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soft-girl-musings · 4 months

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Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)

Marc Spector x Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n

wc: 1,356

fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.

A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)

_____________________

The first time came out of nowhere.

Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.

“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.

Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms.

Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.

So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.

“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.

“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”

This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.

___________________

The second time was in the emergency room.

You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.

“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”

“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.

But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.

“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.

Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other.

“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”

When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.

_____________________

“.....The movie just started.”

(The third time was on the living room couch.)

You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.

“They haven't said anything.”

“They're saying everything.”

“He's dancing on a car.”

“Because he's excited!”

“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”

You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.

When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”

Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.

He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.

The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.

_____________________

As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt.

It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.

You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.

You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.

The first time came out of nowhere.

“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.

“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm. “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath.

You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.

Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.

_____________________

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)

#moon knight #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x gn!reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector/reader #marc spector/gn!reader #my works #mk spring bingo 2024 #moonknightevents #youtube link

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gavisuntiedboot · 1 year

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Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi #fc barca #footballer #imagine #barca #gavi x you #footballer imagine

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aziraphales-library · 6 months

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Hi!! Do you have any good streamer AU recs? I'm a sucker for a good streamer AU. Preferably one where Crowley and Beelzebub are friends. Thank you!!

We have youtuber fics here on our #social media tag, so check those out. Here are a few more...

Of Love and Loss (RIP Ms Beakman) by lucky_spike (T)

Crowley is a little bored now that he is no longer on Hell's payroll. He finds something else to do. Aziraphale is supportive.

My Love to Keep Me Warm by slateblueflowers (T)

The January after the apocalypse doesn't happen, Aziraphale and Crowley get a little restless and decide to challenge each other to a contest: who can take the other on the best human (winter-time) date? To the victor go the bragging rights! Watch the dates on Aziraphale's YouTube channel. Who do you think wins? ------ Date #1: An Old Favourite. Channel: Aziraphale Fell’s YouTube Channel. Views: 8 • January 3 Likes: 7 Dislikes: 1 Share | Save | Report [A man withdraws hands from the camera lens and crouches over, revealing a shock of unruly blond hair, a gleeful smile, and rosy cheeks. He steps back and turns to face a man leaning insouciantly against a kitchen countertop.]

i am just the (new invention) by littlesnowpea (T)

A list of hobbies Crowley has picked up over the past 6000 years: -gardening -cooking -fashion -pining for Aziraphale -making YouTube videos A list of hobbies Aziraphale has picked up over the past 6000 years: -reading -book restoration -music -pining for Crowley -commenting on Crowley’s YouTube videos When Aziraphale starts giving Crowley flowers, Crowley takes to his YouTube channel to discuss the meaning behind it, where Aziraphale comments encouragement to confess his feelings – under an alias, of course. There is absolutely no way any of this could ever go wrong.

The Tenant by MarisFerasi (E)

They Were Roommates Human AU Trope set during Lockdown 2020: Crowley got kicked out by an ex a few months ago and has couch surfed his last wave of his few friends' benevolence. He finds a listing for a bedsit in Soho and goes to check out the place, and finds the fussy little angel of a landlord quite charming indeed. He moves in and they quickly become friends, but both desire more and pining ensues. The real issues begin when Crowley loses his main job during major cutbacks because of the pandemic, and has to rely on his side hustle of online sex work to pay the rent, and Zira finds out. What will happen? Will the two part ways? Will Zira ask Crowley to leave when he finds out his "dirty little secret"?

Changing of the Seasons by AppleSeeds (T)

Confined to his bookshop, Aziraphale joins a virtual training session about urban foraging led by botanist and natural wellbeing practitioner Anthony Crowley, and feels some relief from his anxiety for the first time since lockdown began. After that, he watches every video Crowley has posted online, but will he ever get up the courage to actually interact with him? After all, Crowley keeps giving him opportunities to do so... Perhaps once the lockdown is over, some one-to-one nature-based relaxation therapy might be just what Aziraphale needs?

Talk about the weather by nightbloomingcereus (M)

Television meteorologist Aziraphale Fell and Youtube storm chaser A. J. Crowley have nothing in common aside from a purely professional interest in the weather and a mutually beneficial arrangement to lend a hand when needed. So what if they bicker and flirt more than your typical professional acquaintances, or if their arrangement inevitably veers into more personal territory? It's not as if they're in love or anything. Absolutely not.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #social media #youtuber au #mod d

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stitched-mouth · 2 months

Text

Madame Web Production BS

Just to be clear, I love this movie. But I love talking about what a dumpster fire it was behind the scenes so let me point everything wrong with my favourite of the year so far. SPOILERS!

