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officialgritty · 4 years

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Sometimes I ask myself

How much could the NHL handle? What would they do if I, Zoe, had the opportunity to become a GM of my own team?

Another short essay by officialgritty. Here is the masterlist, it would be best to read them in order!

The Drafting Process

First of all, I’ll only accept picks for even numbers besides 7, 13 and 69. Odd numbers can choke.

I hate public speaking so I would nominate my assistant (still have not decided on one so feel free to send your applications into my DMs) to call out our picks. It’s probably the smartest decision considering I mumble a lot and have an accent so no ones names would be pronounced correctly anyway.

Personally I would like to draft one (1) beer league player. I think they could really get the team riled up, maybe even rack up some decent penalties for other teams by instigating.

“The Vermont Villains would like to select... big boy INSERT NAME.” - Assistant

“The Vermont Villains would like to select... string bean INSERT NAME.” - Assistant

“The Vermont Villains would like to select... sorry the mic cut out, after this can we have an intermission? I’m starving. Oh, we pick twinkle toes INSERT NAME.” - Me

General Rules / Other

There are no Capricorn’s to be allowed within management or on the team besides me. I was going to say, “I’m sorry I don’t make the rules,” but I quite literally do.

I am banning Crosby and MacKinnon from ever joining the team. In fact, when they visit for games the staff will ‘decorate’ a stall for them in particular.

I will be starting a petition for teams to be allowed 5 non-forfeit forfeits, meaning you get 5 chances to say, “No I don’t want to play that team today.” Both teams get no points though. It’s almost like a mental health day and I think that's neat.

The Team

(art via @chaos-hockey, please check out their account!)

The Vermont Villains are based in Vermont obviously, because there’s not a whole lot happening there. What even is Vermont for?

The team slogan is one everyone should be familiar with:

“No whole body, no murder.”

Our team intro song as players step out onto the ice is Be Prepared from The Lion King.

Our goal horn is someone sneezing, the audience will be sprayed with a light mist of sea water for effect.

Our team song played when we win will be Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Cage the Elephant.

As for team rivals, we have @chaos-hockey‘s creation the Insert Team Heres. They seem so sweet, I think the Villains would have a great time messing with them. I also believe we would have some beef with the Penguins, I don’t really have a reason for it, I just feel it deep in my gut. Maybe they get their knickers in a twist because we keep stealing their good stuff idk.

Mascot

The mascot wears a neon ski mask that changes based on the team’s choice in jersey. His name is Monday, because he’s always creeping up on you and causing mayhem through the grandstands. He has a water pistol attached to a tool belt, what's the tool belt for? No one ever truly knows until it’s too late.

Gritty and Monday would get along like a house on fire.

Uniform

(art via @chaos-hockey, please check out their account!)

You may notice the presence of three jersey’s and think to yourself, “Oh there's a home, away and an alternate.” Wrong. We have two home jerseys and an alternate.

On Wednesday’s we wear pink. Seriously. This jersey is only to be worn on Wednesday games.

All of the jerseys have players names written on the back but it’s only in a script font so it’s hard to read. Announcers will be confused, players will be confused but fans won’t be because they are used to it by now.

All of their numbers are written out in Roman numerals.

Each season the team colours change (besides pink Wednesdays). Why? Because I don’t like commitment. We would make hella money on limited time merch too.

Speaking of merch, every player will need to design a pair of crocs for fans to purchase as merch. This is not limited to the players, management must also participate. Yes, you can buy the George from Statistics crocs. I really just want my own crocs and to not be judged for it.

“I’ll take one of the Zoe crocs please!” - A fan

Now we can’t limit the uniform just to the team, I’ll show up to games rocking a power suit Michelle Obama inauguration style. Always in the same colour as the team jersey for that night. Yes, we are implying that I am Gritty.

“I want them to fear me but also want to fuck me.” - Me

(art via @chaos-hockey, please check out their account!)

For all working, team socks must be worn when entering the practise and game facilities. A sock check will be conducted at security. We will not let anyone in if they are not wearing Team Socks™️

(art via @chaos-hockey, please check out their account!)

You may be wondering about the away jersey still but don’t fret. We get to the arena early and steal the other team’s clothes. Some end up in their suits, some in their away jerseys and some are left shirtless. Whatever we can or cannot find before puck drop.

Arena

The arena won’t be boring that's for sure.

Out the front we have a massive V sign, just like how you see a McDonald’s sign from so far away, you’ll know when you get close to the arena.

Instead of stairs, each seating section has a harness that you get hooked up to for when you want to change levels. And each time that you want to get down, there’s a swirly slide.

Music played will be my favourite mashups from the YouTube account William Maranci to psych out competitors. Here is a link to one of my personal favourites:

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Obviously the team will need to listen to these before they are played for the first time to desensitise them. This will be done at the monthly team Disco.

During the intermission, all the lights in the main area will be turned off. Unofficial nap time my friends.

The menu consists of mutton, bagels on a stick, your choice of charcuterie board, fairy bread and fairy floss. For drinks you can either have carrot juice, Corona beer (we have a brand deal with them) or black tea with no milk.

In conclusion, it’s a good thing that I don’t have a lot of money and/or power, the NHL would hate me because they ain’t me and I have too many good ideas in my brain.

Thank you so sticking through it for this long, here’s all my love and affection 😘🥰❤️

Once again a big thank you to @chaos-hockey for bringing my ideas to fruition. Also thank you to Mik for encouraging this whole concept in our messages ❤️

Here is a part 2!

Tagging some of my mutuals/favourite accounts (please don't feel pressured to interact with this if it isn't your thing, I won't be offended):

@scheifefe @nikolajehlers @kempe @bowenbyram @d00dlebob @travisgermy @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself @dmonchld @kiedhara @sortagaysortahigh @matthewthotchuk @babytkachuks @bricksatlandyswindow @canadianheaters @youngbeezersmixtape @pitoftrash @perpetually-anxious @kspitehockey

Sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone, I didn’t want to tag every single person I follow 💀

#no one got tagged :(#I will be doing school with my phone on mute so when I come back to this I EXPECT chaotic responses and chaotic responses only #I really have no idea what to tag this so I guess that’s it #let’s just hope it doesn’t flop anyway #the Vermont Villains #nhl #hockey #z does other stuff

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thornescratch · 4 years

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sorry for cursing (blessing?) your inbox with this but i just found out that nicklas 'murder eyes' backstrom listens to cardi b and follows taylor swift on spotify and now the image of him blasting wap and love story through earbuds while glaring at nothing in particular won't leave my head

LISTEN. Despite its effects on my physical and mental well-being, I am very obviously way too aware of everything the Caps get up to. I’m following all kinds of randos on instagram, paying for multiple sports subscription websites (man you have no idea how much that kills my cheapskate heart to do), and rooting through the trash cans at the MedStar Capitals Iceplex rink on a regular basis like some kind of feral raccoon. And I STILL cannot keep up with the absolute fucking rollercoaster that is Nicklas Backstrom's taste in music. Dude is all over the place.

-In his first interview as a Capital, he proclaimed his favorite bands were U2 and The Sounds, a Swedish indie rock band.

-Sometime in 2010, he picked Miley Cyrus over Taylor Swift in a “This or That” video that I sadly failed to save. (RIP most of the Caps NHL videos from the Young Guns age, those were so stupid and so great. You have things like the entire team arguing over pirates vs. ninjas)

-In late 2010, he refused to dance “in front of [the HBO 24/7 Road the Winter Classic cameras]” when the Caps finally snapped their eight game losing streak and all started fistpumping to “Beat Dat Beat” by DJ Pauly D, which implicates he HAS danced to Beat Dat Beat. Just not in front of cameras.

-Back in 2013, behind the scenes at a Bauer commercial shoot, he randomly sang “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)” by James Taylor.

-In late 2015, the Caps Breakaway Booklet had “S.O.B.” by Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats as his favorite song.

-In an early 2016 Caps Breakaway Booklet, we got a massive influx of Backstrom musical taste, where he chose the Backstreet Boys over NSYNC, and Katy Perry over Taylor Swift, and said his most played musician/band was Axwell & Ingresso (of Swedish House Mafia).

-In late 2016, he was still into Swedish House Mafia. Hooray for a brief moment of consistency.

-2018 was a big year. At the Stadium Series post-game locker room victory scene, you can see him laughing in the background to “Dancing Queen” by ABBA, though that’s not really just him because the entire goddamn team loves that song.

-In May of 2018, one of the NHL LiveWire Best of 2018 Playoffs Mic’d Up segments caught him singing Viva Las Vegas as the Capitals prepared to take on the Golden Knights in the Final.

-And of course, the many, many, many, many, many times he sang Queen’s “We Are The Champions.”

-And not being done yet, in June of 2018, one of Andre Burakovsky’s greatest accomplishments was sharing video of Nicke singing karaoke of Han tog av sig sin kavaj, or “An Evening in June” by Lasse Berghagen.

-For the Caps Halloween party in 2018, he was around while several of his teammates murdered “Piano Man” and “Don’t Stop Believing” though his own participation could not be confirmed.

-In 2019, we all remember the shock and awe when he decided on Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again,” the 1987 version, as his goal song, a song he ‘remembers from his youth’, apparently. “I think it’s cool, but, yeah, I don’t care too much,” Backstrom said. So you say, sir. So you say.

-Inside the 2020 playoff bubble, he was caught singing “Work It”, a remix of a Jay Sean song by Regard, as well as busting out some prime dance moves.

-This past December in 2020, his favorite song was “All I Want for Christmas” by Mariah Carey, though admittedly he was specifically asked for his favorite Christmas song.

-And now, we have him jamming out to WAP and Love Story. What a man. What a champion. May his utter randomness continue for years to come.

(PS I do not actually root through trashcans, I promise. I did once come real close to accidentally flashing Roman Hamrlik during warmups but that’s another story.)

#Sometimes I answer asks with way too much goddamn text #Sorry about that #Nicklas Backstrom #Washington Capitals #Anonymous #music #singing

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falsegoodnight · 4 years

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this is part two of my december fic rec! this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 18th to the 28th!! it’s also my birthday today which makes it even more special! i can think of no better way to spend today than spreading positivity! :)

you can find part one of this month here

✰ there’s happiness because of you by @hadestyles | NR | 1k - (so soft, tender, and beautiful!! rori’s writing amazes me always! and this was written for my birthday because they’re an angel <3)

Thursday mornings have always been their favourite.

✰ and it gets colder and colder by @hadestyles | E | 2K - (another rori fic!! once again, beautiful prose! made me feel emotional!)

Harry wants to take care of Louis. Things take a turn.

✰ make my wish come true by @soldouthaz | M | 3k - (drabble from this series) (so cute, lovely, soft, amazing!!! made my heart so happy! this is also dedicated to me which :’) sarah angel chant)

The taste of Christmas cookies fresh out of the oven and peppermint hot chocolate is still heavy on his tongue. Harry’s sweater provides some warmth and it still smells of him from before he left for his internship two weeks ago, but it’s nowhere near the feeling of his arms wrapped around him. Louis shivers despite the blankets.

✰ spirit meets the bones by @hadestyles | E | 3k - (i had to edit to add this because rori wrote another beautiful little fic for me :’) beautiful prose, beautiful emotions, so so so beautiful, gosh. pure poetry!)

The action shouldn’t fill his eyes with tears but it does. These small gestures mean the world to him. A steady reminder that Harry does notice all the tiny, seemingly insignificant details that make Louis him.

✰ 29 Blows by @quelquesetoiles | E | 4k - (super hot but also so cute!! love the concept of the birthday tradition in this one!!!)

For over a decade now, Harry has had his little tradition. It wouldn't be a Louis Tomlinson birthday without his best friend finding new, ingenious ways to make his life more difficult.

It's cute, it's funny, it's theirs, until Harry takes it a step too far on Louis' 29th birthday.

✰ calm me down (before i sleep) by @erodiansunflower | E | 7k - (a pwp and super hot, but also super cute??)

Prompt 24: Harry is a sex shop owner that has a crush on Louis, the shy customer who flirts with him while buying cute buttplugs, lace panties, and collars. One day, Louis asked Harry to help him put on a corset (they end up fucking in the dressing room). Things escalate quickly from there, so they start seeing each other seriously while trying other sex stuff.

✰ You’re Never Alone With a Moon This Bright by @helloamhere | T | 8k - (part one of this series) (WOW this was incredible and i am ENTRANCED! this author is an all-time favorite and idk why it took me so long to get to this series but i’m here now!! and loving it!!)

Louis was a monster. But sometimes, even monsters get a Christmas.

✰ Be a Good Girl For Me by @sincetheywere16and18 | E | 9k - (really hot and cute!!!)

Based on this prompt: “AU where Harry is Louis’ older brother’s best friend. He catches Louis dancing around his room in panties and blackmails him, saying that louis has to do anything he says or else he’ll tell Louis’ family that he wears girly underwear. Secretly soft for him, Harry gives him easy tasks and uses the whole thing to spend more time with Louis. Eventually, the orders begin to escalate and Harry teases Lou about his secret, making Louis shy and embarrassed. Louis loves the attention though, and forms a crush on his brother’s best friend. Lots of feminization, secret relationship, and enemies to lovers. Thank you!”

✰ it’s hard to fight naked by @loustarlight | E | 11k - (LOVED this so much!!! a big fan of enemies/flatmates to lovers especially when there’s a walk-in involved!!)

Louis leaves dirty socks on the couch, Zayn does assignments while he's high, and Harry is hopelessly crushing on his roommate.

✰ Sweet Scary Creatures by @specklelouis | M | 13k - (jurassic park au!! so cute and fun!!! loved louis’ character growth in this in particular!)

They stare into each other's eyes for a while until Louis remembers this is too intimate and looks at Harry’s hands on his thigh. It spans a big portion of his thigh and Louis has always been insecure about how thick he is, so he loves that Harry has huge, dustbin hands that hold him and makes him feel smaller, safer.

✰ hereafter (ad infinitum) by @larryent | M | 13k - (this was absolutely beautiful!! the writing was incredible, the contrast between the old timeline and new one impeccable, and the letters!!! love them!! and vampire harry is always a win!)

"A legacy is every life you’ve touched. And you’ve touched mine twice."

On the coast of San Francisco in 2024 is when Harry falls in love all over again.

✰ Believe Me When I Say You Have It All by @helloamhere | T | 20k - (part two of this series) (loved this even more than it’s predecessor. not to be dramatic, but i’d die for the louis and harry in this series. this whole world has my heart)

Harry had never faced anything in this forest that had actually succeeded in scaring him. Louis was no exception.

✰ Yours to Lose by @loulicate-recs | M | 26k - (so cute and soft and sweet!!! louis and harry were both angels and IAN <3 little cutie!!! so proud of you hanis!)

Louis always gets distracted with his mummy duty and he eventually catches Harry's attention.

✰ But It’s Useless by @thinlinez | E | 26k - (this put such a big smile on my face!! so cute and lovely!! louis was a relatable and adorable menace and harry was a smitten idiot but they both got there in the end!!)

Omega Louis would never guess that he would be trying to hack into Alpha Harry's Wifi. That is until everything changes when he tries to get to know his enemy.

✰ Stuck On You by Writewhatiwant | E | 34k - (so so sweet! loved the aspect of stickers in this fic and how louis found joy in them!! really loved how both louis and harry (especially harry) grew throughout this story and how they found peace at the end!)

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

✰ smoke between your teeth by @soldouthaz | E | 37k - (i think everyone knows how much i adore sarah and her fics but this one just might be a new favorite! loved all the psych stuff, the pining, the rom-com worthy confession <3 brilliant!)

Louis tries to stop his addiction to cigarettes and discovers he's been addicted to Harry for much, much longer.

