Mushy May Day 15: Standing up for them

@forlorn-crows you know how I said there’d be hockey au? 

Pairing: Mountain/Rain, implied Aether/Swiss/Dew

Rating: Teen

Words: 758

Contains: Hockey AU (Goalie!Mountain, Left Winger!Rain, Defenseman!Aether), fistfighting 

I have drawn Mounty’s helmet before if you’d like to take a look!

...

The easiest way to start a fight is to fuck with a goalie. The goalie might not start something, but their teammates sure will. 

It’s halfway through the third period, the Ghouls are up four to one against the Holy Hitters, and they’re starting to get desperate. Despite their name, they play dirty. They cross check when the refs aren’t looking, elbows get thrown in every corner, and their chirps cross the line into threats. 

One of their forwards, a burly man close to Swiss’s size, gets the puck, skating towards the Ghouls’ defensemen, Aether and Cirrus. He races down the ice and Mountain gets into position, eyes not leaving the puck. Aether and Cirrus follow closely, sticks reaching but coming short as they skate backwards. 

The forward shoves through Aether and Cirrus, before setting his eyes on Mountain. Mountain bends his knees, ready to drop down if he tries to shoot. 

He doesn’t try to shoot. The forward keeps skating, full speed, turning so his shoulder is the first thing that makes impact with Mountain’s chest. 

There’s several layers of padding between them, but Mountain still feels his shoulder dig into his sternum. His skates go out from under him, and the momentum sends him back and down. There’s a resounding clang as the back of his helmet hits the crossbar, and his back hits the ice a moment later. The breath is knocked out of him, and the goal’s come off of its posts. 

Mountain shoves the forward off of himself, instinctively getting back onto his skates as the ref calls for stoppage of play to get the goal fixed. 

The whistle sounds again, multiple times, and Mountain looks over his shoulder. His mouth falls open, half astonished, half amused.

Rain’s skating hard at the forward who knocked him off his feet, gloves and stick falling to the ice. Even from here, Mountain can see the unbridled rage in Rain’s eyes. 

Rain’s not a fighter. The Ghouls players most likely to start a fight are Swiss and Dew, and Sunshine’s gotten herself into a few brawls, but Rain’s never fought. Rain’s not exactly little, like Dew, and he’s not quite as strong as Aether or Swiss, but he’s still lithe and fast. Rain grabs the Hitters forward by the collar of his jersey and starts swinging. 

The Hitter doesn’t just stand there and take it, he swings back, knocking Rain’s helmet off, busting his lip. This doesn’t stop Rain. He keeps swinging, pulling hard enough on the Hitter’s jersey that he loses balance, going down to the ice with Rain on top of him. 

Aether skates up to Mountain, gathering Rain’s dropped gear as the rest of their team watches the fight. “Are you okay, Mounty? Heard you hit the crossbar.”

Mountain spares Aether a quick glance before looking back to Rain. He shrugs, raising the hand with his catcher to try and cover his smile, which he’s sure makes him look dopey and does not help him convince Aether that he’s fine. “I’ve gotten my bell rung harder than that before. I’m good.”

Aether sighs, knocking his shoulder into Mountain’s. “Not dizzy or anything?”

“I’ve been concussed before, Aeth. I will let someone know if I start feeling it, promise,” Mountain swears, grabbing blindly for his water bottle on top of the net. He shoves his lid up and takes a drink before spraying himself in the face, washing away the sweat dripping from his auburn hair. 

“I still want you to talk to the trainer after this, okay?” Aether says, leaning in towards him. “Just to ease my mind.”

Mountain nods, pulling his lid back down. He can’t see it, but his fingers brush over the oak leaf geraniums painted just over his cheek. 

The refs haul Rain off of the Hitter forward, and he looks feral. His dark curls are sweat soaked and wild, there’s still white hot rage in his eyes, and, as he looks over his shoulder as he’s escorted to the penalty box, he grins at Mountain, licking the blood from his teeth. 

Mountain feels heat flare in his stomach as he smiles back at Rain. He turns to Aether as the penalty box door closes. “So… I know you, Swiss, and Dew have a thing, but do you think I could hit the showers first tonight?”

 Aether laughs, throwing his arm out to pat Mountain’s shoulder. “Get your head checked out first, bud. Then you can go after our left wing.”

“I think, Cap, that he’s gonna go after me.”

Hockey au my light my love. The most chaotic boys. The Goon squad. The bane of coach Price's existence.

"Just talk to 'er mate," Soap nudges Ghost's shoulder. Poor guy has been staring you down all night, glaring like you walked in with his brother.

"What am I s'pposed ta say," Ghost grumbles over the lip of his beer. His eyes hardly budge from staring, watching you like a hawk as you laugh with your friends.

"Oh use a pickup line," Gaz chimes in, leaning around Soap at the bar.

"Good on ya Gaz," Soap pats the man on his shoulder in agreement before turning back to Ghost, "pickup line breaks the ice, get 'er to laugh and youre in."

"You're not suppose to break the ice," Ghost turns to look at his teammates. Soap groans, Gaz snorts, taking a sip of his drink.

"Go up to her and say something hockey like," Gaz chews his lip, thinking, "you should get two minutes for tripping, because I just fell for you."

"That's a good one," Soap says, almost surprised, smacking his hand against Gaz's chest.

"I know," Gaz boasts, sipping his beer.

"Got a better one though," Soap grins.

"Let's hear it," Gaz tips his head, yielding the proverbial floor.

"You want my sweater? 'Cause I think you need my name and number."

"Pretty good," Gaz nods, "how about this one-"

Ghost stands from his seat as Soap and Gaz go back and forth. Pickup line, he can do that, that's easy. He's good looking, he can talk to pretty people in bars. He stops next to your table and watches you turn to look up at him, your smile good natured and your brow raised in question. He stares at you a moment longer, God you're pretty. Prettier up close, he can't take his eyes off the sparkle in your eyes or the crooked tilt of your lips. You're waiting on him to say something, you deserve something good for putting up with his staring.

"Hi," he starts and your smile grows a little wider and everything flies out of his head, "I'm Simon, I'm a goalie."

"You play for the 141 right?" You ask, grabbing your drink to take a sip. It's something dark on ice, it tips in the glass like bourbon. Ghost nods. "You've got a .9 save percentage."

".921," Ghost corrects, "and six shut outs."

You set your drink back on the table and grab your jacket, Ghost doesn't move when you stand, even if it means you nearly bump into him. He wouldn't be mad if you did. He's hoping for it actually.

"You should take me home," you tell him, and Ghost wastes no time settling a big hand on the small of your back to lead you out into the cool night air.

He only realizes the mistake he made in the morning when you shake him awake the next morning and tell him, "We have practice at six, get your ass up."

Ghost groans and cracks his eyes open to stare at you, half asleep. "We?" He asks, not sure what you have to do with him or his practice schedule.

"New team manager nice to meet you," you pat his cheek and roll out of bed, "get your ass up Riley, we got a long day ahead of us."

Ghost sits up, watches you fish around on the floor for your underwear and tries to make the cogs in his head turn the right way. He's gotta stop getting into fights, he thought you said team manager. That- he'd know if you were his manager. He knows the team manager.

You toss a tee at him with a 'what are you doing?' look, "hell are you sitting around for ya fuckin' muppet? You got practice."

Ghost grabs the tee and tugs it over his head with a grumbled swear. You better stop yelling at him or he's gonna fall in love with you.

THEY’RE IN LOVE

When Alex Nedeljkovic got to Pittsburgh after signing as a free agent in the offseason, he quickly discovered a shared interest with his new goalie partner, Tristan Jarry – their trucks, as they drive the same Ford pickup, albeit different models, to and from the rink.

“I think Ned and I have found a lot of things that we’ve bonded over, a lot of things that we can talk about. One of the first things was obviously we have the same truck, so it was kind of cool,” Jarry said with a smile. “Just finding key things you can talk about, and I think just keeping the conversation going to learn more about each other, that helps build a relationship both on and off the ice.”

That relationship between Jarry and Nedeljkovic, both 28 years old, is a strong one, and Mike Sullivan believes that’s been a big key for this particular goalie tandem – with the Penguins Head Coach describing them as “1 and 1A.”

“I think they sincerely like one another and root for one another,” Sullivan said. “I think they push one another to be at their best. Both of those guys have played well for us throughout the course of the year. They’ve both played extremely well and have been deserving of being in the net. It makes for a difficult coaching decision every night, but that’s a good challenge to have.”

For Jarry and Nedeljkovic, it’s about finding that balance between being competitive and wanting the net, but also being a good teammate. Because ultimately, all that matters is that they’re giving the team a chance to win every night.

“You can take it too far and be a (jerk) and not talk to a guy, but it just makes it awkward and not friendly. That's not what you want. It's not good,” Nedeljkovic said. “So, you want him to succeed, I want him to do well just as he wants me to do well, and that's how we get better. You’re not gonna do yourself any favors hoping that he does bad and thinking negatively... So, it’s just being a good teammate. It's easy to do, and he's a great guy. He's a good guy off the ice, so it just makes it that much easier.”

As Nedeljkovic put it, they’re just a couple of easygoing guys. Alex is affable and good-natured, and Tristan is laid back with a sly sense of humor “that comes out of nowhere sometimes with some of the jokes, some of the jabs,” Nedeljkovic said.

Detours to You - 25

Hello all again, here we are with another chapter. This is a nice one and after this there are still 6 chapters left. The angst is basically over. We are a few months after the last chapter. Rowan is healed and also back to work.

He gets some amazing news in this chapter and then we have Lysaedion's wedding. Also we have smut. Oh yes our two birds have finally reconnected that way too and now they can't keep their hands off each other.

Hope you will love this.

MASTERLIST

A few more months elapsed and spring finally decided to appear in Orynth and the snow eventually began to thaw. The white of winter lead the way to the colours of the new seasons and cherry blossoms painted some of the parks pink.

Rowan was a winter person but happily admitted that spring had its own way of making everything look happier with all of its colours.

He had left HQ after a meeting with the commissioners on some of the improvements they have been working on. That had been his last meeting of the day and now he was driving towards the ice rink to pick up Maya after hockey practice. She had finished her introductory weeks and now she had started the actual training and was finally learning to play hockey. That was a first he had got to experience and his phone was bursting with pictures of his daughter in hockey gear. He and Aelin had taken her to a shop to buy all the equipment. She was proudly using the stick she had received for her birthday and for her jersey she had chosen the same number he used. She had chosen him and not Dorian and he could not contain his pride. On his way to the rink he had stopped at the dry cleaner where he had to collect his dress mess uniform. Lysandra and Aedion were finally getting married that weekend and Aelin had begged him to wear his uniform so he had agreed.

He and Aelin had improved a lot more and as soon as he was cleared to go back to work, he had taken her for a weekend in Ilium just before he was due to go back to work. They had left Maya with her grandparents and it had taken some convincing that it was a holiday they needed alone. They had to reconnect fully and finally took the last step in their relationship. They had almost spent the entire weekend in bed with just a few interludes for a swim in the sea and dinners out. It had been a perfect weekend.

The ice rink appeared in front of him and parked his TFD pickup in the car park and walked in, following the sound of the girls playing. He reached the rink and saw a few parents leaning against the barriers watching their daughters play.

He easily spotted Maya and smiled. She had perfected her skating technique quickly and they had gone out a few times together.

He noticed that they were practicing shooting techniques and he smiled when Maya kicked her puck right in the corner of the net with what meant to be a basic snapshot, fooling the goalie. He had taught her that.

He pumped his fist in the air in joy and in that instant one of the mothers walked towards him “is she yours?”

“Yes,” he answered quietly.

Aelin had explained him that at school he had won the title of DILF. He was about to celebrate until she explained him the meaning of the acronym. He had been horrified. The same story repeated itself at hockey practice.

The woman tried to keep talking to him, but Rowan managed to ignore her by adding that he was there to enjoy his daughter playing hockey. 

Maya finished half an hour later and ran to him, while carrying her duffel bag and stick “Dad!”

He lifted her in his arms and kissed her “You have been so good today.”

“Did you see me?”

He nodded and put her down “ready to go home?”

Hand in hand they walked out of the rink and drove home.

*

The weekend finally arrived and so did Lysandra and Aedion’s wedding. The couple had decided to get married in a steading just outside the city that offered functions. It had a big pond and the wedding was going to take place near its banks and then the owners had prepared all the tables for the meal which was all produce from their farm. 

Aelin was in hers and Rowan’s room getting ready. She and Elide were maid of honours and were wearing a long sleeveless green dress “Ro, can you zip it please?”

He came out the bathroom in his still open shirt and damp hair.

“You are not allowed to look this hot,” she stepped closer, her fingers brushing his chest. Stroking the markings in the old language where she knew Fireheart and Maya stood.

Rowan hummed “no distractions, we have a wedding to attend.”

Aelin kissed his pecs and his hands landed on her hips. Since they had taken the last step in Ilium, they had struggled to keep their hands off each other, but with a toddler next door they had been careful and did not manage to have as much fun as they wanted.

Rowan kissed her neck “You look stunning.”

“I don’t have anything underneath,” she whispered in his ear and felt Rowan pushing her against the dresser.

“Temptress.”

Aelin looked up at his eyes clouded with lust and a darker shade of green. She loved being the cause of that reaction. She had feared that after their separation their intimate life would suffer but Aelin had been wrong. The sexual tension had been building up for a while and in Ilium they had discovered that their chemistry was still explosive.