• Cass’s personality is not fleshed out… that’s a major problem. I feel like they just told Dakota Johnson to do what she wants the whole movie BUT then right at they end they decide to give Cass a personality completely ripped from the comics. And it doesn’t work with the way Dakota was playing her the whole movie and these no character development over the course of the movie, so it’s actually a little scary seeing her switch at the end.

• None of the characters have a personality actually. The villain was the worst to be fair because I still don’t really understand his motives. Like… you tricked and murdered a pregnant woman and a few others because your family was poor? And you think Spidey strength will fix that? Um, ok. So is mine but I don’t know.. wouldn’t kill anybody over it though.

• I hate Sydney Sweeney’s image. And it’s not her or her marketing teams fault. It’s her fans’ and her directors. She’s constantly purposely dressed sexy in movies (even when dressed down like a nerd, she’s still sexualised) but then is playing a child. Like wtf. They did it to her in Euphoria and they’ve done it to her again in Madame Web. And how Sydney dresses for press also is clearly influenced by directors and fans’, like the look isn’t just what they want for her characters but also how she’s expected to be irl too. It’s kind of sick and related to how paedophilic things are still normalised in our society today, I’ll have to say that rant for another day though.

• Why does it feel like nobody cared about this movie? The script feels like the first draft that was supposed to have rewrites but nobody was bothered. Same with the editing, everything but especially the dialogue and music feels so placeholder, why was it in the finished project? Like even the Google cast page is not finished, only the leads have their character names on there. Zosia Mament (the villain’s assistant) is credited as fucking ‘Actress’.

• Why was Cassie able to fly to Peru when she’s a wanted criminal? Why is she flying to Peru when talking about laying low because she’s a WANTED CRIMINAL??!

• The writers constantly forgetting what year it is was hilarious and the editors just throwing one Brittney Spears song in and a few Beyonce billboards in to cover up their mistake is also hilarious.

• ACTUALLY, apparently the whole reason the movie was set in 2003 was because the director really wanted to use Toxic in the movie. Because apparently you can’t play a song in a movie if the movie doesn’t take place in the same year the song was released 🤡

• BUT Toxic was released in 2004 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

• The writers taking the time setting as a opportunity to reference Garfield’s Spider-Man but then also forgetting that that SM was born in 1995 🤡🤡🤡🤡

• Yes I checked, they specifically wanted to reference Garfield’s Spidey, but through editing they realised their mistake and started trying to make it look like they were talking about Tom Holland’s SM instead, which risks breaking some rules with Marvel… AND THAT SPIDEY WAS BORN IN 2001 SO THEY STILL FUCKED UP. The fact that a simple Google and common sense (like they must of know Garfield’s fist SM movie took place in 2012 and if he was born in 2003, he would of been only 9 years old in 2012 😑) would of fixed this problem is again hilarious.

• Obviously the biggest goof was Dakota Johnson not realising she’s not in a Marvel movie and firing her agent the same day the trailer got dropped 🤡

• She also might be in trouble for posting the teaser on her Instagram and tagging Marvel before the trailer dropped (so before she found out), but I don’t think Dakota manages her own socials tbh. That post was removed then put back up without a Marvel tag.

• The press tour is amazingly bad, I love it.

• Not seeing the girls turn or become heroes was probably the worst part about this movie but I knew that going in so didn’t mind too much. But the real issue is with how Sony keeps straight up lying to their audience with their trailers. Obviously some studios add somethings into their trailer to create more interest for the audience but that’s not what Sony is doing, they are straight up LYING. And they do it so often now I want to fight whoever is in charge of that, they are the reason this movie flopped.

• Them and the writers… and whoever decided to hire the Morbius writers again, everyone there deserves to lose their jobs.

• The only reason I want this movie to do well is because I want Madame Web to have more movies with Dakota Johnson, Sydney Sweeney, Adam Scott, Isabella Mercer, Emma Roberts and Celeste O’Connor all returning. But I really don’t see that happening now, I can’t see Dakota signing another contract with Sony or doing everything to get out of this contract if it’s not over yet.

• The fact that they had to dub the villain’s lines makes me so confused to why he was hired? He didn’t even give a good performance, not saying he’s a bad actor (I’ve heard he’s great on other movies), but he really didn’t do anything in MW.

