#danny tells Tim about Phantom after they had been dating for a few months and they've said thier first I Love Yous

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny, at 17, did not have the best love life. This is partially because two of his must haves in a partner are " Will protect me with their life" and "Will commit unspeakable acts of violence for me" or at least beat someone up for his honor.

Naturally, this doesn't always result in the most stable of partners.

His first girlfriend, Valerie, became an anti-hero and broke up with him for his safety.

He finally got with Sam in sophomore year only for the feds to come into class one day to arrest her. To his surprise, her crimes had nothing to do with ghosts but rather an incident where she went too far and committed a few acts of economic terrorism. Danny and Tucker never really learned the specifics of the crimes, and her parents hushed up as many news outlets as they could, so there wasn't much info to go around. All they knew was that she saved thousands of lives by doing it.

In the end, she was sentenced to eight years, and she broke up with him so that he wouldn't wait around for her to get out.

His third partner was a guy named David who was really sweet. Unfortunately, Danny got kidnapped one day by David's arch nemesis, who was some villain with a corny edge lord name. Yeah. David had become a a super hero after they started dating.

And if you guessed that he freaked out and dumped Danny for his own protection, you'd deserve a cookie.

Danny was noticing a pattern here. One that continued with everyone he dated. They always became some kind of hero before dumping him for his own protection, and it was infuriating. Sure, danny could defend himself, but he was never deep enough into the relationship to reveal his phantom half, and frankly, his hero career was something he left behind when he left Amity and destroyed the portals.

He met Tim at a skatepark after Tim fell off his board cause of some jerk speeding out in front of him on his own board, forcing Tim to stop or else hit the guy. The guy was unrepentant and Tim calmed him down (this did not stop him from melting the guys wheels with an ectoblast when no one was looking).

Tim then asked him to coffee. Danny, noticing how cute Tim was, agreed.

Danny was up front with his parents being mad scientists in Illinois. He always was with all the people he dated. It was better not to hide these kinds of things or worse, wait until you're already attached and afraid of losing them. So he always told potential partners as early as possible. Tim seemed a bit put off by this but was calmer about it than most, and they continued chatting.

Tim didn't seem like the type to turn to heroism or anti heroism so he felt safe on their later dates. It was only after he had known Tim for a while that he put the pieces together.

Tim was always covered in bruises that he hid with his clothes and make up, he had complained about batman over the phone when he thought danny couldn't hear, he was rich, he knew how to fight as revealed by his stances and footwork dispite trying to pretend he didn't, and lastly he held a lot of political power and influence being Bruce Wayne's son. Power he had no reservations using when it suited him or he was just feeling petty (that pettiness was part of why danny was falling for him harder than he thought he could)

No wonder Tim was so okay with his parents being rouges.

Tim was a villain!

At least Tim wouldn't leave him like all his exes. Danny doesn't think he could handle it if he did. Another good thing about this is now he can talk more freely about the more villainous and morally gray ideas and inventions when he was alone with Tim.

Tim didn't see anything wrong with Danny's idea to use something similar to cloning pods to make synthetic meats like rump roasts and steaks as a way to end world hunger and was eager to add to the conversation.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

[flauntpage]

Firsts! But still last… Five Takeaways from Islanders 4, Flyers 3

On this day of giving thanks for the family and friends you have there is also a lot of eating. You go for seconds and thirds, and in my house – where the eating begins at noon and doesn’t stop until about 11 p.m. – there are fourths and fifths.

Which reminds me – my family should have patented the “Thanksgiving sandwich” idea years ago. You can now get “the Pilgrim” or “the Gobbler” or whatever fancy name they call it in many places, but for 40 years the SanFilippo clan has been slathering turkey, cranberry sauce and stuffing with a little mayo on a sandwich as a late evening snack on Thanksgiving. Before there was a third NFL game on Thanksgiving, there was always a college game, so, at halftime, we’d all venture from the living room to the kitchen and get our sandwich. I’m sure I’ll do it tonight too. Sigh.

Anyway…

My whole lame attempt to the lead-in to this Flyers story was that our local hockey team kicked off the Thanksgiving celebration with a series of firsts, before we get our seconds and thirds today.

(rimshot)

Okay, I know. Don’t quit the day job.

But it’s true. Between debuts and goals and losing streaks and Eastern Conference opponents and Metropolitan Division opponents there were a lot of things that happened for the first time last night, or the first time in a while.

But one thing happened that’s been happening frequently lately – the Flyers still lost.

Oh this one was in overtime, so they got a point (celebrate!) but it was their sixth consecutive loss, and if you really want to look how bad it’s gotten, it’s their 12th loss in their last 16 games (4-7-5). Yeah, getting five points in overtime or shootout doesn’t make it seem as bad – but it is. They’ve only won consecutive games once all season.

So, when you tell everyone what you’re thankful for today, it’s a pretty safe assumption one item on the list is not going to be your favorite hockey team.

They did play their first game against an Eastern Conference Team since Oct. 21 and their first Metropolitan foe since the home opener, but it didn’t change things, and the Flyers are still a last place team in what is starting to feel like a lost season.

