early but whatever

inflated ego

chris spent a lot of time preparing for the match against spencer’s hashtag fc, just like he did for all of the charity and wembley matches as well. for several weeks his daily schedule consisted of waking up early to finish whatever editing needed, eat dinner, and then head off to the gym late to work-out. it crunched a lot of time with you, but you understood why he did so; so he could be in the best shape possible.

he mainly worked out his legs, for obvious reasons, but also tried to work out his arms as much as possible. when he hit the gym regularly, he worked out on his arms quite a lot, but he slacked off in the recent weeks. 

“you see these arms?” chris asked, flexing in the kit when everyone around him on the side of the pitch poked fun at his biceps, and you didn’t help with the story of him flaking on the arm-routine.

everyone looked at his arms for a second, noticing the lightly toned muscles and chris nodded cockily, licking his lips. “wii sports resort, that’s right.” 

5

I’ll definitely become a hero and make money and let my parents take it easy - mature smol ochako (please protect her) (ノД`)・゜・。

the best part in the devil is a part timer is when lucifer goes from being badass antagonist to freeloading shut-in in like two seconds

what she says: i’m fine

what she means: in the year 2016, the chicago cubs, after a 108 year long drought, won the world series in one of the greatest game sevens in the history of the united states. after being down 3 games to 1, the chicago cubs came back to win game five, and then game six with a whopping 9 runs to 3, thanks in part to a historic grand slam by addison russel in the top of the third. finally reaching the tie-breaking, nail-biting, long-awaited game seven, the cubs took an early lead with a home run from dexter fowler on the fourth pitch of the game. not only was this the first ever leadoff home run in the 7th game of a world series, but dexter fowler was also the first black cubs player to play in a world series. during the majority of the game, the cubs maintained a solid lead until the eighth inning, when, much to the dismay of cubs fans all over the world, indians’ rajai davis hit a tying two run home run against aroldis chapman. suspecting the dreaded curse had returned, many cubs fans at this time were at a loss for words, preparing themselves for the all too familiar feeling of crushing defeat. however, a seventeen minute rain delay, perhaps heralded by The Baseball Gods themselves, gave the cubs a chance to regroup and take the lead in the 10th inning after an MVP winning double by ben zobrist and another single thanks to miguel montero. finally, in the bottom of the 10th, kris bryant, arguably the most handsome baseball player, made the last out, expertly fielding a ground ball to third-base and throwing true (even after slipping a little) to his boyfriend, anthony rizzo. the cubs beat the indians 8 to 7. previously, only five teams had ever won the world series after being down 3 games to 1 in the history of baseball (the first world series being in 1903), and the chicago cubs are now the 6th. 

6

happy belated valentine’s!

[this is a scheduled post]
@misawaday

I’ve been so forgetful lately 

(that explains the grays I found between my dark hair or maybe I am just forgetting it on purpose?)

so distracted, filled with distraction in my chest, lungs and stomach

(and I’m not fertile enough to grow these copious amounts of  butterflies)

yet here I am. 

Fridays, I whinge. Where I work more than I get paid. Charity, it feels like it! Then Saturday, another whinge. The only two days in my life that made me look like a whinging pom.

Another two days in my life that on the other hand kind of “an okay day” to reach almost 20 thousand steps each day, made easy. 

Now, about forgetfulness, I forgot.

Oh wait, yes - distraction. Which makes me forget that I need to get off now and get ready. It’s almost 5.30am - I don’t actually start until 7am. But yes, I’m just an early riser and late setter. I like to be at work, before anyone else (that is also because I’m the supervisor for these two days). 

Besides that, I like the peace and quiet of the hotel/serviced apartments itself.

There is something about ghost-like corridor/s that makes me feel hauntingly peaceful. 

Anyways, this is me whinging. 

Thank you for listening or reading (I’m assuming if you are reading it out loud, you are also listening to it? or just read lol) 

and have a good one! ^_^

just your heart beating close to mine

for nurseydex week, day 2 - bed sharing

Nursey’s a clingy drunk.

Freshman year, Dex hated it. He and Nursey spend all their sober time bickering; fighting nonstop about everything from politics to slapshot form to whether ketchup belongs on scrambled eggs (Dex will never fucking admit it, but he’s actually started to find it delicious; Nursey can never know). But the second Nursey slips over the line from tipsy to drunk, he’s Dex’s best friend–hanging off Dex’s shoulders, draping his feet into Dex’s lap, hell, draping himself into Dex’s lap, two hundred pounds and then some of languid muscle. He’s sweet when he’s drunk, his chirps soft and fond instead of scathing, and his fingertips are gentle when they wander over Dex’s skin, dipping under the collar of his t-shirt, brushing against the short hair at the nape of his neck.

And Dex hated it, because morning would come, and hungover Nursey is clingy too but not in the same way, and they were always back to sharpness, and Dex would have to pretend he didn’t get home from those kegsters and throw himself into very, very cold showers.

Sophomore year, it’s a little better. They’re friends more often than they’re not, but on the flip side, that means the rest of the team actually trusts Dex to be on Nursey Patrol (“If you don’t want to kill him all the time, we can probably trust you to make sure he doesn’t drink himself into a coma,” Bitty said cheerfully the first time, shoved Nursey, already tipsy, towards him, and disappeared onto the dance floor with a solo cup in his hand).

Except Nursey Patrol, he learns, doesn’t end with the kegster. No, Nursey Patrol ends with Nursey safe in his bed, at least out of his shoes but ideally in something comfortable enough to sleep in, after a cup or two of water and two tabs of Aspirin, his phone plugged in and the door to his room locked.

(Dex does not want to know the series of events that led to this level of Patrol being in place. If he thinks about it too hard, his chest starts to hurt, and he doesn’t wanna deal with that.)

But–

“Dexy,” Nursey says, as Dex manhandles him down to his bed and then flops down next to him, hauling Nursey’s foot into his lap to start on his shoelaces, because Three Cups of Tub Juice Derek Nurse is not a Derek Nurse who has the coordination for tasks involving dexterity. Dex had said that, once, and Nursey had said “ha, Dexterity,” and giggled for ten minutes. “Dex, will you stay with me?”

(read the rest on AO3, or read more below)

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