#ray remark

[dizzyhslightlyvoided]

Character Concept: Ellen and Danielle/Nelle

Okay, quick summary, just taking the concept of "my high school self-insert OC Yar Kramer updated as a trans lesbian": two transbians for the price of one. Rambly, just getting this thing out there

Ellen Kramer: Black disheveled hair around shoulder-length, brown or blue eyes, possibly glasses. Likes to wear a red jacket, a black shirt, and blue jeans with a skirt over them. Her heroic name is probably "Stopwatch" or some such, if this is a setting where people have those. Personality is basically Sonic the Hedgehog but add a bunch of trans stuff and anxiety. Has some kind of psychic powers or superpowers, probably. Whatever setting-specific thing. Usually super-speed, but this might turn out to be an expression of time-space manipulation if that's allowed in a particular continuity(/RP setting); in those cases, when she gets really good at it, she can stop time and probably teleport, but also there may be some setting-specific contrivance so that neither one is a win-button. Like, especially if she's inserted into an existing setting that already has other heroes with similar powers, I mean, she's probably not going to be as good as, say, Sonic the Hedgehog at being fast, or as Sakuya Izayoi at time-manipulation. Also, if she becomes sufficiently isolated, or other factors come into play that outright prevent her from being heroic, there's a possibility that she becomes "Villain Kramer", a truculent jerk who is full-tilt, well, villainous, but "there's no throne" for her -- while she is allowed to win from time to time, she never ultimately gets what she wants in a satisfactory manner even when she does nominally win, as in, she can't positively answer questions like "Was it all worth it?" or "Did you get what you really wanted?", kind of thing. Unless she ends up wanting redemption, and even then it goes off the rails from precisely what she expected. Basically, Villain Kramer either dies unhappy or lives long enough to see herself become a hero, because, like ... "being a hero" is pretty much Ellen's whole deal.

Nelle Remark/Danielle Lancaster: Ellen's rival/nemesis/evil twin. If she's some sort of artificial being created specifically to oppose Ellen, or she's just going that far to imitate Ellen, her name is "Nelle Remark"; otherwise, she's "Danielle Lancaster". The edgy high school self-insert OC, though I was no good whasoever at being edgy in my teenage years, so Danielle doesn't have to be any good at it either and doesn't even go anywhere near Hot Topic. Brown hair (longer than Ellen), brown or red eyes, more likely to have glasses than Ellen if she's not artificial, dresses in blues and grays, less human than Ellen on average. Nom de guerre may be something like "Watchstopper". Similar personality, but more cynical at best. Her deal is that she really loves being Ellen's rival/nemesis. Like, imagine if Shadow the Hedgehog smiled all the time and his rivalry with Sonic was his number one priority, and you're in the right ballpark. Invariably some kind of homoerotic tension, outside of things where they're Actual Girlfriends. Has functionally similar abilities to Ellen; nominally, whatever differences they have cancel out such that they're on equal terms, unless it's a better story if one or the other is stronger. As a villain, unlike Villain Kramer, she is much more successful at what she does in general; where Villain Kramer is a study in the downside of a "yes" answer to "Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you just want to go apeshit?", Nelle Remark is making that actually work. She can probably also get a redemption arc herself, though.

(One day, I joined an IRC channel with "Yar_Kramer" or some such as my username; someone promptly pointed out that "Yar Kramer" backwards is "Remark Ray", and the concept of an evil twin-or-at-least-rival named "Ray Remark" wrote itself. I actually chose the name "Ellen" specifically to make it reversable to get "Nelle". Meanwhile in one unfinished and barely-begun story, "Yar Kramer" was the character's witness-protection alias, and "Daniel Lancaster" was his original name.)

What am I actually going to do with these character concepts? Excellent question! Anyway.

These characters are licensed under CC BY 4.0

[luvfy0dor]

incest and pedophilia isn't sexy

[the-rad-machine]

Nah cause I was literally thinking a couple of days ago “gee wouldn’t it be funny if Gerard saw the results of the election and considered it a 9/11 part 2 and just called up the band like ‘y’all we gotta drop this shit NOW’”

BUT I BRUSHED THAT THOUGHT OFF BECAUSE HOW SILLY WOULD THAT BE RIGHT?

HOW SILLY!!!!!

[cookinguptales]

the horrors truly do keep horroring but at least I have pumpkin whipped cream for my coffee now

little wins

[anintelligentoctopus]

A paper bag!!

