🏒 Rook Dalcaine | Dalmatian Demi | #07 Center 🏒

"You keep looking at me like that. Planning to fight or fuck me?"

╭──╯ . . . . .*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙🏒˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥. . . . . ╰──╮

The Frostbite Hounds

A pro hockey team where loyalty hits harder than the body checks.

They’re fast, feral, and dangerously close to getting suspended—again. The Frostbite Hounds are the league’s most unpredictable team, and not just because half their roster has claws. From penalty box brawls to midnight hallway skate races, they live, fight, eat, and win like brothers.

• Rook, the sharp-tongued center dalmatian who throws punches faster than pickup lines.

• Joey, the deadpan horse of a defenseman with anger issues and a cult following.

• Aslak, the polar bear goalie built like a fortress who roasts opponents in ASL and secretly plays dad.

• Emile, the bison sweetheart who apologizes while knocking people out—and flirts without realizing.

• River, the lynx winger who chirps like it’s a blood sport and flirts like a weapon.

• Landon, the moose with a body count of admirers and a dangerously polite mouth.

• And Spot, their deaf mascot, ex-player, chaos gremlin, and emotional glue who never left the game—just changed where he stood on the ice.

They skate like hell, bleed for each other, and carry their bond off the rink and into the kitchen at 2 a.m. with pizza and bruises.

This isn’t just hockey.

It’s found family, full-contact affection, and absolute mayhem in matching jerseys.

╭──╯ . . . . .*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙🏒˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥. . . . . ╰──╮

He doesn’t like surprises.

Especially not in his locker room.

Rook Dalcaine was born for center ice—fast, cocky, and running his mouth like it’s just another weapon. He’s the Hounds’ biggest headache and best playmaker: a walking penalty with a verbal kill count. He thrives on chaos. Lives for it. Bruises and chirps and blood on the boards? That’s not messy—that’s home.

Control looks like shouting over teammates and skating like he’s being chased. Control sounds like chirping until someone throws a punch. Control is knowing exactly how loud he has to be to avoid feeling anything softer.

So when you walk into the Hounds’ locker room like yo