But, as is always the case, there are things to take away from this game – and here they are:

1. The best fourth line in hockey that isn’t even a line any more

I’m sorry, I can’t let that moniker go ever since it was bestowed upon Taylor Leier, Scott Laughton and Michael Raffl by a scout talking to SportsNet.ca’s Elliotte Friedman last month.

I get the sentiment – because the three of them are incredibly hard-working, never take a shift off, provide great energy and are reliable every time on the ice.

But lets not blow their impact out of proportion. You have to score goals in hockey and the trio, entering last night, had a combined two goals – both scored by Laughton.

In recent games, Raffl had been moved off the line onto a third line and Leier and Laughton had been stuck with Jori Lehtera. And just because the line was alliterative didn’t mean they were getting a nickname – because with Lehtera in the mix, it was sure to be an undesirable handle.

But, last night, Leier and Laughton were joined by a struggling Jordan Weal as Lehtera was benched in favor of Danick Martel, who was called up from the Phantoms to make his NHL debut (more on him in a bit).

The change in the lineup may be temporary, or it may be permanent after last night – who knows –  but they finally had a scoring bite in a game – doubling their season output in goals last night to four.

First it was Leier, getting his first goal in 25 games, dating back to last season:

Taylor Leier with a greasy goal off a great play by Travis Sanheim! http://pic.twitter.com/A3kJwmj0TZ

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) November 23, 2017

By the way… we’re starting to see a little more of this out of Sanheim with each game. He’s starting to get more confident in his ability to drive the play offensively.

But this isn’t about him! This is about Leier, who finally got into the scoring column after so many great chances this season.

I won’t say he’s snakebitten – although there were a few unfortunate outcomes on chances he had. No, Leier, like any other player who gets a decent amount of ice time needs to find a way to score more than once every 25 games.

But he’s been a guy I’ve enjoyed watching play the game the right way on a night-in, night-out basis. He’s definitely a cerebral hockey fan’s type of player. He doesn’t show up on the score sheet all that often, but he does little things that aren’t measured statistically so well, that you want to see him on the ice even more.

The other goal broke an even longer drought:

Couturier sends Raffl on a breakaway, and he scores his first of the season! http://pic.twitter.com/jmbKM8I1av

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) November 23, 2017

It was Raffl’s first goal in 43 games. He hasn’t even had an assist in that amount of time either. And yet, like Leier, he’s a guy you don’t mind seeing out on the ice because he’s positionally sound.

Again, does he need to score more? Yes. Absolutely. to have just one point through 22 games isn’t acceptable.

But that’s likely the only check mark on the negative side of Raffl’s ledger.

He does a lot of other things well and he’s a responsible player. Not to mention, he’s one of the most well-liked guys on the team:

It's adorable how happy the whole Flyers team is for Michael Raffl's first goal of the season. http://pic.twitter.com/4YVgIfBRsP

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) November 23, 2017

And they truly are ecstatic for the guy. It’s not the most important thing in sports, but locker room chemistry is more paramount in hockey than any other sport and Raffl is a glue guy in the Flyers’ room.

My favorite part of the Raffl goal though occurred on radio.

I was in the car during intermission and because of holiday traffic, I had to take in the first five minutes of the second period on the radio.

Just before the second period started, Steve Coates predicted that with the way Raffl played in the first period that he would score a goal in the game.

Well, 42 seconds later, Raffl’s goal happened.

After Tim Saunders finished his goal call, Coatesy, in all his broadcasting glory, yelled, “I’m going to the track!”

It was pretty comical that it happened so soon after Coatesy’s clairvoyant prediction.

But Coatesy did take it too far.

“Once he gets one, they’ll start coming in bunches,” he said.

Not sure he wants to take that one to the track – or the bank.

2. Danick Martel and Sam Morin

Continuing the concept of firsts – these two guys played their first game of the season for the Flyers and for Martel it was his first game in the NHL.

Fans have been clamoring for Morin for a long time now – and it’s likely he would have been up sooner had he not had a groin injury – but the 22-year-old is still a work in progress.

I mean, you have to love this:

Sam Morin with a big hit on Jordan Eberle along the boards. http://pic.twitter.com/aeYp6GBezK

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) November 23, 2017

and here’s another angle:

Sam Morin flies in and takes down Eberle. http://pic.twitter.com/Zv01PXhA4a

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) November 23, 2017

That’s what he brings. He also mixed it up with veteran Andrew Ladd in this game, and the two had to be separated before the fists flew (lucky for Ladd). And he did a nice job clearing the front of the net when he was on the ice.

But Morin took two penalties – and one led to a power play goal for the Islanders – so there’s going to be some taking the good with the bad with Morin for a bit.

But Flyers fans should be happy – as Morin, Sanheim, Gostisbehere, Provorov and Hagg were all in the lineup on defense for the first time last night. It’s the future of the blue line. It’s going to be a while before it matures as a group – but it’s an exciting glimpse into the future.

As for Martel, he’s come out of nowhere.