[invinciblerodent]

I've been thinking about how the Amell Warden and Hawke are related, and that house Trevelyan is technically distantly related to house Pavus, with a number of distant relations spread all across Thedas (Phillam, Lord Albrecht, Lady Osher...), and now I can't shake this feeling that I really, really want house Trevelyan to also be related to whatever the human Rook's last name is going to wind up being.

It just really tickles me to imagine my Inquisitor shrugging, like "Yeah, their family and us Trevelyans have about as much to do with one another as the Pavus and the Trevelyans. Or the Couslands and the Trevelyans. Or the Bayarts and the Trevelyans. The De Ghislain and the Trevelyans. Us Trevelyans have had fingers in a lot of metaphorical pies, so to speak."

(and then Dorian can have a cute moment, and say a little quip about how he's not surprised that his amatus comes from a long and prestigious line of heartbreakers, heyoooo)

[evilhorse]

Yes…remarkable!

(Power of the Atom #8)

[anadorablekiwi]

Brain malfunctioning

Thoughts broken

Anxiety constant

Trigger unknown

Solution also unknown

[voxiiferous]

Atheism, Progressive Politics, NYU, Greenwich Village, and the Whole "Being Gay" Thing

Does this seem like a lot of topics for one hc??? Then you would be right but they all relate in fun and interesting ways!

Vox's mother was religious, and as a result, as a small child he was brought to the little community church each week. He didn't pay much attention to what was being said, and mostly used the time to read the Bible shoved in the back of the pews in front. Not because he particularly wanted to read it, but because his mother wouldn't let him bring any books, and he wanted to practice reading.

This changed when he was eight, when he started to actually listen to what was being said. He came to several realizations all rather simultaneously: he liked men, that wasn't allowed (or else he's have seen it), and that the whole idea behind God and the church seemed a lot like the fairy stories his mother told him, and thus, was not to be taken seriously.

His mother didn't particularly like this, but Vox was a stubborn child, and preferred staying home working on his little projects and reading his books. (His mother lost the argument when it came to getting him to go to Church, save for holy days and holidays).

This young break from the church was the start of his more progressive ideas about the world, but it wouldn't be until university when those would come into sharper focus.

Vox left Pennsylvania, and didn't look back in 1933, when he began attending NYU. Even now, when he thinks back to the time, it is as the buildings dominating the area around Washington Square Park; as much a part of the city as the restaurants and clubs that surrounded it, and himself of one of a nameless fifty-thousand other students.

He lived in the dorms, which only further ensconced him in New York, as compared to something like Columbia on the other side of Manhattan which was comparatively insular. NYU is located in Greenwich Village, a part of the city known for being quite liberal, even for New York, haven to the arts and in many cases, many minorities.

And it was here that he first began to consider his politics in a much more concrete way.

Perhaps, had he lived there as other denizen of Greenwich Village, he might have turned out a very different person, but the problem with being a student, first and foremost, was knowing that if NYU found out he was gay, there was a not insignificant chance of being expelled. He'd heard of other schools that were, or that had, purged large number of their gay students, and academia, like show-business is full of people who would give him up if it would advance them.

Vox's problem with his own sexuality has never come as a result of internalized homophobia-- no, the problem was a simple fear of consequences that only became more entrenched and dangerous as time went on, and he became more public.

But, his own sexuality aside, he saw a lot of things that would have been unthinkable in small-town Pennsylvania. He lived, for a while, approximately a ten minute walk from the Cafe Society-- America's first, and for a long time, only de-segregated club. It was close to NYU, especially when compared to some of the famous locations like the Cotton Club, which were on the other side of Manhattan up in Harlem.

While after he graduated, he moved out of the dorms in Greenwich Village to mid-town Manhattan, the experiences of it permanently shaped a lot of his thoughts and opinions.

[dinosaurwithablog]

Whoa!! Look at them go!!! 😍

[transkingcobra]

Hm

[skyrigel]

Simon who's known for his dry sarcasm and bland remarks, it doesn't matter what one says to him. It's his natural instinct at this point — to jab back or give a solid burn.

So it happened like this, he was injured after one of the mission, minor wounds, one misplaced bone from wrong landing, but it was the hollow eyed look, the roughed up and neglected state that made you double take over the lieutenant.

“Oh god,” you muttered under your breath, pressing the syringe up in air to check its ejection, “You look terrible !”

