My brain and my heart are still VERY FIRMLY in a hotel in Gatwick airport, basking in the most insane and most wonderful memories ever made!
As always, there will be a write-up, this one will be MADNESS (because this time around I have VIDEO from all the panels (THANK YOU @siren-events-uk for that wonderful option!)) and the THINGS that happened away from the panels are so crazy, they'll be stuck with me forever!
As of now: pics! Enjoy!
(and yes, that DJ hug pic IS indeed signed as well but it feels too freaking personal to share right now *shrugs* it's weird, it's probably not even that deep or anything but to me it's special so I'll keep it to myself for a while!)
Im still flying so fucking high, you won't believe it!
These people and this fandom are fucking outstanding - there's nothing else in the world that comes even CLOSE to what just happened this weekend!!!
I am so full of love for every single person at this con, and I would do it all again in a fucking heartbeat!
Last November was already great but this?
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Saying “this niche, properly tagged, warned, and rated piece of fiction could theoretically hurt someone” is not a good argument. This properly labeled cookie with the allergen information at the bottom that contains gluten could theoretically harm me very badly, but only if I consume it. Tags are like nutrition labels, and warnings are like allergy information. If you know you have an allergy to something, the logic is to stay away from it. It is the same with fiction. I’m not running through stores yelling at people to take all the products with gluten off the shelves just because it could hurt me. Instead I ignore it and go to the gluten free section and find cookies that are right for me. And if running through a grocery store yelling sounds ridiculous, that’s because it is. Stop doing the same with fiction.
And just like with food, what might be harmful for one person to consume could be quite *beneficial* for others. One man’s trigger is another man’s catharsis.
AND if you lack the maturity/self control/awareness to stop yourself from eating things that could potentially harm you, you either 1) are too young to be making your own food choices and should be supervised by a parent/other adult who is supposed to be responsible for you (and the store clerk who put the food on the shelf is NOT) or 2) need to take accountability for your own actions, because if you deliberately consumed something you knew could hurt you as a fully autonomous adult, then you really have no one to blame but yourself.
I’d like to add that within AO3, “Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings” is, in this food analogy, like the food labels that read “This product was manufactured in a facility where [potential food allergens] are used in the production of some products”. It’s not telling you they’re in there, but even more importantly, it’s not telling you they’re not. This is not the same as “No Archive Warnings Apply” which would be the certified [food allergen] free food. One guarantees a certain experience, the other has given you no promises as to what may or may not be included and is very much a consume-at-your-own-risk product.
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Hollanov agree to record their wedding as a personal video diary of the day.
Shane’s surprisingly quite relaxed. He’s confident in their relationship, excited to be married, and knows that even if something goes wrong, it doesn’t matter, because at the end of the day he’ll be with Ilya.
Ilya is stressed. He keeps crying. This is the best day of his life. Shane deserves better, why would the greatest man on earth want him. He’s never been happier. Something’s gonna go wrong, he knows it. Bood, Troy, and Sveta have to keep calming him down and reminding him that Shane loves him and they deserve to be happy together. He locks himself in the bathroom.
Shane’s getting dressed with Hayden, JJ, and Rose, sipping champagne, feet up as he waits for the ceremony to start.
Once they manage to coax Ilya out of the bathroom, David comes in and does his canon speech about Ilya being his second son. The waterworks start again.
David then checks on Shane. “At least you’re doing okay.” “…. i-is Ilya not doing okay?” “Don’t worry about it, have another flute.”
Ilya has to wear bandaids on his nipples when he works out with a shirt on because the fabric chafes him, which is why he prefers to workout shirtless. But the Cents have a strict ‘no shirtlessness in the gym’ rule ever since Luca broke his toe from tripping over equipment because he was staring intensely at Ilya on the leg press, Shane broke his nose from walking into a wall because he was too busy watching his husband do barbell squats, and Troy dropped a weight on Wyatt’s hand because he was more focused on Ilya doing one arm pull ups through the mirror. Ilya didn’t understand why his poor nipples had to pay the price for others finding him hot.
With so many injured players, everyone is wondering what the heck happens at the Cents practices. When questioned about it, Captain Ilya cheekily says, “is because I am too handsome,” but all the media outlets just brush it off as Rozanov being his cocky self. No one else on the team will admit he’s actually telling the truth.
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They’re going through Yuna and David’s movie collection when Ilya comes across a VHS with ‘Shane - Bell Center 1994’ written on the sleeve and insists they watch it.
Shane isn’t super into the idea. “My parents don’t have a VHS player.”
“Is literally right beside your knee, Hollander.”
“Well, it’s boring! Why do you want to see a dumb recording of me as a kid anyway?”
“Because it’s adorable?” Ilya says incredulously. “And you are adorable?”
“Oh, I forgot we had that!” Yuna exclaims, coming to sit on the couch with her glass of wine. “God, I miss those days. Shane was the cutest timbit.”
Timbit, Ilya mouths to himself, his fingers curling around the tape. This is Shane as a timbit? In all his tiny little hockey gear at the Bell Center? Ilya needs to see it. “Shane.”
Shane looks at him and sighs.
They put the tape in.