• And the part with the FBI agent and the villain had me so confused too. Like, did she seduce him to find out information about him? Because it makes sense that the FBI would be suspicious of this guy. But then did he see through her act and decide to at least get laid before killing her and stealing her passcode? But everyone is saying he seduce her for her passcodes and yeah I’m confused.

• The problem is the pacing and how everything that needs explaining isn’t, but everything that doesn’t need an explanation IS explained. And too much.

“He worked with my Mom in this place looking for this spider right before she died”

That’s not the exact quote but it’s pretty close to and that’s less than 5 minutes in. Ok thanks spoiling the whole movie to me. I really didn’t know a movie could spoil the movie to me.

• I’ll add more to this post when I remember more bs this movie endured or forced me to endure, feel free to add to this list in the comments or reposts.

#stitched #stitched talks #stitched writes #madame web #dakota johnson #emma roberts #cassandra webb #mary parker #ben parker #uncle ben #adam scott #sydney sweeney #julia cornwall #isabella merced #anya corazon #celeste o'connor #mattie franklin #tahar rahim #ezekiel sims

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cleolinda · 2 months

Text

Weekend links

My posts

1) From earlier this week: “My ~longform posts are going somewhere else. Dreamwidth? Definitely previewed on Patreon and backed up there. Here’s an unlocked post about it. tl;dr: I know tech bros already scraped everything, but if you tell me you’re going to do it, I’m not gonna hand it to you. Maybe it’s a token effort, but there it is.” Of course I’ll still post links to new writing here.

2) Some people have March Madness. I now have the Hot & Vintage Movie Women tournament.

One of the best parts of the tournament (you may remember that Toshiro Mifune won the male matchup) is people reblogging and submitting pictures, further bio information, and personal anecdotes--that sense of the Tumblr collective scrapping for the pure love of their blorbos. I love Edwige Fenech’s eyes and her iconic eyeliner, and I had to step in when she went up against powerhouse Julie Andrews with only one small picture. No, I’m not letting Edwige go out like that. She won’t win, but the people must make their choice knowingly.

I also posted some pictures for Lady Tsen Mei, because I’d actually never heard of her and was curious. Also, because she’s going up against Musidora and that’s not an easy row to hoe, either. If you see matchups like that, where hotvintagepoll didn’t receive much to post about an actress--appealing to the people with a good picspam in the reblogs is where the fun comes in.

Bear in mind that running the tournament is an INCREDIBLE amount of work; this was Friday alone. Like, I don’t know the person who’s running this, but it couldn’t be me. They’re working with what they were sent, and here’s how we can be the propaganda we want to see in the world. I will jump in as necessary when Ava Gardner, Gene Tierney, Norma Shearer, Paulette Goddard, and (on my mom’s behalf) Julie Christie show up. But there’s 512 contenders, and it’s going to be a hard fight.

(I am now reblogging the polls at only one an hour, and when I fall behind, that just means that people who missed them can catch up. Each poll lasts a week, after all.)

Reblogs of interest

You are invited to the assassination of Julius Caesar! If you joined Tumblr during the various internet shakeups last year, you may not be aware that the Ides of March is a major Tumblr holiday. You need to be.

People have always been people: an immensely long collection that may make you cry.

Respect for the Welsh language

The “Fool in a Field” theory of life in the universe

A helpful guide to some common birds here in the western US

The Forbidden Colors

“You get to drive away”: A Tale

I was not ready for this development in the Fairy vs Walrus debate

(Did William Butler Yeats believe in fairies? An anecdote from my grad school days)

(”While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a slapping”)

Video

“Recently I’ve been interested in what I’d like to call the historical lesbian wardrobe”

“This is the snake I’ve been looking for my entire life”

Angry kitten scolds water, slaps it for good measure

Cat plays theremin

A speedy boi who doesn’t need a bike to jump

The most relaxed tiger

The sacred texts

Yes, THAT Stinky Bastard Man

Personal tags of the week

I want to be clear that AI has incredible scientific uses and could be used voluntarily by writers and artists for their own experimental projects. That is... not what this AI tag is about.

Speaking of AI: truly, the Willy Wonka Experience debacle has been a DashCon for the 2020s.

