#mari writes stuff

[littleplantfreak]

Dreamcatcher (sfw)

(or who has dreams, nightmares, and anything in between)

Sakura has dreams and nightmares, although most of the time he only remembers snippets. Prone to gasping awake or shooting up into sitting position during nightmares. The type to have dreams about his friends and feel like they’re at fault for what happened. Once he had a dream Nirei stole his food and he wouldn’t let Nirei sit next to him during lunch the next day without telling him specifically he better back off his sandwiches.

Whenever Hiragi has a nightmare, stomach cramping follows. Whether it’s his stomach causing them or them causing further stomach distress, he’ll never know, but he has tea and medicine to settle down before trying again. Mumbles in his sleep on occasion, and it’s really kind of cute.

It’s no surprise Umemiya is a dreamer. Sure maybe once in a blue moon he’ll have a bad one, but for the most part they’re really weird and silly. Loves to talk about them at breakfast the next morning, recounting his time flying with a penguin, or being chased by trolls. He remembers the whole thing usually, though he’s such a deep sleeper that once he’s worn himself out enough and has one of those big, drool inducing rests, he just sleeps with no dreams to be had.

Suo is vague, beats around the bush, and generally likes to joke around. When he tells his friends he dreams in black and white? He’s actually telling the truth! He doesn't have good or bad dreams often, but when he does, he likes to laugh about them in the morning. Something about them looking like he’s watching an old movie makes them all the more funny.

Kaji has nightmares more than dreams, but mostly he sleeps without either. He’ll be in a shit mood the next day though, because the nightmare will have him tossing and turning, trying to find the comfiest spot on the bed that seems to have disappeared in the hour or so it took him to be woken by it. Another sleep mumbler. He can actually sleep with his music blasting in his ears pretty easily too!

Kotoha dreams most of the time. She’ll exchange sleep stories with Ume, but hers always seem to be a little tamer than his. Has a diffuser that cycles through colored lights she’ll put on if she has a dream she deems ‘not great’ and a stuffed dragon her siblings got her that guards her dreams on the nightstand next to her bed. Sometimes she’ll have it on the pillow next to her for no particular reason; it’s just soothing (and so soft and cute.)

[okarasusama]

the resurrection account is full of fearful, trembling men and women. full of doubt, weak of faith. fear in the garden, fear at the cross, fear at the tomb, fear at the resurrection, fear even in the face of the greatest of news.

jesus loves well his fearful, doubting saints. he comforts them, he thinks of them, he cares for them, he cooks for them, he greets them by name.

[ac3may]

" meet the wags "

Hygge

taking pleasure from the presence of gentle, soothing things

Halcyon

Peace and tranquility at is best

Mellifluous

having a smooth rich flow

Amourousness

a feeling of love or fondness

Appetence

intense desire; instinctive inclination

Ramé

something that is both chaotic and joyful at the same time

Redamancy

the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full

Enarmoured

to be filled with love for

~~~~~~~~~~

Welcome to WAG Diaries!!

This is fully a late night thought come to fruition but I hope it’s something people enjoy.

It’s essentially a multiverse I have created for partners of a range of WOSO players. I’ll be posting interconnecting imagines, blurbs, and social media edits for all of them.

It’s totally a collaborative process if anyone ever has requests or thoughts to discuss.

I also hope to add other players into the mix but this current but this first six are the ones I currently have established. So no guarantees but feel free to suggest ideas to establish partners for others too.

I really hope this is something people enjoy and are excited about as much as me!

[wolfavens]

ghost car of barna road

track 2 - slop 2/2

i wondered how i looked then - facing the shelves packed with discount junk, wearing nothing but thin slippers and my greasy pajamas. i had a scrap of paper torn out of a catalogue crumbled in my fist. it showed a small electric kettle in five color variants. one of them, the cyan one, was circled in bright red marker. underneath, as an added security, my mother wrote in her tiny, neat, schoolteacher’s handwriting: cyan.

they did not have the cyan one.

now, my options were limited. i considered them while sipping cold coffee obtained on the shelf behind me. i was either taking a pastel pink kettle home, hoping the cheerful colour will appease my mother to the loss of the cyan option; walk the two kilometres to the next supermarket hoping to snatch the cyan keetle;

or, my number one contender, returning back to our street, getting inside the rental and driving straight ahead until i hit the ocean.

"this is fucking ridiculous," i told myself.

she is fucking ridiculous. true. what but was i going to do about that now?

i groaned, pulling my phone out of my back pocket. it was half after eight. i was supposed to start working at nine and my hot cup of coffee, shower and peace of mind depended on a fucking cyan kettle that was not where it was supposed to be.

“i have no fucking time for this,” i breathed, snatching a box off the shelf and made my way to the empty cash register.

a smiling lady rang my purchase, asked me about my opinions on weather and, not deterred by my discouraging grunts and deadpan expression, mentioned the kettle i was getting was really amazing, she had it herself, and it looked so nice in her kitchen, she tried to have everything in her kitchen in pastel pink, it brightened up the room so much and made it so lovely, didn’t i think so?

“that will be thirty five euro, love.”

i wondered if i was too czech now. it’s been ten years of cloudy faces and getting snapped at in the shops. a lady at imigration made me cry in my scond week there. ten years later, whatever was happening here, was making my skin crawl. i was no longer used to happy faces and polite chatter. my first instinct was to use the kettle box as a shield and push my way out of the door, overthrowing old people and babies for bonus points. i felt like a stranger in my own home.

the unsettling through followed me down the road to my parent’s door. i tried to block it’s weight with my foot before slipping in, but it clung to my grey leggins. it followed me down the hall to the back sunroom/kitchen, right at my heel like an eager puppy. it was there when i put the box down on the table, there when my mom looked back with a smile, closer when her round wrinkled face fell noticing the delivered goods.

“oh, it’s the pink one,” she said, covering her sadness with cheerful politeness.

“they did not have the cyan one,” i said. “only pink and black. the pink is nice.”

she nodded, taking the box and placing it, very carefully, on the floor by the door. “sit down, i made you some eggs and bacon.”

i sat down in an empty place, facing the back door. my eyes kept returning to the box while my mother chattered.

one time in prague, not much longer after our move, my irish girlfriend got me this vintage jacket at a traveling thrift marketplace. it was the worse wine red colour, with tiny reflective flakes and shite-load of colourful beads strewn harphazardly across the back and it’s too short, not quite three-quater sleeves. she said the second she saw it it reminded her of my “free spirit”. by that she must’ve meant the long dark nights spend getting blackout drunk, shying away from phones which could at any time remind me about your existence.

my “free spirit” jacket became this thing hanging on our dresser door, obscuring a fair amount of the decorative mirror embedded in the frame. everything unsaid between us seemed to cling to it like lint. every argument we had was another bead sparkling in its sleeve. every bloody fucking thing that pissed us off about each other was this tiny reflective piece of plastic that, if the sunshine streamed in through the winddow at just the right angle, would hit you in the eye and scorch your pupil.

i would wake up and see the jacket and all the bad things about our relationship would be right there, reflected in that ugly, dusty piece of second skin.

after a while it became sentient.

it would walk into the room when we argued and point its too short arms at us, throwing out beads to jog our memories. that summer you kissed that other guy when we were dating; i can’t believe you told me you were quitting and lied to my face; the way you acted when my mother came for a visit; why do you never want us to travel home together, are you ashamed of me?; and finally you, you, you, you - but she kept calling you him, like she couldn’t quite remember your name. she called you him and the jacket kept throwing all the beads the colour of your eyes at me until they cut my skin.

finally we broke up and she packed everything she owned up into these huge suitcases she got online. she rolled them across the oak floor-boards that moaned in reply and when she stopped in the doorward for the last time she said: “you know, all you had to do was say was you didn’t like it.”

