#we have somewhere to stay for free so that helps justify

[rezcowgirl]

The Seattle LCD Soundsystem tickets were $575 CAD EACH.

This better be the best goddamn concert I've ever been to.

Aries and friends are dying to go so I'll suck it up because I know I'll have incurable FOMO, but damn. I love LCD Soundsystem, too. But at what cost? (<-the cost is $575 plus gas)

[theemporium]

[14.5k] ethan edwards was prepared for his rookie year in the nhl. he just wasn't prepared for a rat infestation, an unlikely roommate and to fall in love too. (smutty scenes mostly implied)

aka a fic based in the future when ethan finally joins the devils so don’t take anything remotely seriously!

happy birthday @httplando!! enjoy the belated birthday fic🤠gonna go mute you now before you spam my phone with voice notes of you giggling over ethan xoxo

.

SEPTEMBER

Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year.

He had long come to terms with the fact he was in the National Hockey League. It still felt surreal but the reality had long sunk in since the day he was drafted. This was his goal. This was his dream. And he had made it. 

And he knew it would be different from hockey in any other league he had played. He knew it would be faster, harder, more demanding than college hockey. He knew that he would be pushing his body to levels he had never experienced. He knew he was mentally going to go through some of the toughest months of his life as he settled into the big leagues. He knew he was taking the sport he loved to a whole new level and he was prepared for that. 

He was prepared for his rookie year. 

He wasn’t prepared to fall in love with you. 

More than that, he wasn’t prepared to fall in love and not fucking realise it. Especially when you were his fucking roommate. 

Though, when he thought about it, the signs from the universe directing you onto his life path was there long before his first game as a New Jersey Devil. 

“Have you signed for a place yet?” Luke had asked him during the summer, somewhere in the days between wakeboarding and sunbathing and enjoying the freedom of his last stress-free summer before he entered the professional league. 

“I’ve got a few potential options but it’s fine,” Ethan had replied, dozing off on the sunlounger with his eyes closed beneath his sunglasses. “I’ve got time before training camp starts. There’s no rush.” 

And honestly? It was his own stupid ignorance that led to the karma of his current situation. 

“We do apologise, Mr Edwards, but there is nothing we can do. The building manager won’t be able to fix the problems before your move in date and we have no available lots to accommodate you until the problems are solved.”

Ethan tried to let the woman’s soothing voice calm him, but it was hard to find any peace in the words she was saying. “So, I’m homeless?”

“Once again, we do apologise for the inconvenience but the apartment is completely inhabitable.”

Because of fucking course he would find himself scrambling for last minute accommodation in Jersey, days before he was meant to meet his new team and start settling in to his rookie year. The universe couldn’t be too nice to him, not in the year he knew was going to be one of the roughest of his life. 

So, he did what any sane person would do and had a total breakdown on the phone to his mother. And then he called Luke, feeling somewhat spiteful that the boy jinxed his luck earlier that summer. The least he could do is help him out now. 

After Luke had spent the first five minutes laughing because, in his words, “who the fuck has a rat infested apartment in Jersey?”

“Can you help me or not?” Ethan sighed, fingers pressed against his temples in hopes it would ease the ache that had been lingering behind his eyes since he first picked up the phone from the estate agent that morning. 

“I mean, I’m sure Nico or one of the other guys wouldn’t mind taking you in. Jack stayed with—” Luke started but a distressed noise from Ethan cut him short.

“Yeah but Jack was, like, eighteen. I’m meant to be a fucking college graduate,” Ethan grumbled, his cheeks burning. “What impression would that set for the guys on the team?” 

Luke paused. “You’re absolutely reading far too much into this.”

Ethan scoffed. “I think my reaction is justified.”

“Drama queen,” Luke grumbled under his breath before sighing. “I have a friend that was looking for a roommate, actually. You could always stay with them until your place is sorted. The apartment isn’t too far from the rink.”

“Someone on the team?”

“No, someone else.” 

Ethan blinked. “You have friends outside of hockey? Outside of me?”

“Yes, Ethan, I have other friends. You aren’t my only friend.”

“You think you know people and they stab you in the back,” Ethan sighed, far too dramatically (in Luke’s opinion).

“Look, do you want the place or not?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ethan quickly spoke up. “That would be perfect. Send me your friend’s number.” 

.

Now, when Luke had told Ethan that he had a friend—a non-hockey friend, at that—that was looking for a roommate, he wasn’t exactly sure what or who was expecting. He didn’t like to make assumptions on people when he knew little to nothing about them. It didn’t feel polite.

But he feels like he’s pretty fucking justified in feeling duped by the youngest Hughes brother when he finds out his new roommate isn’t a guy at all. 

In Ethan’s opinion, that feels like pretty fucking important information to reveal before he shows up at your door with his car down below packed up with bags and boxes down in the carpark. 

Because now, he looks like a fucking idiot when you open the door and he is left standing there, frozen and mouth open like a fish whilst every English word is thrown out of his head. 

“You must be Ethan,” you said eventually, because Ethan still couldn’t bring himself to speak after a painful thirty seconds. “Luke’s friend?”

“Uh yeah,” he cleared his throat, at least having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed by his reaction with blushing cheeks. “Thank you so much, by the way. You’re really doing me a huge favour.”

“Luke said you were desperate.”

Ethan wanted to disagree but he couldn’t. Not really.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he tried to laugh off, though your face remained mostly unimpressed. “So—”

“Your room is the one on the left. Your bathroom is right next door. Three cupboards have been emptied for you in the kitchen and you have the top shelves in the fridge,” you stated, so matter-of-factly that Ethan could only blink in response. “Any questions?”

“No?” 

“Great,” and with that, you wandered further into the apartment, leaving Ethan standing in the doorway dumbfounded. 

…

OCTOBER

It didn’t take long for Ethan to realise you had some walls around you, and small talk was certainly not the way to get past them.

It was a shift to the roommates he was used to, fresh out of college and having spent the better part of the last four years staying with some of his closest friends and teammates. But it wasn’t totally unwelcome on his part. It was kind of nice to have a space that wasn’t so…hockey.

And it helped that he had his own space. 

September passed in the blink of an eye and soon training camp became the real deal. It felt surreal to think he was really in the NHL now, that he was a professional hockey player, that this was his job and his livelihood now. 

But it also felt fucking great. 

The schedule of an NHL player was no joke and it was certainly not something Luke exaggerated—despite what Ethan assumed during the summer. It was intense and tiring and he didn’t have much time to think about anything else. 

Except maybe his ice cold, standoffish roommate. 

As the regular season began, Ethan had come to a few conclusions. 

.

One: you were not a morning person, especially before having any form of caffeine. That was something he learnt the hard way. 

Early morning practices were nothing new to Ethan. He wasn’t exactly an early bird, but his body had trained itself to familiarise itself with the early mornings after years and years of playing hockey. It was the norm for him, to be awake as the sun started peeking through the horizon and the rest of the world was about to wake up.

He wouldn’t call himself chipper, not really. He was just as energetic as he normally is.

You seemed to disagree. 

“Morning, stranger!” Ethan greeted you as you shuffled into the kitchen, with a boyish grin on his face and a spatula in hand.

You didn’t even glance at him as you shuffled towards the fridge. 

“Not a morning person, got it,” Ethan nodded, biting back his smile as you turned to glare at him. 

“It’s half six in the morning,” you grumbled. “Why are you so loud?” 

“My mum says it’s a part of my charm.” 

You didn’t look very amused in response. 

The following mornings seemed to fit the same routine. Even on the days he didn’t have practice or meetings, Ethan would find himself waking up early and starting his day around the same time you would be up for work. He would be chatty, you would look like you wanted to gauge his eyes out. It was oddly comforting. 

Somewhere in the middle of the second week of this fixed routine, he began to feel confident enough in watching your routine to know exactly what you needed the second you walked out your room. 

“Good morning!” 

You blinked, staring at the steaming mug he was currently offering you. It took you a few seconds to process the sight before you realised you hadn’t spoken.

“What’s this?” You questioned, a questioning look in your eyes. 

“Coffee. Made exactly the way you like it.” Ethan stayed confidently, his grin widening as you took a sip and let out an appreciative hum. 

“Thanks,” was all you said before shuffling around the kitchen to continue with the rest of his routine. 

On the days he was in Jersey, there was always a coffee cup waiting for you every morning. 

.

Two: you were always cold. Always. No matter what the temperature was outside.

In all honesty, Ethan didn’t get it at all. From what he had gathered in his conversations with you and what Luke told him, you had spent a fair chunk of your life in New Jersey so, if he was being honest, he thought you would have been somewhat used to the colder temperatures. 

But walking into the apartment after afternoon practice to find you bundled on the couch like you were in a blizzard told Ethan that assumption was far from the truth.

“Did the heating break?” was the first thing he asked when he saw you, a wave of concern washing over him as he dumped his bags at the door and made his way to the thermostat.

“No,” you murmured from somewhere in the pile of blankets. “S’just cold.”

Ethan paused, reading the thermostat before turning back to you with an amused expression on his face. “It’s kinda warm for Jersey in October today.”

There was a bit of rustling before your head popped up from amongst the blankets, your eyes narrowed in accusation. “Not all of us are professional athletes sweating their asses off for two hours.”

“In an ice rink,” he added with a grin.

Your glare hardened. 

“Do you want a hot water bottle?” 

You paused for a few moments before nodding with a sheepish expression. “Please.”

Ethan huffed out a laugh before he made his way into the kitchen, kettle filled and turned on before he went to hunt down the hot water bottle he was pretty sure his mother had packed away somewhere in his stuff when he moved away from Michigan.

He returned a few minutes later, lightly nudging the pile of blankets until your face popped up again and your eyes softened at the hot water bottle. He couldn’t help but giggle at the way you quickly snatched it from him, murmuring your thanks as it disappeared under the blankets. 

“Any time,” Ethan said, and he meant it.

.

Three: you really didn’t open up to strangers. Or roommates. Or anyone, really. 

He wasn’t exactly sure how Luke Hughes of all people managed to wiggle his way into a friendship with you, but it was an anomaly that had been wracking his brain for the last few weeks.

It was a week or so before Halloween and he was laying on the couch, his brows furrowed together as he tried to scroll through the internet for an idea of what he could wear to the Halloween party one of the boys were hosting. 

“Why do you look constipated?” 

His head snapped up, finding you standing at the end of the couch. You had two smoothies in your hand, the bag you take to your classes still on your shoulder and your shoes still on. He briefly glanced at the time, frowning a little when he realised he had been sitting there for the better part of two hours before he turned back to you.

“Trying to figure out a last minute Halloween costume,” he told you, eyebrows raised in surprise as you handed him one of the smoothies. He smiled as he took it, taking an obnoxiously loud slurp before you settled down on the other side of the couch. “I wanted to do something with Seamus and Luke but Seamus said he had his sorted and Luke said he was doing a joint costume with someone else.” 

“Oh yeah, me,” you answered casually and Ethan tried to hide his shock. 

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah?” You responded, giving him an odd look. “Luke always invites me to these things. He’s also hopeless with costumes.” 

“I didn’t realise you and Luke were so…close,” he said vaguely, his cheeks flushing a little when he realised what his words sounded like. “Not that it’s any of my business—”

“You’re right, it’s not.” You shrugged, taking a long sip from your smoothie before continuing. “But he’s one of my closest friends.” 

Ethan nodded, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at your words. “How did you two meet?” 

“The strip club.”

Ethan blanched. 

“Geez, you’re more gullible than Luke,” you commented, the hint of a smile on your lips. “You ask a lot of questions, Edwards.”

“I’m a nosy person,” he answered honestly with a shrug. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Because there isn’t much to it.” 

And, in your defence, he knew you didn’t owe him any answers. But he was curious and he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around how close you and Luke were—close enough for you to willingly accept one of Luke’s friends as your roommate for an indefinite amount of time. 

And, at the crux of it, he didn’t understand how Luke was able to get through to you when he couldn’t. 

Ethan was never one to brag but he was a magnet for people. It helped him thrive in hockey, always willing to be that guy on the team that people feel like they could always talk to. It helped him thrive at university, being a social butterfly that could always make a friend in any situation. 

It usually helped. 

So yeah, maybe Ethan was a little stumped why you didn’t seem to want to be his friend, not in the way you were with Luke and some of the other guys on the team. It seemed like being your roommate added a wall he didn’t know how to break down. 

And when the Halloween party happened, it felt like seeing a whole new person when you were chatting and laughing with Luke. 

You looked more at ease as you stood next to him, happily sipping on whatever drink he had gotten for you from the kitchen. You seemed more relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you laughed at whatever joke Curtis had made at Luke’s expense. 

It fuelled a fire for Ethan, one he hadn’t realised had been started before that night. But he didn’t just want to be your roommate anymore, he didn’t like having that wall between you. 

He wanted to be your friend too. 

…

NOVEMBER

Three months into the NHL told Ethan that it was really no joke.

He was expecting the more intense training and physical playing. He was expecting his body to feel more tired, more hungry, more sore. He was expecting the ruthless journalists and vocal fans and tougher coaches. 

He wasn’t expecting the mental toll of realising that hockey was all he had in his life. 

It was stupid to complain about, considering it was his dream and all, but it was true. Hockey was his whole world right now. He woke up thinking about hockey, he went to the rink thinking about hockey, he made his dinner thinking about hockey, and then he went to sleep thinking about hockey. 

Nine times out of ten, he dreamt about hockey too.

It was different to the hockey he knew growing up, or the hockey he experienced in Michigan. Because at least in Michigan, there were classes or parties or concerts or something to take his mind off hockey. 

But it wasn’t the same in New Jersey.

There were hangouts with Luke and Seamus, or team bonding sessions organised by Nico. There were drinks at the bar after a good game to celebrate, or a particularly bad one they needed cheering up after. There were fun trips around cities he had never properly explored when they were away on roadies. 

But it was all still linked to hockey. 

And he guessed he wasn’t great at hiding his conundrum when Nico skated up beside him near the end of practice, throwing out the offer to grab a coffee and chat after they finished their debrief with the coaching staff. 

.

For what it was worth, Nico didn’t think he sounded stupid when he explained himself. If anything, the captain was quite understanding. 

“I had it when I first moved,” he had confessed as they sat in some urban coffee shop in a part of the city Ethan hadn’t properly explored before. But Nico swore up and down it had the best coffee to offer. “I was young and I was here for hockey so I thought my whole life had to be hockey.”

“What changed?” Ethan asked, hands wrapped around the big mug his latte was in like it would give him something to do, something to focus on rather than the restless itch under his skin.

“The older guys,” Nico said with a knowing smile. “The ones that learnt how to balance life and hockey. The ones with wives and families and friends outside of the team.”

Ethan’s brows furrowed together. “You think I should go get married?” 

“Not right away,” Nico laughed, shaking his head. “But I know how easy it is to get wrapped up in the rookie year nonsense and everything. And you should be enjoying that, for sure. But there’s more to life than hockey, which is quite hard to believe right now. But it’s true, whether it’s a wife—or husband—and family or a hobby or a group of friends you can be a different Ethan with.”

Ethan nodded, a surprisingly serious expression on his face. “Hobbies?” 

“Yeah, something different to hockey,” Nico explained. “Something that doesn’t require you to give up too much time and take your focus away from hockey, but instead be a respite from everything. Like cooking!”

He blinked. “Cooking?” 

“You cook right now because you have to and you follow the diet plan the trainers give you. But you can find enjoyment in cooking because you want to,” Nico assured him, leaning back in his chair with a sure expression. “Give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

.

As it turns out, the worst that could happen is that Ethan is a fucking horrible cook. 

He tried to hold back his coughs, waving the tea towel aimlessly under the beeping fire alarm before he raced to the windows in hopes they would help get rid of the smoke. Or at least get the alarm to stop.

The one meal outside of his diet plan and he almost burned the apartment complex down trying to cook it. 

Go figure.

He had collapsed on the couch an hour later, two pizza boxes lying on the table in front of him as he aimlessly scrolled through his phone. He didn’t lift his head when he heard the front door lock turning but did freeze when he heard you cough a little. 

“Fuck, why does it smell like a shitty barbeque in here?” 

Ethan turned to you, a sheepish expression on his face as he lifted one of the pizza boxes as a peace offering. “Does pizza count as a ‘sorry for almost burning the place down’ gift?” 

You eyed the pizza box and then his face before you took the seat next to him. “Normally I would say no but you look like you had a pretty rough time, so I’ll accept it this time.”

“Geez, thanks,” Ethan snorted. 

“What were you even trying to cook anyways?” You questioned, taking a silence of margarita pizza and taking a large bite. You resisted the urge to let out a moan. “Fuck, I’m glad whatever it was. I couldn’t be bothered cooking today.” 

“Rough shift?” Ethan asked.

“Bitchy manager was on tonight,” you added with a grumble. 

“Fucking Jerry,” Ethan tsked, shaking his head. 

You turned to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“I’m delaying. There’s a difference,” Ethan corrected.

You hummed. “Okay, so why are you delaying?”

Ethan shrugged, turning his attention to the pizza box open on the coffee table in front of him. “S’stupid, no big deal. Promise.” 

You were silent for a few moments before you spoke. “Is this the point where I take the bait and beg for you to tell me why you’re upset?” 

He snorted, but it at least wrangled a smile out of him. “I’m not stressed. Just…overwhelmed.”

“With hockey?” You asked, but there was no malice or teasing in your voice. Just curiosity. 

“I know this is what I wanted but it’s just…so much. I’ve never had hockey be everything in my life, there was always something else. And now I feel like I’m drowning and no matter how much I keep kicking, I’m no closer to the surface. And the older guys seem so put together and I was trying to take their advice but it isn’t really working out and—” Ethan paused, his cheeks flushing a light pink colour when he realised he had begun rambling. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you replied and he was almost shocked to see the sincerity on your face. “It’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed. It’s a big jump. It would be weirder if you weren’t more stressed.” 

He swallowed. “Really?” 

“Yeah, I mean,” you began, the pizza forgotten on the coffee table as you turned your body on the couch until you were facing him. “Your life will never be normal again. You’ve been shoved into the spotlight and you will continue to be there forever. That’s overwhelming as fuck. And you’re trying to catch up with a bunch of guys who have been here for years, who have had seasons to figure out who they are and who they want to be. It was always going to be an uphill battle.” 

Something in his chest warmed at your understanding. 

“Guess I have a lot to look forward to then, huh?” He tried joking because it felt easier than trying to say the words that were getting stuck in the back of his throat.

“I get it,” you explained with a small nod. “Not at the same level, but I get it. Every day I wake up and I know I’m working towards the thing I want to do for the rest of my life but, fuck, some days are just harder than others. I feel like I’m sacrificing so much of my ‘best years’ doing this and sometimes I just…wonder if it’s worth it.”

“That’s intense,” Ethan murmured with his lips turned downwards.

You gave him a sad smile. “Life can be overwhelming in a lot of ways. It’s just about finding things that help us…destress, I guess.”

“Which is hard to do when you’re a rookie in the NHL who doesn’t know who the fuck he is anymore or a student spending every free moment working her ass off in a shitty job with a shitty manager to pay for college,” Ethan added with a sorrowful smile of his own. 

“Bingo,” you snorted.

“So,” Ethan sighed as he settled back against the couch. “What’s our game plan?” 

You raised your brows. “Game plan?” 

“Yeah, what are we gonna do to destress? We can help each other,” Ethan stated like it was obvious. “Like a ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’ situation.” 

You shot him a look. “I’m not scratching your back.” 

Ethan tilted his head, a grin on his lips. “So I’m assuming massages are off the table too?” 

His laugh echoed through the apartment as you threw a pillow at his face. 

. 

If Ethan was being completely honest, he didn’t think finding a destressing hobby would be so…stressful.

He had tried asking a few other guys on the team for inspiration and advice. It hadn’t been as successful as he had hoped. Though, at least he knew a handful of weird facts about the boys he played with, so it wasn’t completely useless. Team bonding and all that jazz. 

But the hobby-searching was starting to reach a point where he thought about it more than hockey. 

He couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with him. So many of the guys on the team had shared the hobbies they had outside of hockey to help relax. He even spoke to some of the UMich boys that had joined the NHL before him for some advice too. But nothing really clicked, nothing shut his brain off. 

Golfing was too time-consuming to enjoy during the regular season. The mediocre attempt at knitting resulted in a massive knotted ball of yarn being chucked into the bin. He tried reading but got bored after the first few chapters. And it felt a bit pathetic and mind-numbing (the bad kind) when he found himself watching the third episode in a row of some trashy reality TV show that had been playing. 

Nothing was giving him that relief and that step away from the busy, hectic schedule an NHL player brought. 

“You got a new potential hobby for us?” 

Ethan lifted his head to see you closing the front door behind you, bundled in about five layers of clothing you were slowly deshedding before you made your way over to him. He watched as your eyes went to the mess on the coffee table, your lips pressed together to hold back your laugh. 

“What are you doing?” You questioned, tilting your head like it would help you figure out the little project he had been working on since you left for your class a few hours ago.

“It’s meant to be a model plane,” Ethan sighed, a tad too dramatic before he turned to you with a pout on his face. “Johnny said it was easy. He used to do them when he was, like, ten years old. I think he is lying to me.” 

You snorted. “Or maybe he followed the instructions.” 

Ethan frowned. “There’s instructions?” 

You shook your head, trying to hold back your laughs as you settled on the couch beside him. There was a hint of deja vu to that day a few weeks ago—the day Ethan likes to believe the start of your buddying friendship began.

“You’ll find something,” you reassured him, nudging his shoulder with your own. 

“I think some of the guys are just messing with me with some of the hobbies they suggest,” Ethan confessed. “Curtis does not seem like a knitter at all.” 

You laughed. “Yeah no, he was definitely messing with you.” 

“Knew it,” Ethan grumbled before shrugging. “Seamus thinks I’m just being dramatic.” 

“I’m inclined to agree,” you retorted. 

He shot you a look but you didn’t seem too bothered by his glare. 

“He thinks I just need to get laid,” Ethan murmured, his eyes settling back on the lump on the coffee table that was supposed to resemble a plane. 

“So why don’t you?” 

Ethan blinked as he turned back to you. “Why don’t I, what?” 

“Why don’t you just go get laid?” You asked, turning your body slightly so you were properly facing him. “Are you a virgin?”

Ethan startled. “What? No. No, I’m not a virgin.” 

 “Then I can’t imagine it would be too difficult for you to find someone.” 

“Thanks?” Ethan frowned a little before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, s’just a little much right now. I don’t really wanna go and sleep with anyone. And I’m a little too busy to properly start something with someone, you know? It wouldn’t be fair on them if I was…flaky.” 

“What if we slept together?” 

Ethan let out a choked noise of surprise. 

You gave him an odd look. “What?”

“Us? Sleep together? Like sex?” Ethan blurted out, his voice a little more high pitched than usual. 

“Well, I don’t mean just having a sleepover,” you answered with a shrug.

His brows furrowed together. “Would it not be…weird?” 

“No, why would it be?” You retorted, sounding so sure of yourself. “I’m busy, you’re busy. I guess you’re attractive and if you find me attractive too, I don’t see what the issue is. It’s convenient for us both.” 

His eyes narrowed. “You guess I’m attractive?” 

“This is not the time for your ego,” you huffed, though he could see your lips twitching upwards.

“No no, this is the perfect time for my ego,” Ethan started, his back straightening as he sat up in his seat.

“Are you in or not?”

His eyes dropped down to your lips for a few moments before returning to your eyes. “Y-Yeah, I’m in.” 

…

DECEMBER

As it would turn out, it was far from weird. It was actually pretty fucking great. 

The awkward tension Ethan expected to rise from the first time you two slept together didn’t actually happen. The next day, everything was back to normal and, if it weren’t for the hickeys dotted over his torso, he would have assumed he dreamt the whole thing up. 

It was surprisingly refreshing. The buddying friendship between you and Ethan continued to grow as the days passed, just like he wanted, there was just also the added bonus that sometimes the two of you fucked to let off some steam.

And as much as it pained him to say, Seamus was right. He just needed to get laid. He just needed to go back to something he knew he would always be good at, that didn’t take up too much space in his brain and felt as natural as breathing to him. 

He just needed to feel someone else’s body pressed up against him, whispered moans of his name doing more to help shut up that voice in the back of his head far better than the crowds of fans screaming and chanting his name. 

He was really missing out for all these with the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing.

“Ethan.” 

“Hm?”

“We can’t.”

“I think we can,” he murmured against your neck, his smile pressed against your skin as he placed a line of chaste kisses just below your jaw. 

Your eyes fluttered close as his large hand splayed against your stomach, fingers brushing over your heated skin as he settled on the bed behind you. “You’re gonna miss your bus,” you managed to mutter out, a little breathless as you felt him rolling his hips against your ass.

“They won’t leave without me,” he assured you as he tugged you further back into him. Your panties had been kicked off somewhere under the sheets, not that either of you cared enough to give it a second thought. It just made it easier for Ethan to slip his hand between your legs, to listen to the choked noise of surprise you let out when his finger pressed on your clit. 

“That’s not how it works,” you murmured, letting out a whine when he stilled his hand between your legs, focusing on marking the spot at the base of your neck that made your arch against him. “You’re gonna miss the bus and the team will be annoyed and you’re gonna—”

“Shhhh,” Ethan mumbled against your skin. “Too much talking.” 

“Ethan.”

He let out a groan, his head dropping to your shoulder where he pressed a soft kiss there before lifting his head to shoot you a look. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmured with a snort. “It’s a seven day roadie. You’ll survive.” 

“Maybe I’m really stressed about it,” he shot back. “Maybe a quickie before I leave would help me destress.” 

You shook your head in amusement. “You’d be a lot less stressed if you weren’t thirty minutes late already.” 

Ethan’s head snapped over to the clock on your bedside table. “Shit.”

“Told you so!” You called out as he scrambled his way towards the bathroom for the quickest shower of his life. 

“Shut up!” 

.

“That’s new.”

“What’s new?” Ethan questioned, leaning down to lace up his skates with the efficiency of a man who had spent the better part of his life in ice skates. He didn’t notice the shit-eating grin on Luke’s face until he sat back up and found the boy staring at him. “What?”

“Well, either the rats from your old apartment have found your new place and decided to take revenge or there’s a different reason for the marks on your back,” Luke retorted with a knowing glint in his eyes. 

“Marks are an understatement,” Seamus snorted, sitting on the stall on the other side of Ethan. He didn’t know what he did to deserve being stuck between the two of them. “Your back is mauled, dude. Who did you sleep with, a werewolf?” 

“No,” Ethan scoffed, his cheeks burning red. “Don’t be jealous you can’t get the same reaction out of a girl.” 

“So there’s a girl?” Luke chimed in, like the little nosey shit he was. 

“Maybe,” Ethan answered vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just a casual thing. Nothing serious.” 

“Glad you finally took my advice,” Seamus grinned. 

Ethan rolled his eyes. 

“What’s her name?” Luke asked. 

To be fair, you and Ethan never discussed the logistics of your situation beyond the actual sex part. He enjoyed the little bubble the two of you shared in your apartment. It was like the two of you forgot there were other people, that the signs would be there for people to pick up on. And he wasn’t exactly sure if it was something you would want people to know, even Luke. 

He tried to bargain with himself that it wasn’t serious so there was no need for Luke or the other boys to know. You two were just scratching an itch for each other, that’s it. You were still friends at the end of the day, he didn’t want to ruin that because other people thought there was something more serious.

Ethan shrugged. “Uh, you don’t know her.”

Luke cocked an eyebrow. “So surely it doesn’t matter if we know her name or not.” 

“It’s not like she’s my girlfriend or anything,” Ethan retorted, squirming a little under Luke’s gaze. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready? Coach wants us out in five minutes.” 

“Subtlety is not your forte, Edwards,” Luke snorted in response. 

. 

The roadie ends up being a complete shit show.

Three games and they lost every single one of them. Three games and the loss just got worse with each game, with the final game being an embarrassing 5-1 loss. And all the boys were upset and annoyed about the results, but Ethan felt like he was going to lose his mind. 

His suit felt uncomfortable and itchy against his body, like some foreign layer he desperately wanted to shed. His skin felt taut and stretched across his bones, the urge to claw at his skin so overwhelming that he forced himself to focus on picking the skin around his nails instead because it was less likely to get him odd looks from the other boys. 

He had ignored Luke and Seamus’ attempts at pep-talks in the locker room, both boys seeming determined to try and reassure him the loss was not his fault—like it would stop the fumbled plays playing on a loop in his head. He watched Nico climb onto the bus, eyeing the empty seat next to him but he wasn’t in the mood to be babysat by his captain. He put his bag on the chair next to him and put his headphones on, pretending he couldn’t feel everyone’s eyes on him.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when they finally arrived back in New Jersey, but he didn’t care to know. He didn’t give anyone a chance to pull him back for a chat. He grabbed his bags and bolted to his car, wanting nothing more than to get out of his suit and just mope in his bed until practice in a few days. 

Ethan wasn’t expecting for you to still be awake.

He jumped when he spotted you on the couch, the TV still on but on mute as it played some random sitcom he couldn’t quite remember the name of. His eyes wandered over your figure, huddled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket covering your legs and a Devils branded hoodie he didn’t quite know whether it was one of your own or one of his. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. 

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” you spoke up, breaking the weird, tense silence that seemed to be suffocating the apartment since he walked in. 

“We left just after the game,” he replied, his voice a little raspy considering it was the first time he had spoken since the end of the game. “Boys wanted to get home.” 

You nodded. “M’glad you’re back. The place is pretty quiet without you.” 

It was lighthearted. It was an opening for him to plaster on a smile and pretend he was okay. It was a chance for him to escape the same awkward conversations he avoided from his teammates. 

But he was tired—the bone deep kind—and he didn’t have it in himself to keep pretending. Not in front of you. 

“I’m not sure I’m feeling very talkative right now,” he admitted, swallowing back the acidic taste in his mouth, the one that had been lingering since he stepped on the bus with all his disappointed teammates. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you reassured him as you patted the spot on the couch beside you. “We can just sit in absolute silence if you want.” 

“I’m not sure I want that either,” he confessed as his body slumped against the couch, melting into the fabric as he tried to ignore the constant buzzing voices in his head. “Just wanna forget the last week, to be honest.”

“That’s fair,” you hummed in agreement. “The refs were biassed dicks anyways. It wasn’t fair.” 

He turned his head to look at you, his surprise clearly expressed on his face. “You watched?” 

“I did,” you gave him a soft smile. “It wasn’t a pretty sight. I’m surprised the neighbours didn’t make a noise complaint against me when they put Luke in the box.” 

And despite himself, he couldn’t help but snort. “They had it out for him and Jack.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Dicks.” 

His lips twitched upwards. “Dicks indeed.” 

Ethan let his head fall back against the back of the couch, let the exhaustion settle in as his eyes fluttered shut and, for the first time in the last week, let himself have some semblance of relaxation even if his brain was still on overdrive.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” you started and his body instantly tensed up at your words. And maybe you would feel his body lock up, considering his thigh was pressed against yours and the couch wasn’t all that big either. “But I am here if you want to talk. Have someone who’s not on the team to listen to you.” 

He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat. “Just feel like I let them down.” 

“You didn’t,” your voice soft but sincere. “And I bet the boys would agree.” 

“I just…” he let out a sigh, keeping his eyes closed because it somehow made the next few sentences easier to say out loud. “I know no one likes losing. I would be a pretty bad professional athlete if I liked losing. But, I don’t know, it just…sucks more now.” 

“Because the stakes are higher?”

“Because there’s more people seeing my mistakes,” he murmured, his words short and sharp. “This is all unreal. Being able to live out my dream and play in the NHL. But every time I make a mistake, I just feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I’m waiting for someone to tell me it’s all a joke or I have been moved down or I get dropped and that’s the end of my career.” 

There was a short pause. 

“I’m scared it’s all gonna be for nothing.” 

He wasn’t sure what response he expected. Truthfully, he had no intentions of ever telling you any of this. Or anyone for that matter. He had no intentions of ever saying the words out loud, letting them fester and swirl around in the back of his mind when he was left with his thoughts alone for too long. 

And yet, he had just blurted them out to you. 

Maybe he was more tired than he realised. 

“Why did you keep playing hockey?” 

Ethan frowned a little, his eyes blinking back open as he turned to look at you again. “What?” 

“Why did you keep playing hockey?” You asked again, something swirling in your eyes but he couldn’t quite work out what. “It’s one thing to be a fan. You’re Canadian so I guess you kinda have to be. And I assume your parents put you into lessons. But why did you keep up with it? Why did you keep playing?” 

“Because I love the sport,” he answered without any hesitation.

“Exactly, you love the sport,” you repeated with a soft smile on your lips. “It’s why you stayed. It’s why you play the next game even if you lost the last one. It’s why it’s your dream, why you kept working towards the NHL. And even after the shit show of the roadie, it’s why you will go out and play the next game.” 

Ethan stayed silent but he didn’t move his eyes away from yours. 

“It’s normal to have doubts. It’s normal to second guess yourself and assume the worst and let yourself spiral,” you continued. “It’s your rookie year. It isn’t easy for anyone. It wasn’t easy for Luke, for Seamus, for any of the boys. But you love the sport and the sport loved you back. Even on the bad days.” 

“That was poetic,” he murmured, his voice a little raspy and thick with emotion. 

“I was great at English in school,” you retorted with a grin. “You’re allowed to feel scared. And you’re allowed to be upset after you lose. But you’re a part of the team, nobody is putting the loss on your shoulders and you shouldn’t either. It’s your weight to bear together.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Did Nico message you?” 

You snorted, and something about the sound made his chest tighten. In a good way, though. 

“No, but considering how fast you got here, I would be wary that he will probably show up tomorrow morning to take you for a coffee check up,” you murmured. “Or he will corner you in the locker room.” 

Ethan nodded. “Thank you. For listening and stuff.” 

You flashed him a smile as you nudged his shoulder with your own. “That’s what friends are for.”

It was almost ironic that Ethan had spent the last few months working towards the title of your friend, only to feel almost disappointed when you said it. 

. 

Nico had been the one to organise the New Years Party.

All the boys from the team were there. There were other Devils employees from the marketing, media and training teams. There were friends and friends-of-friends. There were people he had never met before. 

But it was a party and the buzz of the new year was humming through them all, and somewhere amongst it all, someone had suggested a game of truth or dare.

