They get over a thousand requests for connection a day, but their email inbox is regularly sitting at 300-500 eSims. With the bombardment of Rafah and continual internet blackouts, the need for more eSims is particularly urgent.
Even if you have already sent an eSim or donated to an eSim donation drive, there is more you can do. The team is calling for people to campaign in their communities to help spread the word about eSims and encourage donations.
You can help by printing out posters and putting them up in local businesses, on telephone poles and notice boards, or wherever people are likely to see them.
[ID: Poster headed “eSIMs for Gaza” with an illustration of a red poppy, a QR code, and a link to tinyurl.com/gaza-esims; copy reads “Sending eSIMs is an immediate, concrete way to help Gazans on the ground. Scan below to learn how you can get involved.” End ID]
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last post of the year and NEW ~2.5" connection keychains (and 3" vinyl sticker versions) of the hockey yaoilings shane "big canadian snoopy" hollander and ilya "little russian woodstock" rozanov are available as a preorder now! these were SO fun to design and i can't wait to have these at the cons i'll be tabling at in 2026! ❤️❤️ as a note - i still have to polish up the small sticks and puck bits of the connection keychain but these will look SO awesome when manufactured! take a look at my BC for a full product description. i hope to get these out in mid to late january! 🫡🏒
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I know I've talked about Ilya being frustrated he can't brag about pulling Shane but you know who else would be frustrated about not being able to brag? Yuna Hollander would be so frustrated that she basically has the two best hockey players in the world in her family and she can't even bring up that now she has TWO sons in the mlh and oh what is your son up to Sharon? Hmm that sounds rough that you have to send him money every month. She's in meetings, maybe there are other players agents and managers and they try to bond by putting down Rozanov and she wants to go "your client couldn't even touch Ilya's points per game. Don't fucking talk about one of my boys." and she's so pissed off by the interaction she gets that player removed from the brand deal.
the other thing ill say is it could have been very interesting for reid to address the rapid and inexplicable changes to shane’s personality at the end of the long game (immediately overcoming his disordered eating, not wanting to watch the stanley cup finals, passively forgiving everyone offscreen, being excited to play in ottawa without complications) as like……. shane is experiencing a severe dissociative episode.
shane — who at this point has spent the entire book being told by literally everyone that he needs to be less mopey and anxious and to support ilya’s life more — fully compartmentalises everything and pushes all of it down. he’s never been happier, truly. yes he’d love to host the centaurs at his new house without warning. he’d love to do a photoshoot. he’d love to post a video on instagram. he’d love to be the butt of the joke. look how much fun he’s having. this is great. he just needs to be less worried about everything and it’ll all work out. ilya will take care of it. he just needs to go to the back of the line. yes, he wants another slice of chocolate cake please and thank you
ideally i think. ilya and his parents would perhaps slowly catch on that the bizarre stepford wife act is in fact a coping mechanism and shane hollander the person is in fact grieving in total freefall. itd be nice for other characters to objectively look at the situation and think. man i can’t believe we were mad at shane for getting threatened by the commissioner of the nhl or being outed twice over or being accused of cheating and losing both his professional career and his reputation. but in the meantime shane is doing just awesome thanks for asking.
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re my conspiracy theory that the stupid plane crash was supposed to be a suicide attempt, in addition to the plot and pacing and causality issues,
is that actually a lot of shane's bizarrely self-effacing behavior makes sense if instead of a plane crash that didnt' happen the crisis was a suicide attempt. like when would you reasonably feel like you need to completely shut down your emotions about all your worst nightmares coming true as you're being forcibly outed, having your career destroyed, and being abandoned by all of your friends? and why would shane, who is not a pushover, not expect ilya to show up for him and check in on him? why would he accept ilya mocking him about it?
on the page as written it kinda seems like the answer is "because your partner doesn't care" or "somehow you don't have any emotions about it?" but it would actually make a ton of sense if the answer was that these things happened under circumstances where it had recently gotten so bad with ilya's mental health that he attempted suicide. then it makes sense that shane is downplaying and erasing and minimizing his feelings, and that everyone else is too.