it took me a while to realise she was talking about the jacket, not us. she left it there, hanging off the closet door, so dusty it looked more grey then red by then.

i looked at the kettle in its snug box now, lying by the canary yellow wallpapered wall, enveloped by a soft pool of light. in wondered if this was the same thing. i wondered how long it will take until all the things i do wrong burst out through the colourful packaging and flood our kitchen floor.

“more tea?” asked my mother in her cheerful sing-songy voice.

“i don’t like tea.” i wanted to say.

“sure.”

from the box by the door, you could hear tiny plastic screws click-clacking in vicious enjoyment.

[bruciemilf]

" Why, your eyes are like sapphires, sparkling so bright."

[aeligsido]

practice date

(so I got his idea and had to like, write it a bit. I may end up reworking it a bit and posting it on ao3 later if I feel like it. No particular two — just Remus being oblivious and Sirius, for once, missing the writing on the wall lmao.)

-

It all started because of fucking Frank Longbottom. He didn't know how or why, but Frank took Remus out on a date once during their fourth year — right before Frank and Alice started dating, too — and after that, Remus somehow became the most eligible person in all of Hogwarts. Even Slytherins ended up victims of this pandemic.

It pissed Sirius off. Remus was a kind person, sure, and adorable and pretty and smart and gentle and with a humor to die for and so much more mischievous than at first glance and definitely more than date worthy; but for some reason, those people only ever took him out once and then broke it off immediately after. They even started dating other people after! Properly dating, even, not just a trip to Hogsmeade followed by a goodbye-see-you-never, like they did to Remus. It wasn't fair. Remus deserved better than that — he deserved to be taken care of, to have someone to hold his hand and go to the bookstore with him and buy him his favorite apple pie. Not... that.

(Sirius could be this person for Remus.)

Last time, he went with Mary — again, because she was the exception to the rule and often went out with him without deeming him worthy to give him the title of boyfriend. Well. Five times. Five times was a lot! But, last time — last time they went to Madam Puddifoot together once more, but were back laughing at the Three Broomsticks pretty soon in the day, joining them for the rest of the trip. When they separated in the common room, Mary had kissed his cheek and thanked him with a sweet smile, but yet again nothing came out of it.

Sirius was pretty angry at her — at all of them, really. Why did they all feel necessary to play with Remus' heart like that?

He was sitting on his bed, now, on the eve of a new Hogsmead's weekend, angrily wondering who was taking Moony out this time — and perhaps who will be the next target of his pranks. James was going in and out of the bathroom, apparently doing a skincare routine (or something of the like) that managed to take longer than his usual morning routine. Peter was sitting on his bed as well, books open before him, taking notes probably for some homework. Remus was putting on the good shirt he usually wears for his dates.

"So," he started, gripping his pillow tightly. "Going out again, Moony?"

"Hm?" Remus raised his head to address him with a smile. "Yeah, I think it'll be fun."

He was always saying that.

"Who you're going with?"

"Me!" cheered James from the bathroom door.

Sirius blinked. Because, he couldn't have heard that — right? James — his best friend, the other half of his soul — could not do that to him, to Remus?

Peter looked up, suddenly more interested.

Remus smiled indulgently. "Hence the it's going to be fun, you know?"

"But—" Sirius didn't have the time to formulate everything in him — the pit in his stomach and in his heart and the bubbling, ugly feelings taking a hold on his throat — that Moony was already interrupting him.

"Don't worry, Pads. I'll send him back to you at five o'clock sharp." He winked, then, as if it was Sirius' concern at the moment.

"I've been told Moony's the best at it," continued James, apparently ignoring the chaos choking Sirius up. "Our boy comes highly recommended!" He blew up a kiss in Remus' direction, who just shook his head fondly.

"Recommended?" Sirius finally croaked out, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

James properly got out of the bathroom, then, taking a look at him with concern on his face. "You know? For the practice date? Before my real date with Lily next week?" His expression turned dreamy for a moment. "I can't believe I have a date with her," he sighed happily.

Shuffling closer to them, Remus lowered his voice. "I have a practice date with Lily after James. She was pretty anxious when she asked me." He smiled, then, again, as if nothing could make him happier than being a practice date.

Was that what he had been doing this whole time? Giving people practice dates?

Sirius frowned. Remus having so many one-time dates didn't sit well with him, but having so many practice dates didn't seem really fair either.

"How many were real?"

"How many what were real?" asked Remus, confused.

"You know, the dates."

Remus let out a short, surprised laugh. Sirius pursued his lips, unamused, and Remus calmed down at his unusual gravity.

"None? It's not like anyone would want to really date me, anyway." He gestured to himself, as if it was explanation enough — which it wasn't, Sirius wanted to date this whole... Remusness, thank you very much. Remus was amazing, why wouldn't people want to date him?

Sirius couldn't answer — it didn't know if he could actually say anything to that. Remus got distracted by James, anyway, and soon they were leaving them behind for their practice date.

Sirius put his face into his pillow and let out an angry yell.

From his bed, Peter turned a page of his book, utterly unbothered but still a cheeky bastard. The clear amusement in his next words was proof enough of it.

"So, do you want me to be your practice date for when Moony'll realize you're trying to ask him out, or you'll take Prongs?"

Sirius threw the pillow at him.

[thepatristictradition]

About Me :)

