Ginny, listen... I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together.
It's for some stupid noble reason isn't it?
Not really. It's actually a pretty poncy reason. Well, pretty AND poncy to be exact. And snobbish. Oh, and annoying. So annoying! And manipulative. Infuriating. Witty. Talented. Handsome. Adorable. Vindictive. Petty. Feisty. Brilliant. Beautiful... I'm sorry, what were we talking about?
Spot goes to the animal shelter to adopt a dog and he falls in love with a little mongrel with big dark eyes and he asks what the dog’s name is and the shelter worker just says ‘oh, that’s Spot.’
And human Spot goes still and the woman is like ‘something wrong?’ and he’s like nah, because these people obviously don’t know his nickname. And he’s already really attached to the dog so he adopts him anyway and decided he can just change the dog’s name.
But the dog clearly knows his name is Spot and human Spot feels really bad so he doesn’t change it. He just turns to dog Spot and goes ‘well there’s two of us now, buddy.’
Telling people the dog’s name is a nightmare.
“Hi Spot! What’s your dog’s name?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. But what’s the dog called?”
“Dude are you okay?”
When Race moves in with him there’s a learning curve that if he shouts Spot then his boyfriend will shout ‘yeah?’ from the other room but the dog will come racing down the hallway to say hello.
“Dude, your dog loves me more than you do.”
Race wakes up one morning to find that dog Spot has curled up on the end of their bed and just groans ‘Spot, get off the bed.’ And human Spot is still half asleep so he complies and rolls onto the floor and wakes up with a start and is like ‘Race, wtf?’
Race thinks it’s the most amusing thing that’s ever happened. He laughs for a solid 5 minutes and posts about it on every social media account he has.
His instagram and snapchat stories and just him going ‘guys, you’ll never guess what just happened!’ and you can Spot grumbling ‘I’m breaking up with you.’ in the background.
I don’t own the image or Night at the Museum. Other than that, enjoy!
“I’m telling you, that has to be one of the freakiest movies I’ve ever seen!” Nicky shuddered. You and him had just returned from seeing Krampus, and he was still freaked out. You, on the other hand, weren’t impressed by the film. “Like, thank God it was just a movie!”
“Actually, it’s a myth.”
“What?” Nicky turned to you.
“Krampus. He’s an actual myth. He takes bad children on Christmas and beats them with sticks.” You said nonchalantly. Nicky’s eyes bulged out and he looked around nervously.
“You don’t think he’ll be here one day, do you?” You rolled your eyes.
“He’s not real, Nicky.”
“Yeah, well neither was Lancelot, and he almost destroyed the Tablet.” You shook your head and went back to texting. Ahkmenrah came in a moment later.
“What are we talking about?” He smiled and sat down.
“Y/N’s being terrifying again.”
“We went to see Krampus.” Ahkmenrah opened his mouth. “Don’t ask. I won’t sleep for weeks. Anyways. We went to the movie. And Y/N’s not freaked out by it.”
“Really? That’s amazing,” Ahkmenrah looked at you in admiration.
“No, it’s not amazing. This guys abducts and beats bad little kids with sticks and she’s just like, ‘nah it’s cool.’”
“It’s not that bad, Nicky.” Ahkmenrah said.
“I highly doubt it.”
“No really; it’s not that bad.”
“Well what could be worse?”
“Shesmu.” Ahkmenrah said simply.
“Bless you.” You said. Ahkmenrah looked at you and you shrugged.
“Shesmu is one of my gods. He greeted the good in the afterlife by serving them wine.”
“That’s not so bad.” Nicky said.
“I’m not done yet. He served them wine made from the heads of the evil.”
“Seriously?!” Nicky shouted.
“That’s so gross!” You laughed.
“How are you laughing about this?!”
“Because it’s not bad, and I can prove it!”
“You people are insane,” Nicky said. He still listened though.
“When I was little my grandparents told me stories of Bluebeard. He was a man with—”
“A blue beard?”
“Yes. Now shut up.” You threw your shoe at Nicky, which hit him in the shoulder. “He was considered ugly and asked a local noblewoman to give him one of her two daughters to marry. At first neither wanted to because he had been married many times before but no one knew what happened to his wives. But after a week of partying, the youngest decided to marry him. A month into the marriage, Bluebeard had to go away on business, but he told his new wife to have as much fun as she wanted. He gave her two keys, the big one for all the rooms, and the small one for a closet. He said she could go anywhere in the house she wanted, but if she ever went into the closet she’d be punished. With that, Bluebeard left.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.” Nicky said. Ahkmenrah hushed him and urged you to continue.
