#and also?

[justherebecause15]

so okay. I'm white, is how I should start this off. But I feel like so many people either ignore or mishandle Shane's Asianness. Like-

first bad option, ignoring it. You don't make any notion of it at all and how it affects him as a gay autistic man in (historically) Straight White Man spot. This is something that would affect his career, his ability to get there, and people's preconceived notions of him as a public figure. Not to mention where many junior leagues are. Most of those leagues are in smaller towns that are overwhelmingly white. We don't have a professional league in my town, but an NHL team trains (or trained, recently changed) here and micro aggressions (that I notice!) are rampant. He probably wouldn't been on the end of that to a degree. Second bad option- mishandling it. Often leading to fetishization, people treat Shane being Asian as either a curse or a blessing. Being Asian wouldn't have automatically made him ineligible for hockey, the NHL, NHL awards, captaincy, brand deals, and the like. It also wouldn't have rocketed him through the standings and warmed him to public opinion. Him being Asian was never a barrier to success, it was a hurdle. And it made it a lot easier for him to "fall from grace" for menial offenses. That happens in real life all the time with POC celebrities, like Manon in comparison to Lexie in Dream Academy, if that's a show you're familiar with. If not, the summary is that both of these girls missed practices for a variety of reasons, but public opinion of Manon is much lower, highly due to her race as she is black.

I have seen people straight up say they think he always got good grades, is really good at math, and don't get me started on the whole feminizing bullshit they give him (I have so many issues with that, number one being that it is so uncharacteristic for either of them! Let gay men be men without making one of them a woman - a woman).

This comes into play when talking about Shane's eating disorder. Something that is absolutely never said is that Shane truly believes he's not enough. That his hockey is always on the verge of being bad. He's an amazing player, and he knows it. He and Ilya are at the top of this game and they are well aware. (I won't hear any Ilya is worse! He's bad! Less cups! That doesn't mean anything, and you clearly don't understand hockey) Shane's eating disorder comes from a deep comfort for having discipline and a fear of retribution, from fans and from the league, for falling behind. Which, by the way, happens! He was justified with his fear! Being worried that his team and the league would turn on him was a completely valid fear, as it happened exactly as it did in Shane's nightmares. He gets outed by a close friend, he makes a mistake, his team turns on him and ousts him. The diet does not, in fact, come from wanting to be skinnier. That doesn't even make sense, he's a professional athlete. The idea of him wanting to be skinnier and hence starving himself comes from people viewing him as a woman and taking part of his struggle (how people will retaliate against him for his success and divergences from the norm) and assigning him a common problem women have.

Another issue that related to this; (I am white. I feel that should be reiterated!) Shane's move to the Ottawa Centaurs has some white savior vibes. Both in the book and in fandom. Come you poor Asian boy, mistreated by your team, to our team of happiness gay people and rainbows. We know this was your biggest fear and it came true 100%, but this will be better for you! And I understand that being in a toxic workplace and switching to a new one can feel magical, but the idea that Montreal was just always awful and hateful to Shane and he needed Ilya to pull him out and tell him that was how they acted wasn't okay is bogus. Plus, Shane went so willingly. Maybe if Shane was flaky, if he didn't show so much loyalty it would be different. But Shane was willing to put up with their behavior for a few years (granted his contract would've made changing anything difficult) he wouldn't have simply been like "fuck it I'm out"? At least he would've had much more complex feelings surrounding it. Shane would've been entering UFA anyways. Isn't it far more romantic to leave the team you did so much growing up with for the person who made you want to grow? Instead of being ousted?

I guess I see so many people mischaracterizing both Ilya and Shane, but Shane always gets it worse and I really think it's because he's Asian. And a bottom.

yall also mistreat Yuna as an ambitious woman who wants the best for her son and is willing to help him get it as an overbearing tiger mom who Shane resents when we never see him show anything besides passing exasperation at her managing him but yall really aren't ready for the conversation

anyways let me know if you think any of these are totally off base

[jawlipops]

love when characters are like "i can fix it" (they can't fix it)

[puttlefish]

Guess who ponied up and got a stick of RAM--a stick which was carefully selected from a list of compatible AND CONFIRMED TO FIT models according to my exact motherboard--only for it to NOT ACTUALLY FIT

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[voicesofreasons]

Hiro's like 'i'll take revenge by bullying him and pretending to be his boyfriend and acting like we're a couple and then breaking his heart' but of course whenever natsuo wants to do couple things he's like 'Nope, you're getting too close and this is so intimate it's making me blush.'

Which could mean nothing 🙃

[andillwriteyouatragedy]

six straight hours of dnd and did a massive lore drop and also almost had a tpk in a ghost town i love my campaign and players sm

[rose-from-ashes]

Emet is like me ooc in that he pretty much never screams. When he's scared, he clams up hard, and once in that state it's not like there's a scream waiting in there to be released, generally the most you'll get is a sort of tensed up, sharp inhale, or a whimper. The closest you can get is a startled shout if he's relaxed and then you very literally pull the rug out from under him, the sudden falling gets him, or a squeak if you catch him off guard with something. It's not about his dignity, he just doesn't have a brain geared for screaming I guess.