My name is Gregoria, and I'm an Orthodox Christian under the OCA jurisdiction. I study English Literature, Pastoral Ministry, and Islam. I'm learning Arabic very slowly, and my favorite way to learn is to pray.

My Patroness is Saint Elizabeth the New Martyr and I adore her mercy and seek to emulate it every day. Some of my favorite other saints are Saint Paul (my fav angry writer), Saint Gregory of Nyssa (to whom I am especially devoted), The Romanov Martyrs, and Saint Catherine the Great.

In my spare time, I write fiction, essay, and poetry. I've been getting more comfortable with formal poetry and I'm working on re-writing a novel I should have planned out better.

I'm a convert, and my background is Assyrian(Iranian)-American and I love experimenting with different veil styles.

[sheawritesstuff]

Sorry Mama

[Pre-Sam Darlin and Marie Greer - mentioned Quinn]

[Angst - Hurt/Comfort - 1347 words]

[TW: Violence, Brief Thoughts of Death]

It didn't start as anything too out of the ordinary. Tank was upset Quinn wouldn’t let them spend any time with other people. He always claimed their friends were bad news and only stuck around to try and split up their relationship. None of them cared for them like he did. No one else could understand them as he did. And even though they were not allowed to spend any sort of time with people he didn’t approve of, he would be gone for hours at a time doing who knows what with any number of people Tank didn’t even know.

It was a standard argument that followed them out into the park and toward wherever Quinn planned on running off to…Then it escalated.

There was screaming and pushing that led to threats and full-on fighting. Teeth, fists, fangs, claws. They both came out of it pretty beat up, but Quinn played dirtier. When they saw the chance to shove his “lover” head first into the ground and run into the night, he took it. 

So Tank laid face-down in the mud, feeling the blood seep into their clothes. They considered just closing their eyes and letting go - letting the pain win and float them down the river of death. They felt their ribs ache as they took a deep breath in. Slowly, they moved their arms up and pushed against the ground. Whole body shaking, they lifted their torso out of the mud and rolled over. Their back hit the ground with a thud, causing another jolt of pain to run up their spine. Staring up at the stars reminded them of everyone waiting for them, the whole pack wondering where they’d gone and when they were coming back. 

They pulled their knees up and grabbed at their legs to sit themself up. They winced and clenched their teeth. Once they were upright, they pressed their palms back down in the mud. “Alrighty,” they groaned. “Up we go.” 

Their whole body screamed as they pushed upward but after an agonizing minute, they were on their feet. They swayed back and forth uneasily as they reoriented themself. With a deep breath, they shifted into their wolf form and began the slow, painful journey. 

The route was so familiar it was practically second nature. Going from Quinn’s place to Marie’s after one of their fights was a disappointingly frequent occurrence so their body almost moved on instinct. 

Tank’s muscles burned as they finally approached the quaint little house. Once they reached the porch, they shifted back and forced their way to the door. They rang the doorbell and knocked in the same pattern they’d made up to identify themself years ago. As they waited for an answer, they looked down at their ripped-up clothes. Dirt and blood almost completely covered their body. “God, I’m disgusting.” 

The door peeked open a second later as Marie stared out at them. She sighed quietly as she opened it the rest of the way, ushering them into her home. She pulled them into the front room and quickly looked them over. 

“Oh, honey, you’re a mess.” Her voice was soaked in concern with a tinge of sadness that they were back in this situation. Tank stared at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. She carefully pulled at the outermost layers of their clothes and set them on the floor. The silence was almost more painful than the actual wounds. 

“Would it make it better if I said not all the blood was mine?” they tried to joke, lip quivering. Marie huffed and held their hands gently in hers. They finally lifted their head and looked at her. She looked at them with kindness and compassion they’d never experienced from anyone else. They didn’t know how to handle it, so they just stared at her.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.” They walked together to the bathroom. Tank sat on the toilet while Marie set up a little fold-up chair in the shower for them. She slowly helped to undress them and sat them down. Her hands gently roamed over their body, switching back and forth from healing their wounds to washing the grime from their skin. 

A warm tingle filled their body as the overwhelming pain melted off their skin. After about half an hour, they were clean and without their more major injuries. Their whole body was still sore and a little bruised, but they were a far cry from death’s front door. Marie gently dried them off and wrapped the towel around their shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Tank whimpered. They looked up at her and pulled the towel tighter around themself. She touched the side of their face and pushed some of their hair out of their eyes. She looked sad for just a moment before smiling meekly. She kissed their forehead and helped them up to their feet.

“Let’s get you dressed, alright?” They nodded in response and followed her out to the guest room. She pulled out some of the clothes they’d left there and set them on the bed. Marie took the towel from their shoulders and dried their hair again before laying it on the bed too. She helped them into their clothes, conscious to avoid the bruises. It was slow and tedious, but she didn’t mind. Doing this was better than the alternative. Once they were dressed, she sat them down at the foot of the bed and stood in front of them.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” It was the same question she asked every time this happened. She knew there wouldn’t always be a response - that was ok too. Tank looked down at their newly clothed form and thought about it. They remembered the look in Quinn’s eyes and the things he said. It was the same as it was every time they fought. Did they really want to tell Marie all of that that again? Especially after they kept going back to him again and again?