The last part was directed on him. Simon whose eyes were pinned on your back moved ever so slightly when you turned around.

“So do you.” He said like the words were placed on his mouth tip and were uttered as soon as his lips parted.

The statement wasn't wrong entirely, there has been shortage on staff and so it's only you and a handful of other nurses over the double hour shifts.

You glanced back at him, regarding, and assessed the minor wounds and some of which were not at all minor whatever the Lieutenant Riley had insisted on to the poor Doctor who was very happy leave him at that and assign the rest to you, a count of stiches and tablets and x-ray sheet rolled through your mind, unaware of the way Simon was biting his lips and looking very alerted. Like he was practicing something in his head.

“I didn't mean it.” He said quietly.

“mmm” You sat beside him, looking for the certain nerve and angling the syringe carefully over the pale wrist.

“I didn't mean it,” Simon said again, all hesitancy gone now replaced with a blazing edge, dragging his gaze along with you.

You could've laughed upon the urgency he said it with, the desperation came off in supersonic waves.

“I know, Simon.” You smiled kindly to his sincerest eyes. The sharp tip penetrating under his skin and emptying transparent vitals into his body.

“I think yer very gorgeous.” He blurted out and was torn between looking away or never letting go, at last he lowered his eyes where you applied little pressure oved his hand to redirect the circulation.

You pressed the gauze with eyes only on him, a sweet shy smile blooming across your exhausted face. “alright, rest now.”

And he did just as he was told. Probably the first time ever.

The last time he'd said, “I would rather rest in peace, than here.” And the doctor who had just dropped the bullet back on grey tray was horrified enough to ask whereabouts of the anthesia guy ASAP.

So if a certain nurse happened to smile throughout the thirteen hour shift, and if a certain soldier was thinking of ways he could end up in medical infirmary again. Then it was purely coincidence.

Masterlist

[plethorawrites]

Jason Todd has a praise kink. End of discussion.

But the funny part is, he doesn't realize it until you actually do it. It's so strange to him, hearing you compliment him. No one had ever done that before. At least not in the same way.

Sure, he'd get a compliment here and there for not letting some rogue get away or making a good shot. But you, straddling his abs while he lays in bed, calling him exquisite...?

It's like his brain malfunctions for a second, confused and wondering if you said it by accident or as a joke. But you didn't. Your compliments kept flowing, all night. Not the basic, generic ones either. You'd never be so redundant as to reduce him to surface value remarks that everyone else could make.

You'd tell him eyes were like emeralds, say if you were to die he'd be the one to revive you, never let him forget that he looks like he was sculpted like a Greek God. His brain was fuzzy, his lips pulling into an embarrassingly large smile that he didn't even care about because it just felt so good to hear someone appreciate him.

He was sure you could tell and he'd deny it until the end of time, but there was something so pleasant about having the person he loved most in the world hold him in the same esteem as he held you.

He was you'd ever need to live, not sunlight or water or air. He felt better than air in your lungs, more thirst quenching than any cup of water, warmer than the rays the sun could provide on the hottest day of summer.

And you told him so.

His ego grew, he'd admit. He loved hearing your words, your praise. It gave him goosebumps and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. And he'd never really be able to properly express just how much deep, unfathomable sincerity he had your words. He suppressed his desire for commitment and emotional attachment for so long, he almost convinced himself he didn't need it or want.

But he did.

He needed it so damn badly. He wanted it and craved it. Especially from you.

[betterbooksandthings]

"Searching for the best romance book series to devour can be a difficult task. There are so many authors with deep catalogs. You want to be sure you are starting a series that will deliver each time. Luckily, I’ve done all the hard work for you. Here are 25 of the best romance book series for you to read immediately.

As a bit of background, romance takes an interconnecting universe approach to book series. While there are plenty of standalone romance books, many authors write series where each book focuses on a different couple. Sometimes the books go through a family until each member has a partner. Other times the books jump through a friend group or workplace. Nevertheless, romance trains readers to find the background characters in an initial book that they ship in a featured book. These webs of love support romance readers who like inhabiting familiar worlds. I, for one, enjoy the ability to get to know characters from prior books even better."

[reyalvr]

RUMORS!