[faytelumos]

A Good Girl's Eulogy

cw: real death; animal and human death mentions

---

On August 28th last year, some time around 5pm, my family's 18 year old chow/shepherd mix took her last breath.

When we first got her, she fit comfortably in my mom's hands. She was the runt, and mom had picked her out for that fact. The runt of the litter doesn't always get adopted, she said. While us kids and Dad were at home, fawning over our new baby, Mom went to get bowls, food, and toys. Us kids went to bed and Dad watched the puppy, the gears in his mechanic's brain working, and when Mom got back, he looked up to her, our new family member in his lap.

"We have two choices for her name. Diesel, or International."

Diesel was smart, and maybe all dog owners think theirs is unusually intelligent, but our girl was clever.

By the time Diesel was a "teenager" she knew we didn't like her out of the yard alone. She belonged in the back yard when there wasn't anyone around to watch over her, since the front yard was completely unfenced and open to the neighborhood. Every day, when Mom got up, she would let Diesel into the back yard to do her business, and ten or so minutes later, would call Diesel back into the house for breakfast. Every single day, this was the pattern. And one day, Mom strayed from that pattern to look out into the front yard.

And there was Diesel, casually patrolling the front yard, unattended.

Shocked, Mom had headed to the back yard, but by the time she got around the side of the house, Diesel, too, was in the back yard.

We learned that day that she had found a hole in the fence, and more than likely was taking daily constitutionals into the front yard, perhaps to check up on things or watch birds, before returning to the back yard to be collected for breakfast. If she ever had any more sneaky escapades or excursions, we never caught her.

We adopted other dogs, who became Diesel's companions and fellow family members in her adulthood. A stocky little thing that had been surrendered to us from another family (we gave him a Nicholas name after a US president) a tiny pup we had gotten from a local breeder (who we also gave an automotive name) and another tiny breed who we adopted from a home that couldn't care for him anymore (named after a color).

Diesel was always the biggest by far, tall and strong. She was dominant in personality and in charge, and she often led the others around the yard here and there to anything that was interesting or required attention.

She didn't need a leash if a human was with her. She started one-sided fights with President, chased rabbits and birds, always came when she was called, knew how to shake hands, and you could pat your chest to get her to jump up, put her paws on you, and gives kisses.

She deserved more love than we gave her.

Dad played fetch with her, took her for rides in the truck, and called her his good dog. He was outside working often, and they spent time together when she wasn't exploring or checking things out with the others. She'd sit with him inside in the evening, and he'd give her scritches.

Five years ago, he died suddenly. I lived out of state. The police officer on my mom's doorstep told her she didn't want to see the body.

A lot happened in that week. I asked myself more than once if Diesel knew he was gone. I came and visited, and then went back to the life I had left paused.

Three years ago, Diesel got very sick.

Mom wasn't sure she'd make it through the weekend, and I dropped everything again to return. She was sixteen at the time. She had been a part of my family for sixteen years, and I stopped just short of telling my boss and coworkers that my sister was dying.

She was his dog, Mom wept over the phone.

When I got into the house, she was in a sorry state; skin and bone, her strength sapped as she lay on the living room floor. She hadn't eaten in two days, and she'd stopped drinking that morning. I couldn't have imagine it, not from the girl who had been a powerhouse and boss over her huge back yard not so long ago.

I gave her bland food to coax her to eat, and overnight she seemed to gain ten pounds. I took her to the vet, told them where she hurt and to be careful of her temper, and then took her home. The appointment that, three days ago, had been for her final breath, turned into a prescription for antibiotics. But at her age and in her state, chemotherapy and surgery wasn't an option. So we let that battle go.

I came, visited, and then went back to the life I had left paused.

Last year, another call.

She's really bad. I think this is it.

Tell her I'm coming. Tell her I'll be there tomorrow.

I silently hoped I could perform that miracle twice.

She was so thin. She wobbled on her back feet, toes getting caught as she walked. She coughed, raspy and rough. I picked her up, my once 60 pound firecracker, and she let me carry her upstairs so mom could give her a bath in the tub.

I laid with her for hours, two towels wrapped over her and curled up against her back so she didn't shiver as she dried.

The vet came to us. A new, affordable program for geriatric or terminally ill dogs. I made sure Mom would get her ashes back. Because we'd had her for eighteen years, and she was going to stay with us now forever.

The other dogs and all of us kids and mom held her and stroked her. The vet was so kind, and we all watched as our beloved girl let go of her pain.

I carried her, wrapped in my dad's favorite blanket, to the back of the vet's car. There were two other bundles in the back. Small, and tenderly covered.

I watched her go, and I stayed in the street after she'd turned the corner.