they were one seat short and (2) “innocently” asked Shane to get his water bottle from the locker room, making him the last one to arrive.

“Oh no,” he deadpanned, looking straight at the camera. “Where will my beautiful husband sit? No chairs. I—ah! I have solution.”

And that’s how Shane ended up in Ilya’s lap, red as a tomato but grinning and giggling like a fool, first to get eliminated from the challenge in a video that got over a million views in just a day. That’s also how Bood made the mistake of looking at Roz’s possessive, lovesick face and immediately bursting into laughter, which spread to Wyatt, Luca, and—shit, the whole team’s down. Cut!

okoyestrainee

I firmly believe that Shane is actually a menace.

Shane is just as unhinged as Ilya, if not more so—he just requires a certain level of comfort and ease to let people see that. Ilya’s baseline is “I woke up today and I’m going to make it everyone’s problem.” Shane is more “I need you to prove your worth and trustworthiness before I allow you access to additional sides of me.”

Shane’s parents? Fully aware of his gremlin tendencies. Ilya? Intimately acquainted and in love with this undercover harbinger of mischief. Rose, Hayden, JJ, Jackie? They know that Shane is actually just three chaos demons in a trench coat. Everyone else only catches the occasional glimpse because Shane isn’t comfortable showing that part of himself to just anyone, much less in a professional capacity.

Enter Centaurs.

Hayden notices the difference at the first Montreal game against Ottawa. Shane’s playing the same—an absolute demon on the ice, something the Metros are woefully unprepared to face now that he’s playing against them. They score a single measly goal against the Centaurs’ 10, 6 of which are Shane’s alone.

He looks relaxed, Hayden thinks as the press flocks to his friend after the game. Less tension in his shoulders. An actual smile on his face instead of the fake one reporters still haven’t caught on to after all these years. He looks…happy.

“Shane!” One of the reporters pushes to the front and holds out a microphone. “Your former teammates spent most of this game gunning for you instead of actually playing. It doesn’t seem to have worked out well, but is there anything you’d like to say to them now?”

Hayden feels a chill run down his spine as he watches the way Shane’s smile shifts from soft to sharp, closed mouth to shark-like. Oh no. Wait, wait, wait—

Shane looks directly at the camera and shrugs.

“Hoes mad.”

In the background, Rozanov’s face positively lights up. He looks like Christmas, New Year’s, and Valentine’s Day just came early, all at once and specifically for him. The rest of the Centaurs are behind him, cheering wildly.

More importantly? None of them look surprised.

Hayden’s not shocked that Shane said it—he knows what his friend is really like, knows the Metros are mad (even if he does personally object to being called a hoe). He just can’t believe Shane said that out loud, in front of cameras, in front of other people, and nobody (aside from the reporters, who are gobsmacked and clamoring for more) looks even remotely fazed by it. They’re looking at him in a way that says “that’s our Shane,” not “holy shit, he really just did that.”

As Shane walks off, completely at ease, Hayden feels two diametrically opposed emotions. On one hand, there’s a guilt gnawing at him. How awful were the Metros that Shane never felt comfortable enough to be himself and talk like this after a game? How had he not noticed? Had he taken his own privilege, his own glimpses at the gremlin that is Shane Hollander, for granted? Fuck, had he failed his friend?

On the other hand, Hayden’s excited for his friend and for the rest of the season. This Shane is comfortable enough to truly be himself and he’s going to be a complete, unapologetic, grade A problem for everyone. Hayden can’t wait to watch it happen.

okoyestrainee

As a continuation of the headcanon above, please enjoy the following installments of Shane The Menace:

Much to Hayden’s excitement (and slight fear, not gonna lie—has to play against the guy now), Shane The Menace begins making more frequent public appearances. As best friend of The Menace, Hayden dutifully corrects the Metros who grumble and complain about their former captain being corrupted by Rozanov.

He’s always been this way, Hayden says repeatedly. No corruption necessary. He just wasn’t comfortable enough to show you. Now you have to deal with being on the bad end of it.