“Well, the wife’s friends all came over and were amazed at how much wealth she had. While they looked around the house, the wife thought about the closet. She was worried about her husband’s warnings, but wanted to see what was inside. Eventually the curiosity became to great and she opened the closet. Inside…WERE BODIES!” You shouted the last part. Nicky let out a very unmanly yelp and Ahkmenrah laughed. “They were the bodies of all of his previous wives. She locked up the closet and ran back to her room. Her key was covered in blood, and no matter how much she washed it, it would not come off. When Bluebeard came home, he asked for the key. Eventually the wife returned it to him. He asked why blood was on it, but she said she didn’t know. He didn’t believe her, and accused her of opening the closet. He told her he would kill her, but she asked for time to pray. While Bluebeard left her to pray, she called for her sister Anne, begging her to send their brothers to save her. Eventually, Bluebeard lost his patience and called for his wife so he could kill her. Her sister told her that her brothers were coming, but were still a long ways off. Bluebeard grabbed his wife by the hair, and prepared to cut off her head. She begged for more praying time, but he refused. Just before he could kill her, knocks sounded at the door and two officers strode in. Bluebeard tried to run, but was killed before he could get far. With Bluebeard gone and no children, the wife inherited his riches.” You finished. Nicky had left during the story, but Ahk was giving you his full attention. You blushed at his stare. “So yeah.” You said awkwardly. “Krampus isn’t that bad.”
“That…was amazing, Y/N!” Ahkmenrah exclaimed with a grin. “Do you have any more?” He asked eagerly. You laughed.
“Honey, I’m German. I have tons.”
Thanks to foxinforestofstars for requesting this one!
REQUEST: OMG A DONGHAN MASTER-KITTEN FIC??? Idk if that requester put it there but in the fic could you include spankings, cuffs, toys, and all that kinky shit? Also orgasm denial but once you’re being gud to him he overstimulates u as a reward to give back all of the orgasms he denied you of. And smth like you aren’t allowed to touch yourself w/o master’s permissionand he catches you and punishes you. And lots of dirty talking. Maybe some face riding too ???? // REQUEST: JBJ Donghan Master-Kitten play
A/N: Thank you so much for the requests, anons! You two literally have no idea how thankful I am for these, aha :) I hope you like it, I’m praying this isn’t too terrible!! Also, and this is not only to our lovely anons but to all followers and/or readers, I am deeply sorry for the terribly long wait!! I feel so bad, this took around a month to write. Please tell me how I can make it up to you!
Imagine being nervous to find out you have a bed scene with your best friend, and crush, Tom in your new movie because you know he can make it all very realistic.
“Don’t worry, love.” his smooth voice almost made your heart calm down – almost though “I am not going to do anything you don’t want me to.” he said with a slightly mischievous grin and you bit your lower lip.
“Pull away too soon” you thought to yourself but in the end shook the thought off.
“I would never doubt it, Thomas.” you giggled as you leaned back in your chair, playing with a page from the script “You are ever the gentleman, all of the years I’ve known you.” you smiled at your best friend and he gave you back an adorable one as well.
“A gentleman at times and a really bad boy when needed.” he winked at you and you giggled, hitting his shoulder “Don’t worry, (Y/n), really I promise I won’t take it too far. Or at least I will try to.” he added the last part with a shrug and you rolled your eyes.
“Please just take it as far as you can” you let your thoughts run wild so much you had to take a large sip of your coffee to fight the bllush away.
“Tom” you glared at him though you couldn’t never really be angry at something like this. Being in love with your best friend had a lot more disadvantages than you actually thought at first, and you had began to discover all of them during all these years of knowing Tom. And now you were going to work with him, you knew the boundaries of this friendship were really going to get blurry.
You shook your head “You better, bad boy. Because I will prove to you how little you know your best friend.” you said looking at him from the corner of your eyes.
“Is that so?” his eyebrows shot up as his interest peaked “Perhaps, we should really practice first then.”
“Oh you wish, William.” you smirked at him “It’s not like we need to anyway… right?”
“Why- why are you asking, (Y/n)?” he frowned, finally getting a little serious until realization downed and his eyebrows shot up “Wait you- you have done a bed scene before, right?”
“Well, excuse me Mr Hiddleston if I’ve put my singing career first all this time and finally managed to catch up with acting too! It’s not like a crime or anything.” you huffed, shaking your head although truth was you couldn’t help but feel even more nervous at the prospect of that scene alone. Not to mention it being with the man you had feelings for but didn’t want to reveal a thing.
“No, of course not darling. You know I was the one that supported you on that.” he said, placing a hand on top of yours and despite everything you caught yourself relaxing.
“Just wait till the fans hear this.” you breathed out with a chuckle “They’ve been shipping us for so long, even if they knew we are only friends. It seems like every time we mentioned it, it just made them want to see us together even more. They didn’t care, we are just OTP to them.”
“Yeah, yeah they actually have.” you glanced at him when you heard the tone in his voice. It sounded almost longing, nostalgic and you knew there was something more there but you didn’t have time to try to decipher it because he cleared his throat and put on back a smile that could be convincing to others but not you. He was an amazing actor, yes, but he could never fool you.
“And now not only are we going to be in the same movie but you are practically going to take my v-card on camera? Wow I am sure it will break the internet!” you laughed, taking another small sip of your coffee.
“I’m- what?” his eyebrows shot up as he stared at you in disbelief and you frowned at him until it downed on you.
“No- Tom, no!” you all-but-shrieked “For the love of, Hiddleston! I’m really starting to think I don’t know you here. I didn’t mean literally!” you shook your head, huffing.
He just mumbled an “Oh” and laughed nervously, taking a sip of his own drink and placed it back next to his own script.
“But-” the smile returned on his lips “Now that you mention it, can you imagine the posts?” he asked and a giggle left your lips.
“The fans’ or yours?” you raised an eyebrow at your friend and he erupted in laughter.
“Why are you saying that? I haven’t started teasing them that much… yet.” he shrugged “But now that we got the script… a little sneak peek wouldn’t be bad, right?”
“You little-” you stopped yourself, laughing “You know, now I really understand why the picked you for Loki.”
“Oh come on! Hey do you have your phone?” he asked and you nodded your head “Remember that photo you had accidentally sent me of you in your bed?” and oh boy how could you ever forget that “How about you post it with something about practicing huh?” he smirked as he already leaned over your seat to try and take hold of your bag that had your phone.
“What?!” your eyes widened “Tom, no! I may be decent enough in it but it certainly not meant for the internet with the caption you have in mind! Tom!” you screamed, a giggle leaving as he tried to get it from your bag. You grabbed it and held it to yourself but he man was not having any of it.
“Come on, love. They’re going to love it, especially my comments on it.” he grinned the smile that made you weak on the knees.
“Tom, I said no! Nothing will make me give you that photo.” you shook your head furiously.
“Nothing?” he breathed out, getting more serious and only then did you realize his face was inches away rom yours “Are you sure about that love?” he whispered and you really caught yourself wondering about the answer you were going to give him. Could you say it? And even more: What was he really going to do about it?
Most people dreamed about some Prince Charming coming to sweep them off their feet, but you really started fantasizing about Killian as soon as you saw him and the snippet of his mark that looked much soo similar to your own. But, sadly, within a few weeks of you meeting most of the people in Storybrooke, Emma Swan made her appearance and not too long after that, revealed her mark. The one that was identical to Killian’s own and the one that almost broke your heart. For a while you had been convinced you would have to be one of those poor would, wandering the world to try and find the match to your mark. And then came Neverland, something that in your opinion honestly might be a worse option.
None of the Lost Boys had marks. It was one of those tell tale signs. No mark, no place you are meant to be and therefore you are even more lost than before. But Peter, he was different. He had his mark, wore it like a war trophy. For however many years he had never found someone with the same mark. Then you showed up with the rest of the crew in tow.
It was an accident. He had come to play with Killian again, mess with the poor man’s head a bit more. He didn’t mean to walk in on you, your shirt half pulled over your head as you tried to apply an ointment onto an old cut. At first it was just a bit of lust. An emotion he didn’t get often around so many kids, but with you standing there, the tight jeans, bare skin and all made up of curves, he couldn’t help but stare. Then he noticed, the black mark almost hidden by your shirt, just under your shoulder blade. The same mark that graced his side, just under his ribs.