✰ Your Life Worth Walking on a Bright Morning by @helloamhere | T | 38k - (part three of this series) (it just keeps getting better and better <3 so comforting and consistent and beautiful!)

For all its complexity, Louis sometimes reminded himself, life could always be simplified into a series of forks in the road. Even overwhelmingly big things were survivable when you broke them down to their choice. One path or the other, left or right.

✰ On The Edge by @zanniscaramouche | E | 47k - (so crazy good!! zanni is always amazing me!! loved the ice skating, the hockey, the misunderstandings, the multi-faced and beautiful characters and relationships - all so perfect!)

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.

Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.

A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

✰ made for lovin’ you by @cuddlerlouis | E | 53k - (loved this so much!! touch depri/accidental bonds are my favorite and this was no exception!!! the characterizations, the tension, the misunderstandings, the tenderness, the fluff!!! so good!)

A quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.

✰ social cues by @outropeace | E | 56k - (so fucking good!! the slow burn in this was impeccable!!! pair it with friends with benefits, mutual pining, angst, misunderstandings... amazing <3)

To Harry, Louis was becoming as tangible and essential as music in his life. He still was a mystery but at the same time, he was one of the most real things Harry had. He just hoped he could live up to the image Louis probably had in his mind of him.

He could play the part, after all, what was published of him wasn’t as detached from reality. He didn’t think of himself as a rockstar cliche, although he couldn't deny he did sleep around, partied a lot, and did some drugs. But then again, wasn’t that what the majority of his friends back in his hometown were doing at college?

Harry wanted to impress Louis, he didn’t want to disappoint or leave his expectations unfulfilled, so he’d give him the full rockstar experience.

It was a very simple plan, what could possibly go wrong?

✰ dripping like spider milk by @raspberryoatss | E | 64k - (pip amazing me with her talent? a common occurrence. this was so wonderfully written and so well done!! loved the characterizations, the dynamic, the angst, the miscommunication, the pining, the HUMOR!!! it was all so amazing!!)

When he sees the alpha, his brown hair curling around the top of his neck and his broad back that’s filled out over the past couple of years, Louis freezes for a moment. The alpha turns around, Louis’ surprised expression mirrored on his own for a fraction of a second before he schools it into a big, yet shy grin and a wave of his huge hand. With his nostrils flared, Louis knows that he can smell him, too.

They never hired alphas, except for—

“Harry.”

✰ a taste of freedom and sweetened passion by @tomlinvelvetfics | M | 74k - (okay technically haven’t finished reading this one yet but i want to get this up early and i already know this is amazing because it’s LATE and she’s incredible!!! and, i mean, anne of green gables?? abo?? best birthday gift ever!! will be spending the day reading this in bliss <3)

“Are you mad?” he explodes, throwing his hands up, groaning. “I was so, so close to reaching my goal, and your stupid, stalking ass had to creep up on me, hm?”

Harry is trying to keep his laughter in, walking closer to him, eyes soft. He doesn’t like the way those eyes make him feel, an odd, dangerous mix of nervous and flustered, so he bends down to pick up the books, raising an eyebrow when Harry growls in protest.

“I wanted to pick them up for you,” the alpha pouts, and Louis glares at him, getting into position and lowering the pile of yellowed pages over the top of his head.

“I’m a functional human being, thank you very much,” he grits out as he begins to walk and mentally count the amount of steps he takes. One, two, three, for heaven’s sake Harry fuck off!, four, five. He doesn’t let himself be distracted as the alpha walks along with him despite the slow pace, green eyes focused on him in a way that would, in any other cases, compelled him to throw a book in the alpha’s face.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t do it and certainly doesn’t want to think about the reason, whatever it might be.

If you read any of these lovely fics, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

#fic recs #my fic recs #28th appreciation #2020 recs #december recs #december 2020 recs

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shireness-says · 4 years

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Birthday fic recs: @welllpthisishappening

It was @welllpthisishappening‘s birthday yesterday! Laura is consistently one of my favorite authors, and a dear friend to boot. So, for her birthday, I’d like to recommend some of her deep-cut, hidden gem fics - favorites of mine I think everyone should be reading all the time. Go read them and check out her seriously impressive fic page. The organization is downright inspiring.

Thank you for your friendship and your fics and your willingness to listen to me have a conniption about not-your-hockey-team, darling - I hope the next year gives you all the joy that you deserve!

Start Spreading the News

Emma Swan is just looking for something that’s hers. She’s fairly certain she’s found it in New York, with a group of friends and a good job and picture frames on her apartment walls. But then the past she’s spent so long trying to ignore shows up where she least expects to find it – wearing pinstripes in right field at Yankee Stadium.

More Famous Than A Yankee Can

He knows it’s not a dream. He’s had this dream before. Finding her again and talking to her again and wearing pinstripes. They usually aren’t all the same dream. So this has to be real. But the last place Killian Jones ever expected to see Emma Swan was while he was wearing those pinstripes. With her standing on the bleachers in Yankee Stadium.

I’ve read these fics three times this year. Maybe four. I love it every time - there’s romantic type miracles and pining and fate and I can’t resist it. It’s everything you need to cheer yourself up in these weird stressful times. Every time I read one these, I immediately have to go tell Laura that it’s So Good because I just can’t resist. That good.

What Used to Be Limes

Killian Jones is ready for his rookie season in the NHL. He's got a hell of a shot. An almost acceptable amount of confidence. And a roommate he doesn't want to check. Plus, his best friend. Who he's hopelessly in love with.

A Rooting Interest

Emma's only doing Ruby a favor. And playing bartender is kind of funy — especially when the guy in front of her keeps smiling and looking up how to make drinks. She doesn't want to make a fool of herself. That seems inevitable, though. Once he leaves the tip. Two tickets to a hockey game. And the good-looking guy from the bar turns out to be the star of the New York Rangers.

Look, obviously Laura has proved she’s the master of hockey fics with her Blue Line stuff. But! These are a great pair of hockey fics not from that ‘verse. Disaster rookies! Emma who doesn’t know a thing about hockey! Flirting galore! If you haven’t read these already - you need to get on that right away. And then join me in my quest to remind Laura that if she ever has hockey feelings that don’t fit into Blue Line, she could totally add on to these ‘verses and no one would complain. Or at least I wouldn’t.

Feeling As Good As Love

Emma is excited about this weekend. It's always good — this thing they do, with the house and the ocean and the friendship that seems to stand the test of time. But now, there's an added bonus. Because this year she and Killian aren't just coming to the house on the beach with that friendship moniker hanging over them. They're coming as a couple. A real couple. That kisses. Regularly. And Emma's excited about that too. She just didn't expect her friends not to believe her.

I am, admittedly, biased, because I all but demanded that Laura write this. But that’s only because it’s so up her alley, as demonstrated by the masterpiece that ensued. The banter! The cliches list! Emma’s righteous (and warranted) anger! It’s everything the prompt demanded and more than I could have imagined. Perfect.

In Case of Emergency, Call...

Killian Jones does several things on Thanksgiving: breaks his ankle, meets a very loud redhead in the ER, tells his best friend he loves her. None of them were part of his plan. The plan only involved cookies.

This is a little bit of an odd one - because Emma’s not even there for half the fic. But her presence and her absence and her impact is just so palpable. That pining, man! I live for that pining. The best kind of friends-to-lovers, with plenty of Killian and Ariel banter and a little dose of fake married because why not. What else could you ask for?

Gone the Way of the Dinosaurs

Emma doesn't entirely understand the town of Storybrooke. It is, apparently, the kind of place with story time at the library and spring festivals on Friday night and unfairly attractive people with blue eyes who know all the words to the dinosaur song her kid is also inexplicably singing. She doesn't understand the town of Storybrooke yet, but maybe Emma is willing to do a little research.

I love librarian!Killian. I love tiny!Henry. Put them together? I’m a sucker for it. It reads so believably, both for Emma and for Storybrooke. And I think Laura might have been channeling her own shoe collection, which I find so charming. And you can learn about dinosaurs! And what names they have! Read it in the name of paleontology.

Wrap Around Your Dreams

Emma Swan is not a very good witch. She’s emotional and prone to immediate reactions and neither one of those things are currently helping her when the body count in Storybrooke is on the rise. And there’s far too much blood at each crime scene and far too much magic and Emma has no idea where to look next. So she does the almost human thing; she starts making a list. Of clues and ideas and the absolute desperate hope that the killer isn’t what she’s certain it absolutely has to be. The last thing she expects is for the notebook to start writing back.

This is a perfect Halloween-type fic. I love epistolary fics and pen pal fics, but I’ve never seen anything like this before or since. The idea of them reaching out across all kinds of magical barriers because fate just gets me, man. Plus, the suspense is absolutely palpable. And the ending! Perfect. Another of my regular rereads.

All Was Golden In The Sky

Magic is dying. Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away. To New York City. And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

I was just enthralled the whole time this was posting. There were so many twists and turns, but everything still weaves together absolutely perfectly. Plus, canon has been adapted so well in this. I don’t even know how to start describing this fic - but trust me, you’ve got to read it.

Out Of The Frying Pan

Emma Swan is only doing this for one reason, well, make that two. To get her show's numbers back up and, maybe, impress her son. She doesn't like admitting to that second one though. Killian Jones is doing this for absolutely, positively, just one reason. To expand his restaurant. And maybe get Regina off his back. So that's kind of two reasons. Neither one of them is doing a year-long Food Network all-star competition because they're celebrity chefs and there's not really any other choice. Of course not. And neither one of them is enjoying it because they maybe, kind of, sort of enjoy each other. That would be insane.

Ok, this one may not be that overlooked as much as it’s my FAVORITE THING ON THE PLANET. This is a perfect fic. Every time she posts another sequel one-/two-shot, my heart sings. It’s so good. The way Laura paints this competition, and lets everything grow over the course of weeks and month, is perfect - plus, there’s all the romance and Captain Cobra feels you could ever want. If you haven’t read this yet - Get On It Today.

Check out her fics on Tumblr and Ao3, and make sure to give her and them lots of love!

#happy birthday babe friend #welllpthisishappening #cs fic recs

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weirdcanucks · 4 years

Audio

Highlighting Canucks Podcasts #2 - Area 51 Hockey Podcast

Here is an excerpt from Area 51 Hockey Podcast in which guest Brock McGillis discussed in length about the concrete steps to change hockey culture. I transcribed this powerful message. Listen to the full episode where McGillis shared his journey from closeted goaltender in OHL, to the verge of suicide, to becoming an influential advocate for the LGBTQ+ community here 🎧[x]

Sam If Hockey Canada or any one of those leagues were to, say, hire you in the role that Kim Davis kind of has in the NHL, but with more concrete actions than I think Davis has been able to do in the NHL, what what are kind of the first things you would do in that role?

Brock McGillis I would recognize all the issues. I think that is the first step. You need to recognize all the issues. And in terms of social issues and why they exist. And I've already thought this all through, and I know them all. Hockey is incredibly insular, arguably of all sports, maybe the most insular. And let's keep it to male team sports for now. Most sports are played at schools. Hockey is not. Even school teams don't play at school. Hockey is played when you sent off to arenas, when you're isolated in arenas. And then if we take like elite hockey, let's say you're matched up based off your age group. So from the age of 7, through the age of 15, you're with essentially the same kids six nights a week for eight or nine months of the year. And with the same coaches in a room who came from the same culture. And you're together there more than you are with your family, than anywhere else besides maybe school. And even at school, most of them go to school together and hang out with hockey players at school. So you have this insular environment and the way the culture is set up right now, they tend to majority come from similar socioeconomic backgrounds, are predominantly white. They are presumed to be straight and all these things. So let's just take that. So from the age of seven, you start talking the same walking, the same dressing, same because you're around each other so much. And we've known society people become products of their environment.

So you grew up, then by the time you hit 16, you moved away from home. I don't know any other sports where that happens. You are that young. So you move away from home or as consistently as in hockey. You move to this new community with 22 other hockey players who have moved away from home into this community and each other essentially. And now you're together seven days a week and you're out the arena even longer. And then you're traveling around the province or whatnot, northern the United States or in the WHL across multiple provinces. And you're together all the time. So once again, that culture of the language you use, the way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... you're going to start to mimic each other. It's normal and it influences the older players, influences the younger players, just like in minor hockey. The culture is continuously copied and the cycle is vicious. And they're also influenced by the coaches who came from the same culture and management who talk the same way, dress the same way, act the same way, etc. Then once they hit like Junior and whatnot, they go home in their off season. And who are they going to hang out with? Their buddies they grew up with. And the only people they really spent time with are the hockey players they've hung out with since they were seven. And they're going to train for hockey, then go back and do it again the next year. And it's over and over and over. That's the reason why they're not exposed to anything else. And they're taught put your head down, worry about hockey. You're not allowed to have hobbies. It's very conformist. You're not allowed to enjoy anything else besides hockey. And in locker rooms, all you can talk about are partying girls and hockey when you're a teenager. So you have that aspect. OK. So that's kind of the root reason why this exists. And then you see the social issues are the biggest problems and hurdles in hockey culture.

OK, to recognize each one. And then what do you do? In my opinion, you start off by humanizing them. We're seeing society right now through the Black Lives Matter movement that even hockey players are speaking out publicly. Something that they kind of knew existed but didn't know because players probably didn't say how racist the sport and culture is to them, because they have either conformed or afraid to, in a sense don't really speak out on matters because then they are "the other" and they are seen as different. So they kind of have to fly under the radar. Same as being gay. But we're seeing in society that when things have been humanized for these players, they've spoken on it. So you need to humanize it, and I think the easiest way to humanize these things are taking hockey people who have the lived experience within the sport to humanize it. I'm very fortunate that I am masculine presenting, I am cis gender, I am a white man who happens to be gay that grew up in hockey culture and also worked in hockey culture afterwards. So I can infiltrate that culture very easily. And so when I go into a room and speak to players, it may have and it's sad to say, but it's just reality, a little more impact than somebody who's never been in the culture trying to talk about being gay in hockey, and the impact of being gay in society and the language we use and and whatnot. So we need people with the lived experience within it, who understand it, to humanize the issues for the masses within the sport and for the parents and for the coaches. Because then once it's humanized, hockey people are softies. They act like these tough, rugged, hypermasculine men, but they're actually real soft. And you can tug at their heartstrings and you can pull at them a little bit. And when you do, they become more engaged. They'll be willing to learn. You just got to teach them why they need to learn.

And we haven't done that, so that would be my first step. And then from there and take educators like Courtney, educators like Cheryl MacDonald, like, there's so many out there who study the different areas within the sport of hockey. And they're not utilized. They're not utilized by the culture. And it's so foolish to me that we have people in Canada who study this stuff for a living and are the best in their fields. And hockey isn't utilizing them? So from there, after you humanize the issue, you have academics that can put the programs together in a manner because they've been in the culture that people will relate to it, want to learn it and be a part of it, instead these stupid videos.