I KNOW YOU HEARD THE RUMORS, YOU MUST GET OVER TO IT RIGHT AWAY!

synopsis ┊ ken sato- a remarkable name in the world of modern baseball- has graced japan with not only his presence, but also his skills as a key player for the yomiuri giants. from press conferences to media endorsements, it’s clear that his stardom has only intensified from his recent move. but what happens when you, his personal assistant, are left to deal with some more… serious rumors?

genre ┊ chaotic fluff, oneshot

pairing ┊ ken sato x gn-PA!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, ami is not the reporter depicted!

word count ┊ 2.2k

author’s note ┊ hiya! i recently found time to watch ultraman: rising and this fic was just writing itself in my head hehe… happy reading! (p.s. yes… the title was inspired from the new minions song)

THREE MONTHS. That was how long you had known baseball’s darling, Ken Sato. And in those three months, you had undergone every single PR nightmare you had ever conjured up in your mind prior to pursuing your career. You had worked with celebrities before- doing God knows what ‘til the waking hour on their every beck and call. But Ken, despite presenting himself as a laid back man, was an entirely new… experience. 

From the Kaiju attack at his first game under the Giants, to the continuous streak of losses throughout the first half of the season, it seemed like the Gods were against you as you did your damndest to handle the damage control on his reputation. His ego didn’t aid you either- having to spin and twist multiple incidents to get reporters and media outlets off his back. You weren’t exactly sure what it was that kept you from quitting all in all, but the longer you worked under him, the thinner your thread seemed to snap. 

You huffed an annoyed sigh into the cold air, picking up the pace as you jogged along the designated path by the bay. Your days off were scarce- not because of Ken’s schedule, but because of your own decision to be up to date with his spontaneous actions. Despite the rarity of solitude, you always managed to savor your time off. The music played at a mellow volume in your ears, the morning sun starting to warm your surroundings as you watched its rays splash hues of orange across the sky. 

Your felt your watch beep against your skin, signaling the end of your morning run. Pausing by the railing, you leaned against the old metal bars as you checked your stats. You swiped absent-mindedly on the screen of your smartwatch, scrolling once you were sure that everything was in order. There was one thing that caught your eye, though, as you noticed the red notification bubbles on your message app were continuously going up. It was odd, yes, but not odd enough to be out of the ordinary- at least in your line of work. 

Deciding not to bombard yourself this early in the morning, you opted to give everything a once-over once you made it back to your apartment. Whatever it was could wait- you were on your time and your pace. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad. Could it now?

IT DEFINITELY COULD, AND IT DEFINITELY WAS. You pushed on the gas as hard as you could, your tongue poking into your cheek as you continued to drive to Ken’s house. Of all the days that he decided to make perhaps the stupidest decision in his career, he chose today. Doing your best not to see red, you dialed his phone once more. The ringing played throughout your car as you maneuvered through the roads, and you swore for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning when you heard the tone of his voice message. 

Hey, it’s Ken. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll be more than happy to ignore it! Said his usual arrogant tone playing before the generic beep. You gripped the steering wheel harder, huffing angrily as you sharply turned a corner. 

“Kenji Sato answer your goddamn phone right now! I’m ten minutes away from your house and when I get there, I better not be greeted with your supposed secret love child!” You yelled, pushing the red button once you finished your message. 

Ah yes. The centerpoint of your current rage: Ken’s “leaked” one-on-one with a reporter about juggling baseball and his homelife. Someone on Ken’s staff had sent the article in your shared work group chat, and nearly all of his personnel had directly messaged you about the issue. It was inevitable for celebrities to get into a scandal once or twice, but one on this level would not be an easy fit to overcome. 

You don’t exactly remember what you were doing prior to receiving the messages- all you knew was that you needed to get to Ken as soon as possible. Of course it just be a misunderstanding, hell it could even be a hoax! But knowing Kenji, anything could be possible. You neared the hill of his private property, driving past the gates as the security recognized your car.

You parked haphazardly at the front of his house, your feet stomping into the gravel as you made your way to his front door. His estate had numerous smart tech installed throughout his home, so you knew that each and every one of your moves were either being recorded or observed. You crouched slightly to be in frame with the doorbell’s camera, your anger slightly toned down.

“Ken.” You paused to narrow your eyes. “Open the door.”

For the next minute and a half you swore you could hear some sort of clash and bang from inside the house. You kept your arms crossed, raising your eyebrow from time to time when the clashing seemed to grow louder. After what felt like an eternity, the front door opened slightly. Not all the way, but just enough for Ken to peek out and smile at you- albeit nervously cocky.

The nerve.

