i see both sides of the jane/el name debate, and i don't think i'd die on this hill, but personally i will always land on team el. NOT eleven, specifically el. at best i think her lab number would just mean nothing to her as a name, but given its association with trauma, neglect, abuse, and dehumanization, i think there is a strong case for el shedding the name "eleven" as a step towards healing and reclamation of personhood and autonomy. because of that, i understand where people who oppose the name el are coming from, i just perceive those as two fundamentally different names, and the difference between not just the names but their origins is exactly why i think she would choose to go by el.
you can draw a line between jane and eleven and el; they are three different names for three different iterations of the same girl. the argument for the name jane, as far as i've seen it, usually boils down to "it was a name given to her by someone who loved her" and i get it, but el never knew herself by that name. jane is only her name on a piece of paper. jane is not an identity, because el never had the opportunity to be whoever jane would have been. that version of her was dead on arrival.
i do think a name can be a gift, though. i think the name el was a gift, and mike gave it to el without knowing the weight of what he was doing. the fact that he did it without any ulterior motive at all is exactly what makes el such a meaningful name. that moment severed el from eleven; it was a defining moment. it was the moment el stopped being a lab experiment transplanted into the real world and just became an individual, with her own name and identity separate from the lab. and you can say what you want about the highs and lows of mike and el's relationship throughout the show, but in season one, mike shows el kindness she's never known. he protects her, he takes care of her, he doesn't patronize her. when he nicknames her el, it's on the heels of explaining that his name is "mike, short for michael." he suggests, "maybe we can call you el, short for eleven?"
that moment is key. it's a moment of connection. el is not just a nickname for eleven. el is a nickname the way mike is a nickname. because everyone calls mike mike. it may not be the name on his birth certificate, but it's the name he chose. he offers el that same option: to choose a new name and make it mean something else entirely. he doesn't know he's doing this, and el certainly isn't aware of all that the name el will come to mean, but like i said, mike's innocent intentions are part of what make this moment so profound. he saw a terrified girl who only knew her name because it was tattooed on her wrist, and he extended an offer of freedom the only way he knew how. what he was really saying was, you're not a thing. you're a person, like me.
jane is just a word. if it represents anything to el, it's a life she could have had and a girl she could have been. but el choosing to go by jane feels like trying on a coat that's too small in some places and too big in others. it isn't her, no matter how many ways she tries to stretch herself to fit it. the only name that has ever been a blank canvas allowing for el to paint her own identity is el.
happy 2:50 am i couldn’t get this out of my head until i finished writing it so here is the full mic’d up fic! i was worried this was only going to be 800 words but here we are 2.3k words later LMFAO anyway i hope yall enjoy! comments & reblogs make my day please let me know your every thought these characters are so dear to me im so glad we all adore them. russian translations at the end (i used google translate & some websites for pet name ideas so if i messed anything up please let me know!!)
Shane was in the process of getting his mic hooked up to his jersey when Harris said something that stopped him in his tracks.
“Ilya mentioned that you’re sick, so if you’re not feeling up to this we can totally switch to someone else.”
Shane could feel his cheeks heat up. Of course Ilya mentioned it to Harris. It was sweet and well intended, but made Shane a bit embarrassed. “It’s just a bit of a head cold, I’ll be okay,” he said, hoping the smile he gave didn’t show any signs of him being flustered. Once the mic was all ready to go he walked back into the locker room and right up to Ilya’s stall, putting his head on Ilya’s shoulder from behind.
“Moya lyubov,” Ilya says.
“You told Harris I’m sick,” Shane pouts.
“Yes, just in case you start feeling worse during the game. I talked to Hayes, we can mic him up if needed. He is silly, sings to himself when he is all alone,” Ilya smiles, his eyes lighting up as he turns to face Shane.
“It’s just a small head cold, I’ll be okay,” Shane replies. Ilya raises his eyebrows at him when he sniffles.
“If you say so. But if that changes you tell someone and we take care of it.”
Shane nods and Ilya presses a kiss to his cheek, quick and subtle. Shane’s not one for PDA, but he allows it now because he’s not feeling his best.
The team heads out to the ice and Shane and Ilya are told their mics are officially on. Shane gets down and starts to stretch and Ilya plops down right next to him.
“Ready to kick some Columbus ass, Hollander?” Ilya asks him.
Shane’s about to answer when he feels that telltale tickle in his nose. He nods and brings his elbow to his face. “HPNXTch! HehPNXTch! Excuse me,” he says with a sniffle. “Yes, yes I am.”
“Bud'te zdorovy. Let’s do this,” Ilya responds, standing up to head towards their bench. He lends Shane a hand to get up and between that and the blessing, Shane is so glad that his helmet is partially hiding his blushing cheeks.
The first period manages to fly by. Shane makes sure to talk to some of his teammates to try to keep things interesting for those listening in, but his energy is going quickly. Ilya does most of the talking, throwing out extra chirps at both teammates and the other team and going over to Hayes to obnoxiously sing into his mic while the refs debate a play. Shane appreciates the way Ilya knows him so well, the way Ilya can fill space when Shane doesn’t have the capacity to.
“Great goal,” Ilya says as he pulls Shane into a hug.
“Thanks. Thank you for the assist,” Shane replies, with a sniffle that he’s positive is picked up by both of their mics. The buzzer sounds, indicating the end of the second period. The score is 3-1, Centaurs, but Shane knows it’s too early to get cocky. He’s lost in his thoughts when his nose starts tickling again.
“HeptSHiew! HextSHiew! Excuse me,” Shane says with a shake of his head.
“Bud'te zdorovy. Off the ice, and medicine time for you. It’s been six hours,” Ilya replies.
“You’re timing when I take medicine?”
“Da. I want you feeling better.”
Shane’s heart melts. Ilya takes his hand and they skate off the ice together. As soon as they’re in the locker room, Shane is greeted by the team doctor. She has the bottle of cold medicine Shane brought with him with the cap already full for him.
“Drink up, lyubimyy,” Ilya says, giving Shane a small hug from behind. Shane knocks the cap of medicine back and makes a face of disgust.
“That shit is so awful.”
“Mhm. But will help you feel better,” Ilya replies, and sneaks a small kiss on to Shane’s shoulder.
They quickly talk through plays and Ilya hypes the team up. They may have a two point lead now, but they can’t afford to get sloppy. The team heads to the ice with renewed focus and energy, but Shane knows he’s starting to fade. He steels himself, ready to give the rest of the game his all. Just two more periods, showering and changing, media, and then he can go home with Ilya and enjoy their two days off. Hopefully he’ll be able to kick whatever is going on in his nose and sinuses before the next game.
It’s close to the end of the second period when Shane gets checked hard as he’s about to go back on the bench. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, except the guy who hit him is absolutely doused in cologne or body spray that sends Shane into a fit that he can’t control. He barely has time to bring his elbow to his face before he starts sneezing.
“HPNXTch! HehPNXTch! HPNXTchoo! HeptSHiew! Jesus, excuse me.” He gets handed a small towel to blow his nose into, and while he normally avoids that at all cost, he knows he has to. Ilya is over the boards and by Shane’s side once the buzzer sounds, and runs his hand up Shane’s arm. The team walks off to their locker rooms and Ilya pulls Shane aside.
“Bud'te zdorovy.”
“You saw all that?” Shane asks, embarrassed that his husband who was on the ice managed to see him in such a mess. If Ilya noticed, other people must have too, especially since he’s mic’d.
“Yes. You were folding in half because you were sneezing so hard,” Ilya replies. He’s not wrong, but Shane still sighs. “After the game is over you shower, change, and pack our bags. I will handle media alone.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“Yes, am sure. We need to get you home as soon as possible, will give us good reason to get media done quickly.”
Shane nods and makes his way into the locker room where Harris meets him.
“Shane, we’re gonna give your mic to Hayes.”
Shane slumps. He feels guilty that Hayes has to be subjected to being mic’d up because he’s sick, but he knows it’s for the best.
Harris must be able to tell he’s a bit upset because he pats Shane on the shoulder once his mic is off. “Don’t worry about it. Hayes has been wanting to do one of these and with how awful Columbus’s offense is he’s going to be very entertaining alone down there. We don’t want you stressed about the game and about being mic’d up when you’re sick.”
Shane wants to argue that it’s just a small head cold, but he knows that’s probably not the case. It’s all in his nose right now, and it only seems to be getting worse. Harris gives him a sympathetic look when he sniffles wetly, and goes over to Hayes to mic him up. As Ilya rounds the guys up for a pep talk he squeezes Shane’s shoulder, a small show of support. Shane appreciates him immensely.
They win 4-2, the third period passing in a blur. Shane is a flurry of sneezes and sniffles all period, his nose running like crazy by the end. Shane is the first one off the ice after the celebrations and the handshake line up, plucking up a few tissues from the box that the team doctor is holding out to him by their bench. He murmurs a small thanks and she tells him to get plenty of rest the next few days so he’s better for the next game, and to text her if he gets any worse.
True to their plan, Shane showers, gets changed, and handles packing his and Ilya’s bags. He saw Ilya take the quickest of showers before heading out to handle the media circus that was surely waiting for him, especially after he said some things that needed to be bleeped out on the air. Thank god for the five second air time delay. After everything is packed Shane debates hiding in the locker room until Ilya is back because he opted out of putting back on his game day suit in favor of throwing on comfy sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He never does that, but he’s sick so he makes an exception. But, he knows that Ilya is hoping Shane being sick will give him an excuse to end his session with reporters early, so he walks out with both of their bags, staying just around the corner from where Ilya is.
Shane knows he has quiet feet, it’s something his parents have pointed out to him his whole life. Somehow Ilya is always able to hear him coming, is drawn to him like a magnet. As soon as Shane is settled against the wall, Ilya turns his head to Shane and smiles.
“Ilya?” a reporter prompts.
“Sorry, what was the question again?”
“Do you and Shane Hollander have a protocol when one of you is sick? It’s obvious he has something, and since you two live together we assume you don’t want to catch whatever he has since the season is starting to get serious.”
Ilya huffs and Shane quietly laughs, trying to stay hidden. “Do you ask this question to other players?” Ilya asks, obviously annoyed.
“Wh-what?” the reporter mumbles, flustered.
“Do you ask this question to other guys? Half the league is sick right now. Their wives and children are also probably sick. It’s February. Everyone in the world is sick. Do you ask other players if they stay away from their wives and children when they’re sick?”
“Well no, because—”
“Because you do not know when that happens. You do not ask them personal questions about their living habits. You only ask about me and Shane because you’ve decided you have a right to our private lives because we are hockey players on the same team. You can ask me questions about the game and future games and I will respond. But I will not answer your questions about what my husband and I do in our private lives.”
Shane’s heart fills with pride and gratitude. It’s been a tough season of figuring out how to fend off reporters when they try to question their relationship off the ice. The media likes to pry every bit of information they can out of them, trying to create false stories of Shane and Ilya’s relationship causing problems with their game. They’ve talked with Harris on how to go about it, but it’s always easier when they’re together handling the media. Shane knows Ilya will defend him, defend them, always, but it’s one thing to know and another thing to see. Shane’s listening to the now very embarrassed reporter try to back track his question when he sneezes. “HehPNXTch! HehSHiew!”
“Ah, there is my husband,” Ilya says, motioning for Shane to come join him. Shane picks up their bags and sheepishly walks up to Ilya’s side.
“Excuse me,” he whispers as Ilya puts his arm around Shane.
“Bless you,” Ilya replies, unbelievably fond. Shane hears a chorus of blessings from reporters, but Ilya’s is the only one that mattered.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go home to nurse my sick husband back to health and see our dog.”
Ilya gives the reporters a look, waiting for any of them to object to him ending the post game interview. None of them do, likely too worried about any pushback they may receive from Ilya if they try to press him more about Shane. Ilya takes Shane’s hand and they make their way to the back exit.
“Thank you for that,” Shane says once they’re in the car.