After another Ottawa-Montreal game (another, far more dismal loss; the Centaurs pulled off a complete shutout and racked up 8 goals), the press is practically foaming at the mouth for more quotes from Shane. This time, they’re angling for some kind of reconciliation between the newest Centaur and his former teammates.

“Greg Hines, ESPN,” a stocky man in front announces as he holds out a mic. “Gilbert Comeau took a nasty fall in the first half and was on the bench the rest of the game. According to the official Metros social media team, he’s fractured an ankle. Any well wishes for him or the rest of the Metros after their loss tonight?”

Shane pulls a face—like he’s aiming for sympathetic and failing miserably. One of his former teammates tripped and now these vultures want pleasantries from him? The irony.

Hayden feels his stomach drop into his ass as Shane looks at the camera. Fuck, whatever he says is gonna make the Metros group chat go insane.

“No points and a broken ankle,” Shane deadpans. “Damn. Double homicide.”

Hayden sighs as he taps an Instagram link from JJ. It looks like the paparazzi cornered Shane at the airport, right as the Centaurs arrived for their flight to Miami. It’s already at over 200,000 views. This can’t be good.

“Shane!” A tiny woman with green hair and an old school tape recorder rushes ahead of the crowd. “Any comment on the petitions to bench you and Ilya Rozanov? Some Metros fans seem to think playing on the same team as your husband is—“

Shane normally just smiles and nods politely when approached in airports, but he pauses mid-stride. Hayden feels the temperature in his living room drop. Oh God, what’s he about to say?

“All the flavors in the world and people choose salty.” Shane adjusts his sunglasses delicately. “Blood pressure must be sky high.”

Hayden damn near chokes on his tongue laughing so hard.

Sometimes, Shane The Gremlin makes an appearance. That, Hayden explains to the uninitiated, is when Shane isn’t provoked; he’s just feeling mischievous.

In fairness, the interaction with this fucking podcaster—Henry? Harold? Fuck if Hayden knows or cares—isn’t completely unprovoked. It’s not immediately provoked, not in the moment, but it’s almost an inevitable conclusion to months of constant shit-stirring. The guy’s been one of the loudest voices decrying Shane’s exit from Montreal, using very, very thinly veiled homophobia to push his “concern for the sport.” It’s a massive crock of shit, and Hayden’s amazed the guy got a press pass for the Irina Foundation’s annual gala.

…oh. Oh shit. Shane did this on purpose, didn’t he? Jesus H. Christ, this is going to bad. Somebody should call Yuna.

“I just think it’s weird,” Shane says directly into the unsuspecting podcaster’s obnoxiously oversized mic. “You spend so much of your time with my name in your mouth, talking about how I have my husband’s dick in mine. Gotta say, I’ve never—as a gay man, mind you—thought that much about a penis that wasn’t mine or the one I was married to. Do you…have something you want to get off your chest or…?”

Hayden is not surprised when Herman (Hassan? Herbie?) goes red as a beet and silent. He’s also not surprised when the clip, recorded by at least a dozen professional-grade cameras, goes viral within minutes. He’s even more unsurprised when reaction gifs of onlookers—himself included, looking like he’ll blow a blood vessel trying not to laugh—pop up alongside #ShaneUnleashed.

okoyestrainee

Shane experiences something many melanated celebrities go through—a wax figure that looks nothing like him. Like…at all.

It’s clear that whoever made it is very talented. They’ve made a wax figure so lifelike that it looks seconds from walking away. Objectively speaking, it’s a great sculpture.

The problem is that the wax figure is a white man.

“Bro,” Bood gasps—actually gasps, eyes wide with shock and a hand over his mouth. “They Beyoncé’d you!”

And unlike other times when Shane has no clue what that means, because huh? Pop culture and internet memes? Nope, sorry, chronically offline person here! Unlike those other times, Shane knows exactly what he means. He’d researched celebrity wax figures with Yuna when the museum reached out to his team. They’d both balked at the pattern—people of color being sculpted with different eyes, lighter skin, narrower noses. Figures that were completely unrecognizable compared to their inspirations. They’d both laughed over the blonde white woman unveiled as a wax tribute to Beyoncé.