Ethan thinks it was Curtis, who was just drunk and nosy and a bit bored.

“Right, Baby Hughes, you gotta pick!”

Luke let out a groan, slumping into the person next to him—a chuckling John Marino who seemed amused by the glint in Curtis’ eyes—before nodding. “I feel targeted.”

Curtis grinned. “Never.”

“You’ve asked me every single time,” Luke grumbled under his breath, cheeks tinted pink and warm. “Surely this is against the rules. Right, Cap?”

Nico raised his hands in surrender. “Do not drag me into this!” 

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “So much for looking out for your boys.”

“Pick someone else before he starts getting whiny,” Jack called out, grinning widely as he dodged Luke’s elbow to his side. “I don’t wanna hear him bitching on the way back home.” 

“Fine, fine,” Curtis snorted, eyes scanning over the busy room before his eyes paused on Ethan. “Alright, Edwards, rookie’s turn. Truth or dare.” 

Ethan straightened a little, something determined in his eyes. “Truth,” he answered with a grin. “I’ve been warned of your dares.” 

“Smart,” Jesper coughed under his breath. 

“Truth, he says,” Curtis mused as he sat back in his seat, contemplative and cunning before he spoke again. 

“Play nice,” Nico teased.

“Cap’s orders,” Curtis hummed before he spoke. “Alright then, rookie, fess up. Which teammate is your least favourite? Name and shame.” 

Ethan blinked. “This feels like a trap.” 

“Oh, it certainly is,” Ondrej snorted.

“Don’t take him seriously,” Luke spoke up, leaning his head back to catch Ethan’s gaze. “He did the same to me and Simon. And Seamus last year. It’s his thing.” 

Ethan raised his brows. “Is there a right answer?” 

“Hey, no cheating!” Curtis called out. 

“Maybe my answer is you,” Ethan called back teasingly. 

“Oh, pretty boy has some fire,” the older man laughed, happily and drunkenly but it seemed enough to satisfy him before Nico was rounding everyone around for the midnight countdown.

The funny thing was that Ethan always knew that hockey was a team sport and every team he had ever played on—from the peewee team he played on as a kid to the boys he played with in UMich—every single one of them felt like a family, a place where he belonged and a team he loved both on and off ice. 

The Devils had been another one of those teams—his newest family. It had been terrifying, a lingering thought in the back of his head since he had been drafted. Every team he played for before were teams he would move on from, stepping stones in his dreams. But the NHL was at the top and he didn’t want to fuck that up. He didn’t want to feel left out from his new family. 

The Devils family had welcomed him with open arms. 

He truly couldn’t complain. He felt a connection with these boys on and off the ice, he felt like the newest member in this patchwork family that was really cared for. Even now, as the seconds ticked down to midnight, there was warmth and camaraderie in the air as they welcomed the new year. 

And yet, it was the most devastating loneliness he had ever felt in his life.

Because the clock struck twelve and the cheers echoed through the house and yet, his eyes were searching in the crowd of people. Searching for the one person he wanted by his side. Searching for the first person he has ever had the urge to kiss into the new year. 

Because Ethan Edwards spent breaking in the new year wishing he was beside you. 

…

JANUARY

New Years opened his eyes in ways that he hadn’t really considered before.

Unfortunately, eye opening nights are a bit difficult to focus on when you’re a professional athlete in the NHL hitting January in your rookie year. Because they were only half way through the regular season in one of the most physically and mentally intense years of his life, and he was a bit too fucking tired to have emotional epiphanies.

Which was fine if it weren’t for the fact he was currently in the middle of drills and his brain was definitely not focused on hockey. 

“Edwards!” 

Ethan blinked, his body moving before his brain could properly catch up. He had never been more grateful for the military-routine of drills he had been doing for as long as he had been skating. 

His muscles were screaming by the time the boys were starting to head back into the locker room, laughing and shoving each other and discussing strategies for the game against the Sabres the following day. But he lingered behind, stick twisting in his hand as he tapped a few pucks closer to the net. 

He had tried not to stare at the person lingering on the ice behind him, watching him, observing him.

He managed five shots before the person spoke up. 

“You should lower your right hand a little,” Jack called out, lingering at the blue line. “It will help with the shot.” 

His next shot hit the back corner perfectly. 

Ethan straightened his back, nodding a little before glancing over his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime,” Jack responded, taking it as his cue to skate closer towards him. “You good? You should be getting some rest before the game tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, just…wanted some extra practice on my shots,” Ethan said, shrugging his shoulders. “It needs some work.” 

Jack nodded. “You’re having a good year.”

“Could be better,” Ethan retorted before he could stop himself. It was meant to be lighthearted, playful even. Instead, it came out a little self-deprecating and he winced at himself.

“It gets better,” Jack assured him, his expression a little softer. “The rookie year is always the worst, the media attention and expectations and everything. But it gets better when you find yourself, find your footing.” 

“I know,” he murmured because he wasn’t sure what else to say. Nobody really talked about Jack’s rookie year. Not in much detail, not beyond a few comments here and there he had heard over the years in the lakehouse. 

He was more than grateful that his own rookie year wasn’t anything like Jack’s. 

“Enjoy it,” Jack continued, a kind expression on his face. It wasn’t hard to work out why Jack was given the ‘A’ on his jersey. “I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t let the critics get to you too much. They just wanna put pressure on you, make you squirm.” 

And oh. 

Because now Ethan was standing there, staring back at Jack like a hopeless idiot, realising he and the rest of the boys probably assumed his mood had been related to hockey. To the articles written about him. To the most likely and very reasonable explanation. 

Not the fact Ethan was pretty sure he liked his friends-with-benefits roommate in a not very friends-with-benefits way. 

His cheeks burned at the realisation. 

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded helplessly, hoping his smile didn’t look as strained as it felt. “No, you’re right. I…I’ll try to really enjoy it. Not get in my own head too much.” 

“Good,” Jack smiled back at him, all sweet and genuine and making him feel like a bit of a dick. “I’m here if you ever need a chat, you know? And I’m better at giving advice than Luke.” 

Ethan snorted. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

. 

The issue was that despite his eye-opening realisation, Ethan Edwards quickly realised he was a bit of a coward when it came to expressing his feelings. 

Or, for that matter, confronting them.

It was odd for Ethan, if he was being completely honest with himself. Because he was usually good with these kinds of things. He knew when it was a ‘no strings attached’ situation, when to remove himself from any feelings that would compliment the matter. And he knew when it was serious, when the feelings were reciprocated, when there was something more than physical between him and the other person. 

But that awareness was thrown out the window when it came to you. 

It was like he had a little voice in his head, desperately trying to yell out how he felt about you until Ethan reached his breaking point and did something he couldn’t take back. 

So, he did what any reasonable person did and locked that little voice away, pushed it to the back of his mind where it couldn’t bother him. And then he continued living his life like he couldn’t hear the rattling box in the background of every waking moment. 

It was easy with hockey. Despite his little blip at the start of the month, he managed to prevent the annoying voice affecting his game on the ice. He stayed focused and concentrated and attentive. He managed to complete his drills and find the passes and shoot some goals so none of his teammates would catch on to his lacking grasp on his feelings. 

But at home? With you? He clearly wasn’t coping as well as he thought he was. 

“Are you okay?” 

Ethan paused, body frozen as his brain wracked through a million different thoughts before he turned to look where you were sitting on the couch. 

“Uh yeah,” he managed to blurt out, a slightly strained laugh following. “Why?” 

“You’ve just seemed off the last few weeks,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. “Like, tense and stuff.” 

“S’just hockey stuff,” Ethan murmured with a stiff smile, the lie tasting bitter and acidic on his tongue. “The boys have just been talking about how playoffs are sneaking up on us and I just…guess I’ve been a little in my own head about it.” 

You nodded in understanding. “You need days to chill out, you know? Take your mind off hockey.” 

Ethan raised his brows. “You got any suggestions, sweetheart?” 

“Actually,” you retorted with a knowing smile. “I do. I know exactly what you need to get out of your head.” 

. 

“You know, when you crawled onto my lap, I was expecting a very different outcome,” Ethan murmured, struggling not to move his lips too much as he focused on the concentrating expression on your face. 

“Need to get your head out of the gutter, Edwards,” you teased, biting back your smile as you continued to sweep the brush across his face, careful to avoid his eyebrows while you were at it. “Facemasks are soothing and relaxing. Plus, your skin probably needs it after all the travelling you do.” 

“Excuse you,” his nose scrunched. “I have a skincare routine.” 

You chuckled. “Yeah, Luke told me that you ripped into Seamus after he used your fancy moisturiser.” 

“It’s expensive,” he murmured in defence before the rest of your words caught up on him. “You talk about me to Luke?” 

“Mostly to bitch,” you said with a lighthearted, teasing smile.

Yet, something in his chest tightened at the idea regardless.

“As long as you’re talking about me,” he shot back, something victorious washing over him at the way you laughed. 

You leaned back a little, still sat on his lap with his hands on your waist to keep you balanced. You snorted at the mask covering his face before grinning. “Now, we have to keep these on for twenty minutes. And try not to move your face too much.” 

Ethan ignored your words, pouting in response. “So if I asked you to make out—”

“I would tell you to fat chance,” you finished with a grin. “But I’ll admit the pink headband is really working for you.” 

Ethan wiggled his eyebrows, once against ignoring the pointed look you shot him. “Enough for a kiss?” 

“Enough for an episode of Pretty Little Liars,” you shot back at him, your smile widening at the sound of his groan but it still didn’t stop him from tugging you close before you could sit on the other side of the couch. “Or at least finish the one we started last night before—”

“I rocked your world?” 

“Started drooling on my shoulder,” you corrected.

“That was after I made you come twice,” Ethan piped up, lightly pinching your side until you squirmed further onto his lap. “They cancel each other out.” 

“Whatever you say, princess,” you snorted, eyes gleaming as you pressed play on the remote before he could come up with a witty comeback. 

And, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a distant voice screaming at him to say something. Telling him this was the perfect opportunity to say something to you. To just admit how he was feeling and end the pathetic pining he had been experiencing for the last few weeks. 

But the mere idea of losing this—losing you—kept his mouth shut as he finally turned his attention to the tv and pretended like his stomach didn’t twist at his own cowardice. 

…

FEBRUARY

Before he knew it, they were hitting February and all the buzz in the hockey world was around All Stars.

Ethan hadn’t been too concerned about it or the discussions leading up to the reveal on which team members would be heading out for the event. His mind had been preoccupied on the season, on playoffs approaching, on you. In all honesty, All Stars hadn’t even crossed his mind until the team was being rounded up into the locker room for the announcement. 

It was not too much of a surprise that Luke had been selected for the Devils (most people expected it to be one of the Hughes brothers). 

However, it was a shock to hear his own name follow. 

“Looks like the fans want to see more of the pretty boy,” Curtis called out, joking and teasing and, yet, it still made his cheeks burn as the boys all slapped him on the back. 

“Baby’s first All Stars,” Timo cooed jokingly, reaching out to pinch his cheek but Ethan was quick to slap his hand away. 

“It’s Luke’s first too,” he defended weakly, a smile on his lips as he spoke.

“At least he is losing one of his virginities,” Seamus coughed under his breath, letting out a high-pitched yelp when the younger Hughes reached to smack him across the back of his head. 

“I hope you get a horrible sunburn in Mexico,” Luke retorted with a deadpan expression. 

Seamus snorted. “Don’t get bitchy because your ticket is non-refundable.” 

Luke reached out to slap him again but he had already run off towards the showers, laughing and shoving some of the other boys into Luke’s path to help with his escape. 

Ethan shook his head in amusement. 

“Enjoy it,” another voice spoke up and he turned to find Nico standing beside his stall, a kind and genuine smile on his face as he patted his shoulder. “It’s fun. Promise.” 

“More fun than chilling on a beach somewhere?” Ethan retorted with a knowing smile.

“It’s up there,” Nico grinned. 

“But if Michael Buble offers you anything, say no,” Jack spoke up from the other side of the locker room. “Trust me.” 

.

“How does it feel to be with all the big boys?” 

“You saying I’m not a big boy?” 

“You know exactly what I meant, perv.” 

It was true. Ethan knew exactly what you meant. But he could almost imagine the way you rolled your eyes when you spoke, your nose scrunched up and your eyebrows furrowed and it sent a pang of something aching through him. 

It was almost too pathetic to comprehend. 

All Stars was insane. Truly, absolutely, positively insane. It was one thing to watch it from the comfort of his own couch. It was a whole other thing to be a part of it. And he knew he shouldn’t be starstruck, not really. He had spent the better part of the last few months playing against some of these guys. 

But being in a not-as-competitive setting with the likes of Sidney Crosby and Nathan MacKinnon was a surreal experience he hadn’t fully wrapped his head around since he arrived.

And yet, here he was, all smiley and giddy and excited over the fact you had called him. The fact that you missed him enough, that you were thinking about him enough to call him whilst he was away. 

“I stand by my question,” Ethan replied, shuffling further back into the plush pillows of his hotel bed as he held his phone to his ear. “Do you not think I’m a big boy?”

“I’m not going to talk up your dick size for the sake of your ego, Edwards.” 

Ethan snorted despite himself. “Worth a shot. Could have made it really hot.” 

“I refuse to have phone sex with you when Luke is probably in the room.” 

“He’s not here,” Ethan said quickly, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Well, he’s gone out to grab us some snacks from the store around the corner but—”

“Exactly.” His stomach dipped a little as your laugh echoed through the phone. “Now, tell me everything.” 

For a moment he wondered if it would be worth trying to facetime you to see your face or if that was pushing it too far. 

“What do you want to know?” He retorted, his eyes closing shut as he tried to imagine the expression on your face as you thought. 

“I don’t know! The important stuff! Like if Sidney Crosby is as hot in real life?” 

Ethan blinked. “That’s your big question? If he’s as hot as he is on screen?” 

Your reply came with no hesitation. “Yes.”

“Wow, so we can’t talk about my dick, which has been inside of you by the way, but we can talk about whether or not Sidney Crosby is hot.” There was a pause before he sighed. “Yeah, he is. Maybe even hotter.” 

“I fucking knew it.”

“So you don’t even miss me? Not even a little bit?” Ethan questioned, trying to sound playful and lighthearted, hoping the small slivers of insecurity weren’t being translated through the phone.

“Don’t start pouting on me, Edwards. Of course I miss you.” Your voice was softer, more sincere. Or at least he was deluding himself into thinking as much. “Found a show for us to watch when you’re back. It looked good but I didn’t want to start it alone.” 

It was embarrassing how big his smile was. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you hummed before gasping. “Oh god, I almost forgot to tell you. You won’t believe what happened at work the other night.” 

Ethan huffed. “Don’t tell me it was—” 

“Yup! And you’ll never guess what she did—” 

It hit Ethan in the chest when he was lying on the foreign bed in a non-descriptive hotel room, phone pressed against his ear as you rambled away. It hit him just how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed you. That it was beyond the physical attraction, that it was much deeper than a silly little crush. 

It hit him how much he wanted this forever.  

But he knew better to do it on the phone. He knew it had to be said face-to-face. He knew he needed you in front of him when he uttered the words. He knew he needed to be looking in your eyes when he blurted his feelings out. 

So, he promised himself. 

He promised himself he would do it when he headed back to New Jersey. He promised himself he would do it when he saw you. He promised himself he was just going to deal with it head on and not run away like he had been doing for the last month or two. 

He promised he was not going to be a coward anymore. 

.

It was embarrassing how quickly he threw his own promise out of the window. 

Ethan was fucking exhausted by the time their plane laned back in New Jersey. It was barely even eight in the evening and he was ready to slump face first onto his bed and not get up for a few days—even if he knew they had practice the following afternoon. 

But it was the principle of it all. 

It was the mere exhaustion of it all. 

And you took one look at him before you opened your arms, inviting him to join you on the couch. Ethan couldn’t even bring himself to feel too bad about the groan you let out as he slumped himself on top of you.

“Make sure they had good music at my funeral,” he grumbled, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck and his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke.

You hummed, your hands moving on instinct to run your fingers through his hair. “How do you feel about Barbie Girl?”

“Love it,” he murmured, a soft groan leaving his lips as your nails scratched along his scalp. “Missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Edwards,” you whispered, soft and almost breathless. He wondered for a moment if he was leaning too heavily on your chest and winding you. “I never knew you talked in your sleep.” 

Ethan froze. 

“Luke sent me some interesting videos,” you continued and he could almost hear the smile in your voice. “You should really watch who you have sleepovers with.” 

Ethan clenched his eyes shut, trying to nuzzle himself further into your neck. “M’gonna kill him.” 

“It was just one video,” you assured him, lightly tugging his hair until he lifted his head to look at you. “Cute that you were so jealous over me liking Sidney that you started to sleep talking about it.” 

His cheeks heated up. “I wasn’t jealous.” 

You beamed back at him. “Uh huh, sure.” 

Ethan narrowed his eyes at you. “This is emotional blackmail.”

“Aw, don’t let me stop you from doing it again,” you teased, unable to hide your amusement as his cheeks burned redder. “Would it make you feel better if I said I was jealous you got to hang around him all week?” 

Ethan paused before he spoke. “Yes.” 

You nodded. “Then, I was deeply jealous and envious that you got to hang around Sidney Crosby, the hottest guy in the league—”

“Oh my god,” Ethan groaned as he braced his hands on either side of you, prepared to push himself off you and the couch and sulk in his room. But before he could get far, you were winding your arms and legs around him and pulling him back down. “Nuh uh, let me go. You can go cuddle with Sidney since you think he’s so hot.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you mused, choosing to be nice and not comment on the way he completely nuzzled himself back into your arms, eyes falling shut and relaxation taking over his body for the first time in a week. 

“You’re a bully,” he retorted, words muffled from the way his cheek was pressed against your shoulder. 

“You like it,” you retorted, keeping the banter going but it made Ethan’s head spin. 

Because he did. He did like it. He liked you. He liked coming back home to you and he liked lying on the couch with you. He liked kissing you and he liked the noises you made for him when he touched you. 

He liked you more than he cared to admit. 

He liked you too much to lose you. 

He liked what the two of you had. He liked it too much to risk losing it all over unreciprocated feelings. Feelings could change—his feelings could change. There was no need to ruin a good thing. 

He had hockey to focus on. He had the team to focus on. He had playoffs to focus on.

Now was not the time to change everything, superstitions or not. 

…

MARCH

March Madness was no joke. 

It was pure fucking chaos and no previous league or championship he had ever played for could rival just how hectic the whole thing was. The Devils were having a good season. A great fucking season if they were being honest. And they were so, so, so fucking close to clinching that playoff spot. 

But fuck if the other teams weren’t making it real fucking difficult for them. 

Ethan knew that things were going to get rougher, tougher, harder when the playoff desperation started to settle in, when the end of the regular season was on the horizon and teams were starting to get dirty to extend their season. 

He just underestimated how desperate they were willing to get. 

It was easy to see why Nico Hishcier was so beloved by the team, by the fans, by the boys. To see why he was chosen as captain because he was nothing but supportive and determined and encouraging. He wasn’t letting them get too comfortable, he was keeping the boys working towards playing their best. 

But he was also the damn proudest of them all. 

It almost made the hits against the boards worth it. 

Almost being the operative word seeing as he felt like his whole body was bruised as they came off a game against the Rangers. 

“Fuck,” Ethan hissed as he all but waddled into the locker room, helmet in hand and skateguards on. “I think I’m bruised in places I didn’t know you could be bruised.” 

Seamus snorted. “Fucking tell me about it.” 

“The hit during the second period looked rough,” Luke spoke up from the stall beside him. “You sure you’re good?” 

“Medical checked me over during the intermission,” Ethan assured him with a faint smile. “Just gonna be sore for the next few days.” 

Luke’s eyes gleamed. “No strenuous activities then?” 

Ethan rolled his eyes. 

“Oh please,” Seamus mused, giving Luke a nudge with his elbow. “He’s a pillow princess.” 

“Fuck off both of you,” Ethan snorted, already starting to peel his jersey off.

 It wasn’t until he was almost dressed where he finally grabbed his phone out of his bag, turning it back on to see a flurry of notifications to take over his screen. His brows furrowed together in surprise as he skimmed over them.

“Is that a certain roommate?” Luke asked, peeking over his shoulder like the nosy shit he was but Ethan had already chucked his phone back in his bag. 

“Nah, it’s just Patricia,” Ethan shrugged.

Luke blinked. “Who the fuck is Patricia?” 

Ethan shot him an odd look. “Patricia, the woman from the estate agency you recommended to me.” 

Luke gave him a pensive look. “Why is she blowing up your phone?” 

Ethan shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine.” 

. 

As it would turn out, Patricia was contacting him because the apartment he originally signed on for at the start of the year seemed to have sorted the rat infestation problem. 

She was cheery in her voicemail she left for him, like it was the best possible news Ethan could have ever received. And maybe it would have been a few months ago, back in September. Even a good few weeks into October, Ethan would have been over the fucking moon to hear his old apartment was available again. 

Yet, as he listened to the voicemail now, he couldn’t help but let a sense of dread wash over him. 

It was stupid in a way because he knew from the start his situation wasn’t permanent. He knew it was always a short-term solution to a short-term problem. He knew the arrangement between you both wouldn’t last forever—both as roommates and friends with benefits. 

There was always a timer on it, but Ethan let himself get lost in the familiarity of it all that the upcoming ending hit him like an unexpected slap in the face.

If he was a sensible and good guy, he would have called Patricia back. He would have told her he was just as happy to hear the update on the previously rat infested apartment. He would have told her he was happy to move in as soon as he can, to have his own place in New Jersey to call his home and his home alone. He would have told her to send over all the paperwork as soon as she can. 

But Ethan wasn’t sensible nor was he all that good because he never called her back. 

Instead, he chose to pretend as though he hadn’t seen the calls or the voicemails or the messages. He told himself he was focusing on clinching a playoff spot. He told himself he was just prioritising the important stuff and, for as long as he had a roof over his head, the other apartment wasn’t a priority. 

Ethan chose not to acknowledge the fact that ignoring and running away from any possible problem was becoming a bit of an odd habit for him over the last few months. 

. 

As it would turn out, people failed to warn Ethan that March Madness seemed to extend into a player’s personal life. 

He couldn’t quite work out the exact moment everything changed but he noticed the switch two weeks into March. And he was fucking baffled. And almost embarrassed that it took him so long to catch on to your sudden cold behaviour.

If you were giving him the cold shoulder, Ethan would have assumed he had done something to piss you off. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, the two of you had your fair share of petty roommate disagreements over the months where one of you would give the other silent treatment. But it never lasted more than an hour or so before you sat down and talked it out. 

Ethan would have preferred if he was just given the silent treatment from you.

Instead, he got…whatever the hell you were doing now. 

For a few days, Ethan considered that he was just being dramatic. That maybe it was something at work or in one of your classes. That eventually you’d come to him with whatever was bothering you and he would listen and this weird tension between the two of you would disappear. 

He lost hope in that theory after a week.

You were talking to him, almost as normal, but there was a tinge to it. A shift. Almost like a step back. It felt like the early months as roommates, when your answers were shorter more often than not, when you treated each other as acquaintances with a mutual friend. 

It felt fucking wrong. 

And then there was the physical aspect. 

It wasn’t like the two of you were on each other at every possible moment together. It wasn’t even about the sex. It was the way you pulled away from him like his touch burned you, like it was odd for him to casually nudge your hip with his own as he walked past you in the kitchen. It was the way you seemed to avoid sitting too close to him on the couch. 

It was the way it felt like the two of you were reverting back to the awkward, polite strangers you were back in September. 

He hated it but he didn’t know how to get it back when you seemed so adamant to keep him at arm’s length. 

It was disorienting as fuck. 

It was wrong. 

It was everything he feared for. 

It was almost-definitely-possibly worse than you rejecting him. 

And Ethan felt like he was fucking spiralling with the realisation that he may have lost you and he wasn’t exactly sure how. 

.

And just when Ethan craved normalcy in his life, Luke started acting weird too. 

The youngest Hughes brother shut down any attempts to hang out outside of practice or training. He didn’t seem as talkative or chatty with Ethan the way he usually was, leaving most of their conversations to surround hockey or strategies or upcoming games.

Fuck, even Seamus was weirded out by Luke’s sudden change in behaviour. 

It didn’t take long for the other boys in the team to notice the growing tension between the two boys. Jack kept shooting his brother weird looks. Nico seemed concerned. Even Curtis looked a bit awkward and unsure at what to say. Him, Luke and Seamus had been such a trio since Ethan joined the Devils at the start of the season. 

Now it seemed like Luke tolerated him at best. 

But Ethan knew Luke. He knew the way the boy would get when he was upset. He knew the way the boy tended to shut down a bit, knew that he needed the space to be moody and brood a little (the outcome of being the youngest child) before he was ready to forgive and forget and move on. 

However, Luke Hughes seemed more than happy to carry out whatever grudge he was holding—even if it was affecting their game on the ice. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Luke didn’t even bother turning to look at him, reaching to pull his practice jersey over his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For fuck’s sake, Luke,” Ethan growled, angry and frustrated and done with whatever bitchy mood he was still in. “I was open. You saw that I was open and you fucking ignored me. What if we were in a game? What if that cost us a goal?” 

“It’s just a practice,” Luke shot back, deadpan and unamused. “Calm down.” 

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Ethan laughed, bitter and irritated. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Luke. I don’t know what your problem with me is but it’s fucking ridiculous if you’re willing to sacrifice the team for it.” 

Seamus took a step towards them. “Okay, maybe we just need—”

“No,” Ethan snapped, a buzz of adrenaline rushing through him. “No, if he has a problem with me then I want him to fucking say it instead of keeping it some secret like—some coward!” 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Luke snapped back at him. “You know all about secrets, Edwards.” 

His brows furrowed together. “Stop fucking talking in riddles, Hughes.” 

“Oh Jesus,” Seamus grumbled under his breath. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Luke hissed. 

“No, I don’t!” Ethan gritted out. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about!”

“And I don’t know who the fuck you are anymore!” Luke bit back, enough hurt and anger in his voice that it left Ethan—and the rest of the locker room—silent. “I thought you were one of my closest friends. I thought you were a good guy. Clearly you’ve changed.”

Ethan frowned. “What?”

“Okay, everyone out!” Nico clapped his hands together, snapping Luke and Ethan out of their little moment as the captain began shepherding the rest of the team out. 

“Aw, come on, it was just getting good!” Curtis whined but sighed as he followed the rest of the boys out of the locker room, all in various degrees of undress as they left Ethan and Luke alone. 

Ethan watched them all go before he turned back to Luke, a look of hurt and pure confusion on his face. 

“I helped you out,” Luke rasped, swallowing harshly. His voice was softer, a little raw too. Like the fight had left him and all that was left was disappointment. “You needed a place to stay and I convinced her to let you stay, vouched that you were a good guy, that you weren’t a fucking douche, and you had to go and fucking play her like that.” 

Ethan blinked. “What the fuck are you on about?” 

“Ethan,” Luke muttered, his name full of frustration. “I know about the two of you. I’ve known for a while, I’m not fucking stupid.” 

His heart sped up a little, despite himself. “What does our…agreement have to do with you?” 

Luke shot him a look of disbelief. “Because she’s my friend! Because you’ve strung her along for months and now you don’t even have the decency to tell her you’re leaving!” 

Ethan blinked again. “I—what?” 

“You’re moving back to your own place and you—why do you look so confused?” 

“Because I am confused!” Ethan squeaked out. 

Luke slowly blinked. “So…you’re not taking Patricia up on her offer and moving out?”

“No!” Ethan replied, still looking confused. “Why would you think I am?” 

“Because she keeps calling and emailing you!” Luke shot back.

“And I haven’t answered a single one!” Ethan retorted. 

“Huh,” Luke murmured, his mind whirling with a million different thoughts. “Well, her emails suggest otherwise.” 

Ethan tilted his head. “What do you mean?” 

“I—” Luke sighed, looking serious once again. “I need you to be honest with me.” 

Ethan shifted in his spot. “What?”

“Are you serious about her?” Luke questioned. 

Ethan frowned. “Who? Patricia?” 

“I—no,” Luke sighed deeply. “Unless you’ve been sleeping with Patricia this whole time—”

“What? No, no!” Ethan spluttered out. “I have—wait, does she think I’m moving out?” 

Luke looked a bit sheepish. “I think you need to go have that conversation with her.” 

“Fuck,” Ethan breathed out, something quite like nausea twisting in his stomach. “And she….I’m not….I would never play her like that. It’s literally the opposite!” 

Luke raised his brow. “The opposite?” 

“I—fuck, I need to go,” Ethan muttered to himself under his breath, not even acknowledging the other boy as he began to yank his gear off. 

“Woah, Ethan, you need to—”

“I need to fix this,” Ethan interrupted. “She can’t—I need to tell her.” 

The last thing Luke—or any of the boys—saw was Ethan rushing out of the locker room, looking frazzled and flustered and panicked. 

.

Ethan wished he could say he was calm and collected when he finally made it to your shared apartment but that would be a fucking lie. 

He was a mess when he arrived. Despite driving back, he was still breathless and panting as he forgoed the elevator, choosing to take the stairs two-at-a-time until he reached your floor. His hair was a mess, his cheeks were flushed, his keys were the only thing in his possession as he raced towards the door. He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. Nor did he care. 

His only goal was to get to you.

It was embarrassing how badly his hands were shaking as he tried to shove the key into the lock, taking more attempts than he cared to admit before he managed to open the door. He didn’t even care about your neighbours as he began calling out your name, praying to every god he could think of that you were home.

He could have collapsed from relief when you wandered out of your room, a mixed look of concern and confusion on your face when you spotted him standing in the living room.

“Are you okay?” 

Ethan tried to find the words to answer you. He tried to wrack his brain for a response to your question, a coherent sentence to calm the clear uneasiness in your voice. And yet, all he could do was stare at you and think one single thought that was leaving his lips before he could even stop himself.

“I’m in love with you!” 

You blinked in response. 

“Like, so painfully in love with you that I didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about someone. But it is. And I do. And I can’t keep it to myself anymore because I think I am genuinely going insane,” Ethan continued. 

Your lips parted a little in surprise, but still no words left your mouth.

“And I should probably stop talking and embarrassing myself further because you’re not saying anything and I’m usually a lot better at these kinds of things,” Ethan blurted out. “But you’ve been pulling away the last few weeks and I can’t take it anymore because it’s killing me. It’s killing me that I have to keep pretending I’m fine with everything when I’m not.” 

His body was moving before he could stop himself. He was taking steps forward, closing the small distance between you two because Ethan couldn’t stop the pull you had on him—on his body, his mind, his whole fucking world. 

“I’m in love with you. Like in a ‘I wanna come home to you every night and kiss you because we are dating’ kind of way, not a ‘we are roommates who made up this weird agreement’ way.” Ethan breathed out, his voice just above a whisper but you heard him loud and clear. “And I don’t expect you to say you feel the same way but I can’t keep it anymore and—”

He was cut off by you throwing yourself at him, arms winding around his neck and lips on his. He didn’t even care about the rest of his sentence, sinking into the kiss like a starved man eating for the first time. The relief of feeling your body pressed against his was almost as addicting as the adrenaline pumping through his veins when you let out a blissful sigh. 

“M’not moving out,” he managed to mutter out between kisses as he wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you tight against him. “Whatever you think—” 

You pulled away a few inches, just enough to see his face. “Your laptop was open,” you murmured, something sheepish and guilty written across your face. “And the email came through from your estate agent about signing a new lease and I got in my own head about it. I thought you were going to leave and I wanted to protect myself from falling further and—”

“Falling further?” He repeated, a hopeful smile beginning to take over his face.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your smile mirroring his. “Turns out sleeping with your roommate is a real catalyst for falling in love with him.” 

“Lucky me,” Ethan murmured before leaning back in to kiss you. “And I’m not leaving until you want me to leave.” 

“We’ve really gone through this relationship thing in a weird order, huh?” You mused, laughing a little when Ethan kept leaning in to kiss you.

“Yeah but I think it’s worked out pretty well for us,” he murmured, his nose playfully nudging yours. 

Ethan Edwards thought he was prepared for his rookie year. 

He wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Nobody ever was, not really. He wasn’t fully prepared to fall in love either.

But with you in his arms and the Devils only points away from clinching a playoff spot, he thought his rookie year was going far better than anything he could have prepared for. 

.

[heich0e]

there's an east wind blowing beyond your bedroom window.

you know it's from the east because the rain falling outside is hitting the windowpane in a soft tap-tap-tap that occasionally intensifies on a particularly strong gust. you know your bedroom window faces east because every morning you can see the sun cresting in the distance, diffusing—soft and pink and warm on your favourite days—through the gauzy panels of your curtains.

"you up yet?"

it's not morning now. far from it, in fact. the night's still only new, though it's already fully-dark outside—and has been for most of the day thanks to the dreary weather. it's late enough in the evening that most businesses have closed their doors for the day and people have returned to their homes, but not quite late enough to justify the fact that you're already curled up tightly underneath the covers of your bed.

you roll over in your comfortable cocoon and spy touya in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches you.

he's got his coat on.

"are you going out?" you ask him, your voice a little thicker than it usually is. you've been awake for a while, but your afternoon nap (that ran longer than you expected) has left it hoarse from disuse.

touya makes a quiet sound of agreement. not quite a grunt, nor a hum, but something somewhere in-between the two.

you push yourself up slightly in bed, propping your body upright on your elbows. "but it's raining."

touya hates the rain, and has for as long as you've known him. he's the first one to complain when dark clouds roll in, to curse as his teeth chatter and he shakes droplets from his hair when he steps through the door after getting caught in an unexpected downpour, to go out of his way to avoid making plans that require him to leave the house at the slightest mention of inclement weather.

"'s letting up a bit, i think," he answers from the doorway with a little shrug. "i just need to run to the convenience store, anyway."

he shuffles a little further into the room as you lift your hand and reach out for him, approaching the edge of the bed wordlessly and slipping his hand into your own. he peers down at you from your bedside as you lift his hand and press it to your cheek.

"what do you need at the store?" you ask him, your lips pursed slightly. it's not that late, and the weather really isn't that bad, but you'd still prefer he stay here with you.