Rowan nibbled at the spot behind her ear that had the power to melt her and a whimper left her mouth. She had to talk to him, she had something important to say but her body had decided to stop responding to her.

“Ro…”

The kiss he gave her almost reduced her to a putty “Ro…” she repeated with urgency.

He gently pulled back and caressed her face “what?”

Aelin stepped back and looked at him “I have something to tell you.”

His stare turned worried and Aelin noticed it so moved quickly back to him, grabbing his hand and placing it on her belly “I found out a few days ago.”

She stared at his expression morph from worry to pure joy as he got the meaning of her words “for real?”

Aelin nodded “I did the math and I am positive it was our sex fest in Ilium,”

Rowan laughed and pulled Aelin to him “We are having another baby?”

She looked up at him and was glad that she had not started with make up yet because at his expression, tears started to well in her eyes “Maya will be a big sister?”

Another nod “I have not told anyone because I have not been to the doctor yet and I wanted to tell you first.”

“I am coming with you, I am not missing anything this time.” He lifted Aelin in his arms and twirled on his feet until she asked him to stop because she was getting queasy.

“I love you,” he added kissing her deeply and in that instant the door flew open and Maya burst in “Mama, dad no kissy.”

Rowan went to his daughter, lifted her in his arms and stamped a loud kiss on her cheek “did nana help you dress?”

Maya climbed off him and showed her dad her green dress and the cute green trainers Aelin had bought her. Eiddwen had combed her hair in two lovely braids tied with a green ribbon.

“You are lovely, but now sit on the bed so mum and dad can finish dress up.”

“Mama, dad are you getting married too?”

Both adults stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. They had put the priority on rebuilding the foundations of their relationship but Rowan definitely wanted to marry Aelin.

“Not yet, Maya.” Added Aelin, looking at Rowan who nodded back at her. He walked to his daughter and sat at her side “Your mum and I are working on it,” he extended his hand to Aelin and she took it “For now you need to know that I love you and your mum very much.”

“But she is your princess.”

Rowan smiled and shook his head “no baby, you are my princess,” he kissed her head and then stood, enveloping Aelin in his arms “Your mum is my queen.”

Aelin melted in his arms and Maya joined them, and Rowan held in his arms his growing family.

*

The wedding had been perfect. Aelin and Rowan had sat together with Elide and Lorcan and Maya had been the ring bearer and she had been proud at being given such an important task. 

The ceremony had been perfect and during the vows Aelin had found herself crying, although she mostly blamed the hormones.

Now it was the after dinner and the party was in full swing. Lysandra had invited both Aelin and Rowan’s parents and Maya was busy dancing with her grandfather while Rowan had stolen Lysandra for a moment and Aelin had gone dancing with her cousin.

“So, how does it feel to be married?”

Lysandra chuckled “Marry Aelin and you will know…”

Rowan chuckled and Lysandra gasped “Are you going to propose?”

“Maybe…”

“Rowan Whitethorn,” she whispered “It’s about time.”

He smiled “we just took a detour through life but we are back on track now.”

“Good, because I want to dance at your wedding next.”

The dance came to an end and Aelin joined him again “Want to dance, chief?”

Rowan kissed her  “I have a better idea,” he took her hand and started walking away from the main party area. 

Aelin laughed when she noticed when he was going towards the barn.

“Seriously?”

Rowan paused “don’t tell me that in none of your romance books the couple doesn’t sneak away for some fun in the barn?”

Aelin pulled him closer “Oh no, chief, I have plenty of examples.”

Quickly they walked in the building and Rowan closed the door behind them and then a moment later Aelin was flush against the wall, his body caging hers “this dress has been driving me crazy,”  

Aelin’s hands found purchase in his hair while his started roving her body climbing higher up to the edge of the corset. Her breast were full and tempting him. Slowly he pulled the fabric down exposing her soft mounds. His mouth covered one of her hard peaks while the other was being tended by his hand. Aelin moaned loudly and pushed him harder against her. 

“Fuck, Rowan…”

He looked up with a happy smirk “any problems, m’lady?”

“I need you,” she breathed while her hand palmed his length in a teasing motion.

Rowan put the corset back in place and with a strong pull of his arms he lifted her on the desk, moving between her legs and getting closer to her.

“How much do you want me?” He breathed against her ear and Aelin moaned, her hand fisting in his long hair “stop teasing, chief.”

A chuckle left Rowan’s lips while his hand trailed her legs, slowly lifting the long dress. His mouth was avidly on her neck.

Aelin’s legs wrapped around his back and she slightly leaned backward on her hands “I am going commando, remember.”

The growl that left Rowan’s lips was savage and his mouth devoured her in desperation.

And when Aelin let out another obscene moan, Rowan’s finger slowly traced her core, noting how wet she was “all this for me? Gods, Aelin, you are dripping.”

She was about to let out a sassy remark when the feeling of his fingers filling her made her shatter and shorted her ability to speak. 

Gods, sex with Rowan always had the power to destroy her. She had tried with another person but it had been so mundane that she had gone home and finished herself off. It had not been Sam’s fault. He could have been decent with anyone else but she had Rowan has main reference. It had been hopeless. 

When Rowan added a third finger, Aelin saw stars and while he worked her to drag an earth shattering orgasm out of her, she grabbed one of her breasts and began teasing one of her hard peaks.

“I love when you touch yourself,” he added in a dark voice.

“Does that turn you on, chief?”

As a response Rowan stooped and fully lifted her dress, exposing her to him. A moment later his mouth was on her core and Aelin almost screamed.

“I have been hard for you since you put this dress on,” his tone had turned gruff while he kept feasting on her like a starved man. 

“Fuck me, Rowan. I need you inside of me.”

“Do you?”

“Please.”

Aelin knew he loved when she begged him and it turned her on to no end when their lovemaking was a bit rougher. Mala burn her, being taken in a barn was one of her fantasies.

Rowan pulled her up and then a bit forward so that her ass was lined up with the edge of the table. 

And while Rowan was unbuckling his trousers, Aelin’s finger found its way inside her causing a reaction in him “Look at me, Ae.”

That she did but at the same time she lifted her finger to her mouth and sucked it clean.

“Fuck.”

He stood in front of her, his cock in his hand, watching Aelin pleasing herself.

“Now chief, are we doing something about this?”

Rowan’s reaction was almost feral. He walked closer to her, lining himself to her entrance and in a swift motion he was inside her. Aelin groaned and collapsed on her back. He leaned forward and kissed her exposed breasts “gods Aelin.”

“More, I need more.”

He pulled her as close as possible never slowing down.

He felt her walls starting to clench and smiled and increased his speed until Aelin shattered under him, his name on her lips.

“I am not done yet with you.”

His finger went back to her clit trying to prolong her pleasure.

Aelin shattered a second time in his arms and he eventually felt the first signs that his peak was close too.

And when he did, he collapsed on her, wrapping her in his arms and leaning his forehead on hers “did it meet your fantasy?”

She kissed him “so much better.”

He gave her another kiss and then pulled back, trying to tidy himself up “I wonder if in the books they stash some cloth for the afterwards.”

Aelin laughed “no, in books they get clean magically.”

He grabbed her waist and pulled her off the table, pushing down her gown “Your hair is a bit messy.”

She snuggled closer to him “I don’t care. I’ll sneak in the bathroom on my way back.”

Giggling like two teenagers who had caused some troubles, they ran back to the main building and went to get sorted before joining again the wedding party.

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This is the hallway outside the locker rooms, with my gear in the distance there where I had to change since we were assigned the tiny converted closet locker room and guys got to the rink early and had already filled it up.

But after changing in the hallway and having a short warmup because I was giving the water in the crease a little extra time to freeze instead of soaking into my gear, the game started. I played well for a while, making some good saves and watching us make many fewer chances at the other end. Then I messed up my angles while I was cheating to the side to prepare for a pass and shot from the wide open player my defender was ignoring. Instead, they shot at the other corner, and my leg was about an inch too short. We managed to score on a breakaway a few minutes later, and I made some good saves to end the first period tied at one.

We started the second period on a powerplay but didn't do that very well and in addition to not holding possession of the puck or creating scoring chances they let one of the guys on the other team come in and get a shot without any pressure. I should have had it, but my angle was off after switching ends, and it went in. But we tied it up again some minutes later on a good rebound play and quick shot. Then I had some good stops, including a couple of breakaways, and the second period ended tied at 2.

In the third period, we finally got a lead, picking up a goal off a really great individual effort, and then another from another breakaway to go up by two goals. Unfortunately, not long after that, there was a three on one, and I missed my pokecheck on a pass right in front of the net, and they pulled one back. Then, not long after that, they scored to tie the game off a weird, floating backhand shot to my blocker that I misjudged in the air. Thankfully, we managed to respond shortly after that with our 5th goal of the game, when a shot was saved and sent wide by the goalie and then bounced out the other side and was quickly shot again before he could adjust. They pushed to try to score again, and as time was running short, they pulled their goalie, and we managed to score on the empty net to make the final score 6-4.

It was good to get the win and some goal support. Even though in the end, we were outshot, mid-30s to mid-20s, as I recall. And, I think the shots were a better representation of which team was overall better for most of the game. But despite making mistakes on all four goals, I also had some very good saves, and when we got chances, we did a good job converting them.

It was fun to be back playing again after taking the pickup game off last Thursday, and also nice knowing I don't have to play and then head to bed too get up again at 4 the next morning.

For anyone who genuinely doesn't understand why I feel as strongly as I do about people like Chapelle making transphobic comments that are passed off as jokes, I want to share a story that I hope will help you understand, and contextualize his behavior. When I was sixteen, I played ice hockey almost every night at a local rink. I was a goalie, and they always needed goalies, so I could show up, put on my gear, and just wait for some team to call me onto the ice. It was a lot of fun. One night, I'd played a couple hours of pickup with some really great dudes. They were friendly, they were funny, they enjoyed the game, they treated me like I was part of their team. They welcomed me. After we were finished, we were all in the locker room getting changed into our regular clothes. Before I tell you what happened next, I want to talk specifically about comedy and how much I loved it when I was growing up. I listened to records and watched comedy specials whenever I could. One of the definitive comedy specials for me and my friends was Eddie Murphy's Delirious, from 1983. It had bits that still kill me. The ice cream song, aunt Bunny falling down the stairs, mom throwing the shoe. Really funny stuff. There is also extensive homophobic material that is just fucking appalling and inexcusable. Long stretches of this comedy film are devoted to mocking gay people, using the slur that starts with F over and over and over. Young Wil, who watched this with his suburban white upper middle class friends, in his privileged bubble, thought it was the funniest, edgiest, dirtiest thing he'd ever heard. It KILLED him. And all of it was dehumanizing to gay men. All of it was cruel. All of it was bigoted. All of it was punching down. And I didn't know any better. I accepted the framing, I developed a view of gay men as predatory, somehow less than straight men, absolutely worthy of mockery and contempt. Always good for a joke, though. Let me put this another way: A comedian who I thought was one of the funniest people on the planet totally normalized making a mockery of gay people, and because I was a privileged white kid, raised by privileged white parents, there was nobody around me to challenge that perception. For much of my teen years, I was embarrassingly homophobic, and it all started with that comedy special. Let's go back to that locker room. So I'm talking with these guys, and we're all just laughing and having a good time. We're doing that sports thing where you talk about the great plays, and feel like you're part of something special. And then, without even realizing what I was doing, that awful word came out of my mouth. "Blah blah blah F****t," I said. The room fell silent and that's when I realized every single guy in this room was gay. They were from a team called The Blades (amazing) and I had just ... really fucked up. "Do you have any gay friends?" One of them asked me, gently. "Yes," I said, defensively. Then, I lied, "they say that all the time." I was so embarrassed and horrified. I realized I had basically said the N word, in context, and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to apologize, I wanted to beg forgiveness. But I was a stupid sixteen year-old with pride and ignorance and fear all over myself, so I lied to try and get out of it. "They must not love themselves very much," he said, with quiet disappointment. Nobody said another word to me. I felt terrible. I shoved my gear into my bag and left as quickly as I could. That happened over 30 years ago, and I think about it all the time. I'm mortified and embarrassed and so regretful that I said such a hurtful thing. I said it out of ignorance, but I still said it, and I said it because I believed these men, who were so cool and kind and just like all the other men I played with (I was always the youngest player on the ice) were somehow less than ... I guess everyone. Because that had been normalized for me by culture and comedy. A *huge* part of that normalization was through entertainment that dehumanized gay men in the service of "jokes". And as someone who thought jokes were great, I accepted it. I mean, nobody was making fun of *ME* that way, and I was the Main Character, so... I doubt very much that any of those men would be reading this today, but if so: I am so sorry. I deeply, profoundly, totally regret this. I've spent literally my entire life since this happened making amends and doing my best to be the strongest ally I can be. I want to do everything I can to prevent another kid from believing the same bigotry I believed, because I was ignorant and privileged. So this stuff that Chapelle did? That all these Cishet white men are so keen to defend? I believe them when they say that it's not a big deal. Because it's not a big deal TO CISHET WHITE DUDES. But for a transgender person, those "jokes" normalize hateful, ignorant, bigoted behavior towards them. Those "jokes" contribute to a world where transgender people are constantly under threat of violence, because transgender people have been safely, acceptably, dehumanized. And it's all okay, because they were dehumanized by a Black man. And the disingenuous argument that it's actually racist to hold Chapelle accountable for this? Get the fuck out of here. I love dark humor. I love smart, clever jokes that make us think, that challenge authority, that make powerful people uncomfortable. I don't need a lecture from some dude in wraparound sunglasses and a "git 'er done" tank top about how I don't understand comedy and I need to stick to acting. I don't need a First Amendment lecture from someone who doesn't understand the concept of consequences for exercising speech the government can't legally prohibit. Literally every defense of Chapelle's "jokes" centers white, cishet men and our experience at the expense of people who have to fight with every breath simply to exist in this world. Literally every queer person I know (and I know a LOT) is hurt by Chapelle's actions. When literally every queer person I know says "this is hurtful to me", I'm going to listen to them and support them, and not tell them why they are wrong, as so many cishet white men do. If you're inclined to disregard queer voices, especially as they relate to this specific topic, I encourage you to reflect on your choices and think about who you listen to and why. Too many of my fellow cishet white men are reducing this to some abstract intellectual exercise, which once again centers our experience at the expense of people who are genuinely threatened by the normalization of their "less than" or "outsider" status. Thirty years ago, I centered myself and was appallingly hurtful as a result. I was sixteen and didn't know any better. I still regret it. Frankly, a whole lot of people I blocked should feel the same shame about what they said TODAY that I feel for something I did three decades ago when I was sixteen and didn't know any better. But they don't, and that is why people like me need to keep using our voices to speak up and speak out.