Then once we've done that, we have to break the conformity of the sport. So one exercise I do when I go into locker room after humanized through my story, my struggle and how I empowered myself, et cetera. I do a little breakout where I will try and break the conformity by saying, "OK, you tell me that you're going to fight together and you're there for each other. They're your bros. Yet all you're allowed to talk about are women, partying and sports. Share something with me you wouldn't typically tell a teammate that you enjoy." So I started thinking about it and I did a podcast with Ben Fanelli and Ben's really insightful guy. You should read his story sometime, if you don't know. It's pretty fascinating. And I said "Ben could imagine being in a locker room and reading a book for fun?" He's like, "oh my God, you'd be harassed." And like, “yeah, you'd be the fag.” He goes, "Yeah." And I start thinking about Dougie Hamilton. Dougie Hamilton is a six foot five defenseman who can skate, and he's a right handed shot, that should be every team's dream. He is a point per game defenseman in the NHL. He's been traded twice because he can't fit into the culture, because instead of going for beers and drinking and partying and all that, he enjoys reading. He enjoys museums. He loves history and art. Like when did knowledge and the pursuit of knowledge become a bad thing? But it is in this culture, which is one of the issues, which is why everyone's so fearful of allowing people like myself in, allowing the academics in, or allowing anyone else in to shift it. Because then where's their place? Right? So you need to break down those barriers of culture. So one time I went into, I had a player, say, a major junior team, a tough guy, stood up and said, "I love writing poetry." Then another kid stood up and said, "if I don't make the NHL, I want to be a zoologist." Then a first year player literally jumped out of his seat and said, "I love animal documentaries." And the coach stood up and said, "I love Broadway musicals. And my wife and I go to them every summer." Now they're bonding on a deeper level. Now, hopefully, if that continues, at some point, they can stand up and proudly talk about being Muslim in a locker room. Then the gay kid could stand up and say, I have a boyfriend, and we stop judging people for their differences and recognize we're all different. But we've conformed to a culture, because I know, personally, I can walk into any mall in Canada and I will tell you which kids play hockey. I go to school, as part of my speaking is going to schools because I am passionate about shifting culture within youth, because I think it's the only way we're going to ever fix things. And we saw it with the zoomers in Trump's rally the other day. It's phenomenal. But I think they're the ones who are going to fix humanity. And I actually ask questions. And when I do, I intentionally pick out the kids I know are hockey players, because I can tell looking at them and I go "you play hockey, right?” And they say, "yeah."

Then from there we have to put in better systems to evaluate coaches. Teachers have to go to school for how long to become a teacher to work with children. But these coaches spend as much, if not more time, and they take a little course online, like really? And they're influencing society and future generations? We have to invest more in the system we put in place or evaluating them. We should have people that are third party on each team, to ensure that nothing is done out of line with the coaches and we have to continue engaging with them and teaching them, because this can be more difficult for them because they're older. And they've been ingrained in this culture. Or, in this culture longer, it's ingrained in them.

Then after that, put rules in. After that, put punishments in. And suspension or fine is not gonna do anything. All you're doing is telling them just shut up so it won't be as obvert. But it's still going to exist. The problems will still exist. At that point, they should have to sit down with people either within the culture or the academics and do deeper dives into why this is happening and sit down with the parents and find out why they're making comments like this. Like I saw a video recently of Tony DeAngelo and and how his father said, "yeah, I said the same stuff." Well, we should sit down and help educate them so this doesn't exist any longer, instead of just a five games suspension and then they're back, and all of a sudden they're saying worse things. Or, for that matter, most of the time the suspensions aren't even called because referees and officials don't want to ruin kid's career and don't want to get this kid labeled or they may be homophobic, racist, sexist themselves. So they don't call it.

And so the whole culture has to be reformed. And I think those are the steps in reforming it. And if you do punishment first, which has been done or any leagues will argue they do. It doesn't work. It doesn't work! I've been looking at this every day for four years. And this is the only path I see the shifting in it. And it seems it's doable. Why wouldn't it be? They charge thousands and thousands of dollars. You can't put money towards this? And investing in people's futures?

#nhl #hockey #hockey culture #lgbtq #brock mcgillis #canucks podcasts

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smokedcapybara · 6 years

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People thought Jack and Bitty disappeared because of the narrative weight of the reveal and the fact that the author hyped it as some big mystery. "Where's Jack & Bitty!!!!" sounds like something big is going on. The answer being "asleep in bed" is an utterly boring answer that in no way furthers the plot, generates conflict to be overcome, or develops the characters.

I’m very confused about getting this now when the two posts I’ve made about the subject were two weeks ago and six months ago

tbh I’d rather not respond to this but it’s a better option than leaving it in my inbox to cause anxiety and I don’t like deleting asks

I don’t know why you’ve sent me this now, unless you only just saw one of my posts about it? and the way it’s phrased isn’t the easiest for my autism and anxiety to interpret, emotion-wise, so while I’d like to assume you’re just trying to inform someone who admitted to being confused my brain is trying to see it as some kind of accusation or something

I am and have been completely aware of everything said in this ask

though personally I feel like them disappearing mysteriously would not actually further the plot, seeing as the base plot has always been college life, college hockey, and being gay and if they did disappear for the whole time there were no tweets it would in fact completely change two of the three base plots, not further them

them being in bed may not generate new conflict but it also doesn’t dispel and/or put of the resolutions of all the conflicts already building like them disappearing would have. them disappearing would have completely thrown the conflict of Jack becoming the first out nhl player and addressing the press on the subject, it would’ve put off Bitty’s inevitable conversation with his mom indefinitely, and it would likely have rendered pointless the tension she built in the scene with Kent seeing their public kiss, all for a pointless overhaul of the plot for the purpose of empty conflict and ‘development’

and it definitely wouldn’t actually give the characters as much chance for growth or development since it would just be them once again avoiding their problems instead of facing them

also I don’t think the actual answer was ‘utterly boring’, though different people do find different things boring

and to be completely honest I don’t think Ngozi was trying to hype it as a mystery so much as build tension, and the fandom all hopped on the idea that they were missing and hyped it up

I will admit it’s very possible that I only see it that way because I myself am a writer and would likely have done the exact same in her position and I know that sometimes as a writer it’s hard to see stories(especially your own) through the eyes of the readers

I know in my original post on the subject I started by saying ‘one thing that confuses me’, I did not mean that I didn’t know how everyone reached the conclusions they reached, more that I don’t fully understand why it seemed like nobody really considered any other possibilities

sure, I get that ‘they ran off’/’they’re in hiding’ were big fun dramatic theories but neither of them would have actually made sense with the trajectory and base plots of the comic, and yes, big dramatic theories are great and I love them, but sometimes you have to look at the trajectory and base plot and think ‘is this really the most likely outcome? if I were writing this what would I do?’

and the two don’t have to exist mutually exclusive of each other! you can have a big fun dramatic theory and a most likely outcome theory, enjoy one while allowing yourself the possibility that the writer is in fact sensible and actually knows something about consistent base plots and building tension(which Ngozi definitely does), just try not to create a massive fanwide freak-out over only considering your big fun dramatic theory

(also, people who follow me have probably noticed I start a lot of posts with ‘__ thing confuses me - here’s a brief(or not so brief) analysis. it’s not cause the actual thing in question confuses me and more the lack of similar analysis to my own or something like that(which is a big part of why I’m assuming whoever sent this anon does not in fact follow me, which is upsetting cause it means the chances of them seeing my response is very small))

(if you’re gonna send a message like this to someone you don’t follow don’t do it on anon, you won’t know if they respond and nothing about your own knowledge base will change, it’s much better to allow for a conversation or a sharing of knowledge and perspective to be opened than to just send someone anon using terms like ‘utterly boring’ and ‘in no way’ and causing them anxiety over whether you’re just trying to start something or they somehow offended you or what(I do not handle absolutes, especially negative ones, well at all, they tend to cause serious anxiety for me))

#check please

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megaphonemonday · 7 years

Text

but everyone notices

@hermiginnyharvelle: I may or may not have been rewatching Deathly Hallows and now I reeeeeally need a "help I can't zip up my dress/oh shit I'm zipping up her dress and I'm in love with her oh noooooo"

like i needed any more reasons to get emotional staring at kylie bunbury red carpet pictures...

read on ao3

Intellectually, Ginny understands why the ESPYs always come the Wednesday following the All-Star Game. It’s pure practicality. No one’s playing any games. Baseball's in its midseason break. The NBA, NFL, and NHL are all in their off seasons. High school and college athletes are on summer vacation.

Everyone’s schedule is wide open; a true rarity in the world of sports.

The logic of it all is easy. She’d never argue otherwise.

That doesn’t mean she has to like it.

Because on this particular Wednesday following the All-Star Game, Ginny Baker is exhausted.

Right now, nothing sounds better than going home to her condo—sparsely furnished as it is, it has her own bed, which is really all she wants. Doing nothing but sleep and have food delivered to her for the next 48 hours sounds too good to be true.

Because, of course, it is.

It doesn’t matter how much Miami had taken it out of her.

True, there wasn’t much work for her to do during the All-Star Game itself—she’d considered herself lucky to stay on the mound for a whole inning—but the media circus leading up to it was a grind all its own. (How’s her arm doing? Is she feeling 100% again? What does she think of the trade rumors? How does she like the Padres’ shot at the postseason?) Between Work Out Day and the Home Run Derby and the interminable red carpet before the game even started, Ginny’d been interviewed and filmed and photographed until she was sure she was more soundbite than real person.

Suffice it to say: if she never sees another camera or microphone or tape recorder in her life, she’ll die a happy woman.

But try telling her agent that the media market is fully saturated when it comes to the Ginny Baker Brand™. Going to the ESPYs—even if she is nominated—and walking the red carpet—posing for the flock of vultures and their flashbulbs—isn’t going to change that. Anyway, surely there was such a thing as too much press coverage, right?

(When Ginny hopefully offered up this argument, Amelia stared at her for a full minute, like the suggestion was so utterly foreign she couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around it. It’d been enough to get Ginny to reluctantly backpedal and agree to go.)

Well, there’s no pulling out now. Not when she’s already all made up, hair done, requisite Instagram post already making the rounds on the internet. It hardly matters that she won’t win. There’s nothing Ginny can do to get out of this now.

Although, she thinks, considering the height of the heels she’s supposed to put on, maybe I can fake a rolled ankle...

Ginny sighs and sluggishly pulls her dress off its hanger even as she tells herself it’s better not to get any of the club’s trainers involved in a lie to the entire sports media industry. Her fingers skim over the dark fabric at the waist, and she regrets that something so undeniably pretty only fills her with annoyance. She can’t count the number of times just today she’s shaken her head at the body-hugging number, but Ginny’d bowed to Amelia and Evelyn’s superior fashion sense before. There's no reason not to do it now.

At least Evelyn had made most of today pretty fun. Even if it wasn’t being back home in San Diego, pigging out on Postmates-delivered Korean barbecue in bed, Ginny had to admit her friend had a knack for making the most out of a less than ideal situation. They giggled and gossiped and goofed off, fitting in the necessary beauty routines in between pitchers of bloody marys and terrible pay-per-view movies. Almost before she even realized it was happening, Evelyn had transformed her into the Red Carpet Ready Ginny Baker™ it seemed like everyone wanted to see.

Now that Ginny was alone again, having sent Evelyn off towards her own room, tipsy and belting out “I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” it was a little harder for her to be caught up in the moment.

All Ginny had now was her exhaustion, general annoyance with the situation, and this ridiculous dress to put on.

It would be a shame to miss out if Blip and Mike end up taking home the award for Best Play, she tells herself, stepping into the mostly unzipped dress and tugging it up her body.

Idly, she wonders what they’ll think when they see her in this. Well. What one of them will think.

It’s an intrusive thought, but similar enough to the kind Ginny’s gotten pretty used to dealing with over the past months. Her inconvenient attraction to Mike Lawson hasn’t gone anywhere. Not over the offseason, not during Spring Training, and certainly not over the front half of the regular season. Going to Miami with him, the only Padres reps for the All-Star Game, certainly hadn’t helped.

The fact that he hadn’t asked any questions, hardly even complained, when she—more than once, too—used him as a human shield with the roving pack of reporters didn’t make Ginny any more aware of what she feels. She’s been uncomfortably aware of that since before she got that text on her first date with Noah. His teasing grin, even as he kept shifting to provide her with better cover, however, was enough to make her seriously consider actually doing something about it, damn the consequences.

In return, that was more than enough to send Ginny into something of a tailspin. She’d done her best to avoid him while she recalibrated, but it was an essentially impossible effort. She and Mike share pretty much everything, even when it’s not just them stuck in Miami together. Dugout, hotel, rides to the airport; avoidance wasn’t in the cards. Then, of course, their seats on the red eye into LA were right next to each other. Ginny hadn’t let herself fall asleep for fear she’d wake up propped against Mike’s shoulder just as she has on so many other flights. Hell, only a hallway separates their rooms here in LA.

And now, not even two days after that realization, she’s got to go walk the red carpet with him.

All right. Maybe her reluctance isn’t just media-induced.

Ginny holds the neckline in place and admires the effect in the full length mirror. It’s a little difficult since a certain amount of her brainpower is currently dedicated to thoughts of dark beards framing pink mouths. Still, she soldiers on. Amelia and Evelyn had definitely known what they were doing, picking out this dress, even if it’s a little racier than Ginny usually wears for public events. The lack of straps is worrying, but the sheer determination of the elastic in the fabric should be protection enough. Once it’s zipped and in place, she’s been assured, it won’t go anywhere.

It better not, at least. The last thing she needs is a very public wardrobe malfunction or someone to start the rumor that Ginny Baker doesn’t believe in bras. It’s not her fault the scant material at her chest won’t allow for one.

Reaching around for the zipper, Ginny resolves to go to the ESPYs and have—if not a good time—at least an okay one. If she can make it through the night without embarrassing herself, she’ll call it a success. Then, she can go back to San Diego and cry with relief when the only journalists she has to talk to are the familiar Padres beat reporters.

But first, she really needs to get dressed.

Which, she realizes with a frown as she tugs again at the zipper to no avail, might prove harder than she’d first assumed.

There aren’t any buttons or snaps or ties to hold the thing closed, after all. Just a long zipper from the hem all the way up the back of the dress. Ginny is fully capable of handling a zipper on her own.

Or she’d thought she was.

Struggling to crane around and catch sight of where she’d gone wrong, Ginny huffs in frustration. At least Amelia wasn’t wrong when she’d said the stupid thing wasn’t going anywhere. She can’t get the fabric to stop clinging long enough to shimmy it around to get a better view of the problem. Even if she does manage to get the zipper somewhere she can see it, there’s no reason to believe she could get the damn thing turned back the right way once she fixes it.

Why did she ever agreed to wear this dress?

Flopping in defeat onto her suite’s couch, Ginny picks up her phone.

please come help me, she types to Evelyn, willing to take a little teasing if it means arriving to the ESPYs fully clothed, zipper stuck

Since Evelyn had only departed the suite to, “Make sure my husband isn’t going to embarrass me,” Ginny’s sure she’ll be rescued in no time. It’s not as if Blip, who loves clothes and getting dressed up as much as his wife does, is at risk of embarrassing anyone.

Then again, Evelyn had been belting Whitney as she left, and while Ginny would never admit to knowing this, she has it on good authority that Whitney is a foolproof way to get her friend feeling a little frisky...

Shaking off any consideration of Blip and Ev’s sex life, Ginny tells herself that any minute, Evelyn will be at the door. She’ll fix her dress and reassure her that everything is going to be be fine like the perfect fairy godmother/best friend she is.

And she won’t be at all annoyed because Ginny definitely hadn’t interrupted her debauching her husband.

When the knock comes, Ginny bounds up from her slump, softly sculpted curls bouncing against her bare shoulders.

“Jesus, Ev. Why would you let Amelia pick this thing? How am I supposed to keep my tits in here?” Ginny’s complaining before she even opens the door. When she does, though, she halts in her tracks, blinking in disbelief and feeling like the floor cannot swallow her whole fast enough. “You’re not Evelyn.”

“Uh, no,” Mike replies after a long moment in which his gaze rakes over her, more than a little dazed. He shakes himself and continues, “But she did brief me. Some sort of fashion emergency?”

Belatedly, Ginny’s hands fly to her chest. Jesus. How close had she come to flashing whoever was in the hall? Never mind that the hallway beyond her team captain is blissfully empty. It’s easier to worry about that than the obvious.