“Shit,” he whispered, finally look away from the mark as you jumped in surprise, turning to face him as you let your shirt fall down.
“What the hell dude!?” you exclaimed, dropping the small container in your hand to the floor. “Dude?”
“You have my mark,” he said, still a bit dumbfounded as you stared at I’m in confusion.
“What?” With a groan Peter quickly lifted his tunic like shirt, just far enough to show the mark on his side. You stared at it for a few moments before it hits you.
“Oh shit,” you whisper, straightening up as you look between Peter’s face and his mark, “oh shit!” you exclaimed again, bringing your hands up to your mouth as you stared at Peter. “No! Shit! But you’re the bad guy!” You yelled, looking to Peter as though he could explain it. Peter laughed a bit, cocking his head to the side.
“Well that depends on- well no, not really. Anyways you can’t really chose your soulmate huh,” Peter pointed out, watching with a small smirk on his mouth as you continued to freak out, stuttering and stumbling over your words as you tried to reply. “Hey, listen to me,” Peter interrupted, “How about before you go off about how horrible this is, you actually have a conversation with me?” he suggested. You stared at him, eyes still wide as you tried to calm our breathing.
“Well, I guess that’s not a horrible idea. Even better idea. Don’t tell anyone,” you said back, watching as Peter rolled his eyes before nodding, taking a few steps closer to you until his chest was just close enough for you to touch. He leaned down to you, almost brushing your noses together as he whispered back.”
“Alright. No one has to know. Meet me at the waterfall, just north of here at twilight. See you there princess.”
If he was being honest, he’d actually been anticipating a reaction.
While he’d been away at school, he’d started meeting people and making new
friends. Some of those friends had turned out to be fitness guys, who loved running
and working out. Stiles had ended up accompanying them on numerous gym trips,
until eventually he liked it enough to just go, with or without them. He’d
liked the feeling of being stronger, being able to trust his body to do what he
He’d become more confident with his looks, and started accepting invitations
to parties. He’d started buying better-fitting clothes to show off his
physique, and felt incredibly flattered when he was flirted with often. He’d
kissed a lot of people, talked to a lot more, learned as much as he could, and
even hooked up a few times.
“Oh my, Jack, you should have seen it,” Bitty said. “I swear
they were counting down to the very second.” He held his phone against his ear
with his shoulder and took the pie crust from the fridge where it had been
chilling. “As soon as it hit midnight, Chowder and Caitlin were all over each
other, kissing like nobody’s business. I haven’t seen such a display since,
goodness, last Winter Screw. Only with less alcohol involved.”
Bitty laughed. “Yes, Lardo had the score cards all ready to
go. Perfect 10s from everyone but Holster, but I think that was because,” Bitty
stopped, looked around, then whispered, “Ransom and March were cuddling and
being cute on the couch right next to him.
“Hmm, what else? Oh! Nursey and Dex were holding hands all
day. Dex’s face was all pink and he was glaring something fierce, but that boy
would not let go of Nursey’s hand for love nor money. Nursey was just as
pleased as punch. He forgot all about being ‘chill’ for almost a whole hour.”
Holster walked into the kitchen carrying a cellophane-wrapped
basket. “Special delivery,” he sang. “From your sugar daddy, Bitty.”
“You hush, Holster. Sweetheart, you didn’t have to send me
anything. You know I’m coming up this weekend.” Bitty unwrapped the basket and
began to take out the contents. “Apples… is this a fruit basket? Butter, flour…
Jack Zimmerman, did you send me a pie baking basket?”
Holster groaned. “Here we go.”
Bitty looked Holster dead in the eye and said into his
phone, “Jack honey, you are the sweetest, most thoughtful, loveliest boyfriend
I could hope for. I wish you were here with me right now so I could give you a
big ol’ kiss. Thank you so much.”
Holster shook his head and turned to leave.
Bitty raised his voice. “And I wish your butt was here, too,
so I could give it a big ol’ squeeze.”
“Enjoy this while you can,” Holster said from the hallway.
“The Valentine’s Day fine amnesty ends in a few hours, and tomorrow it’s double
fines for all PDA and pet names so we can snap up all that sweet discount
chocolate. Tell Jack to send his wallet; we both know you won’t be able to
knock it off with the pet names and I need to stock up on Reese’s peanut butter
“Oh, ha ha. We aren’t that bad,” Bitty called after him.