"ran outta patches today," he replies, though there's something almost a little resentful in the statement. even his expression is a bit more annoyed than it had been a moment prior, in a way that almost makes you giggle—but you suppose the nicotine withdrawal could be playing a part in that.

"just patches, right? not patches and a pack—"

"not patches and a pack of cigarettes to tie me over on the walk home," he finishes the sentence for you before you get the chance, rolling his eyes a bit. "i know, i know."

he frees his hand from your grip and pokes your cheek lightly, earning him a little laugh you can't help but let slip through your lips.

"i'm 24 days in, you know. not about to throw it all away now," he reminds you pointedly.

"good," you reply with an encouraging nod and a somewhat cheeky smile. you never doubted him anyway. "make sure you take an umbrella."

he nods, his touch still lingering against your cheek. his fingertips skirt down, tracing along your jaw, until he reaches your mouth. he presses his thumb lightly against your chin, seemingly just to watch your lips part.

"d'ya want anything?"

you shake your head in dissent, but then pause, your eyes lighting up.

"can you get pickled ginger?"

"pickled ginger?" he asks you, a bit incredulously. "again? thought we just got some of that."

"i finished the jar earlier," you reply with a shrug.

"that can't be good for you," touya remarks dryly, letting his hand drop from your face. "you're gonna start pickling yourself from the inside out if you keep eating so much of that stuff."

"it's not my fault that pickling is the superior form of food preparation." you flop back lazily against your pillows, meeting his gaze resolutely. you lift your fingers as you list out the various accolades. "cold, crunchy, sour, kinda sweet, sometimes spicy—what's not to love?"

touya's nose wrinkles. he's never been a huge fan of pickles, but especially not in the volume you've been consuming them lately.

"whatever you say," he answers, knowing now after all this time when he ought to bow out of an argument before it starts. "mom texted me earlier and said she was sending yumi over with side dishes tomorrow, and there'll probably be pickled vegetables in there. so you can wait until then."

"fine," you sniff, and you may pout a little, but touya knows your excitement at his little sister coming to visit outweighs any annoyance you may feel about having to wait a whole twelve hours to get your fix.

outside, the wind picks up again, and the tapping against the windowpane gets a little bit louder.

"sounds like it's getting worse," you murmur, your face turned in the direction of the window. you glance up at him again, blinking from where you're sprawled out across your pillows. "you sure you wanna go out in that?"

touya nods, kneeling at the edge of the bed and dipping down so he can press a kiss to your forehead. you're still warm from sleep, and soft in all the ways he's come to depend on. you smell like your shampoo and your sheets—and a little bit like him too, since the floral-printed bedlinen is as much his own now as it is yours.

"be back soon," he speaks quietly into your skin before pulling away.

you wave him off tiredly, and as he leaves the room, touya wonders if you'll be asleep again before he returns.

he pulls his shoes off the rack in the genkan, tucked away next to yours, and leaves his slippers there as he stuffs his feet into footwear better suited for the elements. he grabs his keys off the little table in the entryway, the keychain you bought for him at the aquarium glinting in the light as he tucks them into his coat pocket. last, he grabs the umbrella from just beside the door—he doubts he'll even use it, but you told him to take it, so he does.

there's an unexpected break in the rain as touya steps out into the spring night, and he blinks up at the sky overhead a bit incredulously when he realizes his luck. he doesn't linger to appreciate it for long, knowing that at any moment his fortune could change, shuffling off in the direction of the convenience store at the other end of the street.

he sidesteps puddles along the sidewalk on his way, admiring how the streetlights ripple in the surface as he passes.

touya used to hate the rain, but he can't help but think that it's not so bad when he knows that he has somewhere—and someone—warm waiting to welcome him home.

[themoodyestj]

something that tells you they love each other. well, there's this little video of Jenneel that i adore, is a very candid image that someone took without them realizing, is kind of rude to be honest, because they were on their own in a second floor somewhere and some fan recorded them by making a lot of zoom.

I wish I could show you, but I'm not abandoning the safety of being anonymous, so I will describe it to you. in the video they are sitting at a table and Jensen is with his face buried on Danneel's chest, she's holding him and resting her chin on his head and talking to him with a very sweet expression. I mean, I wish I had someone to bury myself in and feel safe, if that's not love, I don't know what is.

I know the video you are talking about. I saw it, don't know where to find it, otherwise i would show it. I honestly don't read it as sweet, but I don't see her as her lately hateful self either.

Look Anon... I really want to see your point, I really do, but it's one good moment amongst many many crappy ones. We can't cherry pick what we like and leave the rest behind. There's a whole picture here. And for me it didn't read as Jensen leaning on her chest and feeling safe. It felt more like Jensen feeling stressed and asking for help. And he doesn't stay there for long, he immediatly pulls back and starts talking to someone (I thought it was Jim Beaver). I accept your POV. It's fine, youre free to think what you want to think. I just can't take it as mine. Even if Danneel was genuinely good before (which i doubt), she isn't now. Maybe she was just as naive and she entered the relationship with different expectations and turned bitter now. That's not something I'm inclined to believe, but I give it the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Jensen has some part in this game. But that is not love. Maybe the ideation of love, a Hallmark Hollywoodized version of love, but not love. I honestly have to tell you, abusers are not always mean. If they were, they wouldn't be able to get victims, or make them stay. They are known for love bombing first, for example, notorious for that even. No one will make you feel as important and relevant at first like an abuser. People are wicked in villanous ways, in distorted ways, ways that sound like love or justified by love, but it's only... their issues projected on a human punching bag. I'm pretty sure somewhere in that shitshow Jensen thought Danneel was loving and genuinely a good person. Otherwise he would have disengaged quickly. I hope that you find true true love (if you haven't already). But that ain't it.

[automeris-io-moth]

But what if they offer and I don’t want to say no?

Villain was alone. 

Villain was alone, yet, that did not justify them.

To trap another.

They touched Hero's skin as carefully as one would cradle a child, afraid of bringing harm, careful, adoring.

Soft as their hands trailed through their hair, playing with the strands, braiding it, brushing it, adorning it with any ornament they considered beautiful enough to be twisted or pin on their head. 

Soft their voice was too when they spoke, when they read to the other, when they told them words of comfort, of encouragement, when they told them words of love. 

Their gaze was soft too, always kind, always gleaming when their eyes met in the middle of a room, when they stayed fixed on the other's stare and both gave each other a playful smile. 

Hero was alone too.

Hero was alone and, perhaps, that did justify them. 

To allow themselves to be captured

Villain was so very good at tenderness Hero felt like crying with every kindness they offered on a silverplate

And perhaps, for a moment, they could pretend they had met at a party, at a café, perhaps in the park one day walking their dogs. 

Pretend their first date had been in an italian restaurant, a sushi one perhaps, somewhere pretty with candles illuminating each other's faces. Pretend blood had never been caused by the other's hand, pretend they had never seen each other injured more than by a small cut of a knife cooking, the cut of a paper as they read a book. 

Hero could fool themselves, that had been part of their life since birth, lies and façades, play pretend and simulate a life they would never have, but everyone expected of them. 

They were beautiful, graceful, skilled. They would make a fine spouse someday to someone greater, someone with more power, they were easy on the eyes, obedient, trained to not be a burden. 

“Can you cut my hair?” 

Comfortable was the silence broken, and their shoulders tensed for ruining the moment for such a stupid request. 

But Villain allowed it, helping them cut the back, but letting Hero do all the rest, to butcher it as they wanted. 

Villain allowed many things others would not, their parents, their organisation, their ex partners, and, after a while, Hero felt more free trapped beside them than they ever did away. 

“I’m not proud of myself,” they said once at the dinner table, earning a confused glance from their companion “I’ve been letting desire cloud my judgement lately.”

Villain lifted a brow. 

“And is that worth shame?”

“I’ve been told it is,” Hero answered, raising their eyes.

“And what is this desire you speak about?” 

“For life not to hurt.” 

The clink of the cutlery echoed through the room, an interested stare looking right back at them, urging them to continue. 

“For me to be wanted, loved, perhaps.” 

“Perhaps?” 

“Perhaps.” 

They shook their head “But none of that is something I’m supposed to want.” 

“But that’s not relevant, is it?” Villain answered “We established that, in this situation, I could do anything with you and there would be little you could do against it.”

Villain took a bite of their food. 

“Perhaps what I want it’s to fulfil your desire,” they said “so one day you can forget it brings you shame.” 

Hero never looked for a way out after that. 

_

Masterlist

This is gonna be by far my hardest semester at uni so far, works may not be as frequent :(

[yanderepuck]

Salai- Chapter 13

WELCOME TO SALAI'S ROUTE. This is a FAN MADE route of my oc, Salai. This means this route contains my headcanons for the characters and in no way is suppose to represent the canon story. This is just a fun little time because I know many of you enjoy Salai. Feel free to engage, talk theories, send asks (even to @ask-salai ).

DISCLAIMER: His route his not canon to his character. Also, all of his lore in not in the route for simplicity reasons plus please feel free to ask about him.

Banner by @spooscribbles

It was late when you got back to the mansion.  You helped Theo clean everything up and were the last ones to leave.  You were a little worried about what you would be coming home to after everything that happened. 

You didn’t see any sign of Leonardo so you assumed they were still out.  After stopping by your room you go down to the thermae.  You sink down into the water.  Your head hasn’t stopped going so you are hoping that a bath will get you to relax.  You lean your back against the ledg, and sink down so that the water just below your nose and you close your eyes.

You don’t know how much time passed, but you wake up to the sound of someone coming in.  It’s not like you mind if any of the guys bathe with you, it is more so them who choose not to.  You sit up slightly to see who it is.  Your eyes widen. 

Mitsuki: Andrea?

He also seemed surprised.

Salai: Mitsuki!  Sorry I didn’t know you were in here.  I’ll let you-

He started to turn around, fumbling his words slightly.

Mitsuki: It’s fine.  Please stay.

This was probably going to be the only way you were going to get answers.  You turned your head while Salai got into the water.  Now you hope none of the other guys walk in to see this.  You don’t know who will get a scolding worse.

Mitsuki: Andrea I-

Salai: I’m sorry I ruined today.  You did so much for me to show my art and I wasn’t even there to experience it.

Mitsuki: I’m not worried about that.  I’m worried about you.

You get closer to him, but make sure to stay under the water enough so your chest stays under.

Mitsuki: What happened?

Salai: As in today… or with me and Maestro?

Mitsuki: You and Leonardo.  You told me that your maestro left you after an argument.  I’m not saying I know Leonardo well, but I want to know what happened.

Salai: After he turned me, I traveled with him. We had to move to a different city after about a decade of living there.  We did that for a little over two centuries

You try not to look surprised.  Leonardo, Comte and Vlad are the only ones you know who have lived through time.  But they are purebloods so it makes sense as to why they haven’t aged, but Salai?  He’s been around for four centuries and he barely looks older than 25.

Salai: but in the mid-1700’s when we were in Vienna…

His voice trails off as if he doesn’t want to say it.  He even looks away from you.

Mitsuki: He left you, right?  But why?

Salai: I guess I need to drink a little more blood than the average vampire, so when we had to travel to a new city Maestro would have to be sure to have enough for the trip and another week on top of that, just in case it was hard to get some.  Well this time either we didn’t have enough or I drank it too fast, but we were almost out and I knew Maestro was working on finding somewhere to get it so I didn’t want to bother him about it.

His voice was getting softer and softer as he was remembering.  You reach out, holding his hand.  He looks at your hands and begins to speak up.

Salai: I didn’t want to worry him and so I ended up biting a few people.

He was scared to look up at you, worried that you would look horrified.  Maybe you would have if you didn’t know how bad Isaac can get.  You stayed holding his hand.

Salai: Rumors started quickly, and spread quickly.  I got back one night and Maestro was waiting for me.  He heard about it all and stayed up to scold me.  I took it, I knew there was nothing I could say to justify what I did. Eventually he stormed out.

Mitsuki: Andrea…

You put your hand on his cheek, standing up slightly, forgetting you are both in the bath.  Your heart was hurting for another reason now.  As you said, you wouldn’t say you knew Leonardo well, but you never would have thought he would be like this.

Salai: I waited… and waited… and he didn’t come back.  I didn’t leave the house or sleep for days and he never ended up coming back.  So I had to figure it out for myself.  You would think that after two centuries I would be able to do it alone, but I couldn’t.  Maestro had connections that I didn’t have.

Mitsuki: After all that, why did you stay so determined to find him?

He seemed to hesitate.

Mitsuki: He abandoned you.  It has been a century and a half since then, so why?

Surely after all the time he would make a life for himself and move on.

Salai: I love him

~~

Comte: You turned him?

Leonardo: How many times do I have to say it? Yes!

Leonardo is sitting in Comte’s office, hands in his face.  Comte has heard from Leonardo multiple times how it is a bad idea to turn humans, so finding out he has done it himself has him dumbfounded.

Comte: You never stop telling me it is a bad idea and here you are with a lesser of your own.

Comte hands him a glass of whiskey and sits across from him.  By the time Comte is seated Leonardo’s glass is empty.

Comte: Why

Leonardo: I was selfish.  I couldn’t let him die.

He pushes his coat off his shoulders and gets up to fill his glass.

Leonardo: He was only 19 and got into a street fight.

Comte: I do remember you saying he got into a lot of trouble

Leonardo: He got stabbed, and his stupid drunk ass pulled the knife out and came back home bleeding out.

He sits back down, slouching in the chair.

Leonardo: I had told him before about being a vampire, but he didn’t remember.  He was bleeding out on the floor and no matter what I did the bleeding wouldn’t stop

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the scene still being clear in his head.

Leonardo: I told him I could save him.  He didn’t exactly believe me, but he let me bite him.  So I did. I didn’t know what to expect after that and he went limp.  I thought he died. He didn’t wake up until the next day and I was still trying to clean up the blood.  Once he regained some of his strength I explained everything to him and he didn’t have an issue with anything.  I thought it was all going to be okay, and it was for a while but…

Comte: You regretted it, didn’t you?

Leonardo finished his current glass like it was nothing.

Leonardo: Yeah.  I shouldn’t have done it but I couldn’t let him die. I…

Comte: Love him?

Leonardo: Yeah…

Leonardo looked out into space, looking at nothing in particular.  Comte sighed and sipped his glass.

Comte: Regret it or not it was still your responsibility to take care of him.

Leonardo: I know

Comte: You never went to find him.

Leonardo: I know

Comte: Yes he may have messed up, but he could have gotten himself killed.

Leonardo: I know!

He was getting more and more annoyed each time.

Leonardo: I messed up, I know!  If I could go back and fix it I would!  I should have handled it better.  I should have paid closer attention.  I should have made sure he could come to me about anything without the fear of worrying me.  But I can’t!

It gets quiet. Comte isn’t sure how to handle this.  He never thought he would have to.  

Leonardo: I want to fix things if he will let me.  I know I can’t fix what happened, but I want to make sure the rest of his life is taken care of.

Comte: I was hoping you would say that.  Even if you didn’t I was going to let him stay here.

Leonardo: I couldn’t let him go back to where he was staying even if I didn’t feel that way.  I really hope it hasn’t been that way this whole time.