“So she sent you?”

What was Evelyn thinking? Sending Mike over to Ginny to deal with a wardrobe malfunction? She knows—

It dawns on Ginny. She knows.

He rolls his eyes, clearly taking her emphasis for disdain. If only it were that simple. “I’ve been told I clean up pretty well.”

Mike certainly isn’t wrong. He fills out his light gray, summer-weight suit to perfection. The crisp white shirt beneath his jacket stretches ever so slightly across his broad chest, a blue tie concealing whether or not the buttons are under any strain.

A little—large—part of Ginny thrills at his appearance. It isn’t just that the gray of his suit picks up on the lighter strands shot through his beard—is he going gray?—or that the subtle plaid of the fabric is practically begging her fingers to trace over each and every line.

No, it has far more to do with the fact that they match. They go together, even. Sure, Ginny’s heels—still sitting neglected in their box—are a much darker blue than either Mike’s tie or pocket square, and his suit is closer to monochrome than the ombré effect on her dress, but who cares? They complement each other. They match.

Or, they will once Ginny’s actually dressed.

“So,” he drawls, shifting a little awkwardly as the silence stretches out, “what’s the problem?”

Ginny would gesture if she weren’t worried removing her hands from the top of the dress would treat Mike to an eyeful.

And if Mike ever does get an eyeful, it certainly won’t be because of a wardrobe malfunction, she thinks. Then, tacks on more honestly, Or when we have to make a public appearance within the hour.

Without betraying that bit of inner monologue, she keeps both arms clasped over her chest to hold the fabric in place, and steps aside to let him in. Better to discuss this out of the hallway, where anyone could overhear and leap to conclusions.

“The zipper’s just stuck,” she says, keeping her back to the wall as Mike comes inside and closes the door. Ginny is suddenly and entirely too aware of just how much of her bare back is exposed and how unprepared she is for Mike to see it. She’d managed to get the zipper up over the curve of her ass, but not much further. “No big deal. I can wait for Evelyn.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle a zipper,” he replies, sounding far too amused for her comfort.

Ginny doesn’t chew on her lip as she thinks, but only because she doesn’t want to reapply her lipstick when she inevitably scrapes it all off. This is decidedly not how she’d pictured Mike first helping her with her clothes.

For one thing, she never imagined him helping her put them on.

Mike lifts a brow and all bets are off. She’s never been able to back down from a challenge. Even when she knows she should.

“Okay,” she agrees, nodding decisively and taking a step toward him. She can’t quite keep the bait out of her tone. “If you say so.”

With that, Ginny closes the distance and turns her back on her captain. She doesn’t think she imagines his sharp inhale or the long pause before his fingers brush across the top of her shoulders, sweeping her hair out of the way. Ginny doesn’t complain even though there’s nothing for it to get in the way of.

If anything, she wants to beg for more.

So, of course, his hands disappear from her skin. The disappointment that crashes through her is nearly physical, but thankfully brief. Ginny has to brace herself when they reappear at the small of her back, where the two sides of the dress refuse to come together. It’s just a slight pressure, the faint suggestion of warmth through fabric, but it’s enough to tell her where all of Mike’s attention is currently focused.

Her eyes flutter closed at the slightly too sharp tug down that dislodges the zipper from where it’d gone astray. How far did he unzip? Can he see the top of her underwear? Ginny thinks the ragged exhale she hears is answer enough.

At least it’s nice underwear, she finds herself thinking, aiming for detached but veering dangerously close to giddy.

She breathes deep, more than a little disappointed, when Mike rights his course and slides the zip up its track. One knuckle drags featherlight along her spine before, the cloth closing together behind.

Finally, though it really can’t have taken that long, he reaches the end of the line, just below Ginny’s shoulder blades. His knuckles brush against her skin and over the fabric, making sure it lays flat.

His thumb sketches a gentle arc, just where her skin disappears beneath the dress. Ginny can’t help but shiver, toes curling against the soft carpeting.

Nonetheless, Mike doesn’t pull his hand away.

Nor does he when Ginny turns, stepping into his bulk rather than away as she should. His hand remains high on her back as she tips her face up to him, lips parted and eyes wide.

Suddenly, Ginny’s not too worried about reapplying her lipstick.

Mike looks back, a flush riding high on his cheekbones. His gaze roams hungrily over her face, the hand on her back encouraging her closer.

Ginny feels like she can’t breathe. But unlike her panic attacks, she leans into this dizzy uncertainty. She lays a hand on Mike’s arm, sliding up the smooth arm of his jacket and coming to a stop at his brawny shoulder.

Just as she’s resolved to rock in and snap the thin thread of her self-control, code and potential lipstick smudges be damned, three sharp raps sound at the door.

Mike and Ginny don’t move. Aside from the slight widening of their eyes, both remain stock still, breath mingling in the scant space still separating them. Even after another flurry of knocks, they stare at one another, far too aware of the line they’ve nearly crossed.

Still want to cross, in fact.

Just as Mike’s eyes dip back to Ginny’s mouth and he leans in, though, the knocking graduates to yelling through the locked door.

“G?” Blip calls, sounding only slightly harried. “Ev wants you to know the car’s downstairs, and if you’re not in the lobby in five minutes, she’s leaving without you.”

It’s enough to pop the bubble.

Ginny clears her throat, and locking eyes with Mike—her friend, her teammate, her something—she takes a step back.

They can’t be doing this. Not now.

Not for a long while, yet.

Disappointment flashes through his eyes, but he still nods and takes his own step back, too.

“Got it, Blip,” she calls back. “Meet you down there.”

He must agree because Mike and Ginny are left in her too quiet suite with nothing to distract them from what they’d nearly done.

Well, Ginny can’t have that. Not if she’s going to spend the evening being filmed and photographed in this man’s company, her every move picked apart and dissected by morning. It’s bad enough that she’s got her own intrusive thoughts, but to know that Mike’s got them, too, that there’s some serious overlap between his and hers, it’s too much.

So, Ginny does the only thing she can; she pretends nothing’s happened.

She whirls through the suite, collecting her clutch and phone and emergency snacks, checking over her appearance one last time as she fastens the buckles of her shoes, puts on the loaner jewelry Amelia’d scored, and generally pretends Mike isn’t even there. Which is difficult when he insists on staring after her in amused befuddlement. If Ginny spends any time appreciating the adorable little frown furrowing his brow, Evelyn and Blip really will leave without them before she gets her mind back on track.

When she feels prepared to do more than steal glances at him in the mirror—as prepared as three minutes will buy her, at least—Ginny turns back to Mike and pastes a bright smile on her face.

“Ready to go?”

His eyes sweep over her form, but it isn’t the reckless perusal it’d been when she first opened the door. No, this is slightly more concerned, a cautious once over to make sure she really is all right, and not just faking it. It’s the same look he sometimes gives her on the field, when he thinks she’s lying about having more in the tank. Ginny allows her grin to turn a little more sheepish, uncertain. Mike softens.

“Yeah, Baker,” he replies. “Let’s get outta here.”

They manage to put up a fairly normal front for their fellow passengers, not that Blip and Evelyn make it hard. They squabble good-naturedly about who deserves to win which awards, seeming to draw both Ginny and Mike into the conversation effortlessly.

Maybe it even is effortless. Maybe it’s just unthinking and automatic, their desire to engage with their friends on their way to what should be an exciting night.

Ginny, however, has her doubts.

She knows Ev’s calculating face—has been treated to it more times than she can count over the years—and her expression the whole ride is awfully familiar. Evelyn definitely clocks Mike’s lingering frown, and the way she’s eyeing the careful space Ginny’s left on the bench between her captain’s thigh and hers isn’t comforting. If Blip notices anything, he’s got a better poker face than his wife.

When Ev ushers her husband out of the car first claiming she wants, “A few goddamn shots of just us before Lawson the camera hog makes an appearance,” and Blip doesn’t complain, though, Ginny knows Sherlock Sanders has struck again.

She tries to appreciate the sight of her friend cowing the photo pool into turning their attention away from Michael Phelps and onto some Blip Sanders, but it’s hard when she’s entirely too aware of the man sitting next to her. He’d slid an inch closer to her when the limo stopped, so now she’s viscerally aware—just like she’s aware of the exact feel of his jacket beneath her fingertips and the way his cologne still lingers in her nose—of his warmth radiating into her.

So why are her arms covered in goosebumps?

“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging her softly with his elbow. Ginny frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He nudges her again, and she shifts, cocking her head to show she’s listening, even if her eyes are still focused out the window. She doesn’t think she can look him in the face and not kiss him, now. Not with his warm arm pressed against her and his dark eyes looking at her with such genuine concern.

Damn it. Even the reflection is too much.

Mike sighs, not quite loud enough to cover the faint rasp of his hands smoothing over the legs of his pants. “Talk to me, Baker.”

If it’d come out any less pleading, Ginny wouldn’t turn around. She would keep her attention on the mayhem outside, and pretend she’s just trying to center herself before wading in. It isn’t even completely untrue.

As it is, she turns to face him and can’t help but remember that the angle had been a little different back at the hotel. They’d faced each other head on there, and her eye line had been a little lower, level with the ticking tendon in his neck rather than the hints of gray framing his mouth.

But this is still too similar.

“What’s there to say, Lawson?”

“Don’t play the avoidance game. Not now.”

“Avoidance game?” she hedges, fingers worrying the hem of her dress. For all its cling, it sure can ride up her thigh.

Mike just shakes his head. “I know when you’re avoiding me, even when you’re right here. You’ve been doing it since Miami.”

She doesn’t protest. “Yeah,” Ginny agrees. Would it really help to tell him that she’d thought about kissing him, or more, in Miami? Will that make it easier on either of them? It seems unlikely. Nonetheless, she can’t stuff the words back into her mouth once she says, “Maybe today wasn’t the first time I thought—”

His eyes go wide even as his lips part in a disbelieving, reckless grin. His hand lands on top of her own, almost on the bare skin of her thigh, but that’s nothing compared to the way Mike’s looking at her right now.

Ginny swallows and forces herself to go on, “I thought about it. This. Even when I know we can’t.”

His smile doesn’t dim, but that seems to knock the air out of his sails. For a moment, Mike just studies her. Ginny can’t help but stare back, cataloguing every arch and curve of this face she already knows like her own. His hazel eyes caress her face, more tender than any touch. Finally, satisfied with whatever he’s seen, he blows out a long, unsteady breath. Ginny can certainly sympathize.

His head tilts a little to the side and his eyes go soft as he asks, “We’re good?”

“We’re good,” she promises, gaze dropping to her lap. To his big, callused hand covering hers.

This thing with Mike is hard and sometimes it’s scary as hell, but Ginny never doubts that their friendship, their connection on the field, comes first. It’ll take more than a few charged moments to throw them off their game.

Then again...

When Ginny finally looks back up at him, it takes a moment for his concern to dissolve away, but Mike is nothing if not excellent at hiding his misgivings. Sure enough, he smirks, a mischievous sparkle lighting up his eyes. He gives her fingers one last squeeze before letting them go.

“Good,” he drawls, making Ginny roll her eyes. If anything, his smirk just grows, which does nothing to dissuade Ginny from the dismaying opinion that smug looks really good on him. “I know we’re not talking about, well, any of this, but I’ve got something for you to keep in mind.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, she arches a brow and demands, “And what’s that?”

He leans in and brushes a rasping kiss against Ginny’s cheek. She freezes, too aware that all she needs to do is turn her face a few inches and she could be kissing Mike Lawson. Stubbornly, she remains stock still.

Ginny can feel, more than hear, his responding chuckle. “Any time you need some help with your zipper?” he murmurs, right into her ear and making goosebumps erupt across her skin. “I’m your guy.”

With that, he opens the car door and climbs out onto the red carpet, leaving behind one stunned teammate.

Alone in the back of the car, Ginny can’t help dissolve into laughter, maybe a little hysterical. Could anyone blame her, though?

Once she manages to reel her mind in from the tangent Mike has inspired, she sucks in a deep breath. She doesn’t bother convincing her lips to drop their grin, though. Much as she loves to imply otherwise, Mike’s outrageous self-confidence is irresistible. It's one of the things she—

Well. If she can’t even kiss the man, yet, she probably shouldn’t be thinking that.

Anyway, if he thought he’d gotten the last word in, he has another thing coming.

Stepping out onto the red carpet, making sure to shake her hair and smile dazzlingly only once she’s positive she has Mike’s attention, Ginny is very sure of that.

#bawson #bawson fic #pitch #pitch fic #i wrote something #i cut so much stuff out of #my second draft of this #it felt weird #but wow is editing my friend

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ghosthorse · 7 years

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Jack punches homophobes

Tonight I found a file in my drafts folder called “Jack punches homophobes.” I wrote this 5 months ago (there were a lot of posts about would Jack punch homophobes in the NHL going around at the time, and the consensus was yes), and I’m like 85% sure I was drunk at the time. The result (after a little editing, again, drunkenness, lots of typos) is the mess masterpiece you see before you.

Trigger warning: there are a fair amount of homophobic slurs in here, as you might have guessed.

The first time it happens, Jack is too shocked to react.

“Cocksucker,” the d-man sneers at him when they collide.

Jack had expected backlash after coming out, he’d known it wouldn’t be easy or painless, but so far it had all been from internet commenters. Nothing had prepared him for the face-to-face experience of it, in the middle of a game no less. The d-man skates away before he can pull himself together. He doesn’t play well for the rest of the game, and it’s a close loss, but it’s a loss nonetheless.

He can’t tell anyone else what happened, but Bitty pulls it out of him without even meaning to. The next weekend Bitty visits him in Providence, and Jack tries to put it behind him and just enjoy his time with his boyfriend, but he knows he must seem distracted and quiet. Bitty can tell something’s bothering him and it’s only a matter of time. They’re rolling out pie dough together, something that usually calms Jack down. It reminds him of those first times he’d cooked with Bitty at Samwell, barely able to recognize the feeling blooming in his chest and certainly not ready to put a name to it, and makes him think about the future, in a kitchen that’s not just his, but theirs. Today, though, he just can’t focus. Even when he’s not hearing the word rattling around inside his head or reliving the sneer, he still feels jittery and unsettled.

“Jack? Honey?” Bitty asks tentatively. Jack glances down and realizes he’s rolled the dough out to paper-thin consistency without meaning to. He looks up at Bitty, who’s biting his lip. “Sweetheart, if there’s anything you need to talk about—” he starts, but he doesn’t get any further before a sob rips out of Jack’s throat.

In an instant, Bitty is in his arms, and although Jack’s bigger he feels like Bitty’s the one enveloping him in a hug. He sobs, huge ugly gasping sobs, while Bitty strokes his hair and murmurs soothing nonsense into his ear. When he finally calms down, Bitty to lead him to the couch, and he explains. Bitty understands, and it’s clear to Jack, as it sometimes is when Bitty talks about his family, that he didn’t used to have that same understanding. Jack’s come out but they haven’t publicly announced their relationship, and Bitty hasn’t told them yet. Jack’s coming out to his parents was basically a non-event, overshadowed by so many other things going on in their lives, and certainly not formal, and his sexuality, whether in his own mind or in the minds of others, has always taken a backseat to a million other faults and criticisms. It turns out an intellectual understanding of homophobia isn’t at all the same as experiencing it himself. He feels fundamentally shaken by it, as unmoored as he had in the days after his overdose. But with his boyfriend holding his hand and telling him it’s going to be ok, and that they’re in this together, that feeling starts to dissipate.

Maybe it should feel odd to him, to have to look to Bitty for guidance, and advice, but it doesn’t.