Ilya almost dies as the grainy screen resolves itself into an MC and a tiny Shane, dressed in his hockey gear. His helmet is crooked on his head, his stick tap tap tapping against it as he stares at the interviewer, determined. His cheeks are big and round and pink from the cold of the ice, and though Ilya cannot make out his freckles, he knows from pictures that they’re there. The MC crouches down and a packed Bell Center is visible behind them.
“And here we have number 24, Shane Hollander!” The MC says in heavily accented English. “Let’s give him a round of applause. Shane, how are you feeling tonight, are you excited to be here?”
“Um. Yes.”
“And how old are you, Shane?”
Little Shane closes his eyes for a moment, taking a big, deep breath before reciting: “My name is Shane Hollander and I’m a hockey player. I am three years old and I go to Glebe Co-operative Nursery School in Ottawa and my mommy and daddy are Yuna and David. And I’m three.”
The MC laughs a little. “That’s a great introduction, Shane, thank you. Do you have anyone here with you tonight, cheering you on in the audience?”
Shane’s eyes open, but he doesn’t break out into a toothy grin. No, instead, Shane—serious, no-nonsense Shane—nods and leans in to the microphone like he’s giving a post-game interview. “Yes, my mommy and my daddy.”
“And are they big Metros fans?”
“Yes.”
“What about you?”
“Yes, too. They’re gonna go all the way this year. They have all the pieces for a winning team.”
“That’s what we love to hear, Shane, we agree and we love the confidence. Can we expect to see you on the ice someday? Do you want to be a hockey player when you grow up?”
“Yes, I’m a hockey player.”
“Do you want to play for Montreal?”
“Yes.”
“Can we get some encouragement for the team from you, Shane? Maybe a Go Metros Go?”
This, Shane takes extremely seriously. Ilya watches him nod with all the solemnity of a general going to war, and then releases his own tiny, passionate battle cry: “Go Metros Go!”
“Shane Hollander, everyone, let’s give him another round of applause!”
Ilya watches Shane stick out his little hand and the MC laugh a little as he shakes it, before tiny Shane toddles back to his parents on his skates. The mic picks up, Mommy can I skate again nowww? before the tape stops.
Ilya is going to fucking die. He already feels as if his heart is too big for his body, his fingers pressing into his knees to keep from grabbing Shane and doing—something to him. Kissing him or hugging him or fucking. Eating him. Consuming him. Crawling inside of him.
Shane is curled up beside the couch with his hands covering his face in embarrassment and Ilya is sitting less than a meter from him, dying of retroactive cuteness.
“You were so pissed when we told you that your turn to skate was done,” Yuna murmurs fondly. “Full meltdown.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Shane mutters, shaking his head in his hands. “JP made fun of me.”
Yuna scoffs. “JP was copying his parents, because they were pissed that you were better than him. And that we were out of towners but got the interview.” She raises a brow. “And now look: you’re a professional hockey player and JP is probably working at some office back in Trois Rivières and hates his life.”
“Mom, seriously?”
“What?” Yuna asks, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. “His parents were assholes. They made an asshole. I won’t apologize for that.”
Ilya takes the opportunity to crawl closer, slinging an arm around Shane’s back. He presses one kiss, then two, then three to Shane’s cheek. “Shane,” he breathes.
“Mm?”
“You were cutest fucking tiny hockey player in the entire world.”
Ilya feels Shane’s blush against his mouth. He kisses it again. “Fuck off,” Shane mutters, cuddling into him. He turns to press a soft, barely there kind of kiss to the corner of Ilya’s lips, burying his pink, hot face into his neck. “I was too serious. They called me a robot and did that stupid dance at me.”
“Well, they’re idiots. Hockey is serious, so you are serious, and they were probably ugly.”
“Ilya,” Shane laughs. Ilya feels his huffed breath in the juncture of his own neck and grins, thumb moving up to caress the small hairs at his nape.
They’re still too far away.
Ilya shifts, immediately attacking Shane’s face with kisses the minute he becomes visible. Shane laughs, shrieks, says stop even as he pulls Ilya closer, until they’ve toppled over onto the carpet.
Shane pulls back to look him in the eye, chewing his lip. “I think my parents still have some camcorder home videos of me.”
I dreamed of this vulnerable, beautiful, sleeping Ilya and his soft curls and his back covered in moles like the starry sky
he is peaceful here, but he fell asleep at the wrong time and then the sound of a horn from the streets wakes him up and everything changes, because the disaster was inevitable
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David Hollander is definitely the type of man to randomly put on a song and pull his wife up to dance with him, especially if she’s stressing about something, or worrying, or upset, or just because. She will usually lightly protest, honey, I need to finish this email, but she’ll happily go along nonetheless.
David does it for the first time in front of Ilya when the boys are visiting and Shane and Yuna are planning (arguing) about something new brand deal.
He puts a song on the record player (Yuna has given up teaching him the Alexa), and he takes Yuna’s hand without a word. She protests that they need to plan out these contract terms and how his son is being difficult about it.
Shane starts to protest at that, but doesn’t get far until Ilya pulls him up to dance, too. A very embarrassed Shane goes willingly. He’s watched his father do this for years but never thought he would be pulled up to dance one day. From the fond looks from his parents, they probably didn’t either.
Shane meets Ilya’s smile with a half-hearted glare, but can’t deny swaying to the music in his boyfriend’s arms feels much better than stressing about a brand deal. Ilya makes a note to ask David for anymore tips and tricks.