Omg can I request a carter hart fic blurb thing based off remember that night by Sarah kays? it’s been stuck in my head all day and I’m just imaging the fluff turned to angst scenarios w/ my fav goalie🥺

I loved this idea so much so here you go :) It’s a bit longer then I expected but oh well. 

Heres the song & the one I mentioned in the blurb

It was hard every time Carter went back to Philly. Leaving you in Edmonton was brutal. It felt like your heart was getting broken all over again. Every. Single. Year. However, the relationship was a well oiled machine. It was always a whirlwind summer romance that end at the start of September when training camp began. Time would pass and once you had finally moved on he would slip right back into your life. It was exhausting but it was life. He usually didn’t reach out much during the season. He would wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and say he hopes you were doing well in school. 

It was mid February when he reached out, out of nowhere. You were five months into your healing process and you were happy. It didn’t hurt anymore and you were actually talking to other people. 

Carter <3: Hey y/n, I was just looking at some photos from the summer and found this. Still my favourite. Miss you sweetheart.

*1 image attached*

There was one night in particular right before he left this year that felt different. He pulled up to your house with a shit eating grin and the music up so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think. It was the last weekend all of your friends were in town so tonight the two you were off to a party to celebrate another summer come and gone. It was bitter sweet in so many ways He turned down the music as you walked out in that pretty sundress covered in daisies that you wore the first day the two of you had met. It was his favourite. 

“Well don’t you look gorgeous!” He smirked as he pulled out his phone and snapped a bunch of photos despite your protesting.

“Gotta look as good as you.” You smoothly cooed back. He shot you a smirk and brought your knuckles to his lips, planting small kisses across all your fingers. The drive to the party was filled with off-key singing and Carter trying desperately to make you laugh, which he was always successful at.

The party itself was a blast. You got too drunk on vodka lemonade and he kept his hands on your hips or your lower back the whole night. You were radiant in the glow of the fire and Carter still could never wrap his head around why you chose to be with him. It was around 2am when the storm rolled in from the north and you both decided it was time to head back to the city. He helped you back into the pickup and quickly ran to his side before he got too wet from the rain. By the time he was settled he turned to you and his chest tightened. There you were, curly hair now in a messy pony-tail and your dress peaking out under one of his hoodies that he kept in his truck for you when you got cold. He learned fast you never dressed for the weather so he was always prepared. It wasn’t long till you realized he was taking you somewhere that wasn’t home.

“Where are we going bubs?” Your voice was heavy with sleep and slurred from the alcohol.

“You’ll see princess” He lightly squeezed your hand 

He drove for a bit longer before he pulled off into a little parking lot on a hill that looked over the city. He motioned for you to move to the bench seat and you were quickly nuzzled into his arm as the two of you watched the storm over the city. The quiet hum of You&I by Milk. played through his speaker. 

“Hey Carter...” you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes baby?” His voice so low you felt the vibration move through your body.

“I love you.” The words just slipped out and you cover your mouth as soon as you register what you said. You and Carter had been off and on  since he got drafted and in all those years, neither of you had said the big three words even though you loved him the moment you met him. He placed two fingers under your chin and turned you to look at him.

“I love you.” With that he planted a long kiss on you lips before letting you fall back into his chest. Even though the other would never know it. They had the same smiles on their faces and the same warmth in their hearts that they felt the same way about each other.

Staring back at you was one of the photos he took that night. Your hair was in loose curls and you were throwing up two peace signs with a dorky face. You thought you looked stupid but he thought you looked beautiful. 

Y/n: That was such a fun night!! Miss you too C.”

The truth was, that was probably the best night of your life and you were crushed every time you thought about it. Everything you had built since he left had been destroyed in mer seconds and it felt like you couldn’t breath. As the tears slowly stopped falling from his eyes they quickly began to fall from yours. All you wanted was to be back in that moment. When he was still here. But that’s not how life worked. You just had to swallow the lump in your throat and try to smile while you remember that night. 

Between The Pipes [Chapter 6]

Rating: M Words: 2272 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: not particularly happy with this one but ready to move on lol... i hope that their dislike of one another bc of a misunderstanding is fine. :^) i realized i never really plotted the why but here we go i hope it’s FINE........

Enjoy!

Anna was waiting patiently outside the locker room, scrolling mindlessly through her phone when Sven jogged towards her, out of breath and flushed. “Hey, Anna.”

She smirked and waved, tucking her phone back into her jacket pocket before he continued.

“So, something came up.” Coming to a stop in front of her, he took in a deep breath and stood up straight, his hands pushing against his lower back. “I can’t do lunch today.”

Disappointed but understanding, Anna set her mind on going home and practicing alone. He’s been more than accommodating, it’s only fair that she not be upset about him canceling once. “Oh, well —“

“But!” He interrupted, grinning. “Kristoff is going to help you instead.”

“What? Oh,” Anna held her hands up in front of her chest, shaking them back and forth. She was certain her eyes were practically popping out of her head. “Oh, we can just reschedule it’s really fine, it’s…”

And then from behind her, a low and smooth voice. “Tell me how you really feel.”

Her lips pressed together, cutting off her rambling words, and she turned slowly to look up at Kristoff, freshly showered and staring down at her with a cocked eyebrow, his still damp hair falling in his eyes. “Oh…” She stood straighter, coughing quietly before continuing. “Hello.”

“Hello.” He shuffled uncomfortably, eyes darting between Sven and Anna before he shoved off the wall he was leaning on, and gestured over his shoulder. “Should we go?”

Anna flushed, glancing back at Sven with panic in her eyes, frustration growing as he only offered a sheepish grin in reply. He turned back to Kristoff, standing straighter as her eyebrows furrowed together. “You really, really don’t have to do —“

“It’s fine.” He ran a hand over his hair, shaking it out as he turned on his heel to walk out the back exit. “I’m starving. And I hear you’re buying.”

Taken aback at his boldness, Anna was frozen for a moment before she could even think to follow him. “Oh. If I’m paying…” She turned back to Sven quickly, offering her best why-did-you-do-this-to-me grimace, and then hurried down the hallway behind the goalie. “I definitely have a limit.”

A satisfied smile pulled at her mouth as he set his jaw, seeming to be holding back a smirk of his own. She waved back at Sven as he excused himself, and she could swear she heard him singing some jingle, but it was just as likely she was imagining it. “Back to the pub?” She asked, finally catching up to his long strides. He only nodded in reply.

Until he said “we can take my car.”

Anna flushed, pointed over towards her vehicle on the other side of the lot, ready to insist on taking different cars, but realized he was paying her no mind anyway and quickly followed closely behind. It was a simple Ford pickup, deep blue with silver trimmings, and Anna found herself surprised that he didn’t have something more expensive. It was… really nice, actually, that he didn’t buy something extravagant. 

Not without effort, she managed to climb her way into the cab, and let out a huff of air as he chuckled, turning the engine over. 

“Men who lift their trucks are clearly compensating for something,” she mumbled, more to herself than anything as she reached up and over to buckle herself in. When she looked back up, his eyes were trained on her, a smirk pulling at his lips. “What?”

His gaze ran down her body, making her blush before he shrugged. “Nothing.” 

This was a bad idea. He was a bad idea. 

The truck started up with a low rumble, and Anna couldn’t help but keep her eyes locked on his profile. He was focused, but drove smoothly, the wheel sliding slick between his fingers as it spun back to place. She could see him working his jaw, as if he was trying to come up with something to say. It still startled her slightly when he finally spoke.

“So…” He coughed once, easing himself into it. “What brought you here?” He mumbled, glancing over at her once before returning his eyes to the road. 

Anna shouldn’t have been surprised, really, that that was all he could come up with. “... My father bought the team, and we all moved here.”

He coughed again, tense, but then shook his head with an uncomfortable laugh. “Right. I mean, you’re old enough to live on your own, right?”

Rolling her eyes, Anna slumped back against the door. “Not with a father like mine,” she muttered, her voice hardly above a whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing.” A sigh. “I do live on my own. Just wanted to stay close to family, I guess.”

Kristoff was clearly out of his element here, and she figured if he was giving it a shot, why couldn’t she? Anna had always prided herself on her ability to create small talk out of nothing. Sure, sometimes she probably just annoyed people into talking to her, but the end result was the same, right?

She tried a simple “are you from around here…?”

He stopped at a red light and squinted his eyes, trying to see the light through the high sun beaming through the windshield. “No.”

So he wasn’t trying that hard. Maybe something a little more engaging? “Why did you start playing hockey?”

His grip tightened on the wheel, and Anna bit at her lip as she watched him. It was almost as if he didn’t want her to know anything about him. As if he was dead-set on not revealing a single thing about himself. But then he let a soft, hardly audible answer slip out. “My dad played.”

Okay, they were getting somewhere now.

“It’s nice to have something in common with your parents, isn’t it?” She couldn’t relate, but that feeling was easy enough to fake. Just the opposite of how she really felt. 

“Yup.”

And that was it. No more revealing answers would come from Kristoff. But she figured they were close enough, that she would try again when they got settled. Worst case, she’d try again after he had a few drinks in him. 

When they finally got to the pub, they had sat in silence for a while. They ordered food and drinks, and sat across from one another, avoiding talking for as long as possible.

But Anna couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, so…”

Kristoff’s brows shot up as he looked at her.

“We were going to go over penalties, today, and maybe a mock interview, so I could practice…?” 

He seemed bored, disinterested, straight up annoyed to have to be here. But he had agreed to it, and Anna was going to make him help her even if it took all night. 

Swallowing her own frustration, Anna bit at her bottom lip while trying to ignore the way his eyes dropped to her mouth and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. She was stupidly attracted to him, and it made her angry because he was a obviously a jerk . 

“... But instead, maybe you could tell me specifics about being a goalie?”

Kristoff let out a breath of a laugh and shrugged. “I don’t know. You stop pucks.” He leaned back, stretched his arm across the back of the empty chair that sat between them, and shrugged. “That’s pretty much it.” 

“Oh, come on. There’s clearly technique to it.” Anna was going to try , even if it killed her, to get him to have a conversation with her. 

“... You want me to tell you all the ins and outs of being a goalie?” Now he seemed annoyed, as if she was asking too much of him.

“No…” Anna swallowed and slumped into her chair, biting at the nail on her thumb. A heavy silence fell between them again. What was she supposed to do? He clearly didn’t want anything to do with her. But they drove over together, so it seemed she was stuck.

But then she recalled that she didn’t ask him to come. He agreed to it without her involvement at all. 

“Why did you even agree to this?” She wasn’t sure she wanted him to hear, and she could hear her voice dropping low as if to hide behind the noise in the restaurant.

But it still seemed to catch his attention. He sighed and cracked his neck before lifting one hand in the air, gesturing vaguely around them. “I promised Sven I’d try to be nice.”

Scoffing, Anna rolled her eyes and slid further down her seat. “You’re doing a great job.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes and leaned forward, laying his forearms on the table as his hands met in between them. “At least I’m here .”

“What good is that if you’re just going to ignore me and shut down any conversation?” Her voice was flat as she turned her attention to the other side of the pub, lifting the glass and tiny straw to her lips. She half expected him just to ignore her anyway, to continue on drinking his beer, pretending she hadn’t even spoken. But she could still feel his eyes burning into the side of her face.

Kristoff’s jaw was set as he stared her down, eyes narrowing. “Look, I just…” His hands moved to his lap, pressing down against his knees. “Why are you doing all of this?”

She continued to stare across the way, hoping to give him a taste of his own behavior. Why was she doing all of what ?

“You obviously don’t need to learn this stuff.”

That bothered her enough to make her turn back to face him. “Why do you say that?”

If he rolled his eyes one more time she thought they would stick there permanently. 

“You just…” he gestured vaguely at the entirety of her, and scoffed under his breath. “You clearly get whatever you want. And they obviously won’t fire you if you suck.”

She swallowed thickly, sitting up higher in her chair. Anna could feel heat radiating off of her face, but hoped with everything in her that he couldn’t see it. He really didn’t know anything, did he? He didn’t know her , but he was acting like he did.

“I just think it’s shit that you got this job because of your daddy .”

Anna stood, then, smiling. She felt how it contorted her features, felt how wild she must have looked, with the chair pushed out a foot behind her, eyes wide and grin pulling tight at her cheeks. “Well,” she sighed, reaching behind her to grab her wallet and pull out some cash, leaving what she hoped was enough plus a generous tip on the table. . “Look at the time. I have to go tell my father how the team is doing.”

