#hockey stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunkissed-zegras · 2 months

Note

👒🌱 Hey! I was trying to decide what to request and i was thinking of a mixture of angst and fluff and couldn’t decide. I picked the prompts below. I am thinking of a scenario where you run into trouble… something scary or sad happens and they have to come to your rescue (even though we are all baddies who don’t need men lmao) and they protect you/make things better. With jack please and thank you! 💕

33. "don't worry. i'll keep you safe no matter what."

7. "can i stay with you tonight? i don't want to go home."

𝐢'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 1.1k

♡ ─ warnings | creepy drunk men, protective!jack, alcohol, mention of anxiety, nothing else!

♡ ─ ev's notes | i didn't use the last prompt, it didn't cross my mind i'm sorry!

You looked down at your drink as you listened to Jack and his friends talk about something sports. You were zoned out, in your own world as the music played through the speakers of the bar. As you gazed into your drink, the ice cubes clinked against the sides of the glass, creating a soothing sound that seemed to echo.

You felt Jack's hands moved to your shoulders and squeeze unexpectedly making you jump slightly, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. You looked up at your boyfriend, a smile playing on your lips. The warmth in his gaze was comforting, grounding you in the present moment.

"Hey there," Jack said, his voice soft amid the background noise of the bar. "Everything alright?"

You nodded, the warmth of his touch seeping into you. "Just lost in thought, I guess. But I'm here now."

His smile widened, and he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Well, welcome back," he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin. Feeling the tension melt away, you leaned into his embrace, savoring the comfort of his presence amidst the loud bar.

"Jack!" You both turned your heads at the sound. "Let's play some pool, whoever loses buys all of us a round."

Jack grinned at the challenge, exchanging a quick glance with you before nodding in agreement. "Okay, buddy. Are we gonna have a replay of last Saturday night," he called back to his friend, a playful spark in his eyes. "You comin', sweetheart?"

You nodded, "I'll be right there, I'm gonna go get a refill."

As Jack headed towards the pool table, you made your way to the bar to get a refill. The bartender greeted you with a nod as you approached.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked over the loud music of the bar.

"Another one of these," you replied, holding up your nearly empty glass. The bartender swiftly took it, and with a knowing smile, began preparing your drink.

As you waited, you glanced around, taking in the eclectic mix of people and the décor that adorned the walls. You kept looking back to see if Jack was still at the pool table, nervousness settling in the pit of your stomach. You suddenly felt someone come up behind you and sit next to you, you expected it to be Jack or one of your friends, you weren't expecting a man you didn't recognize.

Your anxiety spiked as you felt the presence of the unfamiliar man beside you, his sudden appearance sending a jolt of unease through your body.

"Hey there," he greeted, his voice cutting through the ambient noise. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the bar. Mind if I join you?"

You managed a polite but cautious smile, "Uh, thanks, but I'm actually here with my boyfriend."

He let out a bitter laugh as he shook his head. "Who said anything about boyfriends, just bein' friendly. Can I get you a drink?"

"Thanks, but I'm good," you replied, trying to maintain a firm but polite boundary. The uneasy tension lingered in the air as you kept stealing glances towards the pool table, hoping Jack or one of your friends would notice the situation.

The man leaned in a little closer, his demeanor becoming more assertive. You could smell the alcohol all over him, your stomach twisting in anxiety. "Come on, just one drink. We can chat a bit, no harm in that."

A subtle sense of alarm crept over you, "I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not. Excuse me," you said, attempting to get up, forgetting about the drink you had bought. He immediately got up as well, blocking you from getting up.

"I insist," he said, his voice edged with a persistence that sent chills down your spine. "Just one drink, it won't hurt. What's the harm in a little conversation?"

Panic simmered beneath the surface as you glanced around, hoping someone from your group or the bar staff would notice the situation. "I really need to get back to my boyfriend," you asserted, your voice firm but tinged with urgency. You tried to sidestep him, but he moved in sync with your every move, maintaining the blockade.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't be so uptight," he pressed, his demeanor taking on a more aggressive tone.

"I said no." You finally shouted, looking up at the man and trying to finally walk away. As soon you thought you had gotten away, you felt his hand grab your arm and pull you backwards, falling back on the bar.

A surge of fear and anger fueled you as you planted your feet on the ground, summoning every ounce of strength to resist. "Let go of me!" you demanded, your voice trembling with fear.

Before the man could do anything else, he was pushed to the ground by a force. You blinked up at Jack, relief running through your veins. Jack then grabbed him up by the collar, "Why do you have your fucking hands on her?"

"Relax, man-"

"Relax? You just pinned my girlfriend on the bar when she told you no, what the fuck do you mean relax?" Jack's voice boomed with anger, his grip tightening on the man's collar.