Yuna had acknowledged the risk of it going wrong, but encouraged him to pose for the sculpture anyway. “Just give it a chance,” she’d said. “If it’s awful, we ask them to scrap it.”

Luca looks deeply disturbed. “Who even is this?”

Wyatt turns his head to try looking from another angle. “Looks like a young Robin Thicke.”

Yeah. It’s fucking awful.

The eyes are significantly rounder and angled differently. Shit, they’re not even the right shade of brown. The nose is higher, and the bridge is far more prominent than it should be. The skin tone is several shades lighter, almost like whoever this is based on hasn’t seen the sun in years. And to add insult to injury, the sculptor completely erased his—

“Freckles,” Ilya growls as he snatches Shane’s phone from the rookies. He start typing furiously. “They make you a white man, take away what makes you you, and then have the nerve to erase your beautiful freckles too. We cannot allow this.”

Shane tries snatching the phone right back before Ilya can do anything, but he’s too late. And, truthfully, he didn’t try very hard. He wanted to send a scathing review, ask if the artists needed their fucking eyes checked, demand that the figure be destroyed and never see the light of day with his name attached to it. He wouldn’t say that—he’d send something professional, but pointedly critical—but he very much wanted to.

Ilya’s response (which Shane could absolutely unsend before someone read it, but oh no, time to hit the ice for practice) makes it clear enough.

Whose goddamn white baby is this?- S. Hollander-Rozanov

okoyestrainee

I know Ilya loves encouraging Shane’s pettier impulses. Not because Ilya is king of pettiness or a bitchy person. I mean, he can be, but those aren’t primary facets of his personality.

No—it’s because one thing Ilya knows is two things for certain. One: Shane is the best. THE best. Ilya talks a big game and he can back it up because he’s a generational talent in his own right, sure, but he is not Shane Hollander. He teases his husband and calls him “second best player in the league” because it gets Shane in a mood that always leads to fun (and that’s business that stays between Ilya, several ruined sets of sheets, and the thin walls of multiple hotel rooms). When you get down to it, he’s the famous and amazing Ilya Rozanov, yes, but that’s…that’s Shane Hollander. Shane “break the internet, top two and I ain’t number two” Hollander. Shane Thee Hollander.

Two: despite being Shane Thee Hollander, first of his name, baddest of bitches, and the Beyoncé of their field (and a cutie patootie on top of all that), Shane is not loud about his accomplishments—and Ilya thinks he should be. Shane lets the accomplishments speak for themselves. He achieves, breaks records, wins and wins and fucking wins some more, and just keeps going. He’s a force of nature. Ilya thinks his husband should have an opportunity to be loud, braggadocious, and downright obnoxious if and when he wants because, again, he’s Shane fucking Hollander.

So when Shane starts off a conversation with “I’m going to say something kind of mean,” Ilya rolls out the proverbial red carpet. Talk your shit, baby. I’m all ears.

“He’s really confident for someone with such low shooting accuracy.” Exactly. The nerve of him to even breathe your air, much less chirp at you.

“…but if I showed up in that outfit, Twitter would never let me hear the end of it!” You’re so right. He looked awful.

“Fuck him! And not in the good way!” Yup! Say it again! Matter of fact, let me get you a microphone.

“I love Hayden—as a friend, Ilya, Jesus—but maybe a vasectomy is a good idea.” I’d put ten babies in you if I could, but you’re still absolutely right about this. Jackie’s had enough.

“I respect Scott, but he’s not exactly in his prime, you know?” Scott is a dinosaur. It’s a miracle that he dodged the asteroid and made it this long without turning into dust. We should call and tell him ourselves.

“Our wedding was better.” Of course it was. I got to marry you. Any event with you at the center is the best. All the others are bullshit.

“I’m not taking that shit from some fucker with a receding hairline and no points for an entire season. Pick a struggle, asshole.” We should book him a flight to Turkey for one of those procedures. Can’t fix the other thing, though.