“And you hush too, Mr. Zimmermann.” He sighed. “I really do wish you were here.
I sure am looking forward to seeing you this weekend.
“Well, you know if it was up to me, we’d talk for hours, but
if you have to go… Anyway, I was in the middle of baking a pie before I got all
distracted, so I’ll let you go. See you soon, honey. Love you, good bye.”
Bitty hung up his phone and got back to work on his pie. He
was just pulling it out of the oven when there a knock on the front door. Someone
answered it and there was a round of enthusiastic greetings – obviously somebody
they knew. He didn’t think anything more of it until someone stepped through
the kitchen door.
Bitty spun around. “Jack? What on earth?”
Jack walked over to him and took him in his arms. “It’s
Valentine’s Day. I wanted to see you.”
Bitty pulled him down into a deep kiss. “I’m so happy to see
you sweetheart, but you didn’t have to come all this way. I mean, with your
schedule… And you sent me that adorable basket…”
“I didn’t want to miss fine amnesty,” Jack said and Bitty
had to kiss him again.
“I don’t know why
you hate it so much,” Aang said with a shrug. “Everyone said it in the Fire
Nation when I was a kid.”
“A hundred years
ago,” Zuko snapped back, a little more sharply than Aang thought was probably
needed. He took that as a sign that maybe Zuko wasn’t joking about being annoyed about the use of the word, which
only made Aang find the reaction more ridiculous. And maybe a bit more funny.
hadn’t been annoyed enough to pull away yet, and he still lay close enough that
Aang was able to nudge him and wink.
“It’s just a word,
Hotman,” Aang said and the glance Zuko shot him by his side eye made the effort
worth it. Aang laughed, patted Zuko on the chest, and said in his best (but
always a bit tinny-sounding) attempt at the Fire Nation language, “Back then,
everyone was a Hotman.”
(This series will eventually be compiled into one story and put in chronological order, but for right now I am just posting the story snippets)
“Alright, Ladybug told me I was supposed to meet you here, what is this about?” Chat Noir asked warily as he landed on her balcony.
To be fair Marinette was a little shocked that he had come at all, Ladybug’s insistence or no.
“I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry I punched you in the face… again.” She held up the plate of macarons. “These are for you.”
“They aren’t poisoned are they?” Chat asked.
“What!? Why would you think-”
“Relax, I am just messing with you.” He reached out at took a macaron and popped it into his mouth. “Thank you, I appreciate the apology.”
“I mean, to be fair you deserved the first punch.”
“That’s debatable,” Chat glared, gobbling down another macaron.
Marinette sat down at the small table, putting down the plate of cookies and gesturing for Chat to join her. He stowed his baton and gingerly sat down as well. Marinette let out a small sigh of relief at his over all lack of hostility. To be honest she wouldn’t have blamed him at this point if he had just decided that she was back luck personified and decided to write her off all together. And she knew that hidden identity or not, she didn’t want her partner thinking ill of her.
“I really am sorry,” she said as Chat continued to munch of the treats in front of him. “It’s not like I hate you or anything.”
“It’s ok, Marinette. I have it on very good authority that you are a wonderful friend. I won’t let a few punches and an unfortunate near death experience mar my opinion of you.”
“Thank you,” Marinette said trying to look annoyed but unable to resist smiling at his own infectious grin. “Though I don’t think you were in any real danger of dying. Besides I have saved you from akumas before so I think we are even.”
“Hey, if you are going to start keeping score I can name a few times I’ve had to rescue a certain princess with a penchant for trouble.”
“I don’t see what your numerous Chloe rescues have to do with me,” she replied.
“Oh Chloe isn’t a princess, she is a queen. She told me so herself,” Chat retorted, his expression of complete seriousness, and Marinette couldn’t resist laughing.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying a companionable silence while continuing to devour the plate of macarons.
“These are really good,” Chat said snatching up another green cookie and gobbling it up in a few quick bites. “Did you make them or your dad?”
“My Dad. I don’t have the patience to make macarons all that often. Although I can if I want to.”
“I have no doubt. What flavors are these anyways? I don’t recognize a lot of them.”
“Well its a whole mix. My parents love to offer as much variety as they can, and they will change up flavors almost every week. So…” she examined the remaining cookies and pointed at the different colors, “that’s dragonfruit, lavender creme, apricot, honey and lemon, salted caramel, orange marmalade, black currant, and champagne.”