because if them coming out and moving in together is life or death for ilya then what right does shane have to complain. and it explains why ilya is making so many mean bitter jokes at shane's expense because he's still trying to push him away, trying to prove that shane doesn't care about ilya the way ilya cares about him, because anything else would mean that ilya's death would hurt shane the way irina's death hurt ilya and ilya can't bear that and why shane is taking it all uncomplainingly, because whatever he's going through ilya is going through worse
after all i put him through enough, right? he was so miserable he wanted to die and he says that's not my fault but what if it was? even my mom thinks i might have been being selfish. so now i have to be happy and then he'll be happy and we'll be happy and it'll all be okay. and luckily i am the best in the whole world at pretending to be okay!
so yesterday i saw a post that @ragehangover wrote about shane dissociating in the aftermath of tlg and it ripped my heart out and these were my morning pages this morning
There's a pipe bomb in his chest. Everything's fine.
It's ticking quietly. Each second gets closer to something. Everything is fine.
He said this would happen and it did. They hated him, they ostracized him, they pushed him out. He was a faggot, a queer, a fairy, a backstabbing whore. He was no longer their brother, friend, captain. Had he ever been those things? It doesnt matter though, everything is fine.
There was an expose. His career was picked apart and investigated. Each game one by one. He'd tripped. He wears blades to sprint on the world's most famously slippery surface. He slipped. Now everyone questions his integrity. It was an accident, but the stain will linger like blood on a white shirt. Bleach will get it out. It's fine. Who cares about the memory.
Who cares that one mistake has him shipped off to a team that just two seasons ago was considered as bad as getting shipped down to the farm team. He sent Ilya here. This is karma. They're good now. They've beat the Metros. Everything is fine.
He was stubborn. He was scared. He ignored his fiancé. He was right. He is nothing now. Not captain, not the A, not the star, not first line. What does it matter? Everything is fine.
Shane smiles as the bomb in his chest ticks and ticks and ticks. He didn't set it. Does anyone know when it will go off? He smiles, he eats, he dances. Who cares? Another piece, more pasta, more carbs, more fat, more sweets. The world is out of control, he hasn't been able to grab it in too long. Who cares if he's fat, out of shape, whatever. He's just some guy now. Second pick center on a line with some rookies, he's 30 and retirement whispers have started.
He deserves this, the bomb ticks.
Hockey was all he wanted. Now he has everything. Isn't it great? What did it cost, really? What is everything he worked for, bled for, sacrificed for, really? No, really, what is it?
Maybe Shane Hollander was always nothing, was always a league joke, and he just didn't know. The Metros token minority, grabbed second, good enough. He was always good enough. A shiny thing they could point to when the allegations started to take flight. They needed diversity. They needed a shield. He could be good enough, something they could make work. He was no Gretzky, no Crosby, no Rozanov, but he was fine. Fine enough to make captain when the last one retired, leaving his going away party with a crack about traveling to Taiwan to see the ladyboys. A joke that had leaked to the press. It had been a dig at him anyway. But what did it matter when he got the C.
He gets paid to play hockey, so he plays hockey. He plays with his husband. How lucky is he, to get everything anyone could ever want? He was perfect, so fucking perfect, at every presser and game and lockerroom speech. He gave interviews and shook hands and smiled at galas. He didn't start fights with slurs, called them out when he heard them. He played good, clean, perfect hockey. And now he gets to sit and watch his husband lead. Isn't it wonderful?
Isn't it great to be on this island of misfit fucking toys. All shepherded here together for one reason or another. Isn't it great to have his cubby between Ilya and his husband's new best friend. A man who laughed when Dallas Kent called him a DEI hire who sucked his way onto the first line, sits beside him every day as Shane laces his skates. That man smiles with his husband and talks about double dates.
Someone spit on Shane last week. He gets DM's of people burning his jersey, sometimes his face is attached to them. He packed up his place in Montréal and his dishes arrived to Ottawa broken.