Leonardo stands up. Comte already knows what he’s going to get

Comte: Just bring the whole bottle over.

~~~

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Ko-Fi

[didnt-hear-idsb-live-again]

boi oh boi do I got some problems for anons to unpack with me tonight

When my current partner and I first got together (formally) in the late summer / early fall of 2020, he had JUST started part-time living at our friends house back in New England. He moved in, from New York, with her, because she had just ended a 10 year relationship and was mega-alone and mega-depressed. The beginning of this relationship was spent with him writing music with her as she coped with this breakup, etc. We were both sort of an emotional crutch for her while she had her (well deserved ffs) hoe phase, had her first boyfriend after the fact, they broke up, she spent some time alone and Worked On Herself, and then got into another relationship, which turned out to be a LTR.

I think I have posted on here (or maybe I haven't) about how hard I struggled with the fact that, after we moved to Montana and came back and the pandemic was declared "over", I moved back to NYC. He stayed in New England, and stayed there for another 2 years. I told him over and over and over and over again how driving back and forth to a place I was so burned by and had been longing to leave for my whole life (this friend lived, mind you, 10 minutes down the highway from my hometown), feeling so impermanent in NYC, the place I was trying to make my new home; never there enough time to establish anything real with anyone between tours and splitting time between NY and a place I resented, and it was killing me. Absolutely destroying me in every way. He had a lot of reasons which he thinks are justified but I don't agree with, and could nitpick how BS they are extra in hindsight (but won't here and am trying not to mentally do it irl): wanting to buy a house and liking that he lived somewhere for free + wanting to hang on to that as long as he could to save money for the house (v short summary, he was her employee for music stuff so she let him live there for free), he wanted a yard and a secluded home where he could make music loudly at any time of day in a way the city couldn't provide, etc. I begged him to move anywhere. I told him I'd leave NY, etc. We planned to move to Arizona, to Utah, back to Montana, but it kept getting pushed back to someday, someday, someday. This has long been litigated between us and forgiven, and he's been made to understand why it hurt me, and I can tell he's sorry about how it made me feel etc. so that's all fine.

Anyway, what finally DID make him move in with me was that this friend's LTR boyfriend wanted to move in, so he was kicked out. We, again, also, have long litigated the fact that this hurt me and made me feel like a consolation prize.

Now, though, this very same couple has just gotten engaged. And, okay, I know every couple moves at a different pace, obviously. That's a fact of life. But I've seen SO many couples, who got together LONG after we did, get engaged in the past year. That's the.... "normal" pace. I spent 5 years of my life in a different dead-end relationship already; and on this blog we've been over the numerous transgressions that made this current relationship sputter and stall out a few times like an almost-dead car engine. To be fair, me going to Australia for a year didn't help the "timeline" aspect, either. But I always justified the dead-end first LTR by saying, well, we got together when I was 17. Thank GOD we didn't get married! But how am I now here again, in a relationship that will, technically and as far as I'm concerned, be 5 years old in a few months, not one iota further than I was in the dead-end relationship from when I was 17? It doesn't feel right and it doesn't feel fair and even though the math is mathing and the things that happened in the past hurt and needed time to smooth them over, I find myself just so ANGRY that I've never been able to find and fall into something easy, like everyone else I know. I'm happy to have the prize I fought so hard for; I wanted it; I fought for it. But I look around at all the relationships that didn't start in complete disaster like mine did; girls who dated men with intense commitment issues and saw them for a waste of time, looking for the ones that were already ready and found them and slipped into something easy and simple and loving, and are already married off with that person. Why did I hurt myself so bad? Why did I fight so hard? Just to wind up triggered by waiting due to past events of this relationship and of the previous one; feeling unwanted as a result of lack of forward momentum, only waiting again now because of the WAY the waiting the first time fractured us and needed to be smoothed over? I don't know if I'm articulating it properly, but it fucking stings. And I don't say this to blame him because it's not his fault; not anymore, because he's more than atoned for all the Bad Stuff in the beginning. But that doesn't make the consequences that those things are having now any less real, and it doesn't help when I'm left to think about those things constantly while I attend wedding after wedding that isn't mine from relationship after relationship that started long after.

I also don't really feel like I can bring this up, because every SINGLE milestone of our relationship has been due to me begging for something to happen. I don't know how I can spend eternity in good consciousness if I do that to the last one too, and never get the satisfaction of knowing it was something he actually wanted. We're also also about to go on a trip in 2 weeks, and so I'm like, hey, maybe it'll happen there, but I want that feeling to come with EXCITEMENT, not relief and not some depressing just box to validate. And if I bring this up now, not only will I feel like it's forced, but I might shoot myself in the foot by causing another delay that fucks everything up to death,

UGH.

[selya711-twiste]

conscience

Fellow Honest & Guidel "That shows you how low Honest John will stoop, eh Giddy?"

tw: kidnapping, trafficking, adult smoking and drinking around a minor, desensitization to cruelty inspired by p.19-27 of this (cw: disturbing, amputation)

Fellow justifying their actions to Guidel.

"Look at it this way, Giddy. These people live lofty and privileged lives, and they still want more. These greedy bastards keep wanting everything that they would even take from people who have nothing," he punctuates his sentence by slamming down his tall glass of beer. This startles Guidel a little bit, but he simply nods along and drinks from his own smaller glass of root beer. At least this way, Guidel can safely emulate his older brother's already bad behavior and join him.

They often have these nights after shipping out the last crate. It's meant to celebrate Fellow receiving his salary after a hard day's work, but a few hours after singing old songs and having fun he just begins to complain about the cards they're both dealt with.

"We give them what they want, telling 'em it's all free when it's not. They think eeeverything should fall on their lap because they're born lucky," his drunken ramblings continue. "Those idiots!"

"Everyone that enters Playful Land have given up their original lives. That's the price they have to pay!" Guidel nods in affirmation as the older man lets out a wicked laugh. Fellow finishes with a long drag of his cigarette.

When the park closes, they sell the guests' bodies as puppets. Away from the eyes of their bosses, everything they have on their person that can be worth selling is also sold. For some additional income on the side, these can go from taking the jewelries and piercings on their bodies to carving out the proud ears and tails of other beastmen.

"So there's nothing to feel bad about, okay?"

Fellow smiles and leans in to pat Guidel's head, a small action meant to comfort him. Guidel leans in to his touch and gives him his usual goofy little smile. He can tell Fellow is getting drunker by the second and soon enough he's going to pass out in his work clothes. At the very least, he has never, not once, taken out his anger on the young boy. He just conks out after he's done being mad at the world.

Guidel was taught to perceive the cries and screams of the park guests transforming into wooden puppets as the mere braying of donkeys. It's all empty noise, so that's why he has never thought too hard about their threats towards him and Fellow from inside of their metal cages.

It's not like they're dead. They haven't stooped low enough to become murderers, so that's what helps Guidel sleep at night. He's yet to reach the age to process what a "fate worse than death" is, but he learned that all living beings will eventually reach an eternal slumber somewhere warm and cozy when their time has come. It's not too far from the truth, as puppets who lose their value over the years become firewood.

They signed up for it. He's just doing his job. Most importantly, he and his big brother will get to have food and a safe place to stay in every night.

A few days later, Fellow and Guidel go to rest at an inn of some coastal town. When morning comes, they have to operate Playful Land again to find new guests in the next country they're tasked to go to.

The little boy looks out the window before tucking in. He always hopes for clear skies so he could make a wish to the brightest star in the sky, but it's cloudy tonight.

[rayshippouuchiha]

There are a lot of fanfics that talk about how Dementors are a cruel and torturous punishment, and I can't help but think well what else they are supposed to do? I'm pretty sure the only thing that can, for lack of a better word "hurt" dementors is the patronus charm which is a hard spell to cast and even harder in the presence of a dementor. So they need to keep them somewhere, and I'm honestly not sure if anything can keep them trapped. Having them stay in Azkaban means the ministry doesn't have to pay many if any guards, the dementors get to eat without being attacked by wizards, and most members of the Wizarding world are less likely to commit crimes if it means there's a chance they'd get up close and personal with a dementor. Nuclear deterrent, I think?

So every time I see a fic where someone complains about Azkaban, I'm just here like: "WHAT ELSE ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO DO??"

I think it comes down to the issue of whether or not it's okay for a government to weaponize creatures whose only purpose is to cause misery and who have no true loyalty to said government.

Because yes dementors are horrible and hard to fight/protect against, and yes having dementors willingly confined to one area far from the common people is a more "comfortable" solution and even saves the government money, but does that give the government the right to basically feed prisoners to them?

Would this same thing be justifiable if dementors were replaced with vampires? Or would that be considered unjust because vampires feed in a physical sense and dementors in a spiritual?

Either way, by using the dementors as guards the government has basically weaponized fear.

We even have the perfect canon example in Sirius that innocent people were locked up in Azkaban before and the perfect canon example as to how uncontrollable dementors are when they set their attention on someone given how they went after Harry.

The system under which Azkaban operates is unjust in a number of ways and the dementors add to that. Prisoners are routinely driven mad or outright die due to the conditions of the prison and over-exposure to dementors. There is little to no true room for prisoners to redeem themselves or learn from their mistakes, they either leave traumatized or dead.

If Azkaban is being used to keep dementors away from the common populace then wouldn't it make sense for there to be at least an attempt at wards to keep them all in/out? Wouldn't it be more reasonable for Hogwarts to routinely at least attempt to teach the patronus to say sixth and seventh years as a precaution?

Is Azkaban really a solution when dementors can, will, and have deserted to join up with someone like Voldemort because it allows them free reign to feed?

Just, when the government's response to a creature that does nothing but spread misery and can literally eat souls is to turn them into wardens and executioners instead of teaching the people how to combat/protect themselves against said creature then you don't trust the fucking government.

[creative-kny-fics]

Hi! May I ask for a tickle headcanon for uppermoons and rui and enmu? Ty

leafyanon

Sorry for taking so long! I had to think hard about this! (I was also talking about this with @mystwrites , so!)

(Some data is inspired by their BDA- and how they would use it to tickle)

1. Enmu (LowerMoon 1):

💤 Ler: 60% - Lee: 40%

💤 Worst spots: Hips, armpits, sides, knees and calves

💤 Like almost most kizuki, he loves to be tickled.

💤 His favorite lee is Rui. Although he knows that after Rui has rested, he will be tied with his nets and will suffer Rui's revenge.

💤 Give his hips a jab and he'll scream. But if he's off guard enough, he'll jump too

💤 He doesn't mind accepting that he loves being tickled, but he also has a limit that he would like others to respect. But judging by how he acts with them when tickling them, he doesn't always succeed.

💤 He loves to put some to sleep and give them a dream in which they are tickled. He hasn't told them, but the kizuki have noticed and chased him to scold him.

💤 He also usually does the above with himself. Rui and Douma are the only ones to know.

💤 If you tickle his armpits, he will fall to the floor and start laughing and rolling around while kicking and putting his hands on his belly.

2. Rui (LowerMoon 5):

🕸️ Ler: 20% - Lee: 80%

🕸️ Worst spots: Neck, belly, belly button and toes

🕸️ Rui is definitely equal to a child, we could even say that he is more ticklish than Akaza

🕸️ He doesn't mind being tickled, it always encourages him and he feels free because during those moments he doesn't have to worry about his 'family'

🕸️ But you do have to respect when it is enough for him, otherwise he will cut you with his strings and leave angry from there.

🕸️ He trusts Akaza, he is like an older brother to him. That's why he almost always sits on his lap and says 'tickle me!'

🕸️ His BDA helps him a lot when he wants to get revenge or just bother someone for a while UpperMoon

🕸️ He is quite skilled and precise in his movements. If he tickles you somewhere and you show him your sensitivity, he will immediately stay there until he decides to change places or stop.

🕸️ He likes to play at hunting his victims, usually Akaza, Enmu or Douma his victims.

🕸️ His lers constantly are: Daki, Douma, Akaza and Enmu. Also Muzan but he rarely does it

🕸️ He will play 'itsy bitsy spider' with you. What did you expect?

3. Kaigaku (New UpperMoon 6):

⚡ Ler: 90% - Lee: 10%

⚡ Worst spots: Armpits, thights and neck

⚡ He is someone difficult to catch. You have to be faster or smarter than him

⚡He hates them. He will curse you and hit you if you try to tickle him anywhere else that doesn't make him squeal.

⚡ He can't say 'tickle'. He will always be referred to as 't-word'

⚡ His constant ler is Kokushibo. He hates that his sensei justifies himself with 'it's part of the training session'

⚡ If you manage to tickle his armpits, you are guaranteed victory. He will be unable to defend himself because he will be too busy cursing you.

⚡ It's pretty easy to make fun of him or get him to raise his arms. It is enough to tell him: You are probably not as good as you think, to make him angry and expose his worst spot

⚡ He hates them, but blushes and squeals easily when they tickle him.

4. Daki (Former UpperMoon 6):

🎀 Ler: 65% - Lee: 35%

🎀 Worst spots: Waist, sides, hips and thighs

🎀 Daki still has the mentality of a little girl, so it's easy to tickle her.

🎀 She doesn't hate them, she just hates screaming and looking so weak in front of the other UpperMoons

🎀 Her obi is her best weapon. She usually holds her victims' wrists, ankles or waist and lets her nails do the rest of the work.

🎀 I think it's obvious who tickles her the most. Gyutaro is always 'bothering' Daki and tickling her when she is talking to Muzan or doing something important.

🎀 She allows only Douma, Gyutaro, Rui, and Enmu to tickle her. Also to Akaza but he doesn't do it since he considers it a lack of respect towards her.

5. Gyutaro (Former UpperMoon 6):

☠️ Ler: 85% - Lee: 15%

☠️ Worst spots: Neck, lower ribs, behind his knees and knees

☠️ Daki is the only one who used to know that Gyutaro was ticklish until she was so angry with him that she ended up confessing to Douma about it.

☠️ He only allows Daki, Douma and Rui to tickle him. He still has a hard time accepting Enmu, but he doesn't hate him, he sees him as another little brother.

☠️ He HATES that they always play 'itsy bitsy spider' on his ribs

☠️ Sometimes he asks Douma or Daki to tickle his neck. It's not a sensitive spot but it's one he can handle. He would tell Rui but he feels like he would tell someone and he doesn't want to be embarrassed.

6. Gyokko (UpperMoon 5):

🐟 Ler: 100% - Lee: 0%

🐟 Gyokko isn't ticklish, no matter how hard you try. The only thing that will make him laugh is your silly attempt to make him laugh.

🐟 Is it a ler? Yup, Gyokko is an expert at that, it's not for nothing that he has multiple arms

🐟 Does his BDA help him? It definitely does, he can lock you in one of his vases and torture you by suffocating you with your own laughter.

🐟 He thinks that dying asphyxiated by laughter is a very little-known but quite intriguing expression. He knows no mercy in using hunters to get these 'works of art'

🐟 The UpperMoons hate that BDA, it's quite tedious, but they prefer that to touching it (then they can smell fishy and they don't like that idea 🤣)

7. Nakime (New UpperMoon 4):

🪕 Ler: 0% - Lee: 0%

🪕 Don't try to tickle her, you will completely regret doing it

🪕 Nakime hates physical contact and always stays away from people.

🪕 If someone tries to get into her business she will do 2 things: Either she will hit you with her biwa or she will make you fall all over the infinite fortress and try to crush you.

🪕 Nakime could be ticklish? It is probable

8. Hantengu (Former UpperMoon 4):

😰 Ler: 0% - Lee: 0%

😰 Ok, if I'm honest, I don't think the original version of Hantengu is ticklish. But their clones are another story

😡 Sekido: (Ler: 60% / Lee: 40%)

😡 Worst spots: Knees, armpits and calves

😡 If you try it, you'll probably regret it.

😡 He HATES them with all his soul

😡 If you manage, by sheer luck, to tickle him. Start running and begging because he won't rest until he makes you pay for your lack of respect.

😡 Will he laugh if you tickle his worst spot? Yes, he will. But when you're done tickling him, he'll kill you

😡 Seriously, don't try to do it.

😥 Aizetsu: (Ler: 15% / Lee: 85%)

😥 Worst spots: Belly, armpits sides and knees

😥 He's the baby of the group-

😥 He is usually the target of continuous tickle attacks from Karaku and Urogi.

😥 He's usually sad, so the excuse: You looked sad and we decided to cheer you up! It's the excuse he hears the most

😥 It's easy to make him laugh, you don't need much. Just a few squeezes on his belly or touching his sides will be enough to make him squeal.

🤣 Karaku: (Ler: 90% / Lee: 10%)

🤣 Worst spots: Armpits, neck, lower back

🤣 It's the second one you can make laugh easily

🤣 Urogi, Sekido and Aizetsu usually get tired of Karaku's 'joking' behavior, so they team up and give him a 'real reason to laugh'

🤣 Always fight with Urogi over who is the best 'ler'

🤣 You can tickle him in the air and he will be laughing

🦅 Urogi: (Ler: 80% / Lee: 20%)

🦅 Worst spots: The inner part of its wings, sides and armpits

🦅 He has ticklish wings-

🦅 He is the biggest ler of the group. If he has both arms occupied, his wings will help him

🦅 He always gets involved with Karaku to tickle Aizetsu and try to tickle Sekido. They also have tickle fights

🦅 He always makes sure that whoever he tickles is slightly off the ground so that he can kick desperately and beg to be put down.

9. Akaza (UpperMoon 3):

🥋 Ler: 25% - Lee: 75%

🥋 Worst spots: Armpits, hips, belly, sides and thighs

🥋 Don't let him fool you, he can curse you, scream, ask you to stop during the first seconds, but he LIES

🥋 He hates it when someone discovers his 'taste' and his first instinct is to hit her/him or hit them or rip their head off (Douma)

🥋 Blushes and gets embarrassed easily when someone makes fun of him

🥋 He only has certain people he allows to tickle him. They are: Rui, Enmu, Daki, Gyutaro, Kokushibo and Douma (he hates to admit it but he enjoys his presence)

🥋 He's going to huff and puff almost the entire session. He may also growl and, if you're not careful, bite or kick you (be careful).

🥋 He pretends to hate them but LOVES raspberries, especially on his tummy and neck.

10. Douma (UpperMoon 2):

❄️ Ler: 90% - Lee: 10%

❄️ Worst spots: Ears, neck, armpits, hips and knees

❄️ Douma is definitely the one that takes the position of 'ler' among the UpperMoons

❄️ Douma always takes advantage of the fact that he has long nails to behave like complete shit towards his victims.

❄️ You're not going to fool him with 'I'm happy now!'. He won't stop until he has you crying or screaming on the floor.

❄️ His BDA is always helping him. If he is prohibited from approaching anyone, which is mostly Akaza, he will create miniatures of himself that he will send to tickle his victim.

❄️ Do you try to escape from him? He will freeze the floor and make you slip and fall until he gets closer to you

❄️ Baby talk. He's not going to waste the opportunity to remind you how vulnerable you are to him, he'll make fun of you so much that it will make the tickling completely worse.

11: Kokushibo (UpperMoon 1):

🌙 Ler: 65% - Lee: 35%

🌙 Worst spots: Neck, back, back ribs, knees and hands

🌙 It's not easy to knock him down, don't try to get close to him and try to tickle him