“What were the green ones?”
“What?” Chat said, his eyes going wide and his face going pale.
“The green ones were pistachio with dark chocolate filling.”
“Oh no. Oh no no no…”
“Oh this is bad, this is really… “ suddenly he put his hand over his mouth.
He bolted up from his seat and ran over to one of her potted plants and without any more warning emptied the contents of his stomach into it.”
“Oh my god!”
“Sorry… I’m… oh crap…” Chat moaned dropping down to his knees and curling up on the ground.
“Are you ok?”
“No… allergic to tree nuts,” he moaned.
“Oh, oh god! You aren’t going to go into shock are you?”
“No… not that bad.”
“Will you be ok now that you’ve… uh…gotten it out of your system.”
Chat laughed mirthlessly. “I might need help getting to the nearest restroom. That was just the beginning.”
Two hours later Marinette sat helplessly against the side of the bathroom door as she listened to chat continue to moan in agony between round of vomiting.
“I knew you were trying to poison me,” he joked.
“I am sorry,” Marinette groaned for the hundredth time, “I swear I don’t hate you.”
“I know I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Okay. I am sorry though.”
“I know, I forgive you. But next time, maybe stick to chocolate chip.”
(I’m back from my holidays and I feel like I forgot how to draw, I had such a bad case of shaky hands so it turned out a bit messy but oh well here it is anyway - also REALLY wanted to draw Hannibal in sock garters 8))
(A/N: Ya’ll imma need to start writing Stranger Things fics just bc there aren’t enough It gifs lmao. I was tempted 2 take this gif and just draw glasses on it. Anyways I’m tired and this is bad bc of it. It doesn’t fit any of the things I said I wanted to write today so like idk why im i like this lmao. Oh well don’t hate me. The title is stupid bc this is stupid and im stupid)
Request: “hey can i get a richie x reader imagine where they’re both really bad trashmouths and idk they’re sitting in bed talking just exchanging cuss words and what’s happened lately and maybe some cute kisses??”
Yo, check please fandom, here’s a fic that was originally going to be Jack’s Freshmen year (aka Jack & Shitty’s origin story) but this first chapter is just Jack getting to Samwell and might end up being a stand alone. Still, figured I’d post it– Hope you enjoy!
Stop & Go (Or Jack’s Freshmen Year)
It is still shocking, how much the hockey world cares about him. He grew up knowing in an offhand way that his father is a Big Deal and then as he’d gotten older it had become more and more apparent how much people expected him to also be a Big Deal and by age twelve, he knew the hockey world cared about him. So, of course he knew. It’s a part of what had caused this whole mess in the first place.
The problem is that he sort of thought it would go away. After months of rehab and therapy and coaching a peewee team, he almost assumed he would have to start over. In April when he decides to take the SATs, he makes one call to Boston University and inquires about whether or not he would be allowed to play hockey there and suddenly–
Well, it turns out that the hockey world still very much cares about Jack Zimmermann, drug addictions and nervous breakdown or no. Coach Quinn initially starts to go on about “most of our team is recruits, but we do hold open tryouts at the beginning of the fall semester and– wait, what did you say your name was again?” Jack repeats it, expecting the admission to result in a resounding ‘no’ because who would want someone who clearly couldn’t handle the pressure in their program? Except that’s not what happens.
Quinn is suddenly beside himself, asking Jack when he would want to visit and if he’s taken his SATs or needs help with his SATs and “let me put together a packet for you, Jack. I think this would be a great fit. Really, I do.”
It seems silly after he hangs up, it seems like this is something Jack should have expected but he finds himself taking deep breaths and holding them and counting to five before exhaling and suddenly he wishes he didn’t love hockey so much.
Because what he realizes is that he is always going to be a Big Deal in hockey. And if he didn’t ache for the feel of ice under his skates and miss the buzz of adrenaline under his skin and if he didn’t dream about the feel of the puck against his stick and the slap sound it makes when he knows he’s hit it just so, he could just give it up. Slink quietly into obscurity and life a life that revolves around something else.
But he can’t do that and so he tries to make it small and manageable, like his therapist taught him, and vows to call at least one coach a day for two weeks, and promises himself he will go visit at least five schools. Because, he does need hockey again. Coaching is not enough. Not right now. Not yet.