"I-I didn't mean anything by it. Just trying to talk, you know?" he stammered, his voice faltering under Jack's unwavering gaze.

"You're fucking lucky I haven't beat your ass by now, buddy." Jack's jaw clenched, his protective instincts in full force. He pushed the man to the floor, "Fuckin' pussy."

As Jack walked back towards you, his anger began to subside, replaced by a concern that softened his features. The intensity in his eyes gave way to a warmer expression as he reached out to you. "I'm sorry, baby I should've come with you."

"No, no it's not your fault. I just should've waited until you were done, I forgot how weird men could be."

Jack's arms tightened around you, offering silent reassurance and support. "I know, baby. It's not your fault either. You shouldn't have to worry about stuff like this," he said, his voice filled with empathy. "I'll keep you safe no matter what, okay?"

You gently touched his cheek, the warmth of your touch encouraging him to meet your gaze. "It's okay, really. I handled it, and you came to my rescue. That's all that matters."

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the lingering tension from the encounter began to dissipate. Jack pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead

"I love you," he whispered, his words warm as he spoke.

"I love you too," you replied, the simple affirmation carrying with it a promise of shared strength and enduring support.

"Let's go home, alright?" Jack suggested, his voice a gentle invitation laced with concern.

You nodded, grateful for the offer. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Hand in hand, you both made your way towards the exit, leaving the bar and its unsettling memories behind. The night air outside felt crisp and cool, a welcome contrast to the intensity of the enclosed space you had just left.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

399 notes · View notes

pikilos · 2 months

Text

Geno, Ovi, and the Tkachuk brothers

#evgeni malkin #pittsburgh penguins #geno malkin #nhl hockey #hockey stuff #nhl #nhl players #hockey #alexander ovechkin #matthew tkachuk #brady tkachuk #gpics

336 notes · View notes

thymbsup · 10 days

Text

Jamie Drysdale

He speaks so softly I just think he’s a cutie patootie

[x]

#my gifs #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey stuff #gif #nhl players #hockey #jamie drysdale #jd #philidelphia flyers

273 notes · View notes

chrissy-kaos · 3 months

Text

😍🏒🥅

73 notes · View notes

chaotickryptonitetree · 4 months

Text

ode to the maybes that make up the good stuff (us) | trent frederic

hes so underrated and I needed a reader who wasn't a genius (because I cant relate to smart people and why is the reader always smart??).

You were running late.

And it–sort of–wasn’t your fault?

Okay, it was your fault for oversleeping. But then your exam ran over the allotted time (they hadn’t even been passed out when you stumbled into the lecture hall, panting from sprinting from your parking spot, still blinking sleep from your eyes). And then your row was the last row to be dismissed. And yeah, it wasn’t really your fault.

Speed-walking back to your car, you weighed your options. Your meeting would take you 20 minutes to get to with the mid-day traffic. And it was the kind of event where it was no use showing up late–might be better to just not show up at all.

And then you passed your favorite coffee shop, and the wheel practically turned into the parking lot itself. Your boss would understand about the final and you could get notes from someone else later. Finishing that class called for a break–and as you turned off the ignition, you allowed yourself your first deep breath all morning.

The perfect cure to a hectic morning was a fresh start and an almond-milk latte.

The bell jangled as you opened the door–hit with the familiar smell of roasting beans and gingerbread muffins in the oven. Your exhale was cathartic.

“Hey, welcome in!” The barista greeted you as you stood in the doorway, walking to join the line. For a random weekday, it was quite busy. You gave your order to the barista politely and walked to the only empty table left.

You criss-crossed your legs in the booth, pulling out a book from your bag. Time–only interrupted by a swift hand placing a drink on your table and walking back to the counter–warped as your turned pages, eager to escape the craziness of the morning and happy to have a medium in which to do so.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating small flecks of dust in the air. Condensation dripped down the side of your glass, collecting in a ring on the wooden table. The only noise to fill your space was the crisp turning of pages and background chatter filling in the blanks.

Until it wasn’t.

“Excuse me,” said so quietly you thought you had misheard, you didn’t look up until someone cleared their throat. “Hey.”

You looked up, squinting slightly from the sun. There was, in fact, the shadow of a very tall person standing near the edge of your table. Trying not to let your disappointment show, you dog-eared the page and closed the book gently. The background chatter roared on as you set your head on your hand, looking up at the voice from before. His face was still skewed by the harshness of the sunlight through the windows.

“Sorry–didn’t hear ya…can I help you?” you spoke slowly, evenly to the faceless man. He coughed again, pausing too long to be normal given the circumstances.