“Hey, [Y/N]! What uh- what are you doing here?” He manages to cough out, roughly combing a hand through his hair. “I thought it was your day o-”

“Save it.” You reply, your gaze sharp enough to slice through whatever excuse he had at the ready. You held up your phone then, the article’s headline prominently bolded:

OUT OF LEFT FIELD: Ken Sato Strikeout? Nope! Love Child Home Run!

Ken’s head bent down to get a good look at what you were showing him, and you watched carefully as his eyes scanned over the article not once, but thrice. You let out an impatient hum, your mouth forming into a slight scowl as the both of you stood in silence. With your head tilted to the side, you dropped your hand back down and crossed your arms. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to start explaining to me what the hell you’ve been up to these past twenty-four hours?” You question, moving past him as you enter the house. 

Usually you would wait for Ken to let you in, but stalling would only hinder you from coming up with what to do next. The article had already been up for two hours, and you halted any statements from being made before you could get an explanation from Ken himself. He quickly tailed after you, nearly stumbling over himself as you stopped at his kitchen. You gripped the marble countertop, closing your eyes momentarily before you turned to face him once more. 

“[Y/N] I swear, it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Ken says as he tries to add reassurance to his tone, but it doesn't mask the lingering tinge of falsehood.

“Oh, really?” You say, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Because in the span of two hours I have had thirty news outlets blowing up my- your management team for a response!”

He opens his mouth to speak, but stops again midway when you continue. “The headline I showed you was local. I want you to tell me exactly how and why you were on the phone with a reporter talking about your private life at God knows what hour. Now.”

You can see him swallow, licking his lips after as he tries to form the right words. He blinks a bit before pinching the bridge of his nose, tilting his head up as he lets out a deep sigh. When he opens his eyes he’s still greeted with your restive stance. Still he remains slightly hesitant, but he does end up recalling the remnants of his conversation with a reporter he had met at one of the parties he attended. Ken goes on to explain that he had only seeked out advice. His schedule, his personal life- he needed an outlet. You can feel yourself slowly untense, though you continued to listen to make sure all your facts were straight.

When he finishes his retelling, he puts his hands up slightly- as if he were trying to put you at ease. “I swear, that’s all I said. I thought,” He pauses, his brows furrowing in a way that made you slightly mad at yourself from blowing up at him. “I just thought I could have a normal conversation for once. ‘Guess I was wrong.”

The warm lights cast a sombre shadow on his features, and from this angle you notice the worn out expression painted on his face. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual, not to mention the fading bruises from his latest altercation with one of players from his opposing team. In front of you was not Ken Sato, this was Kenji; Simply a man who was thrust into a new life without the needed support. 

“Well, no shit.” You say, finally breaking the silence, you fix your posture against the counter as you tone down the anger in your voice. “Jesus Ken, sometimes I wonder how you were able to maintain your career before me.”

At that he lets out a soft laugh, his dull expression slowly fading. “Yeah, I do too.”

You give him a puzzled look before you reply. “Are you mocking me?”

“No! No, I was being serious.” He says, his smile dropping slightly. “I know I haven’t been an easy task, hell you’re here on your day off for Christ’s sake.” 

You hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly as you push yourself off the counter with another awkward cough. In all ninety days of working under Ken Sato, never has the man gotten this sentimental with you. You decide not to linger on his words, your attention going back to the problem at hand. 

“Right, well,” You sigh, whipping your phone out in the process. “I need you to give me the name of that reporter. I’ll get the legal team to draft an NDA breach.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows then, looking at you as if you’d said something odd. “I didn’t make him sign an NDA though?”

You only give him a smile, a hint of confidence plastered on your lips. “I know. I have my ways, Sato.”

“You’re a pretty good assistant, then.” He replies, the corners of his lips going up slightly as he keeps his arms crossed. 

“I’m an excellent assistant.” You correct without looking at him, your fingers tapping away at your phone as you prepare the next steps of your plan. 

Ken can only chuckle in agreement, tapping his fingers on his forearm as he awaits your next set of instructions. Within the next twenty minutes you’ve sent out the necessary details to your team, your legs kicking as you sit on one of his bar stools. He’s stood across from you, leaning on the countertop looking at you intently as you explain the response plan. 

“And lastly,” You say, sliding out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

 His head tilts, the same confused expression on his face. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Your hand curls, motioning for him to hand his phone over. “No, I am not installing a monitor.” You add when you see his mouth open to interrogate you. 