He might have expected to feel out of control and scared, but it’s not like that at all. After a cup of hot cocoa, drunk while he watches Bitty finish the pie they’d been making, he realizes this rhythm they’ve settled into, this give and take, isn’t about anyone leading or following, but about them making their way together, hand in hand. He tries to tell Bitty as much with the soft touch of his hand on Bitty’s face while they’re cleaning up after dinner, with heated kisses at night and gentle ones in the morning, with the smiles that used to be so rare, but now he has to fight to hide sometimes. And he thinks Bitty understands. No, he knows he does, or they wouldn’t be doing this together.

The second time, he’s flat on his back before he has time to understand. He hears the words seconds before he’s viciously checked, and when he fights his way upright he’s so woozy he can’t stay on his feet by himself and has to be taken off the ice for the remainder of the game. But the word “queer” is stewing under his collarbone in a way Jack never knew a word he’d willingly use to describe himself could, and he bounces back and forth between righteous indignation, wishing he’d shouted back “fuck right I am!’ and wishing he was invisible.

This time he doesn’t wait for his feelings to force their way out. He calls Shitty. When the phone’s ringing he realizes he hasn’t planned out a way to bring this up, but Shitty brings up the check almost immediately.

“Fuck brah, that hit was brutal, are you ok?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and sucks a deep breath in. “Houlihan called me a queer.”

There’s a half second of silence, and then Shitty lets out the most colorful string of swearing he’s ever heard. And he plays professional sports.

“—and FUCK that guy!” Shitty finishes breathlessly. At least, Jack assumes he’s finished and takes advantage of the pause.

“I was on my back before I even realized, which is pretty good, or else I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“I can tell you what I would’ve done.” Shitty replies hotly. “I would’ve punched that sumbitch in the teeth. It’s the 21st century, mothafucka, catch up!”

“Yeah,” Jack says regretfully. “But I can’t punch every asshole in the teeth. I’d never get out of the penalty box.”

“I guess,” Shitty agrees. “But wouldn’t it be worth it?”

Jack’s still thinking about the answer to that question when the third time rolls around. But when the big forward calls him a fag before the puck drops, his mind is made up, and he’s launching himself at the forward instead of the puck. Every stupid insult he’s ever had to hear about his dad, his anxiety, his addiction, and now his sexuality, are behind his fist. He lands one good punch before they both drop their gloves and go to town. It’s no contest. The other forward is lying on the ground when Tater finally wraps arms around his waist and pulls him off just like he once lifted Kent, like it takes no effort. It takes Jack a few minutes to stop swinging, but when he does, reality hits him like a blast of cold water.

As soon as he can, he calls his parents. The story, the whole story, makes ESPN, and he wants to tell them himself if by chance they haven’t seen it yet.

“Allo?” his father answers, speaking faster and sounding more worried than Jack’s ever heard him sound on a phone call.

“Sorry, Papa.” Jack says instantly.

“Non, non, Jacques, ça va.” Bob says. Jack hears rustling on the other end of the line, presumably his father trying to get his mother’s attention. “What happened?” he asks.

“It’s just—”It’s not just anything, but he doesn’t know how to say it. The words catch in Jack’s throat like a sob.

“Jack,” his father says, sounding even more worried. “Please, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

And so Jack tries to tell him. He forces out “He called me a—a—” but he can’t make the words come out before he’s breaking down. “I’ve just never felt like people hated me before, not like this, I can’t do this.” he says. Tears are streaming down his face, and he can’t tell if his father can understand him through all of this. “I’m so sorry, Papa.”

“Jack, Jack, no,” Bob says. “Listen to me, you have nothing to be sorry for. Do you hear me? Nothing. They should be sorry. You should never have to be ashamed of who you are, and there is nothing to be ashamed of in loving Eric.”

Jack sucks in his breath. “But I shouldn’t have hit him, I should’ve taken the high road.”

“Fuck the high road.” Bob says with a venom Jack’s never heard, not even for the Bruins. “Tell your coach what’s happening, and the GM, Georgia, she’s been supportive, eh? But don’t you ever compromise who you are for this game, Jack. Nothing is worth that. You have just as much right as they do to be there, no, screw that, you have more right, you’ve worked harder than anyone, and you can shove their stupidity right back down their throats if you want to.” Jack sits stunned for a moment, then Bob adds, “Oh, you mother wants to talk to you, she probably wants to disagree with everything I said and tell you not to punch people in the teeth.” He sounds guilty, and Jack laughs through his tears.

“Fuck that!” he hears his mother say. “Bob, give me that—Jack? Jack?”

“Yes, Maman.” he says.

“Jack, baby, you punch all those no-good homophobic douchebags all you want, you hear me? People have thrown their gloves for less, including your father.” Jack can hear his father spluttering in the background. “Baby, I know I told you to take the high road when you were little but now? You give them summer teeth, you hear me?”

Jack stays on the phone with his parents for a long time, talking about hockey and Eric and lots of other things. When he hangs up he has supportive messages from Bitty, the rest of the SMH, every Falconer who has his number, and even, surprisingly, Kent. He reads them all, responds to some, and finds he can fall asleep without anxiety clawing its way up his throat for the first time since coming out. Tomorrow’s gonna come, but he’s gonna punch the teeth out of it if he has to.

#i wrote a thing #zimbits #omgcp #homphobia tw #i've never had to tag a trigger warning before i think i did it right but i'm not sure

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thepermanentrainpress · 5 years

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EVERYBODY LOVES FIN: EPISODE 13

The first SOG for either team clocked in at 9:36, and the Canucks were on the (shot)board! The Canucks had 4 minutes on the PP after Dominik Simon took a high-sticking penalty against Gaudette. Less than a minute in on the advantage, B. Tanev took a holding call, and the 5 on 3 began. The result was a goal by Miller, sharp puck movement by PP1 and some excellent saves by Matt Murray on Boeser and Miller seconds earlier. However, it was challenged offside and recalled, and they started fresh with 1:22 left on a 2-man advantage. But wait! Jack Johnson trips Boeser, and a third Penguin is stuffed into the sin bin. The Canucks end up scoring 2 before the period’s end, a Jake Virtanen one-timer and a redirection in the high slot by Miller (this goal counts!). The Pens were still searching for their first SOG, and with 4 seconds left in the first and on the PP, Tyler Motte was not going to let it happen on his watch, making a brave block on a Kris Letang shot.

The second period was much more brisk, with the Pens outshooting the home team 20-6. We saw another thwarted Horvat toe drag move, an incredible pad (toe) save by Markstrom on Jake Guentzel, and a hard fall into the boards by Loui Eriksson (on a good backcheck) on the ensuing play. He looked to be alright, as he did have shifts after this incident. Guentzel converted a rebound off a McCann shot on the PP to cut the lead in half. No fear, Petey’s here. Following a smart pass from Miller to a trailing Tyler Myers, the save by Murray left a rebound that Elias wristed top-shelf to restore the 2-goal lead. He showed good fight reaching the loose puck, fighting off a check from his Pettersson counterpart, Marcus.

youtube

Hughes should be asking B. Tanev: why are you so obsessed with me? The younger Tanev took his second penalty of the match midway through the third, a holding call against Hughes (x2) that he wasn’t happy about. We’re reminded that the best Brock Boeser is a *smiley* Brock Boeser. He scored his 13th of the season off a “lucky” goal, and sometimes you got to just laugh. In all seriousness, it was from a perfect Petey pass preceded by some strong forechecking from our holy alien. 4-1 for the good guys. The Penguins pulled Murray with around 4 minutes to go, an aggressive move that resulted in no goal for either team by the match’s end.

I liked the Canucks play, they were strong on special teams tonight (2/5 on the PP for a strong start, killed off 4/5 of their own penalties). Markstrom finished with 28 saves, he tracked the puck well and had support from his team both offensively and defensively, notably when the Pens poured on the shots in the 2nd. I still think PP1 needs a shoot first mentality (on a consistent basis), as that’s what got Shotgun Jake goal number 10, but with some marvelous plays later in the game by the Lotto Line, I can forgive all of the – nice, yet dragged out – passing plays I saw in the first. As I finish this blog, Virtanen is on CBC’s After Hours, and folks, he’ll join the Shotgun Jake movement if he hits the 20-goal mark. Wishful thinking, or a solid promise by a forward needing a kickstart in scoring? I hope it’s the latter, but until Monday’s tilt against the Oilers, I’ll be thinking about the bragging rights Chris will get at the family Christmas dinner this year – sorry, not sorry Brandon.

Posted by: Chloe Hoy

#Canucks #Vancouver Canucks #hockey #hockey blog #Everybody Loves Fin #Chloe #Vancouver #Rogers Arena #Pittsburgh Penguins #Brandon Tanev #Elias Pettersson #Brock Boeser #Quinn Hughes #Jacob Markstrom

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werenzki · 7 years

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William Nylander #3

- read the rest of the parts for this imagine here -

Anonymous: can you write another william nylander imagine?

A/N: So this has been in my drafts for a while, and just recently these past couple days I’ve got so much motivation to keep writing this little story. So it will have several parts, and I hope you all enjoy :)

Word Count: 2,963

“It’s not fair,” you heard a voice say, “are we just supposed to ignore the fact the owners daughter is smoking hot?” With that you stopped dead in your tracks, leaning against the wall just before the dressing rooms, and decided to listen in on whatever conversation you were the topic of.

“She’s obviously off limits, Willy,” you could recognize Naz’s voice.

“Yeah but I wish she wasn’t,” Willy grumbled.

“As if she’d be interested in you anyways,” Naz teased.

Your cheeks heated up as you thought of just how interested you were in the new rookie. Years and years have gone by with your father owning the Toronto Maple Leafs, and plenty of cute boys had come and gone but none had quite grasped your attention like William Nylander did. Maybe it was his stupid blonde hair or how pretty his blue eyes were up close.

“Shut up,” Willy said as Naz laughed. You rolled your eyes then and walked past the room, hoping the boys couldn’t see you, and went towards where you knew your father would be.

“Hi sweetie,” your father smiled at you while welcoming you with open arms.

“Hi daddy,” you smiled back while hugging him. “How’s your day going?“ You asked, looking off at the ice where the team was practicing.

“Good, done with my first half of meetings,” he stated, “second half is after practice,"

"So, why’d you call me to come meet you?” You asked, still glancing to the ice every once in a while. Standing beside the bench, you didn’t miss it as Willy and Naz made their way onto the ice.

“Well, first I wanted you to sit in on the second half of my meetings,” he smiled. Your father knew you hated when he played this game. The ‘this team is going to be yours one day’ game when you’d shadow him throughout a day. “Also, I thought you could get on the ice too,"

"Not without you,” you countered back.

“Yes, without me,” your father said. You sighed and crossed your arms at your chest. “You need to get more comfortable with the team, Y/N,"

"I’d rather you came into the ice with me, daddy,” you whined.

“Go get your gear on,” he ordered while pointing off to the tunnel. You grumbled under your breath but did as he said, only getting there your own way by throwing your legs over the bar and jumping down to the tunnel.

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Mitch Marner stood in the tunnel as you brushed yourself off.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“Whatcha doing?” He asked.

“Whatever my dad tells me to, it seems,"

"Fair enough,” he chuckled as you rolled your eyes and then walked past him.

You made your way through the back halls again, till you came up to your dad’s office. Inside a closet was your hockey gear. Which really just consisted of skates, socks, black adidas pants, an under amour t-shirt and a Leafs zip up windbreaker type jacket.

Once you locked the office door, you got changed and the sat in your dads chair while typing up your skates. Most days you didn’t even want to take the team from your dad, but you knew there wasn’t much way to get out of it, since you were an only child. Plus, there could be some positives, like right now you got to see Willy more than any other day. As you got to the end of the tunnel, you stopped up beside where your father stood and narrowed your eyes at him. He just smiled back at you and stuck his hands into his suit pants.

“And what exactly am I doing on the ice?” You asked.

“Show the boys that your not just some rich girl who’s dad owns the team, show them that you’re not just a pretty face,” he said. You wanted to laugh, but after hearing Willy earlier, he obviously had to be right in some context.

You nodded and skated off the bench, gliding on the ice till you came to a stop beside Babcock. He was focused. His whistle in his mouth while he watched half of his forwards go through a drill of shooting on the teams backup goalie. It was only December, and you had yet to learn everyone’s names.

“What are you doing out here?” Naz asked you as he came to a stop up beside you.

“Watching,” you shrugged, “for now,” you added with a smirk.

“You’ve played?” He questioned.

“Of course she’s played, Naz,” Babcock said while dropped the whistle from his lips. “Her father has owned the team for 20 years, and before that he played for 20,"

"Well I knew that much,” Naz said, “guess I just didn’t expect her to play,"

"My father put me on skates the moment I could walk,” you stated.

“Didn’t go professional though?”

“My family wanted me to get onto the business side of things,” you said.

“Of course,” Naz nodded before getting back into the drill. As he finished shooting, you noticed him skate up to Willy and Kappy - whom were both staring your way. You chuckled and then skated back to the bench, going through the many sticks till one fit your liking. Of course it was Willy’s.

“Can I shoot on Freddie?” You asked while skating around Babcock and getting a puck on your stick.

“A few times, different angles,” he nodded and then turned away to focus on what the other half of his team was doing with the assistant coach.

Freddie had fixed his mask and switched places with the backup. You didn’t miss the other boys who were watching you. Again, you only knew half them by name, but you knew ignored them all and skated towards Freddie. He got in position and you extended the stick all the way back and slapped the puck towards him. The hard shot went passed him, glove side, and hit the netting behind him. The boys cheered, most shocked, but you only chuckled and skated around the net back to the blue line.

This time you went for a wrist shot, trying his glove side again, but he saved it without a problem. You frowned and set your brows together while trying to shot from a strange angle the next time, going five hole, and it went passed Freddie again. You smiled and continued to shot three more pucks to him.

“Where did you learn to shot like that?” Willy asked as you stopped beside him. You played with a puck and smiled.

“My dad,” you shrugged.

“Well, it’s a good shot,” he smiled at you. You chuckled and leaned on the stick, that was his, while looking up at Willy. He still stood a few good inches over you even on skates.

“Well, I decided you needed something else to ignore besides how smoking hot I am,“ you teased. Willy’s face dropped, his mouth gaped open while you only held back from chuckling again.

“You heard that?” He asked.

You nodded, “and not that it matters, since I’m so off limits, but Naz was wrong,"

"Wait,” Willy pounded what exactly you meant. You smirked and skated away then, taking a puck with you, which you turned to skate backwards and shot back at Willy. As he got your pass, it seemed what you meant came to him too. He returned the smirk and nodded. “Nice stick, by the way,"

"Thanks,” you smiled and then skated off towards the second half of the guys practicing.

You showed them what you got too, before practice came to an end and the team gathered at centre ice. Standing off to the side with the assistant coaches, you leaned on your stick and kicked out your feet a bit, not really paying whatever Babcock had to say any attention. You were too busy looking at how NYLANDER looked in bold letters on the stick you held onto.

“Y/N,” Babcock addressed you. You raised your eyebrows and then noticed the entire team was staring at you. “Did you want to say anything?” He asked, obviously repeating himself as a couple of the boys chuckled.

“Good practice, keep it up, uh,” you paused and then shrugged, “hope I impressed at least some of you with my good old hockey skills,” you joked while pointing out a finger and smiling.

“Alright,” Babcock chuckled at you and then addressed the team again. Just as he was finishing up, you decided to remind the team about the upcoming events at the end of this month.

The boys had two games on the road just before New Years Eve and then their centennial classic was on New Years Day here in Toronto. Being the extra rich wife that your mother is, she had planned a big dinner for the team on the 30th, and then a party for the team on the 31st. Overall it was going to be a long 5 days for the boys. You simply reminded them to check their email closer to the end of the month again, and then everyone was dismissed.