“Um, yeah…no, that’s alright!” He answered awkwardly. He then seemed to realize that he hadn’t truly answered the question and sighed. “Was wondering if I could share this table with you?” He seemed to be nervous about your response so he quickly spoke again. “You’re the only one with a spare seat.”

Luckily, you were in a good mood and didn’t have any emotional attachment to the other side of the booth. “Go for it,” you said with the wave of a hand. “I don’t mind at all.”

You could feel his smile in his exhale. “Really?” His voice was light and relieved, even as he sat down and moved his bag inside the booth before he slid in. You hummed in response, turning back to your book, head in hand. He respected your quiet, and the sound of him pulling notebooks and pens from his bag faded to background noise as you fell back into your chapter.

And yet again, a drink being set down disturbed the peace. Your head flitted up, clocking the barista setting down a cold brew in front of the boy across from you.

And then you got a good look at the boy across from you.

He was big. Like big enough where you could see every muscle indented in his long sleeve shirt (not that you were staring or anything). A pretty blush painted his cheeks daintily, full mouth quirked to the side as he fiddled with the straw wrapper. Big, brown eyes met yours and widened when he realized you were already looking at him.

“What?” he asked softly, plunging the straw into the drink and swirling slowly–ice clinking against the glass.

“Nothing,” you closed your book again, shrugging slightly. “I just didn’t realize that you were handsome.” His blush deepened, creeping up his neck and to the tops of his ears.

“Oh,” he fidgeted with his hands–which were easily the size of his face–”I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

You leaned into your hands more, endeared by his sudden shyness. “Well, it’s true.” You smiled as he tried to keep eye contact. “What’s your name, handsome?”

He bit his lip, cracking his knuckles nervously. “Don’t wanna tell ya.”

“And why is that?” You cocked an eyebrow.

He smiled–a little less shy, eyes like amber in the sunlight. “So then you’ll have to keep calling me handsome.”

You laughed into your palm. “I’ll call you pretty regardless, promise,” you held your pinkie out as a mocking gesture, “just tell me.”

“Trent,” he wiped his hands on his sweatshirt and wrapped his pinkie around yours, “that’s me, I mean–yeah, my name.” He didn’t let go before you did, introducing yourself softly with a smirk. He felt like had a certain warmth–a comfort–wrapped around him like the blanket on your childhood bed. He felt kind.

The best beginnings always begin with that–a kindness.

…

The next time you saw him, you were embarrassed. Your advisor had suggested that you enroll in a supplemental class during the night after a particularly hard semester academically–and as much as it hurt your ego, not going would hurt it more.

So, you went to the class, despite feeling stupid. Eager to make yourself small, you chose a seat in the back corner, hood up as you got out your supplies. Maybe no one would recognize you, maybe you’d just be able to take the class and then slip out the door when it was over. No harm, no foul.

But of course you could never be so lucky. Your eyes darted to the door just as he walked in–as sturdy and solid as ever. His backpack straps fought to keep the muscles of his shoulders and neck contained. The indentations of his triceps made his long sleeve flutter around him.

And you were definitely staring–for much too long, you guessed–because your gaze drew his attention to your corner. His eyes smiled before his mouth as he made his way over to you. He looked–relieved?

“Thank god,” he sighed as he slid into the chair next to yours. “You’re here.” You searched his face for any sign that he was teasing, making fun of you in any way. At all.

But you couldn’t find it. Still, you were tentative. “Yeah.” Really awesome conversation starter. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I was scared that I wouldn’t see you again,” he pulled out his glasses and opened up his laptop–the light reflecting off of the lens artificially, “lucky me.”

You opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted by the professor introducing themselves and projecting the syllabus. You turned toward the front and tried to tune in.

But it was hard. Not because the class itself was going to be a challenge–it was only supplemental after all–because he was distracting.

Distracting you with how cute his rosy cheeks looked under his glasses. How he mouthed words after the professor said them before writing them in his notes. How he nodded his head and actually paid attention the entire time. He was just trying hard.

And it was alarming how endearing you found that. So, yeah, you half listened for the lecture–but it was intro stuff anyways. As you packed up your back, he let out an exhale and let you out to the door first, holding it open with his wide palm.

“So, what do you think?” He asked, matching your pace as you walked to the parking lot. It was dark–and far colder than when you had entered the building a few hours earlier.

“Hmm?” You hadn’t quite heard him–too busy watching him push his glasses up into his hair, making it stick up arbitrarily all around his head. He smiled a sideways little smile.

“What do you think of the class?”

“Oh,” and you were embarrassed again, “it’ll be fine. I could use a GPA boost,” you admitted. He nodded, even though you could guess he couldn’t relate.

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” he said, even though he didn’t know you, “you’re smart.”

You pinched your face together. “You don’t know that.”

He smiled, shoving his shoulder into yours good-naturedly. “Yeah I do,” he was closer in your space now, “can tell by the way you talk.”