Ah, yes, there was the panic she wanted to see. “Wait, I —“

“I’ll make sure he knows what a good help you’ve been, Kristoff.”

And then she left, bag clutched between her fingers. She wouldn’t cry. She definitely would not cry. Not when she tripped on the curb on her way out. Not when he didn’t follow her to apologize. Not even when she remembered that he drove them there, so she had to find a way back to the rink that wouldn’t humiliate her.

She was good at not crying. She was good at pretending she was okay.

—

Anna skipped the rink for a couple of days. She had called Gerda, asking if she wouldn’t mind if Anna took a long weekend. There wasn’t much for her to do until pre-season anyway at this point, and Gerda seemed to be content with what Anna had already picked up, so she allowed it, just this once , she emphasized. 

Sven had texted her, asking how lunch went. Assuming Kristoff had already told him about the disastrous attempt at bonding , Anna just sent back a shrugging emoji and left it at that. There was clearly no hope that Kristoff was ever going to be nice to her, and Anna was working on accepting that. She had always been used to being handed whatever she wanted, just like he said, but being disliked because of who her father was… that was a new one. 

At least, in her head it was. Usually if people didn’t like her, they pretended they did until she was out of earshot. Up until now, she had thought she was okay with that. 

In the end, Anna had almost felt bad for pretending she had any say in what her father did with the team, but the alarm that had rang through his eyes had been satisfying. Kristoff was wrong about her, there was no doubt in her mind. Maybe she had been handed a job, but she always took pride in her work, always made an effort to be the best she could be. If he gave her a chance , he would see it. If he spent half as much time paying attention as he did with his head up his ass, he’d be well aware that she was here, trying her best with what she was given.

She didn’t ask for this job. She would never ask to be given something she didn’t deserve.

Anna was going to put in the effort to make sure she did deserve this, in the end. She was going to prove that to everyone who ever thought she was just a spoiled girl.

She was going to prove it to her father.

To Kristoff.

To herself .

She deserved this job.

She was going to kick ass.

Could you do a prompt about Jean going back to see his parents? I’ve always wondered what he would do!

I have lots of feelings about Jean, so this got really long. Most of it is under the cut, but really the only things you need to know is that I created a summer professional Exy league in Europe and Jean, Jeremy and Neil are all playing in Lyon, France. (All conversations are in French unless otherwise specified)

It’s been seven years since he left Evermore.

Twelve years since he last set foot on French soil.

It’s…disorienting.

The steady stream of French that washed over him as they stepped off their plane and into the CDG terminal calmed the apprehension Jean hadn’t noticed growing in him until that point.  Whatever reservations he had about joining the Euro league and playing for Lyon faded away. He was one of the best backliners in professional Exy, and France was his homeland.

Seven years was a lot of time to recover from the damage done to him by Riko and the Master, but that didn’t mean Jean’s version of friendliness was the same as the other players who’d flown with them across the ocean. He nodded or waved in acknowledgment as the majority of them dispersed to catch connecting flights or trains to other parts of the continent until it was only himself, Jeremy, and Neil Josten.

“The manager says there’s a car waiting for us at the South pickup.”

Jeremy informed them in English, breaking Jean out of his reverie. He smiled back at the striker and gestured for him to lead on. The motion earned him a blinding grin from Jeremy and a raised eyebrow from Josten. He likes to think he’s grown a lot as a person since the last time they played together on a team, but it’s second nature to roll his eyes. Josten must be thinking along the same lines because he just answers with a grin full of mischief and good humor.

Jean didn’t necessarily want to go see his parents, but they were playing in France, there’s a full week between games, and somehow Neil and Jeremy double teamed him (though with very different sets of intentions). Jeremy has always wanted good things for him, even if that means pushing him into potentially uncomfortable situations.

“What happens when we go home and you regret not taking the chance for reconciliation?”

He asked. Jeremy was safer not knowing the full extent of Jean’s leash to the Moriyamas, but he was intelligent to take note of the extra hoops he’d had to jump through just to play in the summer league. They both knew this might be the only time Jean got to be in France in a long time.

Jean doesn’t know how to tell his boyfriend that he probably won’t ever be able to forgive his parents – that he was long past needing or wanting them in his life.

“I’ll think about it.”

Jeremy looked like he wanted to say more, but pressed his lips together and nodded. That patience, the willingness to wait and accept his decisions, it was one of Jean’s favorite things about him.

In the end, Neil’s the one to convince him.

The short man didn’t smoke, not without his goalie, but Jean noticed in the few weeks they’d shared and apartment that he’d take a cigarette and just let it burn away in front of him on the balcony. The habit often coincided with Jean’s evening coffee, and they usually shared the time in relative silence.

“I disagree with Jeremy.”

Neil said once they’d both settled in for a minute or so. Though proposed out of the blue, the statement wasn’t all that odd. On the court, he had a great deal of respect and cooperation with his fellow striker, but the two had very different views on the world outside of it. It was perhaps strange that he seemed rather contemplative about this disagreement, but that could be attributed to the setting.

Jean prompted him to continue with a hum.

“I think reconciliation if too weak of a thing to hope for.”

Jean turned towards him at that, interested to hear his own thoughts echoed back so clearly. His interest furthered when Neil continued, but refrained from looking back at him.

“But, I think you should still go.”

An angrier, more raw Jean would have snapped back, huffed out his anger and then belittled the red-head for trying to understand him. Currently, Jean just took another drink of his coffee and waited. Sure enough, Josten continued, staring at the burning ember of his untouched cigarette like it held the key to the universe.

“If my mother were alive, she’d be furious with me. Everything she did was to keep me away from my father, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. If she were here, I’d want her to look and see what became of me. I’d want her to know that I broke every one of her rules and still made it out on the other side – because I didn’t need them anymore. Before, we just survived, but now, I’m living and it has nothing to do with her.”

He went because, well, mostly because he misses Marseilles. He’s not fully healed or willing to forgive, but Neil was right. He deserved some damn closure – to be able to look his parents in the eyes and say “this is what you did to me” to be able to walk away and say “you put me through hell, but I found my way out of it.” He wanted to see his sister; to know that she, at least, got the normal life he’d been torn from.

Despite his relationship with Jeremy, Neil is the one he takes with him. As much of an asshole and a pain in his side the petit striker continues to be, Jean knows he won’t ask questions – won’t pry in an attempt to help Jean. And sure enough, he’s silent almost he whole train ride, only speaking to be an asshole about their lunch choice or point out Exy posters.

It turns out to be a good thing, having Josten with him.

He probably should have thought beforehand how unlikely it would be that his parents still lived in their little rundown apartment. Neil lets Jean take the place in silently, however and takes over interrogating the neighbors to try and find out where the Moreaus went. He follows the various leads across town while Jean stares at the city he grew up in, cataloguing what has and hasn’t changed. The crime was still heavily prevalent, multiple knives and guns flashed at Neil during their search, but he never flinched away. He found the pockets of good were still there too, though. Little sail boats dot the coast as they ride the bus alongside it, a corner bakery employee hands out free samples to children, a group of teenagers giggle until one of them asks him and Neil for their autographs.

The city was a soothing lull until Neil stoppped walking abruptly in front of him. Jean almost collided with him out of spite, but he doubted the middle-age woman working on the small flower garden on her porch would have appreciated the tussling that would have followed. Instead, he adjusted his stride to step up beside the short man just as he called out to that neighbor.

“Pardon moi, do the Moreaus happen to still live here?”

He asked, his accent having melded near perfectly over the course of the afternoon to fit the natural speakers, whereas he’d been imitating the Lyonnais for the past several weeks.

“Ah, oui.” The woman responded, nodding her head towards the stoop they had halted in front of. “Why do you ask?”

Jean didn’t know if it was a natural proclivity to suspicion or if his parents still hadn’t rid themselves of the habit of getting into business with unsavory people, but Josten smiled and waved his hand at her regardless, making up some story complaining about being given and incorrect address. It was only half-false and the woman seemed to relax.

He thanked her and then led the way up to the door. Neil came to stand a few steps behind, there for support, but not hovering. When he knocked, it was his father who opened the door.

“Jean?”

He took a moment to wonder bitterly if the man recognized him because they shared the same facial structure or if his parents had followed his story in the news. The older Moreau’s expression shuttered slightly when his gaze landed on the three tattooed into his cheek and then flitted anxiously back to Neil.

“Uh, come in, come in! Let me get your mother.”

He seemed to remember enough of himself to offer them a seat and some water. Neil accepted both, picking the armchair furthest from the others and then immediately pulling out his phone. Ordinarily, Jean would have snorted, but he appreciated the semblance of privacy.

Jean still stood when he heard his mother’s footsteps and voice coming down the hall.

“Thierry? What is it? Do we have visit- oh.”

The backliner stayed put until his mother ran out of words and steps. Only then did he tear his gaze away from the scattering of pictures on the mantle – from the small frame in the corner that showed a grinning boy holding his first Exy racquet. As he turned, the whole room seemed to fall silent.

“Hello mother.”

The words sounded odd and formal in his mouth. For a moment, he was thrown back into a media room with red and black walls a smiling psychopath breathing down his neck – ready to pounce should he misspeak. He blinked slowly washing the memory from his mind. Riko was dead.

Riko was dead and he was here.

“Je-Jean?”

His mother stuttered, lifting a hand to her mouth. Where his father had been quietly accepting, pale and meek, Nadine Moreau was all emotion. He had her to thank for his complexion and his stubbornness. He remembered that she hadn’t gone with them to the airport, but that she’d cried in his doorway the night before when he’d been pretending to sleep. He’d thought she was proud and scared that he would be playing across the ocean. He had no idea of the horror that she’d sold him into to remove her husband’s debt.

“Are you -. You’re.” She stopped and started. Jean waited for the words “I’m sorry” to come, hoping silently despite what his heart and Neil had told him. When they never arrived, and the awkward silence of his mother trying to find words as her gaze skittered across his face and frame, and his father not even doing that, Jean put them all out of their misery.

“We’re here for the summer league, playing in Lyon.” He explained, motioning politely towards Neil. “This is my teammate.”

He saw the questions flit across his mother’s face once more. Was this another boy condemned by the mistakes of his father? Turned into a champion by the horrible machine  of abuse at Evermore? Neither player moved to explain themselves or their scars – though Neil had most of the ones on his arms covered by armbands anyway. The striker did offer a polite hello before going back to his phone.

When neither parent offered anything of value, Jean continued.

“We won’t be able to stay,” He said, no regret coloring his voice. “But a friend convinced me it would have been rude not to stop by.”

At that, Neil did snort behind him – though Jean didn’t know if it was at the return of his on-court arrogance, or the oversimplification of their conversation and his conversation with Jeremy. He found he didn’t care much – though it did help to snap him out of the awkwardness that had permeated the room.

“Well,” His mother said, sad but accommodating. “We don’t want to keep you if you have other places to be. I’m sorry Amelie wasn’t here to say hello, she’s out at the university most days.”

Her words were bland, but Jean saw in her eyes that she understood that she had no right to keep him, even if she still wanted to. His father’s eyes, as he escorted them back to the door, were as blank and numb as ever. Jean almost thought, in a quiet flash of anger, to ask if they’d replaced his heart with a machine yet. Instead, he allowed his mother to place a gentle hand on his shoulder and followed Josten out the door.

“Where are you going?” He called when he saw that the striker wasn’t headed back towards the bus stop they’d come from.

“To the university.”

Neil called over his shoulder without slowing down. Jean muttered about tiny assholes and lengthened his stride to catch up. When he was once more walking beside the red-head, Josten pocketed his phone and pulled out something else to hand over to Jean.

“What -?” He stopped himself when he saw that the small slip of paper was a picture. A picture of him and Amelie. “You stole this?” He tried to sound indignant.

Neil just shrugged.

“They have about twenty, I figured they could spare one for you.”

He did not thank the shorter man. But the striker didn’t comment on the way his eyes traced the photo of the two young children reverently either, so Jean figured they were even.

The university was apparently close enough that they could walk to it, though it was definitely well into the afternoon due to their circuitous trip to find his parents’ house. Still, Neil led on, occasionally checking the map on his phone until they stood on the edge of the school’s practice football fields. Jean didn’t bother to ask how Neil knew to go there, he’d seen the picture of Amelie proudly displayed in his parents’ front hall, holding a football and an acceptance letter.

They stood there quietly at the edge of the grass, watching the girls dribble, pass and shoot the ball around. Neil seemed content to ignore him until the players took a water break, and even when he spoke, there was no real judgment in his voice.

“So how much longer are we going to stand here watching?” Okay, maybe there was a little judgment, but it seemed to stem more from amusement and boredom than anything. “Jeremy wants to know what time we’ll be back.”

He tacked on more seriously, showing Jean the text on his phone. Neither of them commented on the fact that it was time-stamped twenty minutes ago. Jean let out a huff and steeled himself to walk over to the group of women. Neil followed until they got to the bleachers and then made himself comfortable on one of the benches. Jean stopped awkwardly several feet away, drawing glances and a few whispers from the closer players. He turned to look back at Neil, suddenly unsure of himself. By either miracle, or design, the striker was already watching him. Less of a help was the single-finger salute he gave in return.

Still, it made him turn around and take the remaining few steps.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt. Is Amelie here?”

He asked, trying to sound pleasant for once in his life. A few of the girls looked at him weirdly, which given his imposing stature, strange tattoo and scars was fair. But ultimately, they called out her name and Jean caught himself craning to try and get a look at the woman his sister had become.