“Tank, it’s ok if-” she cut herself off. They squeezed her hands and looked up at her through misty eyes. They sniffled and took a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry, Mama,” they mumbled as tears fell down their cheeks. She held their hands tight and smiled the same sad smile she always did. Marie sat down next to them and wiped the tears away. They held tight to her arms and shook as they tried to hold back their tears. She held their head softly and nodded. It was ok. Everything was gonna be ok. 

They collapsed in on themself and sobbed. Ragged breaths echoed through the almost empty room as they struggled to keep air in their lungs. She pulled them into a hug as their body shook with sadness, regret, and anger. Marie held them close against her chest and waited. They babbled barely audible apologies as they gripped onto her for dear life.

Eventually, their breathing slowed and evened out and they were able to pull away. Marie wiped away the tears and snot with her sleeve and pushed the hair out of their face again. Tank gazed at her with half-opened eyes and sniffled again. They looked absolutely exhausted. 

“You need some sleep, honey. We’ll talk about it in the morning,” she cooed. “You need to tell your family about this too y’know- and probably David.” They knew that. They could pretend it wasn’t a big deal all they liked, but Marie knew when to put her foot down. Most things dealing with Quinn qualified as times to put her foot down. 

Tank nodded and took a deep breath. They rubbed their eyes before crawling up into bed and snuggling under the blankets. She kissed their forehead and ran her fingers through their hair. 

“You don’t deserve any of his shit, baby,” she whispered. “I wish you could see that.” She pulled away and turned off the light. She went to walk out back to her room and paused in the doorway. 

“Good night, Tank. Sweet dreams.” “Good night, Marie.” 

[venusjailer]

Mergerization is getting DARK dark in part 2 btw

[fritzmonorail]

For context, this is Logan in Peter Parker’s body.

Look at that devious fucking smile. Yet another absolute menace from the ultimate marvel universe.

What did you try to do, Logan?! WHAT “THING”DID YOU TRY TO DO?!!?

And the fact that he tried whatever it was he tried while inhabiting the body of another teenager. There’s nonconsent and then there’s whatever the hell this is. Double nonconsent?? WITH STATUTORY??!

And then there’s this

Which isn’t illegal, but it is something a total dick would do. But again it isn’t illegal until-

The man straight up, let Scott fall to his death, just so he could hook up with his widow. There are no depths to which he wont sink.

Scott was so ready to reach a new understanding and move forward and Logan was just like

“Nah”

[littleplantfreak]

Down to my level pt. 2 (SFW)

Starring: Sugishita Kyotaro (he's 6'3 but idk how tall he is when he's all hunched over)

(It's a little different than the first two I did with Umemiya and Togame but I intended to stop near 500 words and I accidentally surpassed it and wrote 1700+ so although Hiragi was suppose to be here to he'll have to wait till next round sorry Ragi-chan!🥺)

When you first met Sugishita Kyotaro (if you could call it a meeting), he walked smack into the door frame of the local library. It didn't phase him in the slightest, but it sure as hell scared you enough to drop the books you were re-shelving. Looking around the bookcase, you can see the boy's forehead already showing tell-tale signs of a goose egg as he rubs it before bringing books to the main counter.

"Ah Kyo-chan! Returning Umemiya's gardening books again?" Hina-san, the head librarian, asks in delight before whisking the books away. "Do you mind helping an old lady move some boxes in the back? I have some snacks in the kitchen once you're done," she says, leading him into the back room before he can say a word. Not that he says anything after that; he just ducks through the doorway careful not to hit his head again.

Picking the books up and continuing where you left off, your mind wandered a bit to that boy. Glossy black hair falling in his face and a scowl that only softened slightly when Hina spoke with him, and he was wearing a Furin jacket to boot. He might be a little cute, you tell yourself before remembering that he could also end up being some scary violent guy that would beat you up if you said the wrong thing to him.  After a bit, he comes back out into the main room with Hina, and you end up spying crumbs left on the side of his mouth from the Madeline cookies you'd brought in the day before. You would have tried to warn him if Hina hadn't already made him lower his face to dust him off while she laughs. He looks completely used to this treatment and you give him the benefit and decide he is definitely cute, Furin boy or not. Sugishita catches the smallest glimpse of you peeking around the corner with your arms full of books before heads off for patrol.

The librarian told him you'd been working part-time during the school year, full time during breaks, and that you were a shy one, so he has to be careful not to scare you away. Funny thing is, you didn't look shy at all earlier. Eyes full of curiosity and a smidge of apprehension, there was no fear in the look you gave him both times you clocked him coming and going from the library. Sugishita thinks to make note of your name only because Umemiya-san said it's important to remember the names of the people around you, even if you don't use them often. It also happened to be a nice one, though if anyone asked him, he wouldn't say.

The next time you see Kyo-chan, he is face down asleep on one of the study tables. You aren't sure how long he's been there since you didn't even hear him come in, but he looks completely wiped out. From the small profile you can see, a few bruises color his face, and there is a bandage slapped over his eyebrow where you assume a small number of stitches are. Not wanting to disturb him, you walk back to the lounge and grab the small blanket that you usually curl up with on your breaks. You lay it on his shoulders with the gentleness of a butterfly because honestly, what would you say if he woke up to you covering him? Sure, it's a nice gesture, but he doesn't even know who you are.

When he wakes up, the first thing that hits him is the smell of cherries. He's aware of the blanket, and grabs it before it slips off him completely. Looking around, the only person in the library is Hina-san, so he returns it with a small thank you.

"Ah that wasn't me dear! It must've been our cute assistant, but they've already gone home. Aren't they sweet?" She gushes, prodding him for an answer.

"Guess so," he mumbles out, still sluggish from the afternoon nap turned full on sleep. He smells like cherries on the way home too.

The third time, Sugishita sees you first. The step ladder you're on wobbles as you try to reach the top of the shelves with the duster. Stretching further on your toes, you grab the shelf to steady yourself, but the thing is years old and not in the best condition. You can feel it give way as you tip sideways,  a squeak forcing itself out out of your throat. You brace yourself for a few nasty bruises until you realize your momentum has stopped.

"You're like a mouse," Sugishita says, and you stare in shock at the boy who caught you.

"Muh-MOUSE?!" Shrill is the only way to describe the voice coming out now. So maybe you do sound like a mouse. Who is he to say that though? He carries you away from the shelves despite the wriggling you're doing, desperate to put your feet on the ground. It's half-embarrassing, half-infuriating that his hold doesn't budge in the slightest.

"I'd appreciate it if you would put me down Kyo-chan," you huffed with your arms now crossed. His walk slows for a second before turning his face away from you. Apparently the way you called him had some effect, though you aren't sure what kind until you look at his ears. You swear they weren't that red before, and you start to feel giddy about it. "Kyo-chan, Kyo-chan, pleeeaaase put me down?" You make your voice sugary sweet. You would've batted your eyes at him too but the fast snap of his head back to you stops your teasing short.

You can only describe the look he throws you as hilariously appalled at your words, but it also confirms they were pretty effective. Neither one to back down, it becomes a staring contest until he speaks first for once.

"Sugishita Kyotaro." An air of finality hangs in the statement of his own name, but as this point you need to press his buttons just a little.

"I prefer Kyo-chan. It's cuter, don't you think?" He looks exasperated as he places you on the lounge's couch gently. Down on his knee in front of you, he grabs your calf to start prodding at your ankle.

"What are you- ow! Don't touch it!" You have to swat his hand away before he lowers your leg grumbling an apology and that saying it's probably sprained. You can feel it now that attention has been drawn to it though. A little red and not completely feeling right, it's almost like it's numb until you try to point a toe out. You cringe at the pain shooting up your calf. No amount of stretching or moving your ankle makes it feel any less painful than the first time, so you finally let it rest.

While you were experimenting with your new injury, Sugishita grabbed a roll of bandages and an ice pack from the kitchen to begin wrapping it. The way he gently takes your shoe off and handles the wrap reminds you of a prince. A silent, grumpy one, but there are so many princes like that in the romance novels that you may or may not have read in the fiction section. Your thoughts start off in a direction you'd do well to cut short but you can't keep a quiet "pretty," from leaving your mouth while you watch him finish up. And he really does look pretty. The sunlight hits him from the windows, lightening his brown eyes just a bit and his serious expression while he's concentrating on wrapping you up is no joke.  "Ah...I meant your hair?" You trail off cursing yourself for saying something like that after teasing him earlier. If it were anyone else you'd expect him to tease you back. You aren't looking at him anymore, until he tries to draw your attention with a grunt. He's turned around, crouched with his back to you.

"Hop on."

"Your back?"

"My back. Hurry up."

"You're going to carry me?" He looks over his shoulder again, with blatant annoyance on his face, and nods. You were wondering how you'd get home, and this seems like one of the few viable options now that you did consider it. Once he stands up, you realize just how tall he really is. Holy Shit. You have to duck with him when he goes through the low doorways of the library, letting Hina know what happened before you both leave and she waves you off.

The walk home is silent mostly due to reveling in the novelty of being taller than usual. Occasionally, you'll point out a stray cat or some flowers climbing up a fence you could only see thanks to the extra few inches. Even though they're met with a hum or grunt, he doesn't seem to be bothered by it.

To Sugishita, you were weren't a bother per se and Umemiya would be pleased to see him helping someone, but he was struck again by the smell of your perfume while he carried you. That, paired with the melody of your voice as you leaned and chatted about the difference in altitude made it hard to concentrate until you said his name.

"Sugishita-san thank you for taking care of me," thanking the stars as well for remembering to tell him while you weren't looking at him fully after calling him pretty minutes prior. He lets out a breath before saying his longest sentence to you yet.

"You can call me whatever you want."

Oh. Oh. He's giving you the green light to call him Kyo-chan again. You were trying to be heartfelt, but he's gotta go and be cute like that? Ears and the back of your neck burn, but you're pleased at the new development. You end up thanking him again, with a regular kyo-chan this time, before hobbling inside your front door wondering when you'd see him at work next.

First thing in the morning though, despite the rain, Sugishita's outside your house with an umbrella telling you to hurry up because he'll end up late for school. It seems he's made it his mission to tote you to both work and school until your ankle is healed. You might just have to fib a little when it starts feeling better to keep the piggyback rides for a while longer.

[someblueninja]

did this meme with my agents because I want to draw them more lol

original below

[ac3may]

" the wag diaries "

How You Met

~ Mary Earps ~

~~~~~~~~~~

meeting Mary came alongside your introductions to all your new teammates when you joined Manchester United

having previously played only in the Championship League there were equal nerves with everyone

just settling into the club was scary enough, you didn’t have time to think about crushes even if you wanted to

one thing you had seen as a little odd though was when you came home and the same car from training was again next to yours

this time at the house next door

the following morning you strode through your front door, keys spinning on your finger

and saw the one and only Mary Earps climbing into that very vehicle in the driveway beside your own

what began with waves and morning greetings quickly progressed into carpooling together, and soon came invites to dinners, movie nights and post-training exploration of Manchester

(disguised as a simple tour guide act, just welcoming you to the city, obviously!)

after three months of shared rides and teasing jibes at each other constantly, came the sudden announcement of lockdown across the country

you were together during the initial announcement

and still a few hours later when it was decided that training would be cancelled for the foreseeable future

quickly it was decided that if you were to get cabin fever, you would rather do it with your new friend by your side

unbeknown to you at the time the world would be shut down a lot longer than expected

you developed a strong routine though, cooking together, training together, taking your daily walk together

Mary talking you out of adopting a dog on every walk you took

there were also the less enjoyable moments

arguably though they were the ones that bonded you more

picking Mary up from where she lay sobbing, questioning her worth and her skill, vowing to help prove it to her

you went online to order a goal for your back garden the moment she fell asleep cuddled into your lap that night