“Is nothing. I get very annoyed when they ask about our relationship. They do not ask other guys this. Only us because they feel like they have the right to know about our relationship since we are both hockey players. Is very stupid.”
Shane kisses Ilya’s hand and sniffles.
“Let’s get you home now. You need tissues and sleep.”
Shane hums and sniffles again which makes Ilya laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me, I’m sick,” Shane pouts.
“Yes, but you are very cute when sick. Is very sweet.”
Shane’s thankful that the night sky hides the way he blushes.
“I love you,” Shane tells Ilya. He’ll never get tired of saying it. He could say it every minute for the rest of his life and it still wouldn’t be enough.
“I love you too. Medicine then bed for you. I will take out Anya then join you upstairs.”
Shane nods and turns up the volume on the soft music Ilya has playing. He’s exhausted and ready to collapse. He doesn’t realize that he nodded off in the car until Ilya is gently shaking his shoulder.
“We’re home, sweetheart,” Ilya whispers.
Shane rubs his eyes and doesn’t fuss when Ilya unbuckles his seatbelt for him. Shane heads upstairs and changes into a pair of Ilya’s boxers and one of his shirts while Ilya takes Anya outside one last time for the night. As soon as Ilya joins him in bed Shane wraps himself around Ilya.
“Moy koala,” Ilya purrs. He runs his fingers through Shane’s hair and presses kisses to the top of Shane’s head. Shane’s positive he’s all snuffles because he feels Ilya press a tissue to his nose.
“Blow one last time, then you can sleep miliy,” Ilya soothes.
Shane blows his nose into the tissue Ilya’s holding, not worrying about how potentially gross or unsanitary it is. When he’s done, Ilya tosses the tissue into the trash can by his bedside and scoops Shane into his arms.
“Sladkikh snov, ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya says, pressing a final kiss to Shane’s forehead.
“G’night, I love you too,” Shane replies, already half asleep.
russian translations:
moya lyubov = my love
bud'te zdorovy = bless you
da = yes
lyubimyy = beloved
moy koala = my koala
miliy = darling / dear
sladkikh snov, ya tebya lyublyu = sweet dreams, i love you
Hello! I enjoy your work so much--everything shown so clearly, often without text (but the ones with text are awesome, too).
This is embarrassing...do you have any Tarquin/Ashur works that show a hug between them? If not, would you consider doing a hug? With them, I mean, (🙄😬😅)
Hi! Thanks for the kind words! 🧡🧡 And no I haven't yet, but I really SHOULD rectify that some time. 🤔 They do need a good hug!
I really dislike this take that's basically, "Taking Ozempic is okay if you have diabetes, but not if you are taking it to lose weight."
Firstly, I don't think we should be moralizing this issue at all. But secondly, if your argument is that ozempic treats diabetes (true), which is a serious health condition (true), and thus should only be used for serious health conditions, then... well...
Whether or not you and I agree with this, the medical establishment has spent my entire lifespan and probably longer telling us that fatness is a serious health condition. And you can throw out as many studies as you like as counterarguments, but most people are going to trust their own doctors to tell them the truth. And doctors are telling people that being fat will kill them.
So if you have been told your entire life that being fat will kill you, and your doctor tells you every visit that being fat will kill you, so you believe that being fat will kill you, and now there is a drug that will help you not be fat, is that really all that different than taking the drug for some other medical condition?
You can scream until you are hoarse about correlation vs causation, but we're talking about morality here. If someone believes that being fat is a health condition that will kill them and so they take a drug to help them not be fat, is that a moral failing? Are they bad people for taking a drug that is available to them to help them with a condition they believe is killing them?
since im now dedicated to not being an absent father to all of my six tumblr followers, I have some art I’d like to share.
first one is me, uhhhh the second two are my moms christmas present, and the fourth is my dearly departed dnd character. Rip Cieland, you will be missed 💔
i have a couple fandom related pieces that I’m gonna post individually (look out gachiakuta and mp100 👅) so look out for those when they come out. uh. yeah. caylix out ✌️