She was laughing and breathless, jostling her teammates as she stepped up to join them.

“What’s up?”

He knew he was standing there staring for longer than was probably polite, trying to take her in and fight down the urge to wring his hand. It was getting to the point where Amelie’s friends had told her he had asked for her and the silence had stretched to become quietly awkward. It had been so much easier with his parents, whom he hadn’t expected anything from. But now, with his sister, he felt like he was standing on the edge of a chasm, with no way to see the bottom.

“Do I know –“

“Sometime today, please, Moreau! I want to watch Kevin’s dreams for the Sharks die in real-time.”

Jean whipped his head around to glare at Neil, who didn’t even have the decency to look up from his phone to catch it. He’d spoken in English, but names translated regardless of their context and the use of his brought a reaction from the footballers. The girls around Amelie bristled, having clearly not liked that some strange, foreign man knew their friend’s name. Jean’s sister looked pensive, however, when he turned back to face them. It soothed some of the anger and panic that had boiled to the surface with Josten’s intervention and allowed him to calmly bear the weight of her gaze.

She seemed to take a deeper look this time, not just mildly interested, but actually searching. After a moment, she stepped away from her friends and reached up towards his hairline, for a notch in the pattern that had existed long before evermore.

“Jean?”

She said questioningly, like she didn’t dare believe it.

He swallowed, his mouth dry with emotion at the gentle brush of her fingers against his childhood scar.

“You kicked me in the head with your cleats, jumping off that swing.” He said in confirmation, the corners of his lips turning up just slightly at the memory of that day. Their shape became more mischievous as she pulled her hand back.

“I’m not quite sure I’ve forgiven you for it, yet.”

“Oh my god! Jean!”

Where shock had barely touched his father and had rendered his mother motionless, it spurred Amelie forward until she practically tackled him. The force probably would have taken them to the ground if Jean hadn’t had years of practice bracing against much more determined assailants.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” She said into his t-shirt. “How?”

She pulled away, just enough to look up at him.

“How are you here? They said you wouldn’t be coming back.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.” He said honestly, rubbing a hand over the spot between her shoulder blades, uncaring of the sweat stains. “I wasn’t supposed to, but,” He glanced back at Neil. “Some friends helped me find a way.”

Amelie couldn’t talk for long, they were actually practicing for an upcoming summer tournament, but it was…nice. He shooed her off with another hug and his phone number. She texted him before returning to the field. Jean heard the crunch of Neil walking through the grass to join him as he stared down at the message.

[hey big bro! I know you said you’re busy, but maybe I can visit you before you go back to the states? Go to one of those fancy games of yours or something?

“Ready?”

Neil asked once he looked back up, gesturing in the direction Jean presumed there was a bus stop.

“Yeah.”

He said, a small smile pulling at his face. The day hadn’t gone at all like he’d thought it would, but maybe there was room for both Jeremy and Neil to be right. His parents had no bearing on his life now, no place in his heart – but maybe he could carve out a little room for his sister.

This Week in Caps: Players

Welcome to This Week in Caps, a weekly newsletter where I recap everything important that’s been going on in the world of the Washington Capitals this past week. This week I’m continuing on introductory material, and today’s post will feature and recap Capitals players and important prospects. Below I have listed everyone who I believe might make the opening night roster, along with the top guys in Hershey.

Players

#19 Nicklas Backstrom (Alternate Captain)

Age: 30 Nationality: Sweden Position: Forward Shoots: L

The Caps’ elite playmaking Swedish center, Alternate Captain, criminally underrated, and one of the franchise’s greatest players. A first round draft pick for the Caps in 2006 and beginning his career with the Caps in 2007-08, Backstrom has been a staple for the franchise for the last decade, and has been paired alongside Alex Ovechkin most of that time. Warmly known as Backy, Nicky, or Nicke, and known as a “Papa” to many of the younger guys on the team. Holds the Capitals franchise record in assists, third on the Capitals franchise points list.

#22 Madison Bowey

Age: 23 Nationality: Canada Position: Defense Shoots: R

A rookie defenseman last season, signed a 2-year contract over the offseason. Drafted in the second round by the Caps in 2013. A big man with a bigger smile and an even bigger heart. He played just over half the games last season, though he was relegated to the bench after the trade deadline. He’s likely to be the seventh defenseman again this year unless Brooks Orpik starts taking some games off, but Bowey still has a lot to learn and some growing to do.

#72 Travis Boyd

Age: 25 Nationality: United States Position: Forward Shoots: R

A longtime AHL stalwart who’s finally made his way to the big leagues. Drafted in the sixth round by the Caps in 2011, Boyd is a two-way center ready to scratch the surface. He played eight regular season and one postseason games with the Caps last year in his first NHL action, and he’s looking to take the regular fourth-line center position with the departure of longtime center Jay Beagle. He signed a 2-year contract over offseason, so it’s looking like he’ll finally stick around at the NHL level regardless.

#65 Andre Burakovsky

Age: 23 Nationality: Sweden Position: Forward Shoots: L

A talented Swedish winger, and a fan favorite. Drafted in the first round by the Caps in 2013 and making his debut in the 2014-15 season, Burakovsky has been a longtime favorite and is still looking to have his true breakout. He’s been plagued by multiple injuries and mental struggles throughout his career, but he has crazy talent, a heart of gold, affection for the people he’s close to, and a face that everyone can love.

#74 John Carlson

Age: 28 Nationality: United States Position: Defense Shoots: R

The Caps’ number-one, power play-quarterbacking, offensive-minded defenseman. Drafted in the first round by the Caps in 2008 and making his debut in 2009-10, Carlson has grown into the Caps best all-around defenseman, and he had his greatest offensive season last year, moving up the ranks to become one of the greatest Caps defensemen ever. He was predicted to be one of the top free agent defensemen on the market this offseason, but he signed a 8-year contract, likely keeping him in Washington, where he makes his home, for the rest of his career.

#10 Brett Connolly

Age: 26 Nationality: Canada Position: Forward Shoots: R

A winger with a sneaky knack for scoring. A first round pick that never quite panned out with other teams, Connolly signed with the Caps in 2016-17 and blossomed in Washington, scoring a career high in goals. Also has the added bonus of being a wonderful person, and the unfortunate curse of looking like a 45-year-old man.

#1 Pheonix Copley

Age: 26 Nationality: United States Position: Goalie

The Caps needed a new backup goalie after the departure of longtime backup Philipp Grubauer, and it looks like Copley is in line for the job. He’s the goalie in the Caps’ system with the most AHL experience, though he only has 2 NHL games (1 start) under his belt. Originally signed undrafted by the Caps in 2013-14, he was traded to the Blues in the Oshie-Brouwer deal, and then traded back to the Caps in the Shattenkirk deal. His career AHL numbers are a bit shaky, so he’s going to have to prove himself as a backup this season, or he might lose his job to Vitek Vanecek or Ilya Samsonov down the line.

#29 Christian Djoos

Age: 24 Nationality: Sweden Position: Defense Shoots: L

A rookie defenseman last season, a surprise addition to the opening night roster and stayed the entire year. Selected in the seventh round by the Caps in 2012, Djoos showed great skill, a little offensive pop, and steady defense along the blue line all year. Despite his smaller size, he’s becoming a mainstay. Djoos quickly became a fan favorite and team favorite, and he’s likely to get elevated playing time this season.

#26 Nic Dowd

Age: 28 Nationality: United States Position: Forward Shoots: R

One of the very few outside additions the Caps made over the offseason, and thus one of the few members of the roster that is not a Stanley Cup champion. Also undrafted and one of only two players in NHL history to hail from the state of Alabama, Dowd has spent the past three years between the Kings and Canucks, and signed a 1-year contract with the Caps this summer. Dowd is competing for the fourth line center position vacated by Jay Beagle, and has defensive strengths along with experience on the penalty kill. But perhaps his greatest asset is his golden retriever Arlo, who has his own Instagram account.

#20 Lars Eller

Age: 29 Nationality: Denmark Position: Forward Shoots: L

The Caps’ third line center, who has stabilized the Caps’ center depth and provided excellent depth scoring for the last couple years. Prone to taking a few too many penalties, but great on the penalty kill and on the second power play. Traded to the Caps from the Canadiens prior to the 2016-17 season, Eller signed a five-year extension before the summer began. The man nicknamed “The Tiger” also scored the goal that won the Caps the Stanley Cup, and was the first player from Denmark to ever win the Stanley Cup.

#70 Braden Holtby

Age: 29 Nationality: Canada Position: Goalie

The Caps’ starting goalie, decorated with NHL awards (including the Vezina trophy, All-Star game appearances, first and second All-Star teams, and stars of the week and month). Drafted in the fourth round in 2008 and making his debut for the Caps in the 2010-11 season, Holtby has cemented himself with Olaf Kolzig as the greatest goaltenders in Caps history; he also has a share of the NHL single-season wins record for goalies (with Martin Brodeur). Holtby is also a strong LGBTQ advocate, is the Caps’ You Can Play ambassador, has actively showed his support, participated in pride marches and events, and spoke at the most recent Human Rights Campaign dinner.

#6 Michal Kempny

Age: 28 Nationality: Czech Republic Position: Defense Shoots: L

Quite possibly the greatest trade deadline pickup in the history of the NHL. At the beginning of last season, the was sitting the bench in Chicago, barely able to get in the lineup for a bottom of the barrel team. Then the Caps scooped him up, got him for a third-round pick, and he quite literally revitalized the whole defense. Kempny has said that the trade saved his NHL career, and his addition saved the Caps. The Caps signed him to a four-year contract over the offseason, so he’ll be sticking around for awhile.

#92 Evgeny Kuznetsov

Age: 26 Nationality: Russia Position: Forward Shoots: L

The Caps’ dynamic, highly talented, franchise center of the future. Drafted in the first round by the Capitals in 2010, the man known as Kuzy made his debut late in the 2013-14 season and has took off ever since. The surefire first-line center for most teams is 1A and 1B with Nicklas Backstrom, and prior to last season signed an extension to stay for eight more years. His personality is through the roof, and anything that comes out of his mouth is guaranteed to make you laugh.

#2 Matt Niskanen

Age: 31 Nationality: United States Position: Defense Shoots: R

The Caps’ most stable, solid, consistent defenseman. The defense would literally come apart at the seams without him. Signed as a free agent prior to the 2014-15 season when the defensive structure of the team got a true overhaul. Has a mean slapshot (when he takes one). Soft-spoken, fond of a chirp, dad, and talks like he was transplanted right out of the 1950s,

#9 Dmitry Orlov

Age: 27 Nationality: Russia Position: Defense Shoots: L

Every team has a player deserving of the “Most Improved” award, and for the Caps, that player is Dmitry Orlov. Drafted in the second round by the Caps in 2009 and making his debut in the 2011-12 season, Orlov was once prone to giveaways, taking too many risky offensive chances, and making too many mistakes. But now he is a top-pairing defenseman, has great offensive skills, is solid on the blueline, and is capable of delivering deafening hits. He once suffered a bad broken wrist and a number of other complications that caused him to miss the entire 2014-15 season, but the last three years he has stayed healthy and played every game. Has a fantastic physical game, and the launching of Matt Duchene is one of legend. Quite shy, but very friendly, and will hip-check you if necessary.

#44 Brooks Orpik (Alternate Captain)

Age: 37 Nationality: United States Position: Defense Shoots: L

Defenseman, Alternate Captain, a billion years old. Picked up in free agency prior to the 2014-15 season. The definition of a gritty, stay-at-home defenseman, who broke a two-year scoring drought with a goal in the Stanley Cup Finals. Very physical (perhaps too much), takes a few too many penalties, and not as good at defense as he used to be. However, his leadership is vital in the locker room, as everyone loves him. The young guys affectionately call him “Batya” (a Russian word for “dad”). At the draft this summer, he was traded along with Philipp Grubauer to the Colorado Avalanche, and then he was subsequently bought out. Then the Caps signed up back for one year to a much more manageable contract, saving them about four million dollars.

#77 T.J. Oshie

Age: 31 Nationality: United States Position: Forward Shoots: R

The winger of 2014 Olympic shootout fame, with perfect hair and a shining face that fans and media alike adore. The fan-favorite was traded to the Caps from the Blues prior to the 2015-16 season, and his career has taken off since then. Favorite moves include shootout excellence, going top-shelf (especially on the power play), and making all of his teammates fall in love with him.

#17 Sergei Shumakov

Age: 26 Nationality: Russia Position: Forward Shoots: R

The Caps’ other offseason pickup. A winger, he spent seven seasons in the KHL with Novosibirsk Sibir (6 seasons) and CSKA Moscow (1 season) before signing a one-year, two-way contract with Washington this offseason. He is from the same town as Evgeny Kuznetsov, and Kuzy was helpful in persuading him to sign. He is a bit of a wild card, and I don’t know a lot about him. It’s unknown if he’ll make the roster or what kind of impact he might have.

#25 Devante Smith-Pelly

Age: 26 Nationality: Canada Position: Forward Shoots: R

The Caps’ rugged fourth-line winger and 2018 playoff hero. DSP has had a pretty turbulent career up until he landed with the Caps, having trouble getting a stable job and bouncing from place to place. He was placed on waivers by the Devils in June 2017, and the Caps signed him to a one-year, two-way deal just days later. DSP exploded in the playoffs, scoring as many goals as he did the entire regular season. DSP has also gone through a lot before and during his NHL career, including a racial incident when the Caps were in Chicago last season, but he has persevered and now he is a Stanley Cup Champion. The Caps signed him back to a one-year deal this offseason, so he’s sticking around in Washington for one more year.

