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this makes holsom even more romantic #tome

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ive heard if its all gone wrong and is fucked beyond repair you can actually use it for banana bread

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me: it’s canon that holster is UGLY fanon: no ❤️

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these idiots

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i'm making a collection

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Gideon Glick as Tobias Bell and Jonathan Groff as Kevin ÉTOILE — The Slip (1.07)

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I go. It's safe like an ambulance is safe. You being inside means you're already hurt. A Poem is a Place by Isabelle Correa

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how could it have gone wrong, my approach was data-driven and trauma-informed

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consumed by thoughts of jack and kent’s other juniors teammates

were they all friends? did they like jack? did they like kent? did they know that the two guys they tried to convince to dye their hair with boy band-style blonde tips had the potential to be some of the best hockey players to ever exist? did they spend any of those thirty four perfect and halcyon days with both of them, celebrating their win and mourning the end of their childhood?

did they know about jack and kent?

did they know about the drugs and the alcohol? did they foster it? or did someone try to stop jack? did anyone raise any questions? any concerns? if they didn’t, did they ever feel guilty? was that something that followed them?

who told them about the overdose? who told them that one of the guys, one of their brothers, one of the people they spent more time with than they did with their own biological families, nearly died? not only died, but died because he didn’t want to be here anymore? was it their coaches? bob? kent?

did any of them follow kent’s lead and try to reach out? did jack ignore them too? did he block them?

did they ever have a wedding or a graduation party or a reunion a few years later where they all sat together and realized that there was an empty chair for a ghost who really wasn’t a ghost? did they ever turn to tell jack a joke or ask him a question and realize that he wasn’t there anymore?

did any of them follow jack’s emerging career? or did jack just show up in madison square garden or TD garden or wherever it is that they play like a specter one day? did they stare across the blue line and see a blast from their past staring back at them?

did their group chat blow up on the day of the kiss?

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Jack and Kent loved each other and they can love each other again and you can pry this headcanon from my cold, dead, gnarled fists

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I don't understand how people think I'm unapproachable. I've been standing on this widow's walk staring out to sea for over a hundred years. Everyone in town knows where to find me.

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does anyone have that pic of the guy texting like you need to find a new weed guy im in love with you

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some cutie pies :3

(just like the person reading this)

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someone might need to hear this

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why you hatin on the red hot chili peppers, man?

although i don’t agree with your taste in music, i have to respect your ability to type out this message while longboarding across campus

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best boys

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for trope ask game - amnesia, different first meeting, omegaverse! (if you've done one of them already sorry about that!)

(I’m gonna axe omegaverse, sorry!! It’s just really not my thing but ymmv, etc).

There’s this guy who comes by his room at the facility sometimes. He has a relative down the hall, Jack guesses — he comes once a month, like clockwork, always in the same nondescript polo and snapback combo, his unruly blonde curls escaping from beneath the bright red band. He’s got a nice smile, like he’s the type of guy who smiles easily, without ever having to work much at it.

Jack doesn’t remember a whole lot, from before. But something tells Jack that he’s never been the type of guy to smile all warm and easy like that.

Anyways, so there’s this guy. Jack always catches his gaze as he’s sliding past the doorway, can’t seem to make himself stop. The first time, he tells himself it’s just because he’s not sure if he’s ever seen that particular shade of opal-bright green in real life.

The second time, it’s a deep, dark ocean blue, like the middle of a lake in the summer, and well, who wouldn’t be curious about a change like that?

The third time, he stops making excuses. He doesn’t get a lot of visitors in here, anyways. Just his parents, two adults that he recognizes mainly from the framed photo that sits on his bedside table.

So, well. He likes it. He likes it when the blonde man’s mouth twitches into a grin, likes the way he gives a dorky little wave, sliding just inside the doorway, propping himself up against the door jamb with a strong, well-muscled shoulder. He’s always carrying a bouquet of flowers, different every time, the little petals facing down towards the flat, gray linoleum floor.

“Hey, Jack,” the man says, rapping two fingers lightly against the door frame. “How’s it going today?”

“Well, the squirrel outside my window has been trying to pick up this one acorn for about an hour,” Jack cracks, his smile thin, “so it’s been a real action packed day.”

The man’s expression brightens into a small, delighted laugh, the dimples in his cheeks deepening as he throws his head back. “Shit, man. You think he’s gonna make it?”

Jack warms, pleased. He likes making this guy laugh. He holds out a level hand, waving it back and forth. “Fifty-fifty odds.”

The man leans his chest forward, like he’s pulling Jack in on a secret. “Nah, I bet we can do better than that. Let’s have some faith in the little fucker, alright?”

“If you say so,” Jack says, puffing a laugh. Another curl escapes from beneath the brim of the man’s cap and Jack curls his left fist together beneath the bed sheets, barely resisting the urge to reach out and fuss. It doesn’t make any sense — how much he wants to reach out to this man, how much he wants to touch him.

He barely knows the guy. He doesn’t even know his name.

Well. He can fix that, at least.

Jack raises an eyebrow, like a challenge to himself. “Hey, I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

The man’s smile presses together, thinning out for a brief, almost imperceptible second before flickering right back into mega-watts. “You’re right, man, sorry. I’m Kent, but uhh…” Here, the man pauses, cocking his head to the side, considering. “You can call me Kenny.”

Jack repeats the name to himself, rolls the word around in his mind. “Hi, Kenny. It’s good to meet you.”