Just as you skated towards the bench with the boys, Mitch stopped and let you by just after Willy walked off the ice. You set his stick back on the rack and looked up to see Willy looking over his shoulder at you. A smile tugged on your smile as you walked down the hall and towards the dressing room with the team. It was times like today that you really wished you weren’t so off limits.

You were so busy with school that you didn’t get to catch any of the games till the final ones in the year. You flew on your families private jet down to watch the boys play in Tampa Bay. With your legs crossed, you were on your iPad looking at the last two games official NHL game summaries. You got an email with the links of coverage for every Leafs game, and you kept up with all over them between classes and finals too. And now, with a Christmas break in between, the boys were on the way to winning their fourth straight game on the road.

“Can I get you anything else, Miss?” The flight attendant asked with a smile on her face.

“No, thank you,” you smiled back and she nodded before walking off again.

The flight was nearly over, the almost 3-hours had seemed to flown by - no pun intended. But you had mostly used the time to finish up one of your projects for a your course. While playing snapchat-tag with a few certain Leafs. You didn’t blame them, Tampa Bay hotels couldn’t be too fun and honestly your flight wasn’t much fun either.

You stuck out your tongue and then selected Willy’s name on your best friends list before hitting send. He responded pretty instantly, the snap of him and Kappy with the dog filter on. You chuckled and slide through the filters before settling for the newest flower crown and puckering your lips at the front camera. Before you could see if Willy opened your snap or not, you got an incoming FaceTime call from your assistant.

“Hey Sammy,” you said as her face took over your phone screen. You could see the roof of her car and her eyes on the bottom half of the screen.

“Hey, I just got to your parents house, how many boxes do you think are going to be there?” She asked, regarding your most recent online-shopping spree.

“Uh, maybe like four, why?”

She lifted her phone up and her back seat came into view. Sitting there, like the good dog he is, was your boxer pup - Duke. You grinned immediately at him, wishing you were there with him. “I just got Duke to the vet, he’s all good, shots are now done,”

“Yay, Dukey!” You grinned and with the sound of his nickname he moved forward quickly towards the phone. Sammy was quick to hold him back, keeping him out of her front seat, and then put the camera back onto her.

“I’m just lacking room with Duke in the car now,” she stated out the obvious. Duke only had his first birthday just a couple months ago, although you celebrated on christmas since you got him as a gift last year, but he was getting bigger and bigger each day.

“Well I just need to make sure the shoes from Steve Madden and my black sparkly top and high wasted trousers for new years are there too,” you exclaimed. New Years Eve was just around the corner now, and you were getting more excited as the time ticked on and your outfit came together.

“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N,” a low voice came over the speakers of the jet.

“I’ve gotta go, Sammy, I’ll call you later!” You said while waving into the camera and then setting down your phone.

“Ma’am, we have begun our descent to Tampa, Florida. The time is about quarter after nine in the morning and the current weather is 62 degrees. We will be in the gate in about twenty minutes. Thank you for flying with us, and we hope you enjoy your time here in sunny Florida,” the pilot said over the intercom.

Once the plane had landed, you thanked the crew and looped your arm through your purse before fixing your jacket and descending the stairs. Waiting beside a black escalade was your father, dressed in his best suit, smiling at you till you were in his embrace. He rubbed your back and then held the door open as you two got into the back seat. You two fell into a casual conversation on the topic of your classes and how the flight was.

“Y/N,” your fathers voice was suddenly stern as he spoke your name. You knew that tone, he meant business. You looked away from your phone, where you had just sent another selfie to Willy, and raised your eyebrows at him.

“What?” You asked, sort of scared of what he had to say.

“You’re not another Katz child, or whatever, you’re not to befriend the players. You are going to be in charge of the team one day, I don’t want you to be involved personally with any of those young men,”

“Daddy, you can’t just say I can’t be their friend,” you sighed.

“You’re their boss, Y/N,” he stated with his eyes narrowed, “you’ve been doing well, don’t go messing up my reputation now,” he said while looking out his window.

You sighed again and looked out your own window. While biting down on your nails, you saw your phone light up with another snap from Willy. You wanted so desperately to open it, and see whatever silly face he had to share for ten seconds again, but instead you dismissed the notification and continued to look out the window at the city of Tampa Bay waking up.

Amalie Arena was only filled with their few employees so early, except for the handful of men and woman who sat inside of the room with you and your father speaking business. Every once in a while you’d put in your input, otherwise you sat back in your seat and listened to the business men and woman say what they had to say. Next came a meeting with the accountant, well one of them, which you were welcome to skip out on in order to watch the teams practice.

“Hey!” Kappy waved to you as you approached the dressing room, you nodded at him and kept a straight face. Your fathers words were still fresh in your mind, you weren’t allowed to be their friends.

So instead of talking about how good the latest episode of Scandal was with Auston and Mitch, you stood beside Babcock and listen to his pre-talk before their practice. He went through a few changes that needed to be done. Then he looked to you and nodded.

“I just wanted to say good job, you all have done really well so far on this road trip,” you said, “especially you, Freddie, great work last night,” you smiled - which he returned timidly. You looked back at the group and gave them a teasing sort of grin. “Keep it up and I’ll make sure my father doesn’t talk trades next month,”

“Well, you heard her, boys,” Babcock broke the few chuckles and clapped his hands. “Lets get out on the ice,” he said and then walked out of the room.

“You really know how to keep a guy on his feet,” Willy’s voice caused you to jump slightly, seeing as he snuck up on you. “Sorry,” he chuckled.

You knew he meant the fact you had been flirting with him more lately, and not responding to his recent snaps, but instead of keeping this thing between you going, you decided to end it right here before your father caught sight of it. You crossed your arms at your chest and tilted your head at him.

“Keep the point streak going, and you’ll be in our good books, Nylander,” you exclaimed before turning away and keeping it only business.

But as you watched the boys practice, seated in the middle of the section behind the teams bench, you figured out just how hard it was going to be keeping this only business. As hard as you tried, you kept finding yourself watching Willy. You tried to stay focused on Freddie, but as Willy shot on him your eyes followed him. Shaking your head, you placed it in your hands and let out a deep breath. Why did you have to be so off freaking limits? Stupid.

#willie mine #william nylander #william nylander imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl drabble #hockey imagine #willy fic

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andrewuttaro · 5 years

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New Look Sabres: 2019 Training Camp Opens

Hockey is back! This offseason was a little bit slimmer on the back end than last year, phrasing intended; so the gap of time created by Hockey-less August felt much more oppressive. Earlier this week in the blog on the Prospect Tournament I waxed on poetically about how it’s harder to get excited for the Sabres this season. We’re probably looking at a less that 50% chance this team qualifies for the playoffs this season. Between the completion of the Prospect tournament and the arrival of Training Camp, my Sabres heart has come thundering back to life this week. That’s a huge relief considering the aforementioned difficulty seeing this club make the playoffs this season given its current roster construction. More good news: Training Camp narratives are not in short supply! Last year we celebrated competition at Training Camp as a long-awaited sign the team was turning a corner. Perhaps it was still the residual haze of the Jeff Skinner trade washing over us, but something was new about this club going into last year. This year still features a lot of competition for roster spots, Thank God, but this time around it requires a little bit more creative thinking to see how different players raise up the club overall. Last year both of Jeff Skinner and Conor Sheary were upgrades on the left wing no matter how you cut it. In the same way Rasmus Dahlin was a huge upgrade, even as a rookie, on defense. As the players filed into the building for their physicals yesterday and engaged in media day it may be helpful for us to look at Training Camp competition positionally this Preseason. While the new pieces and therefore the tighter competition for fewer roster spots came in the forward corps last year, this go around the change is much more obvious on defense… hopefully.

The big X factor I see in this year’s Training Camp is the guy behind the bench. Ralph Krueger returns to NHL coaching with the Buffalo Sabres six years after an Edmonton Oilers organization in even more chaos than the current version let him go. For someone looking at Krueger’s history for hints at how he’ll coach and deploy players it’s like he’s a super-electable politician: he’s more or less what you want him to be. In other words, he’s something of an empty glass you put your values in. The buzzwords that orbited around him in the early summer when he was hired were communication and flexibility. We were teased about that flexibility a couple days ago when he said this Training Camp will see the players pick what positions they’re fighting for a spot in. More on that later. After firing a Head Coach who was only consistently inconsistent with his roster deployment, General Manager Jason Botterill opted for someone in Krueger who maybe more of a chameleon. The last three coaches of the Sabres, two of which who are still being paid to not coach the team, were problematic in large part because they were too rigid in their systems and didn’t allow the skill players to be skilled in game situations. Phil Housley was moderately better than Dan Blysma on that front but all shit stinks, right? Ralph Krueger is going to let his butterflies fly and rigid is certainly not a word to describe him in anyway. Beyond that however it’s hard to say what exactly his style and decision-making will look like come Opening Night. He’s the biggest wildcard this preseason and maybe also once the games mean something in the regular season.

Unlike in past seasons this year we find ourselves with a rare logjam on the blueline. There are too many good defenseman on the Sabres depth chart! That was such a weird sentence to write! While at least three of Brandon Montour, Marco Scandella, Zach Bogosian and Lawrence Pilut will start the season in the Press Box nursing injuries, only two of those guys will the average Sabres fan be dying to see get back on the ice. Rasmus Ristolainen and Marco Scandella are two players you want off this club pretty soon for very different reasons. Ristolainen is likely traded for just not being up to par in the advanced stats categories the modern game requires of its defenseman. It was hilarious but encouraging to hear Risto acknowledge his defensive game needs some work yesterday. If he is on this roster Opening Night let’s hope we see the effort pay off. Marco Scandella on the other hand is, to put it creatively, a crater full of trash. Those two players, on the right and left sides of defense respectively, are jamming up the pipes for a handful of really awesome pieces fighting for roster spots. Colin Miller was acquired via trade with the hope he could be a good shutdown-defenseman on the second or first pairing depending on how optimistic you are. He probably makes the roster below the pairing he deserves. On the younger side Brandon Montour and Henri Jokiharju are poised for breakout seasons if they’re given the right opportunities. You could argue Montour could single-handedly be the difference maker on whether this club is close to that playoff line or not come April. Then again Jake McCabe and Zach Bogosian still have jobs if they’re not beaten for them this preseason. If Housley were still coach I’d tell you the chances of the kids getting their shot at changing this team, even in preseason action, are slim. Again, Krueger is a huge wildcard here and there’s a lot to be learned in the preseason games coming up next week. Two more dark-horses worth mentioning in any conversation about Buffalo’s defense are Lawrence Pilut and Will Borgen. Pilut was a true rising star in the chances he got last season and it will be very interesting to see what he can do after returning from injury. Will Borgen on the other hand has been developing for what feels like an eternity. The season he finally looks ready to make the jump to the NHL and that’s the season there is this giant logjam. Don’t be surprised to see him really gunning for a look as Training Camp goes on though.

The offense should be an easier discussion. It’s not because Jason Botterill’s weird move of the offseason was bringing back several guys who are or should be on their way out the door. I am totally okay with not buying anyone out, there are few guys that makes sense with and even the ones who it does can be banished in less salary-cap damaging ways. However if we’re going to bring back a fourth line of Zemgus Girgensons, Johan Larsson and Kyle Okposo you minus well just build a wall that says “Stay in Rochester” on it. Guys like Arttu Routsalainen, CJ Smith, Rasmus Asplund and even Victor Olofsson may be staring at the wall wondering if they have any position to gun for. And I’ll be very honest up front: I have no clue what the plan is with Tage Thompson. I’m more patient than the average joe with a guy like that but it’s just too crowded in the forward group. We probably just need to suck it up and ride out Okposo’s albatross of a Tim Murray contract, but those other two guys on the likely fourth line would’ve been very sensible departures given how long they’ve been given second chances. They each brought something to last season’s team but I’m not sure I don’t want their spots taken by the young guns anymore. I suppose there is still time for those young guns to take their spots. It is a new coach after all. As mentioned earlier Krueger wants to have each of these guys fight for the spot of their choosing. Is Zemgus Girgensons better than all of Thompson, Andrew Oglevie and Matej Pekar? Strong maybe I guess? What about Johan Larsson: is he better than all of CJ Smith, Arttu Routsalainen, Rasmus Asplund and Dylan Cozens? Two of those guys are likely sent to their junior teams once camp ends but Smith was an AHL All-Star last year. Competition in the bottom six, at least the fourth line, should be very interesting.

The biggest questions in the forward corps is who will be the second line center and who will be the first line right wing? Both questions have obvious answers that are not necessarily the only options. A top line of Jeff Skinner, Jack Eichel and Sam Reinhart is very on brand for this club but if you use Reinhart at second line right wing you give Casey Mittelstadt some help shoring up that second line center role. Sheary could play on his off-side if it meant tapping in Eichel apples. If Victor Olofsson does indeed arrive as this top six player we’re all expecting, and you put him at 2LW you got a promising second line and a very interesting potential third line of Jimmy Vesey, Evan Rodrigues and Marcus Johansson. Yeah, I opt for the more experienced 28-year-old Johansson to play his off-side because I think he can do it fine on the third line and our good friend E-Rod may be fantastic at center if we give that an extended look. Now you may look at that summation of the top three lines as a pretty upbeat projection outside of the bitching about the fourth line. Where’s the difficulty in this discussion of the offense? Click, Click! In rolls every Sabres fan’s lineup projection grenade Vladimir Sobotka! NHL.com says he’s from the Czech Republic but anyone who watched last season’s Sabres knows he hails from the Kremlin. Wherever Putin hides the illegal chemical weapons, that’s where Sobotka is from because he stinks on ice! He’s not off the roster yet and that alone throws a wrench in the most fun version of the Sabres we could get out of Training Camp. Thompson and Sobotka are the guys that make the most fun version of the forward lines look unlikely but hey… Thompson could surprise me? I know, I wrote that full of doubt. Joking aside, he could be a late bloomer even though he didn’t exactly shine after getting sent down to the Amerks last season. Hmm, we really do have a lot to figure out during Training Camp, don’t we?

So what did I miss… Risto came to Training Camp after he definitely asked for a trade but why would he say that on media day? Eichel wants to score more goals, of course sweet boy. Marcus Johansson thinks Ralph Krueger is *pause for comedic effect* not your average Coach. Kyle Olsen was a Prospect Camp invite who earned an invitation to Sabres Training Camp. He’s probably the darkest of dark horses to make the roster. Uh… I think that’s it for now. When we wrap up Training Camp we’re going to tie all these loose threads together and preview the regular season. Between now and then however we have six preseason games to see how some of the questions get answered. Note: Six is fewer games than last year’s seven thankfully. If you weren’t reading the blog last year those games will be a taste of what the regular season is like here. Game action is much more fun and has a lot more opportunity for humor. Even though they’re meaningless in the standings I hope you’ll read, like and comment for the fun of it. It’s a sprint to regular season hockey from here!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. So it looks like Mitch Marner is going to pull a Will Nylander and miss Training Camp. The drama is better this time around for us Leafs Haters because for some reason Marner is personally offended by an $11 Million contract offer because it’s not as big as Auston Matthews’. Better more he’s much more likely to get traded than Nylander. I’m giddy for that Toronto Meltdown!

#buffalo sabres #hockey #training camp #rochester americans #blog #NHL

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igotomorganstate-blog · 7 years

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Who is Your Olympic Team?