#18 Chandler Stephenson

Age: 24 Nationality: Canada Position: Forward Shoots: L

Called up as an injury replacement early last season and never went back. The center-turned winger had a few cups of coffee in the NHL in previous seasons (starting in the 2015-16 season), but last season he cemented himself a position on the fourth line. Drafted in the third round in 2012 by the Caps, Stephenson became an essential member of the penalty kill, and he is able to contribute on all four lines and has very good speed.

#13 Jakub Vrana

Age: 22 Nationality: Czech Republic Position: Forward Shoots: L

The Caps’ speedy, talented, top-six winger. Drafted in the first round by the Caps in 2014, he made his debut and played a chunk of games in 2016-17. The 2017-18 Stanley Cup campaign was his first full NHL season, and this year he’s looking to really break out offensively. Both last season and this season he is the youngest player on the Caps roster (unless Gersich makes the team).

#79 Nathan Walker

Age: 24 Nationality: Australia Position: Forward Shoots: L

The first Australian to ever play in the NHL. Drafted in the third round in 2014 by the Caps, the small and feisty winger scored a goal in his NHL debut last year. He left the Caps for a short period of time when the Oilers picked him up on waivers, though he came back to the Caps on waivers after just a few weeks. Didn’t get into too many games, though he played in an important one in the postseason (game six against Pittsburgh). He is looking to compete for a bench role this season.

#43 Tom Wilson

Age: 24 Nationality: Canada Position: Forward Shoots: R

The Caps’ power forward, known for his physicality, his booming hits, and his fighting prowess. Drafted in the first round by the Caps in 2012, the rugged winger was once a bottom-six player only there to cause trouble. But in recent years he has grown, he’s improved, and he is so much more than that now. Last year, Wilson had the year of his life in just about every possible way. He was put on the top line and shattered his career offensive numbers. He’s cleaned up his game a lot, though he still needs to get a little bit better in that department and avoid hits that will lead to suspensions and injuries to others. Wilson has also become invaluable on the penalty kill, and has become very good at drawing penalties, as well. Additionally, he has the makings of becoming a great leader in the locker room. He signed a six-year contract this offseason, so it looks like Tommy isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

#8 Alex Ovechkin (Captain)

Age: 33 Nationality: Russia Position: Forward Shoots: R

The Capitals’ captain, winger, elite goal-scorer, future hall of famer, and the greatest player to ever put on a Capitals uniform. He turned the franchise around, and is the face of the Washington franchise. Drafted first overall by the Capitals in 2004, he now leads the Capitals all-time in goals, points, and just about every offensive category (besides assists). Coming into the season, he has 607 goals and 1122 points, which rank 19th and 59th in the NHL all-time, respectively. Since his NHL career has become, he has won numerous accolades, including three Hart trophies, three Ted Lindsay awards, the Calder Memorial trophy, the Art Ross trophy, seven Rocket Richard trophies, eleven All-Star appearances, and many more. Ovechkin has received a lot of criticism throughout his career for his inability to win the Stanley Cup that eluded him for so long, or to even get past the second round. But now, thankfully, that narrative is dead, and Alex Ovechkin is a Stanley Cup Champion, finally, after thirteen seasons. He is a big man with a big personality and an even bigger heart. Other attributes include horrible fashion sense, lots of dogs and animals, a gap-toothed smile, endless motherly love for his teammates, and a telepathic bond with Nicklas Backstrom. On the ice, watch for him on the power play in his office, unguarded in the Ovi spot, ready to unleash a wicked slapshot.

Notable Prospects

#63 Shane Gersich

Age: 22 Nationality: United States Position: Forward Shoots: L

The Capitals’ fifth round draft pick in 2014. A forward who spent three years at the University of North Dakota before going pro and signing an entry-level contract with the Capitals. He ended up playing in three regular season and two postseason games for the Capitals this past season, becoming a Stanley Cup champion in the process. Great speed and great skill, he’s looking to crack the roster for the Capitals this season.

#30 Ilya Samsonov

Age: 21 Nationality: Russia Position: Goalie

The Capitals’ first round draft pick in 2015. An elite-level goalie, and projected to be the Caps’ goalie of the future. Has spent the last four seasons in the KHL performing brilliantly, even winning the Gargarin Cup once. He signed an entry-level contract with the Capitals this offseason, and will be playing in North America for the first time this year. He will likely start at the AHL, but there’s a small chance we might see him with the Caps this year if everything goes right.

#45 Axel Jonsson-Fjallby

Age: 20 Nationality: Sweden Position: Forward Shoots: L

The Capitals’ fifth round draft pick in 2016. A forward who can skate like the wind and is excellent shorthanded. Big his greatest attribute: long, flowing, golden locks. Has spent his entire hockey career in Sweden up until now. Signed an entry-level contract with the Capitals this offseason, and will likely spent this season in North America, probably at the AHL level.

#21 Lucas Johansen

Age: 20 Nationality: Canada Position: Defense Shoots: L

The Capitals’ first round draft pick in 2016. A defenseman with good skating, a good shot, and great hockey instincts. Spent three seasons in juniors before spending a year in the AHL last season, having signed an entry-level contract with the Capitals in the 2017 offseason. His older brother is center Ryan Johansen of the Nashville Predators.

#27 Alexander Alexeyev

Age: 18 Nationality: Russia Position: Defense Shoots: L

The Capitals’ first round draft pick in 2018. A defenseman with a lot of size, great offensive ability, and two-way defensive talent. Has said that he models his game after Dmitry Orlov. Has a very big personality, much like Evgeny Kuznetsov, and chirped Ovechkin about his fountain celebrations when Ovechkin called him at the draft. He’s a good number of years away, and despite signing his entry-level contract with the Capitals just a few days, ago, he will continue playing for his junior team, the Red Deer Rebels (WHL), for the upcoming season.

Other notable players include Jonas Siegenthaler, Brian Pinho, Vitek Vanecek, Connor Hobbs

Up next: Caps coaches, broadcasters, and everyone else important to the Caps!

Oh Captain, My Captain (1/2)

So I was going though my google docs and found this little ditty from the first time Colin played in a charity soccer match.... It’s just been sitting in my docs for over a year now unpublished

Six weeks had passed since Emma’s name had been thrown into list of mandatory volunteers to play a charity game for the local soccer club. In an effort to boost rating for the aging show, Regina, the producer, had contacted the head of the club, pitching the idea. Their team would be composed of veteran crew members from “Enchanted,” a fairy tale show based on Disney characters, as well as some of the professional team players. Regina had also struck a deal with Robin, the producer of “The Jolly Roger.”  It was a show that also filmed in Vancouver, and played on a rival network on the same night and time slot. Every Sunday night, the two shows battled for viewership numbers, and each week, Emma’s show was coming up shorter and shorter.

It wasn’t uncommon for a show of it’s age. After six years many of the actors had declined to renew their contracts, and a slew of new kids were coming in. Twitter had been up in arms about how the show should have ended its run during the last season, and if anything, this next season was nothing more than a money milking spin off. Fans were still kind during the conventions, but there was an current of resentment and nervousness running just below the surface.

The Jolly Roger, or the Rolly Joger as Emma and David had dubbed it during a drunk night of binging so they could make fun of it, had only been on the air for two years. It had actually been one of the first shows announced for a season pickup, much to the chagrin of everyone on Enchanted, who weren’t notified until right before the network upfronts. It was pandering, plain and simple. Real pirates had scurvy and potbellies, waxed mustaches and bad perms. Their teeth were black and rotted. They didn’t look like fucking Killian Jones, with blue eyes that launched into your very soul, or raven hair that rivaled a Greek God. No, the show was crap, and so was Jones’ portrayal of Captain Hook.

She hated that man with the very essence of her being. True, she’d never met him personally, but she’d heard things, sometimes in vivid detail. He’d managed to romance more than any man’s fair share of the extras that bounced from show to show in the city, and had even caused a skirmish or two on set when two of his conquests had found out about each other.

Luckily she’d been able to avoid him during the past two weeks of practices and scrimmages. His team practiced earlier in the mornings than hers, and she’d hid out in the team’s clubhouse until she saw him leave the field for the parking lot. David hadn’t shared her proclivity for hiding and had actually talk to the man on their second practice. Somehow the interaction had led to some friendly trash talking and before she knew it, Regina had them all filming mini spots to release as promotion for the game. Everyone seemed to be taking the entire thing in stride, and it irked Emma. Didn’t they understand that they were the enemy?!

The line was drawn when the other show’s cast members starting responding. Or more specifically, when Killian Jones responded to her. Ruby had Killian’s retort pulled up, playing it for David and Henry 2.0, as he’d been lovingly dubbed. Emma had walked onto set far too early that morning after a late night of filming, and she heard a voice ask him who he thought his biggest competition was. She’d hardly registered any of it, still severely under caffeinated, until she heard a lilting voice say her name, forcing her to look at Ruby’s cell phone.

“Uh, I’d hafta say Emma Swan. She seems like a pretty feisty lass, and I’m quite eager to see if I can score on her, or even if she might be able to perform a header.”

The most infuriating part had been the way his eyebrows wiggled as he said it. No, the most infuriating part was that it was now out there, on repeat. It was war.

Over the next three weeks, Emma gave her everything to practice. There was such an intensity to her resolve that she’d started staying late, practicing one-on-one with Graham Humbert, the star of the Whitecaps Soccer Team. He taught her how to read the other players’ looks so she’d know the plays they were about to make, and before long she and Graham had their own silent conversations, making them an unstoppable force.

When Emma arrived at the stadium the morning of the match, it was near chaos. Fans were lining the entrance trying to get autographs and pictures with all of the actors and team players. She signed a few pictures, but when she really started looking around, she noticed that most of the fans were younger women, all decked out in t-shirts donning Killian’s name on them. Some of the shirts even had a ‘C’ for captain slapped on the sleeve. She’d had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she heard the screams and cheering pick up.

She looked back to find the man of the hour approaching the crowd with a sharpie marker already in his hand. She tried to duck out, but between the crowds and security, she was boxed in, and Killian stood between her and the entrance. She motioned to move past him, but as she did he caught her arm and leaned into her.

“Emma Swan. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

There was something in his facial expression that set her on edge, cocky bravado that he probably used when speaking to every woman. She gave him a forced smile, but when he winked at her, she’d had enough and pushed past him, making sure that her shoulder caught him on the way.

“Ah, a preview of what’s to come? Oh, Emma,” he shouted, causing her to stop and turn around to face him. “Don’t be afraid to, ya know, really get into it.”

His eyebrows wiggled again, the way they had in the video, and Emma had to force herself not to punch him. Instead, she made her way into the stadium, where David and Graham were waiting for her. Together the three of them headed for the locker room. Normally, it was one large open area, but as the charity match was co-ed, a curtain had been drawn down the middle to grant privacy.

They changed quickly, only taking time to put on their pads once they had regrouped on the sidelines. After the rest of the team and actors had joined them, Graham called out the roster, telling each person who their equivalent position on the opposing team was. As team captain, Graham was matched up with Keith Nottingham, David with Mary Margaret, a pint sized woman who played a tavern owner on Killian’s show. The rest of the list went on, but Emma zoned out until she heard her own name called, followed by the last person in the world she wanted to be attached to for the rest of the day. Killian Jones.

She pleaded with Graham to change the lineup, but he told her that it wasn’t his decision and that his hands were tied. Apparently Regina had made the suggestion that the two leads should be teamed up knowing that it would gather more attention. Internally cursing herself, she took the field for the first play. She had Graham had devised a plan. It was simple really. She was to going to start, play the first half, and be done until the last fifteen minutes of the game - just enough playtime to appease Regina - , but it seemed Killian had other ideas as he refused to be taken out of the game, which meant that Emma was stuck in as well.

She was in shape - at least in good enough shape for all of the physical stuff she needed to do for filming - but soccer was a whole different beast. The running never ended, and by half time, Emma was certain that her lungs were going to explode. It didn’t help that Killian had spent most of the time throwing out innuendoes like the goalie threw out blocks.

Graham had run as much interference as possible for her, but Killian had been unphased, all too happy to being playing the game with men he’d come to idolize. He was in his element, and if Emma hadn’t been too keen on hating him, she might have found it endearing how he blushed when receiving a compliment from one of the professional players. She might have noticed how nimble he was as he slid to kick the ball, or how glorious his bum was as he stretched out on the sidelines. But she didn’t notice any of that. Definitely not.

What she did notice was the very naked fan that had leapt out onto the field running straight for the penalty area near the end of the second half. Killian on the other hand, had only had eyes for the ball, as the man that would eventually become dubbed as the ‘Whitecap Wanker’ (pun intended) nearly collided with him, in what surely would have been an ankle-breaking incident. Without thinking, Emma bolted for Killian, wrapped her arms around him, and pushed him backwards to save him. They both tumbled to the ground, causing Killian to land squarely on top of her.

The wind had been knocked out of her, she was sure of it. That had to have been the reason she was breathless. It certainly couldn’t have had anything to do with him lying across her, or the way his blue eyes bored into her soul. The way those same eyes briefly fell to her lips before snapping back up to her own eyes.

The moment was ruined though when Will Scarlet sauntered over, reminding them that this was a family friendly charity match and they should go get a room. Something shifted and the blue of Killian’s eyes darkened just a bit as he stood and offered his hand out the help her up. She took it reluctantly, but once she was up, instead of releasing her, he pulled her further forward, so that her chest was pressed into his. His lips brushed the shell of her ear.