You looked up at him–not convinced–but he was already looking ahead. “Which car is yours?”

Nodding toward your car, parked away from all the others, he cracked his knuckles. “Cool, I’ll walk you there.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “I’ll give you a ride, but only because you’re being so cute tonight” He smiled–like he knew you’d ask.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” He waited for you to unlock the car.

His face was blushy from compliments and the cold. “Only the cute ones,” you said as you stepped into the car. He shook his head.

…

Laundry day in a college dorm just might be the 5th circle of hell. Every machine is taken, none of them work right, and there’s always someone who dumps clothes on the ground–essentially making the room itself a battlefield.

But at 2am on a Tuesday night–it was peaceful. Sure, there were still the clothes littering the ground like an overgrown garden, but the scent of fabric softener seemed to soften the air around you; low tumble of the machines a gentle lullaby as the campus stilled around you.

Sitting atop the washing machine you were using, you waited for the cycle to be done. Stars interfered with the inky-black sky as it shone through the windows. And you watched. At this hour, there were no expectations, nothing to do, no one to impress. Just the silence around you.

And then the door opened. And of course it was him.

Hidden behind a large basket of clothes, looking adorably soft and sleepy in pajama pants, was Trent (again!). He didn’t seem to notice you as he sorted his clothes–large hands deft and meticulously parting darks and lights. You just watched.

“Hey handsome.” You said softly as he stood to his full height, slightly startled. But once he realized it was you, he let out a relieved sigh and walked to stand across from you, leaning back on to the row of dryers.

“Late night?” He spoke lowly, even if there was no need to whisper. As if he was cautious about disturbing the peace.

You shrugged, pulling your legs into your chest atop the machine and wrapping your arms around them. “I like it,” you said honestly, “it’s the only time I get all to myself.”

He nodded in a way that made you think he understood. “What did you do today?” You asked, eager to keep him there.

He thought for a moment, looking slightly upward. Then told you all about his classes (they are interesting, but demanding), practice (just a light skate, they have a game tomorrow), and homework (he has a quiz in a few days). And you nodded, interested in anything he had to say.

You switched over your laundry as you listened to him, adding in dryer sheets and humming accordingly. It struck you that each time you spoke to him, it felt easy. You picked up right where you left off, like you were old friends. It made you smile to yourself.

“Whatcha thinkin about?” He interrupted your train of thought. Your eyes flitted up to his, sideways smirk gracing your lips.

“You,” you answered honestly, knowing that it would make him blush more. He rubbed his eye and tried to hide his delight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes playfully. But when you just kept looking at him, greedily, just because you knew he’d let you, he paused–a spark of hope lighting up his face. “Really?” His voice came out small.

You tilted your head, nodding slowly. “Yeah.” He smiled like he knew something you didn’t. He probably did. “Will you tell me a secret?” You asked as he folded his clothes carefully.

He thought for a moment, as if any sudden words would break the bubble around you both. “I did laundry yesterday,” he admitted, making you smile a wide, genuine grin, “just saw you in here and wanted an excuse to come in.” His blush was a splotchy watercolor painting his tired face. “Now you tell me one.”

You pretended to think hard, emboldened by his admission. “I love it when you blush,” you said, “but I don’t think I’m doing a good job of keeping that a secret.” He shook his head, folding his last sweatshirt into his basket.

“You can’t just say things like that,” he laughed lightly, eyes bright.

“And why not?” You smiled as he stepped closer, close enough for you to see the freckles on his nose. Right in front of the dryer which you sat on. “It’s true.”

Everything about him was soft. He smelled like he had just showered, and up close you could notice how his hair was still damp at the root. “Because,” he took a gentle thumb to your cheek, showing you the eyelash he had picked up. “It’ll ruin my tough guy reputation,” he flicked it off to the ground. You shivered at the loss of contact–however fleeting it was. “The guys are already giving me shit for how much I talk about the cute girl from the coffee shop.”

You smiled. “You talk about me to your friends?” Was he getting even closer?

He couldn’t break eye contact with you if he tried, nodding. “Can I tell you another secret?” You asked gently. He nodded again. “I have a crush on this really cute guy.” He laughed, shutting his eyes and letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. He practically radiated heat.

“Oh great,” he smiled into the crook of your neck, “and I’m just supposed to go on with my night after this? Like a normal person?”

You laughed with him and brought a hand to the nape of his neck, running your fingers through his half-damp hair. “How will you manage?” You joked, voice careful.

He didn’t answer. And there you sat–atop a still warm dryer like the queen of the night, running your fingers through his hair until his arms wrapped around your back in perhaps the gentlest hug you could manage. You let your breathing slow to match his. You forgot what time it was, about your clothes.