Well, not completely out of nowhere. I did suggest after this game a month ago to give the kid a chance.

(Not sure why you’d read anyone else!)

But, Martel wasn’t even on the radar as a top Flyers prospect. And why should he have been? He was signed as an undrafted free agent a few years back and has toiled mostly in obscurity in the AHL since.

Yeah, he scores at that level, but the fact is he’s small. I mean, really small. He’s listed at 5-9, but that’s if he’s on skates. He’s listed at 170 pounds – but that’s with soaking wet clothes on.

Yeah, he’s diminutive.

But, there have been small players who made a pretty good living in this sport – just look at Danny Briere’s career.

Martel has that Briere-like scoring ability. And he can skate – boy can he skate. Check out this breakaway chance from last night for evidence:

Martel pokes the puck away for a partial breakaway. He's so fast and had everything but the finish there. http://pic.twitter.com/tcimKRaBGd

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) November 23, 2017

He ended up with six shot attempts, three on goal, and blocked four shots in 12:07 of ice time. His four blocks led the team.

Martel played predominantly on the second line as a left wing to Nolan Patrick and Wayne Simmonds.

He was given the chance by the Flyers instead of Mike Vecchionne for two reasons:

the Flyers needed help on the wing more than down the middle.

the Flyers needed goal scoring help.

Martel was leading the AHL in goals at the time of his call-up.

All said, it was an excellent first game for Martel – one that probably will keep him in the mix here with the big club for awhile anyway.

3. So if Martel sticks, what happens elsewhere to the roster?

O.K. so, this isn’t a takeaway from the game, but it’s an intriguing question nonetheless.

The simple thought is the Flyers waive either Dale Weise or Jori Lehtera, both of whom are dead weight on this roster – and neither will be claimed, meaning they could send one down to the Phantoms.

But here’s an interesting thought – what if they play Lehtera or Weise for a few games and scratch Jordan Weal?

I doubt they would place Weal on waivers. They already took that gamble once last season and were fortunate he wasn’t claimed. But I’m told they are worried Weal isn’t right, right now. Maybe it’s the two concussions he’s suffered this year. Maybe he’s just struggling to gain his footing in this lineup as it’s currently situated, but Weal was expected to be more productive a player, and right now, he’s not.

His ice time has been dipping further and further with each passing game and last night he played a season-low eight minutes.

From the folks I’ve spoken to around the team, it just seems like right now he’s the 12th forward, and he’s barely clinging to that spot.

Weal needs to find his game again, and sometimes sitting out 2-3 games helps a player do that.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the scratch list sooner rather than later.

4. The penalty kill sucks.

I can’t put it more bluntly than that. Right now, the penalty kill is as bad as I’ve ever seen a penalty kill be in Philadelphia.

Yes, they aren’t worst in the league, but they are 28th out of 31 teams and giving up a power play goal 25% of the time.

That’s dreadful.

Compounding that number, the Flyers have allowed eight power play goals against in the last four games and have been beaten on seven of the past 12 shorthanded opportunities.

What’s going on here?

Well, for one, the Flyers miss a couple of oft-maligned defensemen – Andrew MacDonald and Radko Gudas.

For as much as fans despise their games, this is definitely one area of strength for both. It’s also why the Flyers have brought Morin into the mix – hoping to stabilize this.

MacDonald should be back soon and Gudas has to miss seven more games. It should be interesting to see which way the Flyers ultimately go with their young defensemen once those things happen – because a log jam is coming assuming no one else gets injured.

But the forwards haven’t been great either. I’m not sure why they are making Wayne Simmonds kill penalties. He’s never been a staunch penalty killer, and now he’s out there with Sean Couturier and he’s having a hard enough time skating as it is with his groin issues. That one’s befuddling me.

All told, the Flyers might need a new approach here – because obviously, whatever they’ve been doing to this point isn’t working. At all.

5. Ghost continues to struggle

Dave Hakstol should just put Shayne Gostisbehere back with Robert Hagg and let the other defensemen figure it out.

Ever since MacDonald’s injury, when Ghost and Hagg were separated, Ghost has been a different player. He’s made mistakes – too many of them. He lacks confidence. He turns the puck over.

Before the MacDonald injury, Ghost was playing his best hockey – maybe ever. He looked great. He told me playing with Hagg helped him significantly.

But ever since, well, we have plays like this:

Folks, this wasn't good. It was in fact very bad. http://pic.twitter.com/zEndHzAQNt

— Broad Street Hockey (@BroadStHockey) November 23, 2017

In the ridiculous 3-on-3 overtime, it’s a game of man-to-man defense. And while Couturier busted his rear end to cover John Tavares, Ghost decided he wasn’t going to play man-to-man at all, and, well, Josh Bailey won the game for the Islanders.

That cannot happen.

You aren’t going to pull Ghost from the lineup, but the least the coach can do is get him back playing with a partner who makes him play with the confidence needed.

They should never have been separated. They need to be reunited. Tomorrow.

  Firsts! But still last… Five Takeaways from Islanders 4, Flyers 3 published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv