#rushplay

[lovetold]

HOCKEY WAS LIFE. hockey was the air he breathes, and the thing that consumes most of his time. even now, on the couch with one of his best friends, playing the newest nhl game. " i'm going to be bruins, that's my team. if i go grab a beer - you can't cheat. i don't trust you. " pointing an accusatory finger at his tall friend, taller than himself. but he wasn't too intimidated, he wasn't actually intimidated at all - but norén did feel like a damn wall when he slams into him on the ice, fucking hurts. he's kind of crazy, but logan understood what the ice could do to you. something switched and changed when the skates hit the ice. " listen, i was thinking.. i want to do something bad tonight, but we have to pinky swear that no dietitians will ever know, " locking eyes with the dark haired hockey player currently sprawled on his couch. " i need like, five big macs after this morning skate. "

↳ john logan + isak norén (@rushplay)

[craveheart]

M. can't sleep / @rushplay

IN TRUTH he dreams , and there is the stark image of HIS MOTHER. the way he can never reach her in time , and the knowledge that she loves him. in these dreams he wonders if he pushed too much as a child , if he made her happy ... children were RELENTLESS with their wants , the unending SELFISHNESS that they employed. ilya now skates for HER , everything he does in in effigy of his mother.

that cross that lays between his chest is FOR HER , and he reminds himself that he escaped RUSSIA ; proved himself to be the best.

' never ' he responds as the other takes a seat next to him , ' it is too close to championships anyways ... ' THERE'S a cigarette that dangles , a PROMISE that he never kept. ' you ? ' he eyes the other with the type of curiosity that accompanies a player that is from DETROIT. they were good but , they weren't BOSTON. though , ilya in truth isn't a dick , and they aren't on the ICE.

' what , you like detroit ? ' ilya making casual conversation slowly as his english isn't QUITE where he wants it. ' this hotel lobby sends me into a depression every SIX months '

ilya then smiles as a CIGARETTE dangles from his mouth , ' don't tell anyone ... ' cigarette lit by lighter as he then takes a drag , ' you're sort of an annoying right wing '

IT'S TRUE the other is EXCEPTIONALLY talented , did ALL guys from NORWAY play as good as ISAK. god , if only he had ISAK on BOSTON. then again ? ilya was a GOOD captain , and even faster skater.

' if only you could keep up with me ' okay so, he's a BIT of a dick.

[heavnhill]

finn never meant to be a father. finn never meant to be here     —     on his front porch, sitting and smoking like someone’s old uncle. he’s still in muddy jeans and a t-shirt, and he’s almost embarrassed he didn’t look better for isak. even though he’s sitting low, one leg extended out, looking casual and cool     …     he’s so fuckin’ stressed out. isak is so special to marcos, that finn himself is nervous. like he might screw things up, might scare the kid off, might do anything mildly odd or wrong. it’s not for him, it’s for the kid he calls his son. He thinks too long about it, enough that he shifts out of his chair and goes inside. it doesn’t take long for him to come back to the porch and drop a case of beer right onto the wood slats. it’s his way of hospitality. 

“ you’re a fuckin’ beast, man. good shit out there. ”    finn gives a single nod of approval. it’s quiet, it’s odd, the way he tries to defrost     …     it’s funny, to see this 6’5” enforcer grow so nervous of his presence. he thinks. he stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray. he can wait. he doesn’t like to smoke with someone downwind.

finn is     …     proud. proud of these kids. they’re all ‘ kids, ’  he’s the ‘ old man ’ at thirty-something. they’re all young and determined, maybe a bit hotheaded, but he sees them play on his rookie team, and he feels proud. nothing short of it. and it’s odd to be there, all held together by hardware and kt-tape, watching all these brick shithouses skate around like they’ve never even got a papercut. it’s not jealousy, he just wants to tell them all : ‘ take care of yourself, don’t be stupid, take lots of ibuprofen. ’ 

so he says it    :   “ you’re makin’ me proud, y’know? got me feeling all weepy. ”      …     finn pops off the cap of an ice cold miller high-life with his lighter. he smiles, holds out a beer for isak.      “ you guys make me feel excited to be back on the birds. ”

@rushplay

[podiium]

| |  ⧼ 🏁 ⧽  CLOSED STARTER  ‚\ @rushplay + elena

elena rossi  ...    ▇▇▇           she  never  really  paid  much  attention  to  other  sports  outside  of  racing  and  maybe  some  football.  and  she  never  shyed  away  about  admitting  it.  so  when  the  paddock  rang  of  hockey  players  during  the   grand  prix,  she  shrugged  it  off.  it  wasn't  abnormal  when  guest  came  into  the  red  bull  garage.  her  focus  never  going  towards  where  they  were.  often  ,  she  remained  in  her  driver's  room  –  focusing  on  what  her  main  goal  was.  to  win.  to  at  least  get  some  points  for  herself  and  her  team.  however,  she  was  sort  of  forced  into  this  whole  social  thing.  at  least  her  company  wasn't  that  bad.  maybe  she  didn't  have  to  bite  as  bad  like  she  did  with  the  last  person  who  she  had  to  show  around  her  car. 