And when he held you like something soft and good, it didn’t really matter–did it?

…

The stress of night class quickly melted into an excuse to see him two times a week (at least). You’d always get there first–and maybe you’d have an extra energy drink, just because–and then he’d stumble in a few minutes later, making a beeline for your designated corner (wearing his glasses if you were lucky).

You set down his energy drink in front of him as he unpacked his bag. His eyes darted up to clock the motion before he smiled a sideways smile. “Sweet of you,” he said softly, still bent over his bag. “Thank you,” he added, settling in his seat.

Nodding, you turned to the front–ready to dial in to the lecture. And you did! For a few minutes, before a notification popped up in the corner of your computer–an email in your school inbox. Switching tabs, you opened the email from an unknown sender.

Really cute girl next to me. Pretty nervous. Should I make a move?? -T

Smiling to yourself, you immediately typed out a response.

not sure…heard she usually goes for defensemen.

A response came a moment later, his shoulder shaking slightly with a laugh.

If i can beat one in a fight does that count?

Electing to close out of your email, you settled for moving your chair a little closer to him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly over his sweatshirt.

“I think you should make a move,” you whispered in his ear, reaching to take a sip of his drink. He leaned back into your touch, tilting his head down to respond.

“Do ya?” His voice was low, eyes flickering down to your lips for just a second. You nodded, removing your hand from his shoulder.

“Yeah pretty,” his eyes didn’t leave your mouth, “I really do.”

But you could wait. And so you did.

…

When he came back from away games, he was usually tired. And it was late anyways–maybe 11:30? But you were up writing an essay that was due in a few days. Your phone buzzed on the pillow near you.

Any chance you’re still awake?

You smiled to yourself, leaning back on the headboard and putting your laptop to the side.

of course, you answered, paper due soon.

And then a moment later–but could be convinced to take a break??

Three gray dots appeared and then disappeared before his response.

Was hoping you’d say that.

And then–Be there soon.

You smiled, continuing with your paper until a soft knock rapped on the door.

“Come in!” Your voice was still hushed due to the late hour. He opened and closed the door softly, placing his backpack against the wall and slipping off his shoes. Wasting no time, he slid next to where you sat at the head of the bed, knee knocking against yours. You leaned into his side slightly, loving how warm he was.

“How’s the paper?” He put his head on top on yours, looking at your computer above you. You didn’t answer, instead typing “eh,,,how was game?” into your document. He laughed, lips brushing against your hair. “Good. Got into a little fight.” He flexed his hand in front of you, knuckles raised and red. You ran a finger over the little cuts (he didn’t flinch) and wrapped both hands around one of his, rubbing your thumb over the veins on the back of his hand.

He sighed, making you smile. “You should see the other guy?” You questioned, hoping he won whatever scrum he had likely started.

He nodded slowly against your head, watching your hands work around his. “You should see the other guy,” he confirmed. And there you sat, comfortable and sleepy with a human furnace beside you. He smelled like green apples and a fireplace that had just burned through the kindling. He was cozy–everything about him. You turned just slightly, nose brushing the column of his throat. He shivered.

“I love spending time with you,” he admitted, embarrassed and not making eye contact with you–as if meeting your eyes would cause the tips of his ears to catch fire. You hummed against his neck, slightly damp from his shower. “You make me laugh and you’re really pretty and it makes me happy when you make time for me,” he rambled on, stuttering slightly.

“Yeah?” Your lips brushed his throat, prompting an embarrassing, whiny whimper from him. He looked up, giving you more space (even if he didn’t mean to).

“Yeah,” his voice was small.

You smiled into his neck, kissing the hollow of his throat, lips feather-light. “Well I like how smart you are,” you moved up, kissing just below his ear. “How kind you are to me,” his jawline, “how you blush when you’re embarrassed,” as if on cue, his ears lit up further. “Yup,” you kissed his ear, “just like that.”

You felt his breathing labor next to you–chest rising and falling quicker than before. Fixated on your mouth, he started to reply.

“Well I like–” and that’s as far as he made it before leaning in and gripping the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his in a kiss that burned.

His lips were slightly chapped, and your teeth knocked into his, but the grip his massive hands had on your face made you lean closer to him–too enamored to care. Smiling against his mouth, you swallowed the groan leaving him eagerly. His hand slid to your jawline keeping you close to him.

As if you’d ever leave. You placed another light kiss to the corner of his mouth as he caught his breath.

“About time, eh?” He smiled down at you, eyes dark and bright. You brought his knuckle to your mouth–as if your lips would make the bruises disappear. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

“We got there,” you laughed lightly. “Worth the wait, right, handsome?” He ran a thumb over your cheekbone–always so gentle.