🌙 He won't refuse to be tickled, but you must ask for permission to do so.

🌙 He has a love/hate for back rubs. It usually tickles him but he is good at hiding his reactions.

🌙 If you tickle him without his permission, he won't let go until you pass out or he's satisfied with his revenge.

🌙 Douma and Akaza are the only ones who know, but his hands are also ticklish. Just gently tickle him there and he will be laughing and asking you to stop (he hates attention)

🌙 He has already admitted that he likes tickling. So he can't say 'I hate them'

[yet-another-autism-blog]

Okay I think I need some advice because I'm not really sure where to go from here

Last fall, things with my roommate started to fall apart. I started noticing things that seemed harmless, maybe weren't, especially as they became patterns. What started as a joke about me, as the extrovert friend, helping him be more social, became him getting upset anytime I left the house without inviting him or assuring him I wasn't doing anything fun. And if I did invite him but he couldn't go, I wasn't allowed to go either. He would find things wrong with any friend of mine that he did meet, reasons I shouldn't be friends with them anymore. He got especially upset when he found out I'd gone on 2 dates with a guy and didn't tell him or let him meet the guy.

The last straw for him was that I went to a movie with my sister and we didn't invite him. I didn't know it was such an issue for him because he never said anything at the time, it wasn't until months later that he told me that I had traumatized him by excluding him.

I only found this out because a friend of mine told me that my roommate was on Twitter, claiming that I was abusing my dog. When I asked him about it, he confirmed that he knew it was a lie, but he it was justified because I had traumatized him by excluding him from the movie.

In this tweet, he was also seeking advice and financial support in kicking me out and taking my dog. So obviously I couldn't safely stay there anymore and the house we were living in was owned by his father so I had no lease protection. So I had to find somewhere else to live quickly.

The only place I had was to move back in with my mothers who had since moved out of state.

I lost everything because of this. My friends, my community, a job I enjoyed, the chance to finish my degree and pursue my dreams, I was only one year away from graduating. On top of that, my mothers aren't okay with me being trans, alternating between believing I was brainwashed and that I'm choosing to be trans to make them look bad.

I have until the end of summer to decide what I'm going to do next. I can either move back to the city I'm from or get an apartment here.

If I go back I'll need at least one roommate and at least 2 jobs to get by. But I have a support system there. There's opportunities for me to meet people and make friends. Or even just things to do in my free time.

If I stay here, I can get an apartment by myself with just the one job I have now. But I have no support system. There are no opportunities to meet people. And I won't be able to continue progressing in my transition (name change, top surgery, etc).

It's unlikely that I can go back to school no matter what I do, and I can probably say goodbye to the idea that I'll ever be able to become an actor.

I know I struggle to work one full-time job, so needing 2 jobs will be very straining but having no friends, or community, and nothing to do in my free time is also incredibly damaging to my mental health.

Obviously, this is a choice I have to make for myself, I'm just having trouble telling if the instinct to stay here is just an act of self sabotage. Or if there is something to the fact that this whole thing cost me everything and him nothing, call it karma or whatever you want, but maybe he's right. Maybe I'm harming the people around me in a way I can't even comprehend, and it's better for everyone if I stay here where I'm isolated and can't hurt anyone.

[thebabblingbrookenook]

I had a bit of writer's fun tonight with a talented bunch of gals. It was all inspired by this lovely Benedict Bridgerton edit by the @bridgertontess

The game was to write a 500 word (most of us went over 😜) ficlet that told the story of what turned sweet Ben into Eeyore. The results were hilariously diverse. This was my attempt to explain his melancholy.

Thanks for playing ladies. I had a blast! @fayes-fics @eleanor-bradstreet @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @colettebronte

He waited. He waited as long as he could and then stayed an hour longer. Even after the rain soaked through his clothes, chilling his bones - he stayed. He would always stay for you. The problem was that you always seemed to be leaving him.

Each time he had to say goodbye, it hurt a little deeper for a little while longer. But then, one day, he'd hear the knock at his door and find you on the other side. He never hesitated to let you right back in, even though the chances of you walking out again were easily foreshadowed.

He knew he should stop, but he couldn't help himself. That's what addicts do. They give in to the desires of their flesh. Not because they aren't strong enough to turn away, but because somewhere inside them, they don't want to stop. The suffocating lows can be justified by euphoric, blissful highs. Eventually, decisions can be rationalized. You were his vice, and he had no intention of quitting.

His culpability in his own pain made it even worse. He held no pity for himself. He deserved it all. He literally signed up for it. You had always been a bit of a free spirit. Untamed and wild behind the eyes. That's part of what drew him to you. But the same thing that brought you close was the thing that took you away.

You were terrified of the metaphorical cage from staying in one place for too long. He knew you were running from something, but that same fear always sent you seeking stability in his presence.

Inch by inch you would let him see new pieces of your soul, and he was humbled by it every single time. That's what he had found himself addicted to. The small hits of intimacy you would allow him before the inevitable retreat.

That's what was happening now. The wall you let him breach was a big one, and he saw it in your eyes the moment you realized he had seen too much. It was his fault. You begged him not to say it. You begged him not to love you. Your words rang in his ears on repeat.

"Don't Ben. Please don't say you love me." your voice broke in a plea.

"Why not? It's true. What's so wrong with that?" he asked.

"Because I might not say it back..." You couldn't meet his eyes.

"Might not? If you're not sure, that's okay. Love is a big thing. I don't want you to say it if you don't feel it. But are you saying you could feel it? I can wait. You know I can." He knew those were the wrong words the moment he heard himself saying them.

"Right... always waiting for me to grow up. Waiting for me to stop being so selfish. Aren't you tired of making excuses for me yet, Ben?!"

"That's not what I meant. Please... please don't do this. Stay with me. I'm not going to hurt you or try to change you."

"You already are changing me! I'm not ready for this. And I can't keep doing this to you. I have to go." His eyes widened with panic as you strode towards the door.

"Darling, please! Just think about it. For me, just say that you'll think about. We can meet tomorrow by the park to talk." He was prepared to grovel.

His hands cupped your face, holding you in his gaze. But when you couldn't answer him, his fingers fell away.

"I'll wait for you there. 3pm by the pond." He took a deep breath to steel his nerves. "But if you don't come... don't come back again."

That was the last thing he said before you walked through his door. And now he was sitting in the rain, regretting every word. What had he done?

What had he done?

[mrstsung]

Me at mk12/mk1 shang:

Baby you did no wrong. The narrative does you wrong. Tells us you can never be forgiven yet other characters do horrible shit (maybe even worse) and get off scott free cuz the narrative and story told you to hate him. Instead of using your brains to think for once in your god damn lives. Calling shang lazy because he's poor,down on his luck trying to survive in this game. Ableist shitlords who tell poor people and minority groups to "put in honest work and youll get somewhere" or "shang tsung is always a liar" when a supposed "good version exists"?! Are you shitting me?! He deserve nice things. Every excuse i see seems to be wanting to demonize a character that in the story actually didn't deserve it. And by all means is valid in their anger. Shang tsung deserves better. But most of all he deserves the heads of those responsible for giving him a wretched life. So fuck nrs and fuck liu kang stans.

You deserve so much more. Shang tsung stans,my fellow tsimps. Please do him actual justice. That doesn't involve shipping him with everyone on the roster. You know actually write something worth a lick.

Also Me at mk12/mk1 liu kang and anyone who justifies him in the narrative now:

That's not my liu kang and honestly liu should have stayed dead.

Nah i won't apologize.

Hating on this man for the predicaments that you gaslight him on in a situation where liu kang has every fucking means and power to actually change shit or ya know stand up to his superiors. Does nothing. Nobody's calling out these god/titans. And look where that gets our faves.

So liu kang is just as at fault if not more.

You dont give him nearly as much shit as you give raiden as a God and yet unlike raiden

LIU KANG DESERVES TO GET FUCKING YELLED AT,CALLED OUT AND SOME FUCKING CONSEQUENCES FOR HIS BLUNDERS. but yet....he doesn't really. Just sad kitty mew mew faces and a slap on the wrist.

Meanwhile shang tsung has to pay for crimes he did WHILE HE WAS TRYING TO SURVIVE AND ACTUALLY FUCKING DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE PROBLEMS.

Dont give that "oh but evil shang" did what? Whos to say it wasn't the same shit? But instead of God liu kang,it was raiden? So same shit. Plus like i said a good shang exists. So....what is the actual excuse to not feel bad for shang. Even a lil bit?

So same shit different god. Nothing got changed. Nothing worth of lick to the story actually happened.

So what did we actually do differently that was worth it?

Nothing.

Like how am i supposed to love these supposed "good guys" but all they do is follow orders,not question shit,follow narrative,and run around like bumbling idiots? How am i supposed to root for someone who legitimately ruined the lives of others by not actually helping.

If gods actually can do all this shit in mks world. Like they say. If these beings are oh so powerful. Then show it. Because if not. Then they are just as flawed and are no better then the supposed mortals.

Gods in mk use mortals as cattle for their own amusement would be the narrative that mk needs so desperately. And for shang tsung of all people to call that shit out and actually do something about it and do a NOBLE DEED. Would be fucking amazing.

But nope y'all want your boring stale unseasoned trope of "uwu evil guy to beat up because me good guy cant possibly be an asshole in the wrong uwu"

What drove shang to evil....is the lack of actually love and care from someone that was supposed to protect him. He had a hard time trusting others. So.....help him trust again? Help him and guide him better? Maybe he needs a lil bit different teaching technique? He obviously didn't take pleasure in lying or stealing or selling to make ends meet. Obviously there was a reason. Whos to say the people wouldn't find any excuse to hate shang even if he was making an honest living? Whos to say that they wouldn't find a way to other him in the narrative as some of y'all seem to be doing?

So yeah nothing changed.

same shit. Different god. That's all that fucking changed. Period.

It's a mid game. And thats me being very very generous. If shang wasn't in it and used as fucking sale bait. I bet you it wouldn't even get off half the fucking attention it's gotten. And even then it's waning as we speak. (Good)

Say what you want but there is no valid reason to hate shang tsung. You can say he's not your fave. You can say he's done deliciously cold Blooded shit. I'd agree with you.

But dont ever say it was for no reason. He has every right to fuck the gods up.

This man is a survivor of a game that was rigged from the start.

And by god he still despite taking unnecessary L's . He stays winning because i feel he's more popular than any other character on the roster. Simply by being the lovely bastard he is.

People would argue that sub zero or scorpion are the best. Not anymore. They aint even the right ones.

Kenshi is only popular because pretty guy lewis tan(he's cute but by god fans of him are irritating) plays him and people want anime sword dude. Outside of that niche what does he actually have to offer the narrative and story beyond his part. Nothing. Unpopular opinion but...His son was cooler anyways.

Johnny cage is cool but only in small doses otherwise he's insufferable. And he's even mid tier in mk12/mk1. That jean claude van damme skin is the only reason people came back for johnny and i genuinely feel that was also a sale bait. Because they knew they couldn't beat tekkens sales nor street fighter. And had to rush shit out to even be noticed.

It reeks of "notice me younger generation. We still have the cool toys." It's desperate for the glory days that never will come.

People are tired of the mediocre.

You had an opportunity to actually shake shit up. But nope nrs just wants an injustice game so bad but have to appease the impatient mk fans. I say this as a long time mk fan. We are our own worst enemy.

But enough venting.

I'll get back to shang tsung posting soon.

Some actual good food.

Just lemme simmer down and cook a bit.

[saikourobyn]

Japan 2020 - Prelude

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I wrote this over 3 years ago but didn't get around to publishing it anywhere. The first 4 days were written on the plane back from Japan with the rest, Friday 28th February 2020 and onwards, written more recently so may be less detailed.

I was travelling with my friend Oli who has been invited to the wedding of his old friend Hiroshi and his partner Aiko.

Japan has always been somewhere I wanted to visit but due to either a lack of money or feeling like I didn’t know enough of the language or both, I didn’t think I was ready to go and kept putting it off as something to do in the future.

Having now been I can safely say that both of those worries were justified, it was an expensive trip and I definitely didn’t know enough Japanese but it was definitely worth going to confirm this so that I can be better prepared for my next trip.

That’s right, some people want to try new things and go to new places but I just want to go back to Japan and do new things and go to new places there. Our 2 week trip crammed in a lot but I feel that there’s much more to see.

Sunday 23rd February 2020

Home

We started our trip around 1:00 AM, with a taxi ride to the bus station, which was closed at the time so instead it was a bus stop outside of a pizza delivery shop. In an effort to make this trip more affordable, we didn’t want to stay the night in London so elected to take an overnight coach to Heathrow, we met some lovely people at the bus stop who were trying to get to Plymouth but we had a much better destination in mind.

The coach was late and they wouldn’t let me take one of my bags on the coach, so I didn’t have much entertainment other than my phone. I had sort of planned to just stay awake for the whole thing, going as far as staying up late the previous night and getting up later in the morning in an attempt to prepare for or circumvent the jet lag.

This proved to be fruitless as I hadn’t really worked out the time differences properly so I decided to sleep on the coach, it was not the most pleasant journey so not much sleep was had. I think I got to sleep around Taunton so from there it seemed to go relatively quickly. There was an incident with the side mirror of the bus but I was asleep at that point so I only heard the aftermath not very exciting but at last we made it to the airport at 5:35 AM.

London

We definitely didn’t go to the wrong terminal first and fight with the boarding machines which didn’t acknowledge us, we definitely didn’t cry for help to the lovely staff there who may or may not have treated us like loverly people who had been wronged by the system before we came to the realisation that we were indeed in the wrong place. But at least we had scouted out the terminal for when we arrived back in the UK and our flight wasn’t until 9:50 AM so we had plenty of time to get to the right place.

After a spot of duty free shopping, tasty coffee and downloading some last minute podcasts to listen to on the flight, it was time to depart. I always find that I have trouble with the pressure on my ears during the flight but after my trip to New York last year, I found it much more bearable on the larger aircraft, but I was still ready with earplugs, noise cancelling headphones and chewing gum.

I managed to sleep a little, I had picked up a Trtl travel pillow which gave a bit more support than traditional travel pillows, again after my trip to New York I learnt that not having any head support sucked and I didn’t want to start off my trip super sleepy, with New York I found it easy going over there as it was only 5 hours behind you just stay up late the first night then you’re all set but coming back to the UK was much worse.

This time we are skipping 9 hours into the future (with jet packs) and arriving early in the morning so sleeping was a must to get the trip off to a good start. Although this was hampered by the strange need of the cabin crew to feed you every 3 hours, let’s turn on all the lights to wake you up so you can eat this muffin, thanks for that but I’d much rather try and get a bit more sleep.

The food on the plane was a bad sign of things to come, we believed we had pre-ordered a vegan meal but expressing this to the cabin staff resulted in a strange double salad meal, I had already decided that I would take a break from my diet whilst in Japan and this confirmed what I had heard about that veganism isn’t really a thing in Japan yet.

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[threephantomrey]

The Asamad Van Ghoul Essay

The King Of Demons, the most powerful sorcerer on Earth of his time, the first to bear the Van Ghoul last name, the 13th ghost. Asamad Van Ghoul is also known as “Asmodeus,” and is an ancestor of Vincent Van Ghoul. (Can’t write this essay about Asamad without mentioning Vincent) He’s been on my mind since September 2019. There’s so much that could be learned about him, so many guesses on what his personality is like, where is he from, why did he decide to take the Van Ghoul last name and pass it down, and where he really went after being freed by Shaggy and Scooby.

In February 2019, when the movie “Scooby Doo And The Curse Of The 13th Ghost” came out, there was a scene where Vincent told us that Asamad was a human who became corrupted by his own magic, and turned evil. He used it to bend humanity to his will, and was eventually defeated, and trapped within the Chest Of Demons, and transformed into the demon Asmodeus. Vincent himself, along with his best friend Mortifer, who would later go onto to impersonate Asamad, had accidentally set Asamad free, along with the other 12 ghosts years before. Vincent found and trapped him back in the chest, but after Shaggy and Scooby released him, there was no knowledge as to where he went.

What do I think? I believe (and love the interpretation) that he did try to redeem himself and started to watch over and protect Vincent and his friends and moved onto the afterlife at the end of the movie, but I won’t talk about that much here, since this is just about Asamad in general. He's a mystery, really, to put it simply. We only ever saw him in that one movie, and in flashbacks only, except when he (probably) appeared to Vincent after Mortifer fell off that cliff and went back into his human form, then disappeared. We've never heard his voice, only a roar in the flashback where Vincent caught him.

I imagine he has a really deep voice, like it sounds how most people would think Satan sounds or any demon really, and that his voice would be powerful and echoey. Personality as a demon in my opinion? Stubborn, gets angry very easily, very manipulative, deceives so many, greedy, rude and full of hate, intelligent, and being the leader. (as he is the King Of Demons) Personality as a human? Maybe still a little stubborn but not as bad, helpful, still intelligent, when he is angry it is justifiable most of the time, kind, and loves his family. I also think as a demon, he’s the exact opposite of Vincent. Like, Vincent is someone who feels so much love, while Asamad feels hate. Vincent doesn’t want a lot except his friends and family, while Asamad wants the whole world at his feet. I think Vincent’s signature color is blue, (Cause of his mage’s robe) while Asamad’s is red. (Cause he is a red demon) Maybe Asamad represents the past, while Vincent is the present and future.

Asamad briefly appearing in the smoke at the end of the movie (I think it’s a mixture of smoke and snow? I can’t be 100% certain though) and then disappearing kind of makes me think that he doesn’t stick around a lot. Always going somewhere else. You’ll catch a glimpse of him and that’s it most of the time. Almost unreachable, really. Or you’ll see him in a few dreams/nightmares sometimes. Like I said, there’s so much more we have yet to learn about him, so many thoughts on what he could be and what he could not. That’s what makes him a mystery to this day. That’s what makes him an interesting character to me. Now that I think about it, maybe to other people, he does stick around, just not physically. It’s the mysteries and memories of him that stay.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Completely unedited and probably incoherent personal post that I didn't even try to justify writing about by connecting it to comedy in any way. Just needed to put it somewhere. Regular posting about comedians shall resume shortly.