“It’s about bloody time, but I can think of much more pleasurable things to do with a woman on her back.”

She hoped he didn’t notice the small shiver that ran up her spine.

“I was just trying to keep you from getting slapped in the face with streaker junk.”

“Well, that’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time don’t stand on ceremony.”

She pushed back, schooling her face into something closer to determination.

“Trust me, Jones, you have a better shot of scoring a goal than you have scoring with me.”

They had been so enraptured with each other that they hadn’t even noticed that the game had started back up. Not until Emma heard Graham calling her name and she saw the ball whizzing straight at her. Taking a moment to look back as Killian, she noticed he was still transfixed on her. His jaw nearly pulsated.

Graham called her again and she snapped out of the bubble she and Killian had created for themselves. Stepping around him Emma found the ball and kicked it with all of her might. It flew through the air and sailed straight into the net. The game-winning goal.

The celebration had been lively. Her team had been ecstatic about her goal in the last three seconds. The team popped champagne and danced around her, chanting their captain’s name. Eventually the party dispersed and Emma was left alone in the locker room with Graham, who was smiling at her sweetly.

“You were marvelous out there, Emma.”

She felt the blush crawling up her neck.

“Thanks, but I think the credit really goes to you and all of that extra practice time you put in with me.”

He took a step forward.

“Trust me, it was my pleasure. Spending time with you wasn’t exactly a hardship.”

She had to overt her eyes. He was dancing around dangerous territory. Emma didn’t date, plain and simple. She’d been screwed over often enough to realize that relationships just weren't worth the pain they inevitably brought.

“Graham-”

“Wait. Emma, I’ve really enjoyed these last few weeks with you, and to be honest, I’m not really ready for it all to end. Would it be too forward of me to ask you out to dinner?”

She took a deep breath, trying to stifle the panic she felt clawing it’s way out of her. He really was a sweet guy, and she didn’t want to hurt him, but it was too much.

“Graham.” His face fell, already knowing what she was going to say. “My schedule is so erratic right now, and filming just started a few weeks ago.”

“It’s okay, Emma. I understand.” He clasped her hand squeezed it. “But you have my number if you change your mind.”

She nodded and he released her hands before turning away, pausing only long enough to grab his bag, before exiting the locker room. The breath that she’d been holding slipped out and she finally let herself relax. Every muscle in her body had been so tense that now her legs felt they might buckle under her, and the champagne had left a sticky residue on her jersey and skin.

All she could think about was how much she wanted a hot shower. Looking around, noticing the empty locker room, she considered her options. Ya, she could wait until she got home, but that was thirty minutes away in traffic, or, she could sneak into on of the empty stalls in the locker room. Everyone was gone, and she’d just be in and out. Taking one more look, calling out to ensure that she was in fact alone, Emma headed through the rows of now empty cubicles that had housed uniforms earlier that day. The shower wasn’t anything like she had expected. In high school, there had been separate stalls, blocked off by curtains to protect everyone's modesty. In college, she’d avoided sports all together, so she’d never had to worry about it.

Standing in the Whitecaps shower though, there were no barriers. Just one large room with rows of shower heads peeking out from the wall. It was almost enough to make her change her mind, but the thought of getting in her car with her sticky clothes gave her the push to stay. After all, everyone had already left.

Finding an available clothing hook on the opposite side of the room, Emma slowly began to peel her jersey off. The dried up sweat and alcohol had stiffened it, causing it to stick as she tried to pulled it over her ponytail. It took a fair bit of fighting to dislodge herself from the offending garment, and she nearly gave up, but when a voice called out, the shock had her wrenching it off to cover her front side.

“Oh, love. There’s no need to stop on my account.”

“Shit!”

Of course it was him.

“Well, Swan. You bested me.”

“Like there was ever a question.”

“Don’t be so dismissive Swan. I can count the number of people who’ve beat me on one hand.”

He held up his right hand, flourishing it for effect. She should have been pissed that he was there. She was pissed, but she was also thinking about how his long fingers would feel inside her. Something about their match, their constant drive for dominance over each other on the field had awoken something in her.

Fuck. She wanted him.

for the high school au, i need some hockey player! albert both sfw and nsfw please

sfw: he’s definitely a goalie, so his pickup line on you was “i can protect your heart” or some bullshit like that. you always go to his games and sit on the glass to get the best views of your boyfriend. he’s also tried to teach you to skate and play, it didn’t end well.

nsfw: he’s all sweaty after games and goddamn does he look good being all sweaty and only wearing a towel. he’s used you as his “good luck charm” for the finals before, they ended up winning so it became a tradition before each game now, luckily no one has walked into the showers before games start

i’m a little stitious (wc: 1,858)

(I definitely took the title from The Office, no shame. Based on this. Written as if it was the start of the season.)

Geno hates the connotation that comes along with being superstitious. Like most other players, he has his routine that he sticks to. That’s what he calls it. He’s played hockey for what feels like his entire life. Very rarely does he take something that works out of his routine, and only if he feels like he’s in a drought does he consider taking something out.

Some people he’s dated have taken the time to be considerate of the schedule he keeps. A few long-term relationships down the road, none of them have ever really played a role in preparing Geno for a game.

Except, now, Sid.

Sweet, a little bit shy, and most certainly, hockey crazy, Sidney Crosby. Geno has never really met someone like Sid before.

The Penguins are visiting Minnesota for a game. They’re given a day off while Minnesota is busy on a back-to-back when Geno catches word that St. Cloud University is having a women’s hockey game. Their arena is an hour away but if the young boys plan on going out to pick up, Geno would almost rather have them mingle with girls their own age than mess with cougars.

What a concept. Geno never heard of it until he came to America.

That’s where he meets Sid for the first time, always the first person to jump up out of his seat during an exciting play, complete with an embarrassing sign with his sister’s name on it clearly made with their mother’s touch. It’s nearly a full house for a women’s college game and Sid just might be the loudest person in attendance whether it be cheering or simply talking to himself.

The Huskies are on a 2-3 lead at home hoping to solidify the win when the away team pulls their goalie. Crosby in the net thinks about freezing the puck, decides against it, and sends it flying across the ice so fast Geno’s not even sure if McDavid could catch up to it. Huskies get the empty net and Geno promptly smacked in the face with Sid’s cardboard sign.

He might play up the pain a little bit in front of the boys, but he’s the captain so he can always glare the rookies into submission later. Right now, he’s focused on the beautiful man holding his face, checking for paper cuts.

Sid must apologize a dozen times in his Canadian politeness before he agrees to let it go.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes again after apologizing for apologizing so much.

Geno just laughs, ignoring the shocked faces of his teammates. “If so sorry, you come to Pens game tomorrow? Cheer me on?”

Me, not us. He suffers from chirping on his pickup line skills for weeks. It’s well worth it the way Sid’s face gets a blushy red. Geno doesn’t usually do this, try to pick up where people can see him. It’s one thing to do it at the club where it’s dark and there’s so many bodies around it could be easy to mistake Geno for anyone. But here, Geno can hear some whispers of people who’ve recognized them and he doesn’t care.

“I’d love to,” Sid says, a bit shocked and breathless. “Can I bring someone? My sister?”

“Of course, I’m love to meet her.”

*

Sid lives in Pittsburgh and after four months of dating Geno, moves in with him. A notable amount of Sid’s things were already in Geno’s house and with Sid’s lease up, it seemed like a good opportunity to bring the topic up. He steps back long enough to make sure he isn’t rushing things and decides screw it.

The worst Sid can do is say no.

Sid doesn’t. He asks every other variation of making sure Geno thought things through and making sure if Geno won’t get tired of him if Sid moves in too early. Geno doesn’t think that’s possible.

“He makes a good trophy husband,” Flower teases Geno one day. Sid has successfully gained Scarlet’s favor and is showing her his best impression of his face off look.

Silently, Geno agrees.

*

While Geno is prepping for his pregame nap, Sid is coming out of a fresh shower after coming home from the gym. He just looks soft with his hair wet and dressed comfortably in a Pens shirt Geno is pretty sure Sid stole from him. It doesn’t take much to persuade Sid to lay down with Geno for a while, just until he falls asleep, but when Geno wakes up, Sid is still tucked under the curve of his arm, perhaps even closer than how they started off.

Geno has never taken a better nap.

Sid wakes up with him and makes enough pasta for the both of them as a late lunch, early dinner. Geno spends the majority of that time admiring how good Sid looks in his kitchen. No longer awkward and afraid to ask where things are or if he can use them. Some things on the higher shelves Geno had to move down just so Sid could reach them.

Geno never mentioned it but Sid must’ve appreciated the gesture if the spontaneous makeout on the couch was an indication.

On the way out to the arena, Sid gives Geno a good luck kiss in the doorway of their house. Sid gets perhaps a lot more handsy with Geno in his suit, which gives him so many ideas he’ll have to touch on with Sid later, however, he gathers his inner strength and walks away.

The jumbotron catches Sid later filming the replay of Geno’s second goal of the night. For the rest of the duration of the game and an hour after, Twitter is buzzing wanting to know who the attractive man behind the glass was.

Flower screenshots every last one of the comments and sends them to Geno.

*

The Pens take bets on how many open practices Sidney will show up to. So far, since meeting Geno, he’s five for five.

Tanger and Flower have completely monopolized Sid’s time away from Geno. In the midst of their poorly veiled interrogation on his intentions toward their captain they discover Sid played hockey. So now, the rest of the boys are equally impressed.

At some point, someone gets Sid one of Geno’s sticks and a roll of tape. The rookies watch awe of Sid’s meticulous taping skills, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in the cutest way as he gets Geno’s stick the way he wants it.

Geno doesn’t have the heart to tell Sid that that isn’t how he likes his sticks taped. He just asks Dana on the side to prepare another one. Somehow, the stick ends up on Geno’s rack and later in his hand anyway. It takes until the puck hits his stick that he notices something different. He still manages to score on Flower so maybe Sid didn’t tape it badly, just not the way Geno would have.

The stick stays, taped and all, a weird request Geno has never given before. It goes with them to Philly where it ends up in Geno’s hand again. By the end of the night, Geno has three assists and a new method of taping his sticks.

He can’t manage to replicate Sid’s method on his own though.

“You do much better than me,” he tells Sid with four sticks lined up to be taped.

“Are you sure?” Sid still asks. “Wouldn’t you rather tape it the way you like it?”

Geno shrugs. “I like your way better.”

“I could just teach you,” Sid suggests although clearly in hockey mode. His tongue is poking out again. Geno briefly thinks that he should definitely kiss his boyfriend.

So, he does.

Sidney has to tape the stick all over again from scratch though for being distracted. Worth it.

*

The Metro Division is something of a mess right now. The Pens are trying their best to secure a wildcard position. It’s going to happen. Geno won’t let this go on for much longer if he has anything to say about it. The Capitals, however, are top of the Metro. Ovi aside, the Caps need to win a little less so the Pens can rise through the rankings.

And Philly. And maybe the Devils too.

Geno just wants to win. As back to back Stanley Cup champions, they’ve been doing that a little less often than they were expected to.

Caps play the Detroit Red Wings, a team Geno couldn’t really if they won or lost, except they’re playing Ovi so he’s officially Team Detroit.

Sid misses much of the heart attacks caused from the three periods played. Regulation ends in a tie, they take a commercial break to prep for OT just as Sid walks through the door, home from work finally. He gets out greetings for Geno and all his teammates, barely kisses Geno on the cheek when bam. Tomas Tatar scores in OT.

Red Wings win.

Right after the Devils play the Bruins at home. Sid isn’t allowed to leave the room unless there’s a commercial. The Devils also lose.

Now the Pens are that much closer to a playoff spot.

*

Roadies were difficult before, but now they’re even moreso. Geno’s routines are all messed up.

He can’t call Sid before practice, not when Sidney’s at work, but Sid does manage to call him later on the way home. It’s later in Pittsburgh than it is in LA which works in their favor. Geno gets enough of his Sid time before he has to start trying to nap. He ignores all the kissy faces Flower is giving him.

Later, he goes out, plays hard, feels his stick crack in his hands while he’s coming down from an adrenaline high from having one of the best shifts of his career.

“Broke?” he asks Reaver on the bench for a second opinion. A few cracks are probably nothing.

Reaves at first nods, then begins to shake his head when he sees the damage. “Yeah, pretty sure sticks don’t crack that much.”

Geno curses in Russian briefly. “I’m sore, I can’t change!”

Unfortunately, Geno’s stick doesn’t hold on.

During intermission Geno sends Sid a long string of frowny faces without eyes.

When he can finally go back to Pittsburgh, he and Sid sit on the couch. Sid taping five more of Geno’s sticks while Geno randomly fills out bubbles on a blank scantron. He colors in six C’s in a row before Sid leans against his side.

“You should probably throw some other letters in there, too. The kids get panicky when they’re the same letter for too long,” Sid advises.

So Geno does.

He spells CAB three times before he comes to where Sid told him to stop. It’ll probably be the most second-guess endusing quiz Sidney will ever give his students.

Sid ends up sprawled out on the couch, petting their foster cat, which certainly will end up being adopted by them anyway, his legs on top of Geno’s. Domestic, Geno thinks.

“What?” Sid asks eventually, seeing Geno staring.

Geno shrugs. The kiss probably does most of the talking for him.