He just snuggled up next to you and let his body get heavy next to yours. You felt him smile next to you. Some questions didn’t need answers. His slowed breathing as he fell asleep next to you was answer enough.

...

love you!

#trent frederic #boston bruins #nhl fic #nhl imagines #bruins #david pastrnak #brandon carlo #charlie mcavoy #matt poitras #hockey #nhl hockey #hockey stuff #nhl

107 notes · View notes

raerae005 · 3 months

Text

im on the floor. i don't think im very well.

#nhl #nhl hockey #canucks hockey #hockey #hughes brothers #quinn hughes #hockey stuff #huggy #i #dont #think #im #okay #in #the #head

55 notes · View notes

angry-geno-is-score · 6 months

Note

why do people even like grubaer? like he's not that good? i get that he's a goalie and fans like goalies but i went to sa seattle game a couple weeks ago and they were like so obsessed with im. is this just a seattle thing? no hate

I'm so glad you asked. :) Please prepare yourself for an entirely incoherent mini-essay about why I think people love Grubi so much.

For one thing, Grubauer is our first goalie. Obviously, the Kraken are a young franchise, and we've only ever had one starting goalie. He's kind of Our Guy. We get attached very easily! Also, I would argue that Kraken fans are (and maybe this is also because we're a young franchise) very willing to lavish love on our players. People loved Giordano even though he barely played for us. Burakovsky has been injured for much of his career with Seattle, but he's definitely a favorite for a lot of people. There are plenty of other examples.

Secondly (and this part will be more of a personal opinion than anything else, but hell, this whole post is a big Personal Opinion), we don't really give a damn that he's "not good." Grubi isn't Shesterkin or Saros, but he was good enough to get us to the second round of the playoffs last year, and damn near to the third round. Numbers-wise, he's not the best out there, but he's also not the worst, and I think with goalies a lot of fans tend to forgive easier.

This is all on the ice stuff too. Grubi is an awesome person off the ice, and he's very grateful and kind to the fans. It always helps when players show how much they appreciate the support and love they get, and Grubi does that often. It's so much easier to adore him for it.

Of course, there's just the magic of goalies in general. They're pretty selfless players, in that they literally put their bodies in the way of speeding frozen rubber to ensure that the team wins. It's so easy to love goalies, and the Kraken fans are so giving with their love, so of course they adore Grubauer. From the outside, I could see where people wonder why we love him so much if he's inconsistent/not the best out there, but I guess it's just part of being a Kraken fan.

So yeah, Grubi isn't the best in the league, or even in the division. Some might argue he's the reason we lose games (see the most recent loss against Edmonton), but I can guarantee you this: when the Kraken play tonight, there will be thousands of people wearing Grubauer jerseys. When he makes a save, they will scream "GRUUUUU" at the top of their lungs. The arena will still ring with cheers when he's announced and shown on the big screen.

Because he's Our Guy. :)

#anon ask #philipp grubauer #love thy goalie #hockey stuff #just thoughts #and opinions let's be real #i know anon wasn't hating so i'm not directing this at them but i will hear NO HATE about grubi #none #seattle kraken

95 notes · View notes

39oa · 1 year

Text

have you ever asked yourself: “hey, wouldn’t it be nice if i could quickly browse all the special warm-up jerseys that nhl teams have worn in collaboration with local or independent artists?” the answer to this is probably no so Don’t answer that, but... if you were ever to randomly stumble upon this train of thought, you would now be able to do so @ nhlwarmups.github.io!

i created this website out of personal interest and an enduring love for beautiful jersey designs; i love art in all forms and really just love looking at it, so in my inability to find an existing project that fulfilled my desire of browsing through all these jerseys in a centralized location i somehow... singlehandedly motivated myself to take on the task? LOL but otherwise i also wanted to make this database because... well, i feel like even though a lot of league-wide inclusion initiatives ultimately rely on/benefit teams’ commercial interests, and even though it feels like there’s recently been an overabundance of dialogue re: player action or inaction, theme-night dissent and sociocultural pressure, the culminating breaking points of bisected fandom, etc.... art still kind of matters! to me, to the designers, to real people who attend games and who coordinate events and who run media platforms and do what small facets of work can still be done.