For the first time since 1998 NHL players will not be allowed to play in the Winter Olympics. There were many ongoing disputes between the International Olympic Committee and the NHL about who would insure the players and the results did not please the players. Now the NHL will go 82 games uninterrupted and a team USA filled with NCAA players. A team of NCAA players sounds like a terrible idea, doesn’t it? No, it is a great idea. For starters, the last time team USA won Olympic gold was in 1980 also known as ”The Miracle on Ice”. Also, I have never been around for it but the Olympics used to be full of amateurs, no names and players that were easily forgotten unless they won. But now the Olympics are full of amateurs versus professionals. Some countries have dominant hockey leagues while others have dominant soccer leagues.

Of course, the NHL doesn’t have players just from one country but having professionals makes it impossible for any other countries to compete. I fully understand that not being able to represent your country is heartbreaking. Captain of the Washington Capitals, Alexander Ovechkin says, “I love the Capitals and my teammates here as much as I love my country, and I know all the other NHL players feel the same for their teams,” “We should not have to be in position to make this choice.” However, I believe it gives more opportunities to many other young athletes in the world. The great Herb Brooks once said “When you pull on that jersey, you represent yourself and your teammates. And the name on the front is a hell of a lot more important than the one on the back”. This can be true again. I can admit I am a huge Alexander Ovechkin fan so seeing Russia win would be awesome because my favorite player would have a medal. However, if we go back to having names we don’t know on those jerseys we will always root for our country not our players. This will bring back the nationalism in Olympic hockey. I’m more than happy kids close to my age will be able to play and be the face of team USA and not players getting a bonus paycheck. Jim Craig was just some goalie from Boston University. He was nobody to the country until we proved himself by stopping the Soviet team.

These professionals are now the face of the Olympics. The 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics consisted of 12 teams competing for victory but let’s face it only about 6 teams put up a fight. USA, Canada, Russia, Czech Republic, Sweden, and Finland. Those 6 teams consist of a majority if not an entirety of NHL players. The world holds numerous hockey leagues such as the AHL, KHL, WHL, CHL, ECHL, SPHL, FHL, and the best of the best in the NHL. Now that the NHL has such a great credibility they have been able capture the best players in the world. Young ice hockey players like myself basically don’t stand a chance to play for their country unless they are drafted to an NHL team. An article on Yahoo Sports titled “NHL stars admit skipping Olympics will be “weird”.” The writer says ”There’s nothing to look forward to this time: Instead of going to South Korea this winter to play for their home countries, NHL players face an 82-game season that will keep right on going on during the Olympics. The Games will instead include a mix of players from the minors, colleges and Europe.” This statement comes across very greedy. These players have the best privilege any hockey player can ask for and that is being a draft pick.

The Olympics were originally created for amateurs to see which country could hold the glory. The Olympic games have transformed into a billion-dollar industry. The best way to increase those profits is to use athletes that are known all over the world. “The amateur U.S. ice hockey team at Lake Placid in the 1980 Winter Olympics -- the "Do you believe in miracles?" team -- was cherished because they won when they were said to have no chance. No Olympic team of U.S. basketball pros will ever know that feeling; the "Do you believe in miracles?" emotion will be reserved for teams who are trying to knock them off.” (Bob Greene CNN). When the Olympic committee allowed the NBA players to compete they created an unstoppable force.

The focus of the Olympics should be to see the young talent in the world go head to head. The gold medals should be able to be won by different countries each game not held by one country for over 5 consecutive meetings. Of course, the argument can be made is that if the 1980 USA hockey team can do it any other team can. But if miracles happened in the same sport every other Olympics then we wouldn’t call them miracles. They would just be another part of the game and we would say the better team choked.

These professionals should be restricted from Olympic play. If you want to go pro stay in your league if you want to represent your country then only compete every 4 years. Yes, playing for your country is a privilege but not a right. If you are the leading scorer in the NHL that does not mean you should be the captain of your national team.

https://www.sbnation.com/nhl/2017/9/15/16313892/alex-ovechkin-2018-winter-olympics-washington-capitals

https://sports.yahoo.com/nhl-stars-admit-skipping-olympics-010037885.html

http://www.cnn.com/2012/07/22/opinion/greene-olympics-amateurs/index.html

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nurseynurse · 8 years

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breathing fire

and here is chapter one of the Inkheart AU!! (ty @gingeremoji for the literal coolest au idea and @shit-to-remember for a buncha good ideas on how to explore character dynamics!)

read on ao3 here

Derek Nurse was twelve when he stopped reading aloud. He had tried so, so many times to stop earlier, but his teachers caught on relatively quickly to his fake coughs and croaky mutters of "sore throat". His moms had warned him against it, warned him that awful things might happen, to him or his classmates, if he kept reading aloud; in second grade, he read a story about a dog to the kids in his reading group. A few minutes later, where the bin of art supplies once sat, a small terrier puppy was panting quietly, flopping down and staring at the children with wide black eyes. Derek didn't think it was too awful. A few months later, he read aloud a story about a man who lost his hat. By the end of the story, Derek knew where the hat was, but when he looked up, his teacher was gone. He wore the hat home. When, a few days later, the principal came into the classroom to introduce their new teacher, Derek wondered if it was his fault, if his mothers were right, and vowed to never read out loud again. By the time he was in third grade, his previous teachers had warned, essentially, every teacher in the whole school about Derek's ornery behavior. He didn't think he was that bad of a kid, really, but when they were doing popcorn reading in fifth grade and the kid across the room called on him to read the paragraph in their science textbook about giant blue whales, he couldn't help but shut down. The teachers called it a behavioral problem. He called it self-defense. He wonders, often, how awful he must have been in a past life to deserve something like this, to be a gifted writer too terrified to read aloud. He wonders, often, whether it was because he couldn't read aloud that sparked his obsession with words. He wonders, often, if there's some pill, some drug, some cleanse that might make it all go away.

He wonders where the fuck his laptop is.

“Dude, did I leave my laptop at your place?” He asks into his phone, scrubbing a hand over his face and trying to decide whether the amount of coffee he had drunk today was proportionate with the amount of sleep he had the night before. He hears shuffling on the other line.

“Uh, yeah, I think so?” Chowder responds, his voice a little muffled. “Unless I got a Mac recently and didn't realize I was forking over a stupid amount of money just so I can ‘maintain my aesthetic’.” Nursey scoffs.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again. I will die before a get a shitty PC.”

“Just because you don't know how to use a computer doesn't mean you have to take it out on PCs, Nursey.” Chowder laughs across the line and even though he’s wound up and exhausted, he can't help but laugh back. If there was one thing he learned in college, it was that he would never meet someone with a laugh as infectious as Christopher Chow’s. “Do you want me to bring it over?” Nursey opens his mouth to argue, that he’ll come pick it up because, really, Chowder is too nice. He’s so tired, though, and he needs to get these chapters emailed to his editor in the next half hour or he thinks she might combust. If he doesn't sleep in the next half hour, he thinks he might combust. His chapters are shit, though, for some reason he can't comprehend, can't seem to work past, and they’re already past deadline.

“That would be so fuckin’ ‘swawesome, man.” He says, instead, and sinks into his couch. “Want me to order a pizza or something? We can get wine drunk and watch It’s Always Sunny.” Chowder laughs again and Nursey can almost feel his grin.

“‘Course. I'll be over in twenty.”

***

He would never admit it, but Derek Nurse is a lightweight. Of course, he didn’t have to admit anything: anyone who spent time with him for more than five minutes in any situation involving alcohol would know that. It fucked up his aesthetic, honestly, and ruined any possibility at becoming the kind of classic author whose diet consisted of scotch and cheap cigarettes. Scotch affected him almost as intensely as tequila did, and he’d always been a rowdy drunk, not some kind of nonsensical philosopher. Nursey always had trouble denying himself of physical pleasures, never knowing when to stop, exactly; so, he was a lightweight and he drank until he blacked out or until someone tried to take his cup away.

Chowder wasn't much different. Nursey and Chowder, alone, with two bottles of some of the dryest pinot noir Nursey had had in ages was...a dangerous combination.

“This feels classy as fuck.” Nursey says and cheese drips off his pizza and lands on his face. Chowder giggles loudly before shoving the entirety of his slice into his mouth. Three-fourths of the first bottle of wine is gone and Nursey can't seem to remember what was making him so upset before.

“You sent those...those, uh,” Chowder waves his left hand around, trying to will the words out, and takes a swig out of his class. “Those chapters! To your editor, right? You were supposed to do that.” He giggles again.

“Yeah,” Nursey says, trying, in an impressive display of oral acrobatics, to lick the cheese off his cheek. “As soon as you got here.” He laughs and Chowder tops off Nursey’s wine glass; he’s so glad he brought out the stemless plastic ones. The couch shifts, then, and Chowder sits up, abrupt and ramrod straight. His eyes wide and, in his excitement, a bit of wine splashed onto his nose.

“Omigod, you know what you should do?” Nursey’s answer is delayed as he rips his eyes away from the tv.

“Huh?” He asks and Chowder is grinning.

“Read your chapters to me.” Nursey blinks, sips his wine. “Please? Your last book was so good! And I've been wanting to read the new chapters, but you refuse to send them to me.” He's pouting now and Nursey is trying to remember why acquiescing to his request is a bad idea.

“Man, the chapters are so bad…I’m...I’m, like, having trouble writing right now, everything’s convoluted as fuck and my characters are giving me a metric fuck ton of grief.”

“Hm…” Chowder seems to consider it. “Maybe...maybe if you read it out loud, we can work through the problem? Omigod! I can help you, maybe?” He sounds so eager. Nursey wants to say no. He can't remember why and he dips his pizza crust in his wine before stuffing it into his mouth.

“Sure.”

***

Nursey has had his fair share of hangovers. He went to a liberal arts college, for fucks sake. He was a student athlete. He was a writer, he is a writer. He’s been to a lot of fucking parties.

Still, nothing prepares him for the splitting headache he wakes up with: his head feels like it’s been stuffed to bursting with cotton balls, hearing and vision more than a little fuzzy, and his stomach doesn't seem to be in the right part of his body. When he checks his phone, it’s almost 7, which, really, was unfortunate; he didn't have anywhere to be today, he could have slept in, but he only has time to lament the missed opportunity for a moment before he hears a loud crash from his patio.

It's not the first time someone has broken into his house, stranger or otherwise, and he immediately heads to the closet in his foyer, reaching past the curtain of jackets to grab his hockey stick; he played a lot more in college, but, with the disproportionate number of friends playing in or having some kind of ties to the NHL, he still finds himself on the ice relatively frequently. He swings the stick over his shoulder before heading to the patio; the sliding glass doors are wide open and the handle looks like it had been ripped off, crumpled on the ground next to the door’s track. Maybe, he should have woken Chowder up, too. His hands tighten around the stick.

There’s a man on the patio, and the first thing Nursey notices is how red his hair is. He’s tall, too, covered in freckles and vaguely familiar, and is trespassing on his patio, pressed into the corner against the wall of potted flowers Nursey kept. He looks feral, his strange amber eyes darting around nervously, and all Nursey can think is red red red.

“Um.” Is all that comes out of his mouth, hands going slack around the hockey stick. The man looks less dangerous than he does absolutely terrified and Nursey is suddenly unsure as to whether or not he’s being robbed, if he’s even really in danger. He doesn't think he is. “Who...who are you?” The man blinks, eyebrows furrowed so tight Nursey thinks his face might collapse in on itself, and Nursey lowers his stick a bit. “Why are you on my patio?” He enunciates, slowly. The man opens his mouth, closes it, and presses further back against the wall.

“I need to get back…” his eyes screw shut as he shakes his head. “Whiskey...Whiskey needs me,” he rubs his temples. Nursey finds himself following the motion there, still unsure as to why the guy looks so fuckin’ familiar. His eyes shoot open, and all Nursey can think is gold gold gold. “The ship. Holy fuck, the ship is about to blow, I need to get back! Where are my tools, fuck.” He looks around, presses himself back again. “Where am I? Who the fuck are you?” Nursey takes a step back, opens his mouth minutely.

“I…uh. My name’s Derek Nurse. Who are you?” He asks, trying to stand his ground and sound firm, rather than astonished. The man straightens up a little and curls his left hand into a fist, resting it above his navel. It looks like a salute, almost.

“William J. Poindexter of Southern Mercury, Hyperion sector. Head mechanic of the Hydro-Affluent U-Ship.” He deflates a bit then, before looking Nursey directly in the eye, speaking quietly and urgently. “I don't know who are, I don't know where I am, but I need to get back to my ship. The pipes just burst and...if I don't fix it, the whole ship will flood and our entire water supply will be out and...I don't know when we’ll get to another planet with potable water.” Nursey staggers back, almost tripping over the hockey stick. His skin feels warm, so so warm, and he thinks about pinching himself to see if he’s dreaming because this...this is impossible.

“How…who the fuck are you? How do you know that?” He feels his legs buckle, barely, and braces his hands on his knees. “I barely introduced Dex in the last book...not even my editor knows where he’s from…” When he looks back up, the man’s eyes are wide: they’re all red hot fire, flickering dangerously, but fearfully, as if Nursey was water about to snuff him out. Nursey has a sinking feeling, then, that he broke the promise he made to himself when he was so young. He doesn't want to believe it, doesn't want to believe that this man is a character that he created. He remembers, then, the detriments of pulling someone out of writing and-- “Chowder.” He breathes. “Holy fuck, Chowder!” He’s back in the living room before he can catch his breath, hoping with every fiber of his being that Chowder was still in his apartment and not in Nursey’s fuckin’ book.

“Huh?” and Nursey lets out his breath, lungs too tight. Chowder blinks sleepily and scrubs a hand across his face. “What are you screaming about?” He mumbles, winces. “Dude, I have a killer headache right now, so if you could shut up, that would be fuckin’ ‘swawesome.”

“Um.” Nursey flops down onto the couch, eyeing the sliding glass door. He can see the man’s--Dex’s--shadow moving on the patio floor. “Um, so. I read those chapters to you last night?”

“Yes,” Chowder responds, eyes shut tight, and grabs at one of the throw pillows so he can shove it over his face. Nursey kind of wants to do the same.

“And, uh, right. What did you think about Dex?”

“He was fine,” Chowder says, exasperated. “Considering he was the token white side character.” Nursey can't help but laugh, despite the situation, but it sends a spark of pain up to his temples and he remembers that he, too, is severely hungover.

“I don't want to fuckin’ deal with this right now.” He groans, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees white.

“We have to pay for the mistakes me made last night” Chowder groans. Nursey knows he's talking about the hangover, but his words hit a little too hard when he heard loud thump somewhere to his left. When he opens his eyes, Dex is standing there, staring at Nursey and Chowder with that same flickering, fearful, burning look. Nursey rips the pillow off of Chowder’s face without breaking sight with Dex. “Oh! Holy fuck!” He presses himself to the couch. “Who the fuck are you!” Dex’s gaze flicks to Chowder, then Nursey, then back to Chowder. Nursey shuts his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing.

“Remember when I told you I can't read out loud?”

“Uh, yeah? Look, I don't see what this has--”

“Let me explain,” Nursey pleas. “I...I don't know why, it’s, like, a family thing, I don't know, but if I read out loud--from any book--something will come out of it. People, animals, plants, it doesn't matter, just…anything alive will come out.” Chowder’s mouth has fallen open into a tiny ‘o’. “If something comes out, something goes in, though. And...you’re fine...so…?” Nursey’s eyes shoot open again. “Hamlet.” He leans towards the coffee table, digging under the empty pizza box to find a bag of cat treats. He shakes it a few times, calling his cat’s name, before getting up and walking the perimeter of the house to do the same.

“Hamlet?” Comes a voice behind him. He turns, and Chowder is reaching a hand out to grip his elbow. Dex is standing a little ways off, looking so out of place.