       ❛   ever  been  around  one  of  these  before?  ❜   eyebrow  quirked  as  she  looked  his  way.  she  wasn't  sure  if  he  had  or  not.  regardless,  it  didn't  hurt  to  ask.  ❛  i'll  be  honest  –  I'm  not  very  good  at  showing  all  of  this.  I  sort  of  do  more  of  a  crash  course  in  it.  unlike  my  teammate.   ❜ 

[ol81li]

❛   uh   -   nice  game  ??   ❜ oliver  didn't  mean  for  it  to  be  posed  like  a  question  -  but  honestly,  sometimes  in  his  position  he  got  tickets  to  things  he  didn't  understand  in  the  slightest,  and  the  hockey  game  he'd  just  witnessed  was  one  of  those  things.  in  reality  he'd  been  more  interested  in  how  the  fuck  they  stayed  upright,  he  was  pretty  sure  if  he  stepped  out  there  it  would  be  a  great  rendition  of  bambi  on  ice  and  nothing  more.  everyone  around  him  seemed  to  get  into  it  though,  rising  from  their  seats,  loud,  excitable,  things  a  million  miles  away  from  aussie  driver  that  felt  a  camera  land  on  him  too  many  times  to  be  comfortable.

[fromannearc]

@rushplay sent: 💐 !!!

                        HEART IS BEATING RAPIDLY,  WORDS ARE FAILING HER.  for once in her life,  she is rendered speechless,  nothing to be said.  she could only look at him with widened eyes,   a bright red flush spreading across her cheeks,  and shaking hands.   surely,  he was acting out of kindness,  not because he was infatuated by her.  she did not want to get her hopes up.  isak is an athlete,  a high-profile one at that.  anne is a reporter. the press would have a field day if they had found out about this!  if he was not going to think about his reputation,  she would have to.

“   … what in the world are you doing?   ”  anne’s words were almost a whisper,   taking hold of his arm,  quick to tug him into the apartment.   there was no way that he was here for her,  or so she continued to tell herself.  he did not mean to end up at her door with such a beautiful bouquet in hand.  “  you’re lost,   right?  that has to be it,  ”  she finally speaks up.  the metaphorical dots connecting in her brain.   that would make far more sense!  “  if anyone saw you come here,   people would assume …  ”  her tone lowers,  gaze dropping.  she almost feels shame.  “  d-do you need help finding where you were trying to go?  ”  still convincing herself that this was a simple mistake.  “  they are stunning,  by the way.  the flowers-  ”  her gaze shifts to the bouquet, taking in the colors within it,  and how it had been tied.   “   did you know that every flower in that bouquet has a meaning or intention behind it?  even the ribbon that holds them all together has a meaning depending on color and type.  ”

[draftpicked]

𓈒 ◌ ✶  Independence was not all it was cracking up to be. Had ever actually been alone ?  That was the question he found himself asking again again. And the answer seemed to be no. He was the youngest child of many, he was always brought around to his sibling's activities and passed around their friends. There was always a standing invite for him to tag along. Then he was on team after team. When he got drafted to the Firebirds, he moved in Marcos ... and just sort of never moved out. Even when @rushplay moved in. Then it was the three of them. It was perfect really, at least for Ronan, there was always someone hang out with. His two favorite people were happier than ever. And Isak knew how to cook. Somehow both Marcos and Ronan had missed that life skill. He pulled out his iPad, rolled back the cover, and stood it up on the counter. 

He opened FaceTime and tapped Other Dad - ISAK. The chimes sounded at he waited for an answer on the other end.   ❝   Heeeeeyyyyy, Isak.   ❞   he lips had a smirk that he was trying to hide. A laugh he was attempting to swallow.   ❝   It has recently occurred to me that I do not know how to make breakfast food and that breakfast for every meal has lost its charm.   ❞   He was going through a ridiculous amount of eggs.   ❝   Can you teach me how to cook ?   ❞  

[omvangel]

@rushplay continued from ⤳ here .

tongue swells with uncertainty at the words . kept silent so there's no possibility to fumble the speech . no , he wants to give isak everything . they don't have time for stuttering . caught in a drumming pulse of adrenaline , following the pressage of stick . how easy it would be to deal injury .

and yet it's gone far before it could ever leave a mark . he feels unsatisfied .

gliding after , caught up in the tunnel vision . held back by a guiding hand from a linesman . vesa simply leans forward to peer around . staring with the simplicity of wanting . either to put bruises and soreness , or to receive it himself . there's a thrill in both winning and losing , big knuckles make the prettiest bruises .

the bench comes before any words can articulate in the brain , much less translated . straddled over and squished in between thick shoulders . the satisfaction radiates . they always love when he's mean . as does he . loves extending that high by driving in fingers against the bruises on his skin . remembering their stories .

maybe if he'd pushed a little harder , dug a little deeper , he could have looked forward to a line of unsteady purple blooming across his abdomen by the morning . he nearly mourns the loss .

next shift comes like a promise . scrambling over boards to chase tails . the attention spreads like a disease . a parasite . if isak is not near then the aggressions turn to another muse . as many hits as possible without getting a penalty . long since memorized what the referees will and won't deal with .

each drive follows up with a glance , never fleeting in nature . the stray dog that leaves animal carcasses on the porch . he wants it to be seen . flaunted like a challenge , either outcome will satisfy him regardless .