Anyway. this site itself is sort of meaningless and doesn’t really accomplish much at the end of the day, but i guess i wanted to (try to) refocus the concept of a “warm-up jersey” back on the people who actually create them, and ultimately to reattach the positive components of theme nights in a way that felt slightly tangible and concrete. the site itself isn’t very complicated so hopefully it’s fairly self-navigable, but some quick notes on content and functionality:

as of april 4, 2023, this database displays 82 special jerseys from 21 different nhl teams

i’ve currently only included special jerseys designed with a highlighted artist in my set. that is, while some teams have worn different pride/heritage night/etc. jerseys with either stock-template designs or artwork otherwise created in-house, those jerseys weren’t logged unless an artist was specifically named. for example, the penguins pride jersey from 2022-23 isn’t included but the ducks lunar new year jersey (which was created by a ducks graphic designer) from 2022-23 is.

there are different sidebar options to help quickly search for a specific type or style of jersey: you can sort by team/event/date and filter by category/team/season/base color

lastly, clicking on one of the preview cards will bring you to a details page with additional information on each jersey, including social media links to support the artist, notes on charity benefits, an image gallery of the design, and embedded tweets highlighting the artist when available:

that’s basically it! this was a labor of love so i tried my best to not make the entire experience a functional piece of garbage, but at the end of the day i am Just Some Guy and i never know what i’m doing so please lmk if anything is super wonky. and also if your team has a past design that fits the criteria but i missed it :)

#Is This Anything (← guy who only does completely useless things)#idk but it did force me to learn javascript so there's that #hockey stuff #code #*m

259 notes · View notes

nauurrf1 · 4 months

Text

To Philly - Del Water Gap x The tragedy of hockey trades involving Philadelphia

1 2 3 & 4 5 6

#immediately had to make this #felt like i was shot in the face when this song popped up #hockey stuff #jamie drysdale #trevor zegras #nhl #anaheim ducks #flyers #web weaving

36 notes · View notes

zetterbabe · 1 day

Text

classic chucky (04.25.24)

#matthew tkachuk #florida panthers #hockeyedit #nhledit #hockey stuff #my gifs #munchin'#flashing gifs #heady empty just hockey

73 notes · View notes

sunkissed-zegras · 2 months

Note

38. "stay with me, please? i need you tonight. maybe for the rest of my life, if you're generous."

with jamie!

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 | jd⁹

♡ ─ word count | 1.6k

♡ ─ warnings | hurt/comfort, ANGST!! jamie being an asshole (but it was lowkey justified), mention of his injury/trade :((, thats all!

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay listen i forgot the prompt but the last few paragraphs basically describe what the prompt conveys if that makes sense, i still hope u enjoy it nonnie 😭🩷

Jamie had a pretty hard season, with him moving to Philadelphia unexpectedly and him being injured had really gotten to him. He's spent the last two weeks at home recovering and trying to get better as soon as he could, he wanted to be back on the ice as soon as possible. His injury added another layer of frustration. The pain, both physical and emotional, weighed heavily on him. Hockey had always been his sanctuary, and the forced break on top of the trade felt like the whole universe was against him.

You entered the condo, sighing with exhaustion. The last couple months had been frustrating for you as well, but it didn't even come close to how Jamie was feeling. As you entered the small condo, you heard the shower running and assumed it was Jamie.

You put down everything and began starting on dinner, Jamie probably hadn't eaten anything except breakfast. You were worried for him, more than you could ever express. You'd always had faith in him even in the lowest of the lows but he had never been this low in his entire career. He'd always been a determined person but right now, it really did feel like the odds were stacked up against him.

You wanted to do everything in your power to make him happy again, even if it was for a fleeting moment before the world closing on him again. The smell of a home-cooked meal began to fill the air as you moved around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and preparing a comforting dish.

As you worked, your thoughts lingered on Jamie's struggles - the trade, the injury, and the emotional toll it all took on him. You understood the importance of hockey in his life, how it served as a source of purpose. Tonight, you wanted to provide not just a meal but a reminder that he wasn't alone in this struggle, no matter what happens.

As your timer beeped, indicating that dinner was ready, you set the table, adorned with comforting dishes. The shower turned off, and soon Jamie emerged, his weariness evident in his movements. You gave him a warm smile, opening up your arms for a hug.

"I made your favorite,"

He slumped down to your height and embraced you tightly, sighing. You let him hug you before he slipped away from the embrace, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders as he did. The weariness in his pretty eyes spoke volumes, but so did the gratitude for the effort you put into making the evening a little brighter.

"Thank you," Jamie murmured, his voice a mixture of fatigue and appreciation. He walked over to the table and sat down as you brought waters from the fridge before sitting with him.

"How was your day?" You asked gently as you settled into the seat, glancing up to watch him.

"It was fine." He responded shortly as he began eating the food, avoiding your gaze. You knew he didn't want to come off bitter but it stung, you tried your best to not to take it personal. "You?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," you replied with a light chuckle, trying to maintain a casual tone. "Work had its moments, but nothing too exciting. I did manage to catch up with Maya over the phone today, she said she missed us back in California."

You knew you had messed up as you heard Jamie's fork hit the plate, the sound echoing throughout the apartment. Shit, I shouldn't have mentioned California. You looked up and caught his tired gaze as he sighed.