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Zen and the art of zamboni repair

I probably have enough work stuff that I should have skipped pickup hockey. But I'm not sure how productive me telling people to do their jobs yet again is. Alternatively there's no doubt at all my mental and emotional wellbeing was improved by playing.

It was a fast skate, and fun. I felt for sure I made more good saves than let in easy goals. I felt there was really only one time I messed up really badly which is great. The overall skill and speed level was on the faster side which makes it more fun I think, as long as nothing is on the line for when they are just too good for me.

We had two goalies but the other guy isn't that great and I don't think has been playing very long. I faced the better side to start the game and was fine just keeping it that way but he switched after taking a break about half way through the scheduled time.

Then we just kept going and going and going. The faster guys are all around college age and were the ones who had the energy to keep skating when they gave us an extra half hour past the scheduled time. The other goalie left after like 5 minutes but I was feeling good so just stayed the whole time until we finally stopped because even the college guys were getting tired enough to be falling down more than usual and risk injury.

It was fun and I played well and got great exercise which helped after lightning in the evenings this week has been canceling our pool exercising.

Who on Edmonton Oilers' extended NHL roster is likely to be promoted to a "Core 12" spot next season?

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Who on Edmonton Oilers' extended NHL roster is likely to be promoted to a "Core 12" spot next season?

Breadcrumb Trail Links

Cult of Hockey

Author of the article:

Bruce McCurdy  •  Edmonton Journal

Vancouver Canucks defenseman Quinn Hughes (43) checks Edmonton Oilers forward Ryan McLeod (71) in the third period at Rogers Arena. Oilers won 5-3 on May 4, 2021. Photo by Bob Frid /USA TODAY Sports

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The other day we began our off-season review of Edmonton Oilers’ roster with a detailed look at the club’s “Core 12” players, a group that includes the starting goalie, top two defence pairs, top two forward lines plus third-line centre. While one or two of those spots might be open to debate, I chose the following dozen: 

Lots of holes in this version of the Oilers Core 12, of which no fewer than 8 players (white background) played under expiring contracts in 2021 and are poised to become free agents next month. Of the others, 2 have a year to run on their current pact (blue background), and 2 are locked up long term (orange). Thankfully, that latter category includes both of Edmonton’s “franchise” players.

Let’s look a little further down the line-up this time:

Every skater here played 8 or more NHL games with the Oilers this past season, nobody else played even 1. The list does include a tiny shuffle between the pipes, where mid-season waiver pickup Alex Stalock dressed as a backup goalie a couple of times, but saw no game action. He was on an NHL roster all season long so clearly belongs with this group. Stuart Skinner on the other hand did play an NHL game, but primarily was a core player for Bakersfield Condors so will be considered later.

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Whereas there are tons of pending free agents in the Core 12, the secondary players — including at least 2 at each position — are largely under contract. That’s not necessarily a good thing, especially on a team whose bottom 6 forwards have gotten owned at 5v5 on an annual basis.

Before we slice the chart vertically and review on a position-by-position basis, it’s instructive to do so horizontally and look at them as 6-man units. The first of those — Neal-Turris-Kassian-Russell-Bear-Koskinen — is not only under contract, but for a collective $18.35 million in ’21-22. That’s over $3 million a man. Not too many value pacts to be seen, especially up front where veterans Neal, Turris and Kassian each played only half the season for various reasons, combining for just 9 goals at a cap hit of $10.6 million. And not one of those contracts is expiring. Ouch.

The second set of Shore-McLeod-Archibald-Jones-Bouchard-Stalock at least has the virtue of being inexpensive, to the tune of less than $1 million per. At that level, contracts can be buried in the AHL, making those spots more open to competition.

Just 6 guys on the entire list who don’t have a contract, 2 of them already committed elsewhere. At first blush the other 4 are in deep simply due to the numbers game.

Left wing

Mixed reviews on the big contract-driven trade that brought James Neal to Edmonton in exchange for Milan Lucic. Some saw it as a Ken Holland-inspired miracle, but the net effect to this point is that Edmonton’s cap hit went up, not down. Instead of absorbing $6.0 million per season on Lucic, the Oilers are on the hook for a net $6.5 million, of which $5.75 is Neal’s AAV and the other $750k cap retention on Lucic. Neal came out guns blazing in Oil Country, but since the calendar turned to 2020 has struggled with injury and COVID and scored just 5 goals in 42 games. With 2 years yet to run on that contract and Neal about to turn 34 before camp opens, the Oilers may well be considering a buyout. That would open a little over $3.8 million in cap space the next 2 years, but claw back 50% of that amount in the following 2. This per PuckPedia.com: From the organization’s perspective the buyout option is the one significant advantage of the Neal pact vs. that of Lucic, which was and is virtually buyout-proof. But that only comes into play if the Oilers actually pull the trigger. Best guess here is that they will.

Devin Shore was RFA at season’s end, but has already signed a 2-year extension at $850,000 per.

Tyler Ennis was acquired for a draft pick at the 2020 trade deadline, then signed to a 1-year extension which has run its course. The 31-year-old vet showed some nice offensive flashes, but ultimately scored just 3 times in 30 games while twice clearing waivers and spending plenty of time on the taxi squad. A small forward with no meaningful role on special teams, I’ll speculate Ennis won’t be re-signed a second time.

Joakim Nygard‘s NHL dream was ruined by a badly-broken hand. He has already committed to a 6-year (!) contract back in his native Sweden.

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Centre

Just 3 centres listed in our chart above, though its worth remembering our initial Core 12 had an “extra” centre in Jujhar Khaira, identified as a 3C which by definition is a bottom 6 player. Indeed, Khaira played fewer than 10 minutes all season long with each of Connor McDavid, Leon Draisaitl, or Ryan Nugent-Hopkins, and scarcely more than that with anyone who might identify as a “skill winger”. He’s RFA with a qualifying platform of $1.3 million. We discussed JJK’s situation in the previous post, and also in the podcast associated with this one.

Signed to a 2-year contract on the first day of free agency, Kyle Turris showed plenty off the ice, where he received Edmonton’s nomination for the King Clancy Award for his exemplary work at the Glenrose Rehabilitation Hospital. On the ice was another story, however, where he struggled right out of the gate at both ends of the sheet. The would-be 3C soon wound up as a bit player, clearing waivers at one point and playing on the wing on those rare occasions when he got a game. He finished with just 2-3-5 and a team-worst -11 in 27 games. Alas, he still has a year to run at a cap hit of $1.65 million. Oilers could consider buying him out but are more likely to send him to Bakersfield which would allow them to bury $1.125 million and retain “just” $525,000 against the cap. Not impossible he rebounds and makes the club, of course, but that seems the unlikelier outcome from this distance.

Ryan McLeod made terrific strides in 2020-21, first getting some productive time in the Swiss National League before ripping it up in the AHL (28 GP, 14-14-28, and a league-leading +23). That earned him the distinction of an in-season recall to the NHL, the only player in the organization to do so successfully. He got his feet wet with 10 games and 4 more in the playoffs, scoring just 1 point but showing decent promise. McLeod projects to being a #3C in due course, but surely is better pencilled in at 4C next year until such time as he plays his way up the line-up. Shows real promise to be a draft-and-develop success story, a rare bird in this part of the world.

Gaetan Haas was a quirky, fun player to watch with some real defensive utility but zero offence that translated to the NHL. Like Nygard, he’s signed a long-term deal (5 years) back home, in his case Switzerland.

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Right wing

Zack Kassian‘s counting numbers in 2021 were literally that: 1 fight, 2 goals, 3 assists, dash-4, 5 points. His season was limited to just 27 games due to 2 significant injuries. After a monster 2019 riding shotgun with McDavid that saw him score 24-26-50 in 82 games between Jan 01 and Dec 31, he was signed by Holland in 2020 January to a 4-year extension at a whopping $3.2 million AAV. But the wheels came off right away; he’s scored just 4 times in 47 games since the calendar turned to 2020. Now 30, his career is at (another) crossroads. While there are some whispers that eastern-based clubs might be interested on the trade market, one wonders if they might balk at that cap hit. Best guess is that he’ll still be an Oiler come the fall, with Holland foremost among those fervently hoping for a bounceback season.

Josh Archibald was signed in the summer of 2019 to a 1-year-deal, then re-upped for 2 years with a 50% raise that raised his cap hit to $1.5 million. That deal still has a year to run. Oilers fans can expect more of the same fast-skating, hard-hitting, aggressive-penalty killing style Arch has brought to this point, along with maybe 10 goals.

Alex Chiasson came to Edmonton in 2018 at a crossroads, having just won a Stanley Cup but unable to land a contract. He had to come to camp on a professional tryout before winning an NHL minimum pact from the Oil and using it as a springboard to a career-best 22-goal season. Holland signed him to a 2-year extension in the summer of 2019 at a pricier $2.15 million, for which he delivered responsible even-strength play and net-front excellence on the league’s best powerplay, but only 20 goals combined over the 2 years. That pact has now expired and the cap space likely to be used elsewhere, though it’s not impossible he could be brought back at a significantly lower figure. Best guess here? He’s gone.

Patrick Russell has gotten way further than anyone could have expected since he was signed as a college free agent back in 2016, ultimately signing 4 different contracts with the org. He spent parts of the last 3 seasons with the Oilers, appearing in 59 games overall. Alas, the promising offence he showed in the AHL did not survive the trip to Canada, and he remains stuck on 0 career goals. The Dane was OK-ish as an occasional fill-in on the 4th line, but with his latest 1-year pact expired it seems likely the org will look elsewhere to fill his spot. Almost the definition of a “replacement-level player”.

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Left defence

Kris Russell has been an Oiler for 5 years now, the last 4 of them at a $4 million AAV. His ice time dwindled the last 2 seasons, and he appeared in just 35 games in 2021. Partly due to expansion draft requirements, the organization saw fit to sign him to a 1-year extension at less than a third of his old cap hit. That’s a more appropriate price tag for a guy who projects to a part-time third-pairing role. The diminutive 34-year-old still has defensive chops but has never excelled at the transition game.

Caleb Jones still has a year to run on the 2-year, $850k AAV pact he signed early in 2020. At the time it projected as a value contract, but a year later the player has struggled to make the next step and optimism about his future is waning in some quarters, though not in others. He had a great chance to step into a second pairing role but instead stepped into his coach’s doghouse on occasion. He remains a promising young player who may well be targeted by Seattle Kraken in the upcoming expansion draft.

William Lagesson got an extended look on a defence-first pairing with Adam Larsson. He played a robust game and won his share of physical battles, but brought very little in terms of offensive or even transition game. The Oilers averaged just 16.34 shots per hour that he was on the ice at 5v5, by far the lowest among the 712 NHL skaters who played at least 120 minutes. (Teammate Haas was next at 19.63, over 20% (!) higher.) He’s halfway through the 2-year pact he signed last summer, but as he enters his Draft +8 season it’s surely fair to conclude “limited upside”.

Slater Koekkoek signed a 1-year deal late in free agency, won some fans with his early play before getting injured. He’s poised to become UFA again, even as many folks have penciled his name in as a likely returnee. This observer is less sure about that, given the organization’s depth at left defence. Detailed write-up here.

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Right defence

Finally, a chance to discuss a player who has a legitimate shot to move from this group into the Core 12 next season. That would be Ethan Bear, who was a top 4 defender in his impressive rookie season in 2019-20 who found himself in a third-pairing role on many nights in 2021. Both guys who were ahead of him, Tyson Barrie and Larsson, are currently UFA. Only one of them is pat to be back — I’m guessing Larsson — with Bear well-positioned to step back into his old pairing with Darnell Nurse. He has a year to run on a bridge deal that carries a $2.0 million cap hit.

Evan Bouchard also projects as a Core 12 type in the future, though it’s likely he will first be eased into a third pairing role. He was blocked by all 3 of Barrie, Larsson and Bear in 2021, and played just 14 games in what many saw as a failed developmental opportunity.

Goaltenders

Mikko Koskinen had a hugely disappointing season that failed to build on what was a fairly strong 2019-20. He was OK for a while in the backup role, but struggled mightily any time he got more regular ice time. He definitively lost the #1 job to Mike Smith, whose base salary was just a third of Koskinen’s. That $4.5 million cap hit still has a year to run, leading some to speculate that the Oilers might buy him out. If they try to move him in a trade it will come with a cost of a sweetener, cap retention, and/or a hefty pact coming the other way. Detailed write-up here.

Alex Stalock was plucked off the waiver wire at mid-season, but came with an ongoing health issue and spent plenty of time in a non-roster position before eventually being activated as a third goalie. He played no games. He’s cheap ($785k), experienced, and might battle for a backup job in the fall, though he’s more likely to stay as the #3 man in the depth chart. That’s problematic in an organization that has 3 promising young goaltenders with North American pro contracts and limited places to play.

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Summary

19 players in all discussed here, a meaty post to say the least. Primary takeaways are three-fold:

too many weighty contracts in the lower echelon of the roster, and no easy path to clear them out that doesn’t leave residual dead cap space like buyouts or cap retention.

too few players on the list who project into the Core 12 in the near or intermediate term. I count just Bear in the former category, with Bouchard, Jones and McLeod (as the token forward) in the latter. Given all the potential vacancies due to free agency, internal help still seems to be a fair ways off.

including the Core 12 plus those detailed here, just 2 players (McLeod and Bouchard) on the NHL roster will still be on their Entry Level Contract in ’21-22.

Of course the club has other players in the pipeline who were outside the NHL last season, including several promising ones. We’ll dive into this last group next time.

Recently at the Cult of Hockey

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Follow me on Twitter @BruceMcCurdy

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