“Was that too mean?” Never! Say more, my love. Insult his mother. Shit-talk his teeth. You know he had a nose job last season? Supposedly it was to fix a break, but everyone knows that’s bullshit.

okoyestrainee

I know Shane, Bood, JJ, Vaughn, and the handful of other melanated hockey players have a group chat. I know they do. You don’t come up as a racial minority in a white dominated area—geographical, professional, academic, athletic, anything—without having a safe space with your brethren/kinfolk/homies. It’s necessary for mental health and safety.

I’m using that as an intro for two (2) concepts/ideas:

1. Group Chat Shane is definitely different from Shane In Person, and the only thing he’d fear almost as much as being outed is the contents of the Melanated Musketeers (shut up, Bood named it) chat being leaked. He’s said Some Things. Nothing bad, mind you, but he has an image to maintain and the memes he’s sent or reacted to in that chat would ruin him (in his mind; they’re objectively not that bad).

2. The chat was called The Chocolate Factory and specific to black players until JJ realized that Shane runs when he sees black people running. There’s a unanimous vote to change the chat name to Melanated Madness (they go through several name changes over the years). When Vaughn adds Shane to the chat, he doesn’t mince words.

“You saw one of us running and followed without question. Melanin knows melanin 🫡”

ilya-sweetheart

David ‘from McGill’ Hollander

Enforcer. Alternate captain. 7 concussions and counting. He only lost three teeth but he chipped two so he occasionally lisps

Yuna was their unofficial coach (she just kept showing up and telling them all the things they did wrong)

David fell in love at first sight. He scored twice and kissed his glove at her in the stands

Their first date was at the campus cafeteria where they shared chicken wings and a cigarette

Masters degree in finance. Worked briefly for the Irish mob as an auditor (if the police is reading this no he did not; he bought that rolex with legal money)

He proposed with a detailed laid out financial plan for their future, a house listing in a good neighbourhood, a silver ring he bought (gifted from the irish mob shhh) and a plan to volunteer as local a timbits coach

He’s an avid flight radar app user. This is the only app he has installed.

Occasional train spotter and designated family driver while Yuna reads the maps

Scrabble master. Kindle book reader (he has a wallet phone case for his kindle)

Positivity giddy that his son has a boyfriend and can experience something ‘normal’ outside of hockey <3

Excel spreadsheet lover. Don’t you dare mention powerpoint around this man. He’s a sudoku autism man. Numbers are his friends

Doesn’t keep in touch with his parents after he married Yuna, but he’s close with his cousin Tom who Shane calls ‘uncle tom’

Prefers email over texting and don’t even get him fucking started on zoom

Occasional shitstarter and ragebaiter (yuna likes it) “what is youtube?”

Hobby chef, but terrible baker. Still loves watching bake off though

penandinkprincess

shane picking up the way ilya says "wow wow" and developing a habit of saying it FULLY to himself when he's doing things as a vocal stim.

like t GOD he's always aware enough to not do it when he's mic'd up during a game, but wow wow makes a very regular appearance in his daily routine. almost knocked his protein powder off of the counter? wow wow. set a new lifting pr at the gym? wow wow. finished putting his laundry away? wow wow. getting out of the shower after a long day? wow wow.

and he was already doing it before he and ilya got together and is also so used to living alone that he doesn't think about it anymore, but this does mean that ilya 100% hears shane wow wowing under his breath at the cottage and is just ??? is this??? a joke??? he doesn't even know i'm listening??? what the fuck is this next level chirping???

oneheadtoanother

idk anything about this but I love it

lynati

If any competition needed to be on Tumblr, it's this one.

agoldenplum

Thanks @slightlylightly founded by Sunny Somrat, This is SSFood Challenge

The players in and around Bangladesh play and are rewarded with food even losers get food. The combination of colorful games and the feel-good factor of nobody going home empty-handed has given Somrat a genuine hit.