"I'm sorry," you offered softly, regret lacing your words. "I didn't mean to bring up anything that might upset you. It's just habit to share little updates about people we know, you know?"

Jamie took a deep breath, and you could see the effort it took for him to compose himself. "It's okay," he finally replied, though the strain in his voice betrayed the words. "I just... miss the way things used to be."

His vulnerability hung in the air, and you felt a pang of empathy. The unexpected move to Philadelphia had disrupted not only his career but also the familiar life you both had in California. You reached across the table, gently placing your hand over his. "I miss it too, Jamie. But we'll make new memories here. It just takes time."

He sighed and pulled his hand away from yours, your chest squeezing in hurt. He took the fork and continued to eat, choosing to stay silent. You didn't know why he was being so distant, so cold. You hated it but you couldn't resent him for it, you knew it wasn't his fault. That still didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

The room seemed to shrink with the silence, the only sound was the clinking of cutlery against the plate. The unspoken tension between you and Jamie hung heavy in the air and despite your attempt to offer comfort, he withdrew further into his thoughts. As he continued to eat in silence, you couldn't shake the ache in your chest. The distance, both physical and emotional, left you feeling like a spectator in Jamie's struggle, unable to bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing moment.

You had never had this problem with Jamie before, he communicated everything he felt so that it was easier for the both of you so this was new territory. What had changed? Why was he retreating into this new, silent version of himself? The questions lingered, unanswered, amplifying the sense of helplessness.

With a heavy sigh, you set your fork down, the clatter against the plate echoing the unease in the room. "Jamie," you began tentatively, your voice soft but carrying the weight of your concern. "I hate seeing you like this, I just want to help."

Jamie had finally slammed the fork down, looking up at you with agitated playing on his face. "You can't fucking help me, Y/N. Do you get that, is that simple enough for you? I can't breathe around you without you looking at me and trying to analyze it and help me. You look at me like I'm some kind of burden you need to carry, and I'm sick of it."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the raw emotion behind them stinging more than any physical blow. It was a side of Jamie you hadn't encountered before, and the harshness in his tone took you aback. There was silence as you both stared at each other and you saw the regret slowly seep into Jamie's expression.

You took a moment to collect yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat before finally speaking. "I never meant to make you feel like a burden. I just care about you, and seeing you struggle hurts. I thought we could face it together, like we always have."

He lowered his gaze, a visible conflict playing out in his eyes. The regret painted across his face was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed like he was grappling with the weight of his words. "I know I messed up," Jamie finally admitted, his voice softer now, remorse evident. "It's just... everything feels like too much right now, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, baby."

The pet name rolled off his tongue like honey as he spoke and you could see the old Jamie come back slowly as you gazed at him. You nodded, acknowledging the complexity of the emotions that had fueled his outburst.

"Everything will be easier if you just talk to me, Jamie." You paused, choosing your words carefully. "I want to understand, Jamie. I want to be there for you," you continued, your voice gentle but firm. "We can face whatever it is together. Just talk to me. Please."

He sighed, the conflict in his eyes softening. "I know, Y/N. I just... I'm not used to all of this. The move, the injury, it's like my whole world got turned upside down, and I don't know how to understand it."

You reached across the table, your hand finding his. "We'll figure it out together. You don't have to carry it all on your own. I hate seeing you hurt like this, baby."

He squeezed your hand, the warmth of the gesture was filled with gratitude. "I don't want to push you away, Y/N. I just... I've always been the one who had it all figured out, you know? But this, it's different. It's overwhelming."

"You don't have to have it all figured out, Jamie. We'll navigate through this together. It's okay not to be okay, you don't have to play the part because at the end of the day, you're just human."

He nodded, a mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes. "I'm just scared of losing everything, of losing myself in all of this mess."

The weight of his fears hung in the air, and you leaned in, your thumb gently caressing his hand. "You won't lose yourself, Jamie. I'm here to help you find your way back. We'll take it one step at a time."

For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of vulnerability hanging in the air. Then, slowly, he began to open up. The words spilled out, frustration, fear, and the overwhelming pressure he felt. As he spoke, you listened, offering support.

After the conversation, you laid next to him in the bed, his head laying on your chest. The silence was comfortable as you both began to seep into sleep, enveloped in one another. Your fingers gently traced soothing patterns on his back as you held him close, your presence a reassurance that he wasn't alone ever.

The soft rhythm of his breathing matched the steady beat of your heart, as Jamie shifted slightly, his fingers finding yours in the darkness.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚#jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale blurb #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x you #jamie drysdale smut #philadephia flyers #philidelphia flyers #jamie drysdale x y/n #nhl angst #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl players #hockey smut #hockey fic #hockey stuff

199 notes · View notes