A little while ago, I wrote about a friend of mine in a post, how we first became close 10 years ago, how we have been ever since, and at the end I said the connection between him and the actual topic of my post was a bit tenuous, I’d just taken any excuse to write about him because he was on my mind, I hadn’t heard from him in a while and was worried that he might be ruining his own life again. He does this sometimes. He’s very scatterbrained, he has almost no impulse control or organizational skills, sometimes I lose track of him and sometimes it means something’s gone wrong.

In that post I called him Rhod, because I don’t want to use his real name, and Rhod Gilbert reminds me of him, demanour-wise. Given the nature of this post, however, it feels weird to name him after any actual person again. So I’m going to call him Jacob. Because that isn’t his name but it also isn’t the name of anyone else in particular.

Like I said before, Jacob and I met in 2013 when I moved to a different city to compete on their university team, and he was there too. He was a little older than me, and a more successful wrestler than I was, he had stories of competing internationally that I was never quite good enough to get. I liked him, but I was also terrible at fitting in on the team where I didn’t know people, so I didn’t really get to know him or anyone else at first.

Long story short: end of the season, national championships, I’m in a quite important match, partway through I have a panic attack, the ref physically pulls me off the mat and drops me in my corner and says I have the three minutes of allotted injury time to get it together and be able to fight or I’ll forfeit, my actual coach is there but useless, the medical trainer is there but useless, Jacob is there as my teammate just to play backup/support to the actual coach, he immediately steps in, takes my hands, helps me breathe, gets me to bring what I’m aware of down from the entire arena full of screaming people down to just us, promises me I’ll be able to finish the match and won’t collapse again because he’ll be right there, I go back out and finish the match, I win, Jacob celebrates my win like he’s just won the championship, twelve hours later he and I are drunk in a hotel room at 3 AM and I’m telling him everything I think is wrong with the way our sport is run and he’s telling me how he ran away from home as a kid because his stepdad used to beat him up, because once you go through a moment like that one together, all emotional barriers are pretty much gone.

Years passed, I moved back to my home city and coached my home team, he moved to a bigger city and took a coaching job there, we lived five hours apart but saw each other almost every weekend at tournaments and talked on the phone regularly. We got elected to the provincial oversight board together and fought all our battles together to try to get rid of just the top few layers of corruption and predator protecting, mostly to no avail but we fucking tried. He saved my team thousands of dollars per year – and every one of those saved dollars meant my team was able to help more low-income athletes participate in the sport with their membership fees waived and their insurance/tournament fees covered – because when I told him it sucks that my team is full of athletes who don’t have the money for hotel rooms so even though we cover them as much as we can they can’t always afford to compete, Jacob told me that every time we compete near the major city where he lives, we should have our entire team bring sleeping bags and we can stay in the gym where he works. All of us – 20+ athletes and 4 or 5 coaches at most weekends – he let us spread out on the mats and all crash for free, any time we wanted. We sat in opposite corners from each other and took bets on whether my kids could beat up his kids. He got himself named coach of the provincial team and talked me into coming with him to big tournaments in the States to coach said provincial team, and I went even though I knew it would be a nightmare, and then the next year I went again even though I knew it had been a nightmare before, and by the end I told him that if I told him our friendship will not survive one more weekend like this and I will drown him in the Atlantic Ocean if he makes me sleep on another hotel room floor because he forgot to book enough rooms, but of course the next year I went again, one time I yelled at him in the middle of the night in the streets of Atlantic City because he was gambling in front of children “You know, I argue with people about you!” and he asked “What people?” and I said “People who think you’re not responsible enough to run a provincial team trip!”, because I do, people are always asking me why I’m so close with him even though he keeps doing incredibly stupid shit, and I can’t tell them it’s because he saved me one day in 2013, I just tell them he’s a good guy when you get to know him, I have defended him to a ludicrous degree, even when he didn’t make it easy, by doing things like gamble in front of children on a provincial team trip and then genuinely not know why I yelled at him in the street about it.

When he took an MMA fight in 2018, he was too nervous to tell his own people in case they came and possibly saw him lose, but he called me, and I drove 2.5 hours to theveorst small town I've ever seen, to see him fight in a cage they'd set up in a run-down dive bar-like building, where the guy nearly broke his nose but then Jacob got up and kicked the shit out of him, he won, and then we sat outside and I drank beer while he smoked a cigar and said he was glad I was there but I can't tell anyone what happened because it's too much pressure to live up to. And then he went and gambled all night because he does have quite a serious gambling problem. Though to be fair to him and not too sound too hypocritically condescending, I did then drink all night because I have a drinking problem. But at least I refrain from drinking in front of children. Anyway, that’s… that’s the short version of our relationship.

The last time I went so long without hearing from him, it was because he and his girlfriend had broken up, he ended up sleeping in his gym for a while, and then got kicked out of there due to some terrible decisions he made, which also meant losing his job, and had nowhere to go for a bit, though he did eventually end up back at a different gym and in a new apartment. During that time, I kept getting messages from mutual friends, from our old teammates, because people knew he’s fallen on hard times and kind of disappeared, and they knew I was close with him, and they texted me to ask if I knew if he was okay. And I didn’t. But eventually he started calling again, and he put things back together.

This year I didn’t hear from him for a few months. At first that was relatively normal; I’ll frequently send texts that don’t get answered because he sees a squirrel or something and then forgets about everything he was ever supposed to do before that moment. But he’ll usually reply to me if I follow up. And he usually calls me up every few weeks even if I don't contact him, more often if something’s actually going on. Sometimes less, it might be more like every few months sometimes. So I didn’t think much when the first text went unanswered, then a month later and I texted him again, still nothing. Then I heard from a couple of other people who know him, asking me if I know what’s going on with him, because they haven't heard from him lately. I didn’t know. I brought him up in a tenuously-related Tumblr post, because he was on my mind and writing about him made me feel a bit better, as I was worried he was ruining his own life again.

Well, we know the answer now. We have for a while, actually. A post appeared on Facebook a few weeks ago announced he’s having a baby. With a woman I’d never heard of. The last I heard there weren’t any women with whom he had a potential baby-creating relationship, though I don’t always keep track of those well.

It’s been over two weeks since that Facebook post went up and I haven’t messaged him. What the fuck are you supposed to say to a friend who’s proudly announced they’re having a kid, even though they definitely should not be having a kid? And this guy definitely should not be having a kid. It’s one of the worst ideas I can possibly imagine. I think almost no one should ever have a kid, but this guy really shouldn’t have a kid. Even my friends who think kids are mostly a good idea and most people should have them – even they think Jacob having a kid would be a disaster. And I know they think that, because they’re all messaging me asking what the fuck is going on with Jacob announcing that he’s having a child with a woman no one’s heard of. And I have to tell them I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him.

Because the thing is that if I send Jacob a text, 30% of the time I won’t hear back because he saw a squirrel. 10% of the time he texts me back. And 70% of the time, he calls me, anywhere from four seconds to ten days after I sent that text, to discuss that text via a vocal conversation.

I could figure out what to text him. It’s fucking weird, but if I put enough effort in, I could come up with some appropriate-sounding texts along the lines of “I see you are having a baby, that’s an interesting idea, what’s up?” But I couldn’t do a phone call. If I text him that and he calls me, I will have to maintain a tone of voice in a conversation that makes it seems like I think this is a reasonable idea. And I don’t know how to do that.

I’ve never had to do this with him before. More than that, our relationship has always been defined by us not having to do that with each other. If there’s a situation where I can’t be honest with anyone else, I can always be honest with Jacob. And I always know he’s being totally honest with me. I tell people that sometimes, when they ask me why I hang out with him even though he’s a mess, and I’m in my role as Jacob apologist. I say that actually, it’s very fucking relaxing to have a conversation with a guy who doesn’t have the psychological capacity to edit anything between his brain and his mouth. I never have to worry about where I stand with him or what he thinks of something, because he’ll just tell me. I never have to worry about editing what I say to him, because I know it can just be anything I'm thinking, even if that thing is "you're being a fucking idiot right now". I don't even realize how exhausting I find it to walk around avoiding saying what I think and guessing what other people think, until I talk to someone where I don't have to do that.

We’ve always been like that. When something horrible is happening and I have to spend all day around people who are letting it happen and at the end of it I feel like my mind is going to break from the effort it takes to pretend I think that’s fine, and I talk to my friends from my own team and they just say it’s a bit annoying but it’s not the end of the world, I call Jacob at the end of the day and whatever horrible furious things I think he understands. And he calls me and tells me how angry he gets and how fucked up everything is and I know he’s not covering anything up.

When my friend died a few years ago, the moment I heard the news, the very first thing I did was call Jacob. I didn’t even move. I found out via a text that came from someone who’d heard from the person who found the body. I read the text, and then didn’t even stand up, I just called Jacob. Didn’t think through the fact that in reaching out for someone to talk to, I’d also be putting myself in the position to have to break devastating news to someone who didn’t already know it, because the guy who died was a friend of Jacob’s too. They were competing at the same time and at about the same level. My friend who died used to tell stories in the pub about how wild things used to get on Team Canada trips with Jacob, when they were running around Europe and Asia together. Quite a bit more wild than just gambling in front of some kids in Atlantic City, it turns out.

Anyway, I called Jacob to tell him what happened, but he was at work, and then the reality of what I’d be doing to him hit me, and I said this can wait until he’s done because I can’t ruin his day. He could hear how upset I was, and just the week before I’d been on the phone with him while I was panicking about COVID, and he’d told me I can always call him if I’m having a panic attack and want someone to talk to, and I realized he thought that’s what this was, that I was calling to talk through anxiety and just didn’t want to burden him with that at work, so he told me it’s fine, he can take a break, just tell him what’s wrong. And I realized I wasn’t preparing him for the news properly, I was making him expect irrational anxiety and then I was going to drop something so much worse on him, and I didn’t know how to lay the groundwork so while he was telling me to calm down I just cut him off mid-sentence and said “[Guy’s name] is dead,” and I remember being shocked at how fast his voice turned from calm and reassuring to barely being able to speak through tears. The news had taken some time to hit me but it didn’t for Jacob, the very first words he said after I told him, he was already crying.

And in the few weeks that followed we talked a lot, and I realized why my instinct was to call him first, rather than my friends from my own team who’d been in those pubs with me and the guy who died. And it was because I didn’t trust myself to be appropriate enough for them. I told one of them that I couldn’t stop thinking about our other friend, who’d recently been kicked out of the group for trying to fuck a teenager, and how colossally unfair it was that he hadn’t died instead. I asked if she’d had any thoughts like that and she said… no, that’s a weird thing to be thinking right now, petty stuff like that doesn’t matter. I called up Jacob and told him the same thing and he sat on the phone with me and we made lists of people who deserved to die more than the guy who actually did.

A couple of years later, when a coach we both knew died, Jacob found out before I did, and he called me to break the news. We hadn’t been incredible close with that guy so it wasn’t anywhere near the same level of devastating grief, but we still knew and liked him, it was sad, we were sad together. A month later it came out that that guy had committed suicide because he was about to go to court for sexually abusing a teenage girl. Every other person I knew talked about how it was a weird mixed emotions situation, conflicting anger at him with it still being sad that he died, not knowing how to feel. Again I felt alienated, like I was the only one who had my reaction, which was: “He deserved to die and I’m glad he’s fucking dead.” I called up Jacob and told him about the reason for the guy’s death. First thing Jacob said was “Well the right thing happened then. It’s good that he died.”

This is a fucking weird set of examples. I swear Jacob and I have bonded over more than just agreeing that some people deserve to die. Those are just the first examples that come to mind because I’m trying to explain how much our relationship has been defined by him being the one person I can go to with my very worst thoughts and it’s okay because we can say anything to each other. And it turns out my thoughts about who deserves to really genuinely die are my worst ones. I can walk around all day listening to people say polite things about polite circumstances until I can’t stand the politeness anymore, and my friendship with Jacob is an escape where no one has to be polite.

Last spring, when my then-roommate tried to kick me out of my house and I was scared of where I’d live, and he had someone subletting for him whom I couldn’t stand being around for horrible petty reasons and she had a friend over that I couldn’t be around and I got home from work to find I couldn’t be in my own house, and all my other friends were off with their partners or wherever else and I couldn’t talk to them anyway because they’d tell me to just get over it and go home because it’s not worth getting so angry about, so I just walked off to a field and sat down to wait for my house to clear out so I could have somewhere to go, I called Jacob and told him all the most petty horrible reasons why I couldn’t go home, and he told me this sport is better with me in it and principles are worth having. And then he talked shit about a bunch of people from his own team who were annoying him until I forgot about my stuff. It was lovely. Two weeks later he called me when he'd been stuck outside his own living situation for similarly stupid reasons. And I talked shit with him as well.

This is what we do. We’re honest with each other. But I’ve learned in the last few years that that’s a big thing that changes when you go from your twenties to your thirties. In my twenties, my friendships were mainly based around me and some guys making fun of each other and making jokes about everything each other did. You know, basic juvenile and sometimes probably problematic – but successful – ways to bond. But when you get older, your friends start making serious, long-term decisions, and you’re not allowed to make fun of those because those are for real. And while there can be some nebulous difficulty in working out what is and isn’t fair game, the two hard and fast rules is you are never ever allowed to question their choice of serious romantic partner, or their choice to have kids. You just can’t.

I don’t fully understand all the rules around that – I just know that serious adult relationships have rules about how people outside the relationship are not allowed to know too much about it and are definitely not allowed to think it’s a bad idea, and if those people break that rule, they have to be cut off for the sake of the relationship. So because I know I’m not great at intuitively knowing where the line is (you know, autism), I try to err on the side of caution, and whenever my friends get into serious relationships, I just stop ever asking them anything about that side of their life, and if they volunteer a story about it, I just nod and say “Oh cool” and say absolutely nothing else and express no opinion whatsoever, no matter how much I’m thinking “This seems like a terrible idea.” But that’s so fucking awkward, it is anywhere from really annoying to outright psychologically painful to have to hang out with someone while constantly avoiding saying what I’m thinking, so I end up spending less and less time with that person, until they eventually break up, and then I’m allowed to say “Oh yeah, that seemed like a terrible idea,” and then we can be friends again. Until they find someone new and the cycle repeats.

But this was never an issue with Jacob. I never felt like there was something I couldn’t say to him. It was such a big deal to feel like there was nothing I couldn’t say to him, and nothing he couldn’t say to me. Not that he always did tell me every single thing that happened to him, or vice-versa. He doesn’t know I have a Tumblr blog and have tried stand-up comedy. I didn’t know he’d impregnated someone, at least until I saw it on Facebook. We’ve both got our own stuff going on, it's normal in our ten-year friendship to go months without talking. But I’ve always felt like I could say anything to him, and if I haven’t, it’s just because it hasn’t come up.

When a friend gets a partner and then we slowly drift apart until they break up – that’s not going to happen here. Jacob is never, ever going to not have that kid. That’s forever. And I know that is not what matters in this situation, at all. What matters is that this is going to do – whatever it’s going to do – to his life. What matters is a kid is going to be born to a guy who is not equipped to raise a kid. That’s what matters. That’s what I’ve been talking about with my friends, as we discuss what the fuck Jacob is thinking, and I apologize to them for not having the Jacob-based inside information I’d normally have, because I haven’t spoken to him.

I can’t tell them that I’m worried about the fact that a permanent barrier has gone up in a friendship I thought would always be there, because I’d look like a terrible person, for even considering that in the face of these much more important things. And that’s why instead, I am putting that concern on my Tumblr blog. It’s not even the classic case of “My friend’s having a kid and I’m worried they won’t have time for me anymore.” I mean, that is a huge issue in most cases, but probably not really here. Jacob and I have always had a long-distance friendship that can ebb and flow and be picked up where it left off. He could still do that with a kid, it’s not about that. It’s that I’m never going to be able to have a fully honest conversation with him again, he’s going to become just another person I have to bite my tongue around, and pretend I think this terrible idea is a good one. I’ve spent years outright telling him when I think he’s being a fucking idiot, but now he’s done the one thing I’m not allowed to question.

Even though you can't fucking do that. You just can't. You can't mess around with bad decisions when there's an innocent kid involved. I realize it's horrifically selfish of me to be worried about my friendship when the real problem is a kid. Why the fuck is the one decision no one's allowed to question, a decision this big and important and such a huge problem if someone gets it wrong? I know it's my worst opinion that no one should have a kidcunless they're incredibly prepared for every eventuality, which he is definitely not and almost no one else is either, but he's even less than most people, he's always been my friend who makes dumb decisions and I defend him and apologize for him because I love him despite his flaws and he accepts mine too. But if you're going to live like that, you can't involve an innocent kid.