He slides his phone over with a defeated huff, and you open a new contact page on his contacts. “If you need to talk, do it with someone who won’t leak your shit.” You say, sliding back his phone when all your details are settled.

“I have your number though, don’t I?” Ken questions, looking over at the number you inputted. 

“You had my work number. Now you have my personal phone.” You point your finger at him before continuing. “Don’t abuse it. I’m still your assistant.” “Wasn’t gonna, sweetheart.” He says, an amused smirk mixing in with his addled look. 

You quirk your eyebrow at the nickname. You shake your head, hopping off the stool as you make your way back to the front door. Ken follows behind you, hands in his pockets as he watches you leave. Before you can open the door though, you look back at him one last time. 

“I mean it, Ken.” You say, making sure it gets through his head. “You have a problem, tell me. You need a solution, you tell me.”

“I know, I know.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the door. “Go enjoy the rest of your day off before I start thinking you care about me.”

“I do. It’s my job to care about you, Ken.” You reply, giving him a look before you open the door. “Whether you like it or not, I’m your lifeline. At least until you get rid of me, which won’t be happening for a good while.”

“Oh yeah?” He jests, his cocky demeanor slowly coming back. “‘You so sure about that?”

“Extremely sure.” You’re standing outside now, slowly walking backwards. “Twenty minutes ago people thought you had a secret love child and that you were a terrible father. Now you’re back on the face of KFC as baseball’s darling.” 

He’s taken aback. Was he actually booted off of his collaborations? He hastily checked his phone, scrolling through all his platforms. To his surprise, he was greeted with… his usual feeds. No sight of the article, no lingering gossip. His ads had doubled, his partnerships boosted on the products he had endorsed. He looked back up to say something, but you had already started your car. You backed out his estate, giving him a smile through the tinted glass of your windshield. 

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. You were right. But who was he kidding?

You always were.

[pitchsidestories]

She's a keeper II Mary Earps x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1322

summary: you slip into your girlfriend's gloves in training, unaware that during an England game, fun becomes serious.

author's note: hi everyone, we hope you enjoy the little story we came up with. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

It was still winter, but there was a hint of spring in the air as the England team prepared for the next Nations League games. Everyone enjoyed the sun's rays on their skin and the warmer temperatures.

Done with your exercises for the day, you looked for something fun to do, watching your girlfriend being in goal you suddenly had an idea what you could do.

“Let me try it.”, you exclaimed thrilled.

Amused, Mary raised her eyebrows: “Seriously?”

“Yes, you heard me, love.”, you confirmed grinning.

The goalkeeper handed you, her gloves slowly: “Okay, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not as clumsy as Lessi.”, you assured your girlfriend.

She snorted unconvinced: “We’ll see.”

“What, are you doing in goal?”, Beth laughed, clearly entertained by the sight of you in your lover’s position.

“Seeing the game through Mary’s eyes.”, you explained.

With a slight smile on her lips Lucy braced her hands on her hips before resolutely reaching for the ball: “Let’s see how good you’re.”

“Not too bad for the first try, darling.”, Mary cheered on you.

Panting, you clutched the ball tightly:” Not bad? Do you know how hard she shoots?”

“Only all too well.”, the goalkeeper chuckled.

Beth gently pushed your girlfriend aside so that she could shoot herself:” My turn!”

“I'm ready”, you announced with a nod, resting your hands on your thighs while you waited for the moment the ball flew through the air.

The Arsenal striker happily threw her arms up in the air.: “Goal!”

“That wasn’t fair. Let’s try again.”, you decided.

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled cheerfully: “Okay.”

It gave you a certain satisfaction that you were able to fend off the next goal attempt. “And that’s a save.”, you rejoiced.  

Beth whistled appreciatively: “Damn, she’s good.”

Delighted, Mary turned her head around to look into the England’s head coach eyes who had observed the whole scene quietly: “Sarina, you should consider my girl for a situation in which we need a field player in goal.”

“I hope that’s a problem that we’ll never have.”, Sarina sighed.

In a more serious tone, the Paris St. Germain player replied: “Same.”

“But it’s good to know.”, the Dutch woman remarked.

Watching you land awkwardly on the ground, Mary rushed to you with a worried look on her face:” Ouch, love, you’re good? I think that was enough goal keeping for the day.”

“No, I’m good.”, you waved it off as you got back on to your feet.

Relief spread through Mary’s heart:” Come here.”