“My cat! My fuckin’ cat is gone and now we have to deal with a bitchy mechanic from the future! Holy fuck, oh my god.” Nursey wonders if he’s having a panic attack, chest tight and heart racing; he slides down, barely registering as his ass hits the ground.

“Bitchy mechanic? You’re the one freaking the fuck out! I don't even know where I am! I don't even know who you are and you’re calling me bitchy?” Dex explodes from the living room. Nursey looks up, vision tunneling. “And what the fuck are you talking about books? I'm most certainly not from a fuckin’ book! I need to get home, I need to get back to the ship! Do you understand how dire this is?” Nursey can't look away as Dex lowers himself, jerkily, onto the couch. “We need to find water...do you understand how important that is? There’s no water left in our solar system...if our ship goes down...the H.A.U.S. is our last hope…” His eyes slide shut. Nursey wants to do something, anything, but his limbs feel like liquid and he can barely comprehend his situation. It’s one thing pulling a dog out of some unimportant children’s book, it’s another pulling out your own character--a notoriously mercurial, difficult character--from your own book. “If the ship goes down...we used the last of our materials for this ship...everyone’s going to die. My family, my friends, everyone I've ever cared about.” There's a soft gasp behind him and Nursey looks up at Chowder’s glossy eyes.

“Chow.” Nursey says, reaching for his attention. “You know how the series ends. It's going to be fine.”

“Oh.” He says, blinking, looking between Nursey and Dex. “Is he allowed to know that?” He whispers. Nursey shrugs.

“Probably not.” He sighs. He needs to call his moms; he’s never pulled someone out like this, he’s not exactly sure what kind of consequences will come out of Dex knowing anything about...well, the future Nursey has planned out for him. Nursey was planning on killing him off by the end of the next book, but he’s not sure if Dex should know that.

“Okay, okay. Look, just stay here...I'll try to talk to him.” Chowder says, reaching down to pat Nursey’s shoulder before realizing Nursey wasn't really in a place to handle that at the moment. He takes a deep breath, eyelids fluttering.

“Right. Right. Thank you.” Nursey can hear snippets of their conversation--hushed on Chowder’s end, volatile and desperate on Dex’s. Nursey doesn't know if anything would get through to Dex; he doesn't know if he would believe someone if they told him that the world he had been born in raised in was actually fiction and the one he just poofed into was real, that the man who pulled him into this new world had been the one to create that fictional world.

“No!” Dex yells and Nursey flinches. Chowder has a hand on each of Dex’s shoulders, trying to keep him from flailing, as he attempts to calm Dex down. A few minutes pass: Dex struggles less, seems to listen to Chowder, and Nursey’s heart rate slows to normal. He wiggles his toes, the feeling coming back to his limbs, before slowly pulling himself back up. Dex’s eyes shoot to Nursey as he takes a tentative step towards them.

“Hey,” he says softly and Dex’s jaw tightens. “Listen to me, okay? I did this to you,” and Nursey’s not sure if he means the situation--pulling him into the real world--or everything: his life, his struggles, the absolutely devastating narrative Nursey has written Dex into. “And for that, I’m...I’m so sorry, so so sorry. But I don't know, exactly, how to get you back in. You can stay here until we figure it out and I'll, I’ll take care of you, alright? I won't let anything bad happen to you, while you're here.” He tacks that last bit on because, really, he can't promise anything once Dex is back in the book. Dex still looks on edge; Nursey can't blame him. “Can I get you something? Food? Water?” He nods, slowly, bottom lip falling slightly. “Okay. Okay, great.”

“The kitchen is over here.” Chowder says, helping Dex stand, and they follow Nursey to the kitchen. Nursey can feel Dex’s gaze on the back of his neck.

“You like grilled cheese?” He asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a loaf of bread and the Brita filter. Dex’s eyes are wide as he pours the water into the glass and hands it to him.

“This is for me?” He asks and Nursey wants to smack himself. In the world he created, water was scarce and, even on the ship his story took place on, water was rationed to an almost unsustainable extent. Nursey pushes the cup towards him again and Dex blinks rapidly before wrapping his fingers, long and thin and agile, around it. He looks into the cup, inspects it, sniffs it, before flicking his eyes back up to Nursey and sipping at it slowly. His eyes roll close. Something in Nursey’s chest snaps, heart tightening as he watches Dex’s throat work. Chowder catches his eyes, brow raised, and Nursey can't do anything but breathe deep and shrug. Dex lowers the cup and it’s empty. Nursey clears his throat.

“Um. So. Grilled cheese?”

***

Dex is lactose intolerant.

The fact that this is news to him, that there are things about his characters that he doesn't know, has never thought of, makes his skin prickle uncomfortably. It makes him wonder if he’s a bad writer. How much is there about his characters that he doesn't know? How much is there about Dex that he doesn't know, doesn't understand? Nursey really, really wants to take a nap.

“What about, like, pasta?” Nursey has written about his characters having eaten pasta before, he knows that at least. “Do you like red sauce? It’s tomatoes and shit.” He says and Dex wrinkles his nose.

“I've never had it.” Nursey sighs.

“Would you be willing to try it?” He asks patiently. Dex shrugs and Nursey wishes, more than anything, that he pulled out a character a little less surly. “It’s good, I swear.” He says, and he’s already pouring the marinara into a saucepan. Dex looks dubious and Chowder looks amused, from where he's sitting at the kitchen table. Nursey can't get over how weird the whole situation is: Dex is sitting at the island ripping a napkin into long strip, staring out the window blankly and Nursey feels like he should know this guy, feel some sort of intrinsic connection or understanding, but the more he looks at Dex, the more of a stranger he becomes. Nursey stirs the pasta and stares.

“Can you stop that?” Dex snaps, balling up his collection of napkin strips. Nursey jerks; he hadn't expected Dex to call him out, really.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and Dex is huffing, pulling himself bodily off the stool.

“Do you have a bathroom?” Chowder directs him down the hall before turning to Nursey, face an absolute mess of emotions.

“I can't figure out how to feel about this.” He says and Nursey snorts because, really.

“How do you think I feel?” The water is boiling hard, now, and he pours the pasta in before falling against the counter and letting out a strangled groan. “I feel like I should know him, you know? I fuckin’ wrote him, and maybe it’s the stress of the fuckin’ situation, but he’s nothing like how I imagined.” He sighs, and his whole body heaves with it. “I need him to get back in the fucking book. I'm stressed and busy and already behind deadline and I can't exactly churn out the next chapters if one of the major characters isn't in it.” He pauses. “And...he’s so different, Chow. I've barely talked to him, really, but. His mannerisms, his reactions...I feel like a bad author, or something, I didn't imagine him like this at all.” There's a cough, then, and when Nursey looks up, Dex is standing there, expression a little less pinched: the lines between his eyebrows have smoothed away.

“Sorry,” he says, like it's the only truth in the world. William J. Poindexter is sorry for the situation Nursey put him in and, maybe, his eyes look a little too hard for it to be sincere, but when Nursey thinks about his character, Dex, he thinks about a person who would never apologize, whose emotions were maybe a little stunted, who didn't care about how other people really felt. Nursey blinks.

“It’s not...it’s my fault. All of this is my fault. You should hate me.” Something complicated flashes over his face, as if he’s realizing the implications of his life being a written narrative.

“I do.” He says simply, and sits back down at the island.

#I hope u guys like it!! if there's something I didn't explain well or something u wanna see explored better pls message me or tag it!!#check please #omgcp #nurseydex #inkheart au #nursey #chowder #dex #derek nurse #chris chow #william poindexter

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flauntpage · 6 years

Text

Flyers Should Still Sell At Deadline Despite Their Recent Hot Play

So, you’re on board with the Flyers getting back in this playoff race, eh?

I understand why. The team is 11-2-1 in their last 14 games. They shrugged off a pivotal home loss to Pittsburgh and a terrible first period the next night in Minnesota to come back and beat the Wild.

They are once again just six points behind Pittsburgh for the final playoff spot in the Eastern Conference with just 25 games to go. Pretty remarkable since a month ago they were the worst team in hockey.

But the odds of making the playoffs remain long.

Don’t believe me? See for yourself:

Odds of the Flyers making the playoffs as of 2/13/19

HockeyReference.com – 3.4%

SportsClubStats.com – 1.5%

The Athletic – 9.0%

PlayoffStatus.com – 8.0%

MoneyPuck.com – 5.1%

So, unless your name is Lloyd Christmas, your focus should be on the 2019-2020 season already.

The reason being, it’s really hard to expect the Flyers to maintain the level of the Tampa Bay Lightning (they’d have to finish the season roughly 14-7-4 in those last 25 games, making it 25-9-5 over the final 39 games of the season) AND have three of four teams falter to the tune of .500 records or worse the rest of the way (Columbus, Pittsburgh, Carolina and/or Buffalo).

It’s really asking a lot. That’s why their odds are so long no matter where you look.

So, with the trade deadline now less than two weeks away, General Manager Chuck Fletcher needs to concentrate on next season.

This Flyers team is close. You are seeing what kind of a difference a consistent goaltender can make. You are seeing what kind of a difference good team defense can make. Fletcher doesn’t need to tear it down, he just needs to fine-tune it.

Which is why he wasn’t lying when he said the Flyers will be both buyers and sellers at the trade deadline.

Fletcher could move players on expiring contracts. He could move players that may have term left but could bring valuable return. And he could put the Flyers in a great position heading into the draft and free agency with extra picks, a stocked cupboard of prospects and plenty of cap room.

So, who could go? I’ve been sniffing around as best I can and I’m hearing some things that are interesting some things that are not a surprise and am being left to speculate in other areas. So let’s tackle this after the jump:

1. Wayne Simmonds

Everyone in the NHL is talking about Wayne Simmonds, and his case is certainly an interesting one. There’s no doubt Chuck Fletcher has put him out there for trade discussion, but will he find a deal that makes sense? My inkling is he will, but the Flyers are making it tough on him right now.

That’s because to a man, everyone in the Flyers locker room loves Simmonds and what he brings to the team. Yes, his point production is down and yes, there have been times this year where he’s looked like a shell of himself. But the guy plays the game with his balls to the wall. He’s got one of the great motors in the sport in the past decade and he definitely can be a difference maker on a Cup-contending team.

I’ve been told that each of the following teams has expressed interest: Tampa Bay, Calgary, Nashville, Vegas, Boston, Winnipeg and Toronto.

Considering the Predators had to trade a second round pick for depth forward Brian Boyle last week, the Flyers are poised to do much better than that with Wayne. He’s going to net them at least a first rounder. I say “at least” because if Fletcher is able to get desperate teams into a bidding war, he might be able to procure another prospect or even NHL player in return as well.

I think this price tag will be too rich for Toronto, Calgary and Nashville, who are already limited by what they can trade, but I’m thinking Simmonds can be the missing piece for Tampa as they try to net their second Cup.

And the other bit of tea leaf reading on Simmonds is this – because he means so much to the organization, and the players in the Flyers locker room, he could certainly be a candidate to be moved at the deadline, make a run somewhere else, and then come back to the Flyers as a free agent in the offseason if he’s willing to sign a shorter-term deal.

That could well be the best play for Fletcher and I wouldn’t be surprised if that conversation has come up with Simmonds and his agent.

2. Michael Raffl

Another unrestricted free agent, the Flyers could look to get something for Raffl who could be a valuable depth piece for a playoff team who needs to add to their penalty kill.

Raffl is mostly a fourth liner these days for the Flyers, but has shown the versatility to play any forward position and anywhere in the lineup. Not to mention he’s hard to knock off the puck, making him desirable to teams who need a little size and possession skill.

Pure speculation here, but St. Louis would be a nice fit for Raffl now that they have worked their way back into a playoff spot.

3. Brian Elliott

He hasn’t played in three months, but the Flyers might want to get Elliott a game or two of action before the deadline as he is the kind of veteran goalie with playoff experience that can come in handy for a team down the stretch and as insurance in the postseason.

Because he’s also an unrestricted free agent, Elliott could be of interest to a team like Dallas, who is dealing with an injury to Ben Bishop, or Vegas, who might want a reliable backup for Marc-Andre Fleury.

But, it’s important to prove he’s healthy first. So, don’t be shocked if he gets a couple starts instead of Carter Hart. Hart is the future for the Flyers. Elliott can bring a return to add to that future.

4. Radko Gudas

He has been the Flyers’ most consistent defenseman all season – and I’m sure that’s noticeable around the league.

What’s also notable around the league is, he’s a stay-at-home defenseman, he’s a right-hand shot, he plays heavy, he blocks shots and he kills penalties – all desirable traits at the trade deadline.

He’s signed for one-more season at a $3.35 million cap hit, which is certainly manageable for the team acquiring him, and it increases his value.

Think Tampa would like him back as a third pair defenseman, especially with Anton Stralman, Braydon Coburn and Dan Girardi all set to hit the free agent market at season’s end?

Or how about Winnipeg as an upgrade to Ben Chiarot or Joe Morrow? The Jets are willing to trade their first round pick, could they put together a nice package for both Simmonds and Gudas?

The Flyers have depth on defense going into next season, so this is a place where they can trade from to improve elsewhere – namely scoring depth. Which brings us to the biggest debate:

5. Shayne Gostisbehere

There is certainly a polarizing argument going on about Ghost on Flyers Twitter. Should the Flyers trade him, or not?

Those saying hell no will point out that he was runner up for the Calder Trophy four seasons ago and that he garnered some Norris Trophy votes last season.

They argue that you don’t just bail out on a young, highly-skilled defenseman because of one bad season.

It’s a salient argument.

But so is this:

Gostisbehere is almost 26. It’s not like he’s 21 or 22 like Ivan Provorov and Travis Sanheim, both of whom are ahead of Gostisbehere on the Flyers depth chart.

And it’s not like he’s a rookie or in his second season and still feeling his way. He’s approaching 250 games played in the NHL. He shouldn’t be having an “off year” at this point in his career.

Yes, guys go through rough stretches at any age, but good players find a way through them. Gostisbehere was not a fan of Gord Murphy, who was the Flyers assistant coach in charge of defense during Ron Hextall’s regime as GM.

So, the Flyers made a change there, brought in defenseman whisperer Rick Wilson and have watched Provorov re-find his game and Sanheim flourish. Yet, Gostisbehere is still floundering.

He had a solid game Monday against Pittsburgh and after a brutal turnover against the Wild on Tuesday he was able to get two shots through to the net on the power play that resulted in a pair of Flyers goals, including the game-winner.

It’s those things that he hasn’t been able to do with any consistency this season but has flashed in the last two games.

Still, not being a top pair guy, the Flyers having a guy in Sanheim who could replace him on the power play, and with some depth coming behind him (Phil Myers for sure, and maybe a couple others), Gostisbehere is more expendable than one would think.

Another fallacy is the Flyers would be selling low, but that’s not true. He has a team-friendly contract for any team in the NHL and because of that, not just contenders would be interested – a rebuilding team would likely give up some value for him to see if he can re-find his game in the less-pressurized atmosphere of a rebuild.

Finally, I have been told from a few places in the organization that there is a concern about Ghost’s game internally and that the concern stretches beyond just one bad year. Also, if he didn’t like the old coaching staff and it affected his game, why can’t he get going with a new coaching staff?

I’m just not sure he’s giving Fletcher a good impression.

Yet, as I said on the Press Row Show, I think Gostisbehere can be moved in the offseason – when all 31 teams have a more optimistic view.

The Flyers just need to decide if he should be part of their future – which should start hitting it’s stride as soon as next season – or if they can still get there without him and if he can be an asset that can help fill gaps in other places.

It’s a bit of a conundrum, but I’m thinking it’s ultimately going to be the latter – even if it doesn’t happen until the summer.

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