Mary picked you up too

particularly upon finding out your dad’s cancer had made a recurrence and knowing you could easily make it ten times worse if you travelled home

so walking back into training post-lockdown, there was no question of who your best friend was

you could rival Lessi & Tooney with how close you became

there was an obvious improvement in Mary’s goalkeeping following the lockdown

and she only continued to develop as you encouraged her into extra training sessions

benefitting just as much, as a striker yourself

the following year she finally received her well-deserved call-up as Sarina’s number 1

you couldn’t be prouder! sending flowers the second you heard

unfortunately within that year, you had left Manchester and coincidentally lost contact with Mary

you had returned home to care for your siblings when your father's condition had worsened

taking a break from football entirely since the day he passed

but upon receiving your congratulations the older girl took it as an olive branch to reach out

getting in contact she tried to convince you to return, if not to Manchester then at least to football in general 

she was determined to help you to the England team just as you had fulfilled your vow to help her

you were hand-in-hand, knees bouncing anxiously, sat together when her efforts were proved successful 

Mary’s call-up came first, and hours of nervous waiting later, yours followed

it was earlier that morning that you had admitted the more than friendship feelings that had been realised between you since your return to Manchester

having woken up to find yourself sharing your bed again

(you had honestly lost count of how often it happened)

and you had refused to ignore it any longer

pulling her tighter in your grasp rather than slipping away

you soon found yourself spilling it all 

hence beginning a beautiful journey together in both romance and football as you prepared to head to Australia 

~~~~~~~~~~

I hope everyone continues to be as excited as I am about this series!! Big Mary day today🩵

[demons-i-get]

Anyone else ever just-

*makes an au that started out as a really vague idea*

*au starts to form more clearly as you write out the vague idea*

*you think the au is full of sillys*

*au is actually characters experiencing The Horrors with a few sillys thrown in for flavor*

*you are left to stare at your document in horror as you realize the monster that your silly little vague idea has become*

[bunniesandbeheadings]

It’s hard to be a hater against someone who’s been dead for so long. I can’t bully Marie Louise off of twitter. Because of woke. And also because she’s been dead for like, a whole bunch of slutty slutty years.

[wolfavens]

ghost car of barna road

track 2 - slop 1/2

i woke up early and stashed last night's bottle of whiskey into my backpack. the sky was a turbulent cyan, beyond the window of my childhood bedroom. aside from a single suitcase all my things were still in the car. there was no dress change until i brough the boxes in.

but coffe first.

i opened the door on a dark empty staircase, walked the 2 steps toward the creaking stairs, bumped my head on a decorative element, slipped, cussed, got to the kitchen and reached for the kettle just in time for an assault.

someone yelled and barelled towards me.

i threw the kettle at them.

glass and tiny elecrical parts scattered over the floor to my cried. “what the fuck, mom!!! what the actual fuck!!! jesus, for fuck’s sake!!!”

“fiadh?”

“yes!” i yelled, pushing my shaking hands into my hair while sampling the damage. “of course it’s me, who the fuck do you fucking think it could be?!!”

cool and collected my mother lowered the decorative giraffe statue she was armed with and smoothed out her mauve nightgown. “there are break-ins now, you know. dangerous criminal elements. the news said so.”

i glowered at her. “where would the fucking criminal element get the keys?”

“don’t cuss,’ she replied. then, turning to the stairs called up, “it’s fiadh, mark! tell the garda everything is alright, now”

i sighed, lowering my face into my palms while she stashed away her girrafe and enveloped me in a tight hug. her body felt warm and small. she used to be so much taller than me. she used to be taller than the world.

i pulled away, attempting a smile that felt short. “coffe?”

“oh, i’m afraid the kettle is busted.”

“i can use a top,” I proposed, opening a cupboard and looking in. i wondered where, among all this colourful junk, will i ever be able to stash my earless prague mug.

my mom pursed her lips. “well… they have kettles at lidl this week.”

i stopped and pulled my head back to look at her. if her face was any indication she was not fucking joking. “it’s quite early and…”

“they open in 4 minutes.”

“are you seriou…”

“yes, now that i think about it there is this one cyan option i've had my eye on…”

“mom, i didn’t have my coffee yet and this is just…”

“yes, baby,” she said in a very calming voice, pointing at a supermarket ad, ‘that is why we need the kettle, see? oh, and while you’re there maybe grab some eggs and rolls? i’ll make us a nice omellete.”