crossnecklace

canon divergent fic where shane and ilya get into an argument post-hookup and shane wants to hash it out but Mr. Avoidant Attachment feels like he’s drowning bc this is supposed to be easy and fun and when did it stop being easy and fun? why does shane being upset with him make him feel so anxious? he shouldn’t care, they’re not even in a relationship, he doesn’t owe him anything so why does he feel like he does and why does that scare him so much? so he leaves and shane doesn’t answer any of his texts after that so he goes inside himself where it’s safe and he forgets about it bc he can. He Can

then the raiders play montreal. he’s soooo cool he’s so aloof he doesn’t even care that shane won’t look at him. he apologized, shane didn’t, he’s done everything he could. he still checks him hard against the boards just to get his attention. shane barely reacts, just pushes off the wall, spits near his feet, mutters cheap loud enough for him to hear and skates away. it’s the closest ilya’s ever been to losing his shit on the ice and throwing hands even though he’s the one that started it.

afterwards, ilya is hell bent on getting so drunk he can’t stand. and he succeeds, he gets so shitfaced he’s nearly blacked out and telling half the raiders alllll about his fight with montreal jane and how she won’t talk to him and he thinks he’s going to get a cab to her house bc she can’t keep avoiding him like this. and marleau takes him aside and is like heyyyy buddy i’m not sure this is a great idea maybe we should go back to the hotel? but ilya gets all indignant like i am your fucking captain don’t tell me what to do. so he backs off, and ilya’s already booking the uber out of spite.

it’s not until he’s already buzzed his apartment three times that he starts to feel really fucking stupid. for all he knows, shane has already moved on, it’s been months since they’ve spoken, maybe he’s up there fucking somebody else right now and ilya’s downstairs ringing his doorbell like a drunk idiot.

but then shane opens the door, looking sleep-rumpled and confused and a little bit angry at being woken up. it all melts into concern when he sees ilya there, slumped over, swaying on his feet, eyes red-rimmed and so filled with despair that all shane can do is usher him inside and get him a glass of water.

and ilya didn’t come here for sympathy, opposite. he wanted shane to be pissed that he showed up and he wanted to get pissed back and finally finish what he couldn’t the first time. and then have life changing, drunk, angry sex about it. but all he gets is a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and one of shane’s pillows on the couch, and he asks what time his flight is and takes his phone to make sure it’s on the charger and that his alarm is set for the morning. bc shane is actually so touched that ilya still remembered his address even when he could barely remember his own name. and he looks so sad and shane hates that it’s his fault, even though he’s felt so justified all these months giving him the cold shoulder.

so when ilya comes into his bedroom fifteen minutes later whining about the couch being uncomfortable, shane lifts up the corner of his blanket without a second thought. and ilya clambers in and apologizes a thousand times against his bare shoulder. when he feels like he’s said it too much, he starts kissing him in random places all over his chest, each one an apology of its own. and then he apologizes that he’s too drunk to fuck and shane’s like are you crazy i’m not fucking you like this and i’m mad at you, remember?

then ilya remembers why he’s actually here and his face falls and he mumbles you don’t want me anymore before he can stop himself and he starts to cry a little and he fucking hates himself so much bc this is all his fault. but shane just pulls him into his chest and pets his hair and tells him it’s okay, he still wants him, they just need to talk first and they will, he promises, bc now he knows that ilya didn’t hurt him on purpose, and he came to him when he was drunk and hurting and that means something.

when shane wakes up, ilya is gone, already left to gather his things at the hotel so he could get to the airport by 7:30. he doesn’t have any texts from him, and he’s disappointed and already preparing himself for the worst, that ilya was just drunk and horny and thought he could milk it out of shane one last time, how stupid of him to let him in and share his bed.

until he finds a post it note on the bathroom mirror when he goes to take a piss, in ilya’s messy all-caps scrawl. it’s simple, no frills i’m sorry, i miss you, please text me when you’re in boston.

smokingrozanov

MyShane has a bit where if Ilya asks him to do a simple task he goes “fine, but you owe me 1,000 kisses” & Ilya starts peppering his face in smooches. Then once they have kids the bit extends further because Ilya will go “oh no, I don’t have that much. I must go to the kiss bank” & he’ll ask their kid to borrow 1,000 kisses for their dad. The smooch economy is in shambles because of them