Everything is fine, they're millionaires. Ilya can buy new plates. They don't need new plates. Accidents happen. Shane tripped on the ice and now he makes 3 million less than he did last year. Can you put a price on happiness?
He lines up for the face off. Some twenty year old asks if he's so used to being Rozanov's bottom bitch he can't stay on his feet. He snaps. The puck is away, he snaps the puck away to Luca. But it doesn’t matter when he snaps and his gloves are on the ice. The bomb in his chest ticks and ticks and ticks. Chouinard has to drag him off of the ground, off the kid. He sits in the box as the time ticks away. Everything is fine.
His penalty minutes go up. His goals and assists go down. The pipe bomb in his chest ticks and ticks and ticks. The boom will come, he thinks, but not yet.
Shane? Ilya checks in, he's always been so good at that. Shane left him to drown in his misery in Ottawa but Ilya always checks. He downs his second shot and smiles at his husband, everything is fine.
Shane? His mother blinks as he signs his name, blindly, on a dotted line she clearly hadn't expected him to. It's fine. The guys used to accuse him of whoring himself out for these shoots all the time. Now everyone thinks he's some slut so why shouldn't he try to make up the money he's lost. He found this deal, everything is fine.
Shane? His father hesitates over a box of zucchini pasta. He doesn't need that. He'll eat what everyone else is eating, it's fine. He can stop being so fussy. The team dietician is fine with it with Ilya. They're on the same team. Just make the pasta.
The muscles in his cheeks have drawn taut and achy. He smiles like a corpse, but he smiles. The world around his is blurry and unfocused when he stares out at it. He drifts, each day floating by just like the last one. Unrecognizable from the one before or the one to come. That's normal, that's fine, that's routine, that's life.
So does anyone wanna hear about the specific moment in my Irina lives au where during the peak of hollanovs situationship, Irina calls Ilya in the dead of night while Shane is still in the hotel, post-fuck and all warm and lazy with it, except not anymore because Ilya is jumping up and off the bed the second he sees the caller ID and walking into the bathroom and shutting the door, but it's not enough to muffle the conversation, and shane can't speak russian but hysterical sobbing is pretty unambiguous in any language, plus Ilya keeps saying Mama, in a strained, soothing voice, which is equally unequivocal, and Shane is just lying in bed staring at the ceiling, still tacky with cum and sweat, frozen, while Ilya is in the other room clearly talking his mother through some kind of episode and holy shit what does shane do??? Does he leave??? Surely he can't leave.
And when Ilya opens the bathroom door, Shane gets a glimpse of his exhausted face - not the look of someone experiencing a big shock, but rather someone in the aftermath of a very familiar battle, Sisyphus walking back down the mountain to fetch his rock - before Ilya spots Shane, still on the bed, and the expression is gone, something hard in its place. Why are you still here? Ilya says and it's cold and mean and full of sneering disdain and the Shane of twenty minutes ago probably would have flinched, would have been upset and humiliated to be spoken to in that way, would have walked right out the door. But the Shane of twenty minutes ago didn't just get a harrowing look at the great bleeding gash that is clearly Ilya's home life, so instead he lets the sheets fall from his still naked body and says I needed a shower, asshole, like everything's the same. And when he brushes past Ilya to step into the bathroom he thinks he manages to look unbothered, unmoved, like someone who didn't just overhear something intensely private, probably. Maybe.
And once Shane has the water running hot, steam fogging up the glass, the mirror above the jack and jill sinks, Shane doesn't turn around when Ilya steps in behind him. Shane doesn't turn around when big broad arms wrap around him from behind, or when he feels a forehead press against his shoulder. He doesn't think about how the body behind him feels like it's collapsing. He just firms his stance and holds up the weight. And when they step out the shower to dry off and Ilya's face is wet, well. Of course it is. They were just in the shower.
They don't talk about it until they're at the cottage years later
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Something by I love about Black Menswear is how they’re not afraid of color and personality. It’s not just the same boring black or blue suit jacket every time. It’s also just very dapper.