She hugged you facilitated and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead, not caring that you two were still surrounded by your teammates and not alone.

“I enjoyed being you for a bit.”, you beamed at her.

“And I liked the look of you with my gloves on.”, Mary winked at you, kissing you once more.

“Oi, get a room you two!”, Ella called from the other side of the field and grimaced in disgust.

You shrugged and pointed to your girlfriend: “She didn’t want to share with me! She’s rooming with Millie!”

The blond defender immediately joined the conversation, her eyebrows raised with a knowing look on her face: “Mary, do you read our room tonight?”

With her arm around your waist, Mary shook her head: “No, we’re professionals. We don’t have to be glues together all the time.”

“Exactly.”, you nodded. As much as you two enjoyed spending time alone as couple, you also liked to use the England camps as time to bond with your teammates.

Millie shrugged, seemingly disappointed in the two of you: “Fine then.”

You turned to your girlfriend, both of you stifling a laugh before you shared one last kiss and went back to training.

The scenes from that training session played in your head as you watched Mary go down in your next Nations League game. It was the 82nd minute and the referee had stopped the game so the physios could tend to Marys injury. She was sitting on the ground, holding her arm. A million thoughts rushed through your head while you walked towards her.

“I don’t think I can continue… But we ran out of subs.”, you heard her say to the physios, her voice straining with pain. You knew she would push through if she was asked too.

More and more of your teammates crowded around her, discussing what to do next.

You shook your head and silently cursed Mary for accidentally predicting this situation in that training session.

“I’ll do it.”, you suddenly blurted out without wasting another thought on it.

You could feel all of your teammates eyes on you.

“You’re sure? Maybe I can try to keep going?”, Mary suggested but the sweat pearls on her forehead and her clenched jaw already told you in how much pain she actually was.

You nodded determinedly and held your hands out for her gloves: “It’s only ten minutes left. And I learned from the best.”

Reluctantly and with a bit of struggle, she pulled the gloves off and handed them to you: “Okay. Good luck, babe.”

“Thanks.”

Another goalkeeper jersey with your girlfriend’s name was procured from somewhere. It was little bit too big for you when you slipped in.

While Mary was escorted off the pitch, you put her gloves on and took a deep breath.

You looked over to the bench and met Sarinas’s gaze. She gave you a small encouraging nod.

Lucy appeared on your side and patted your shoulder: “Don’t worry, we’ll have your back.”

“I trust you. You better not let any ball through.”, you warned them half-jokingly, but the joke seemed to get lost in the severity of the situation.

With a serious look on her face, Leah patted your shoulder encouragingly: “You can count on us.”

“Let’s do this.”, you clapped into your hands, trying to appear more confident than you felt which was one of the things you had learned from your girlfriend, fake it until you make it. Because goalkeeping was an act, and the pitch was its designated stage.  

Suddenly the opponent striker was right in front of you, instinctively you raised your hands to stop the ball from getting into the net.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as Millie hugged you, relief evident in her voice: “Oh, what a save, well done.”

“That was close.”, you muttered still shocked that you indeed prevented the goal with gloves on your hands.

Leah’s hands were on your cheeks, lips pressed to your forehead:” Yes, but you did it.”

When the referee officially ended the game, the exhaustion hit you with full force. Mary who immediately walked to you wrapped her strong arms around you, smiling proudly at you. “You were so good.”, she chirmed.

Happily, you replied: “Thank you. How do you do it though? I feel like I’m dying right now.”

 “You get used to it.”, your girlfriend shrugged.

With a glance at her bandaged arm, the smile disappeared from your face:” But more important, how are you?”

“I’m okay. It’s probably not too bad.”, Mary reassured you.

The grin returned to your lips: “That’s good.”

 “So don’t worry. You won’t have to be goalie for longer.”, the goalkeeper lovingly tousled your hair.

You began to blush: “I’m just glad you’re okay, it looked so scary when you got down.”

“Unlike me. I wasn’t scared. Not with that back-up.”, she winked.

“Not even a second?”, you sounded surprised.

Mary shook her head:” No.”

“Uhm, Millie? You might need to swap rooms for tonight.”, you turned to the defender.

The blonde pretended to think about your suggestion before she gave in with a smirk:” You know what? You deserve it tonight.”

A comforting warmth spread in your chest, you could always count on your team and your girlfriend, Mary was a keeper on and off the pitch, you wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.