#weekend links #odds and ends #linkspam

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sherifftillman · 2 years

Text

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: Aaaaaand THIS is where the real good stuff starts! Sorry for all the other posts, just had to start getting the ball rolling. I am aware that since this is taking place in modern London, there may well be slang used that people don't necessarily recognise. If you'd like me to make a glossary of some kind, hit me up!! I hope you enjoy Ralph In The Future as much as I do <3

"Bet it feels strange being behind here again, doesn't it?" the customer asks you. It's an older woman, you don't particularly recognise her, but she certainly seems to know you well enough to know you've been promoted since you first started working here.

You force a smile, "Not really! Sometimes the floor just needs an extra pair of hands, and it helps me know what's working and what isn't for my staff and my customers, so," you shrug.

"Yeah, I don't envy you, still working at a time when nobody wants to work," she shakes her head.

You press your lips together tightly. There are so many arguments you could make right now, but already trying to juggle two roles is taxing enough. Instead you simply tell the woman her total and ring her through. Once again adorning your best customer service smile, you thank her for her custom and send her on her way.

"D'you think she's ever worked a customer service job in her life?" Your shop floor assistant asks as they re-fold their display shirts.

You shake your head, "I think… Cushty little secretary job at her dad's business, at first. Never had to pay rent, got married to the first guy at that job to pay her attention, got a council house nice and early and spawned a couple of kids just to stop him from walking."

They let out a wide-eyed, long-drawn breath, "Daaamn, someone woke up on the salty side of the bed this morning!"

You chuckle humourlessly, "That doesn't even make sense. And yeah, sorry, it just… Really sucks that I've got major shit to do this week, but I can't just let you do all the work out here on your own, not with Karens like that around."

"Can't you get your friend to come down and cover? Or to do your manager shit on their next shift?"

"Nah, it's gotta be me. And they can't come in today because of their other job, so I'm gonna do it as overtime," you explain dejectedly.

"You're doing great, champ!" they sidle up to you to gently punch you in the shoulder encouragingly.

"Hey now, kiddo, I'm the manager here, I need to be motivating you!"

"Nah, you're sales right now. You're just as good as the rest of us common muck," they tease, and you stick your tongue out at them.

The day drags, and the quality of customers certainly doesn’t improve. A man who thinks he can return an item without a receipt. A woman who insists on ordering an item that’s no longer available because she saw a friend wearing it just last week. Children.

And sure, maybe now, at 5:40pm, the customer of your dreams could walk in through the front door. But you and your coworker are exhausted, and this is the kind of shit you always wanted to become a manager to do. Taking one last look up and down the almost empty high street, save for the ones who are heading to the Wetherspoons on the corner, you decide to start the closing process early.

You manage to finish a little after 6pm, and you consider just getting all of your admin stuff done while you’re here, but also, you really can’t stand the sight of these four walls much longer. You figure you’ll just go to the coffee shop nearby, get yourself an iced latte for the walk home and think about what kind of takeaway you’ll be craving once you get back to your flat. No cooking. Not tonight.

You’re well into a mental debate about whether you’d rather have a chow mein or a biryani when something else piques your interest. There’s a man in front of you in some kind of costume. It’s either really old-school military, or… Safari explorer. Maybe he’s one of those live re-enactors. Maybe he works at the zoo. Maybe he’s just one of those quirked-up little guys. You get your phone out to text your friends, ready to ask them if they’ve seen anyone dressed similarly before, but as you continue walking you collide with something.

Someone. Your flimsy plastic cup gets crushed immediately upon the impact, pouring ice cold coffee down the strangely-dressed man’s back. Your first instinct is to shout, “Watch it!”

The man jumps out of his skin, either at your words or the ice cubes soaking his back. He spins around to look at you like a deer in headlights. Eyes like giant chocolate buttons stare you down. If he’s supposed to be dressed as an Army boy, he does not have the face to convince me, you think. Unless the message they’re sending is that literally anyone could get drafted.

“You alright?” you ask, eyes narrowing and head cocking as you study him.

“Ah - um - oh, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! This was absolutely my fault, I’m just - I’m so lost, and I was trying to find a man and now he’s gone and - oh, blast, stupid Ralph, you’ve really gone and done it now!” the man flusters, looking in every direction except at you.

You whistle and click your fingers at his eye level. “Hey, Bambi! Focus. It’s okay.”

He moves his head back to scrunch his face at you in confusion. “Bambi?”

You smirk, “Yeah, you’re like a baby deer right now. You said you’re lost? Where’re you trying to get to?”

“Uh, well, I suppose I should try and find my home, um… Penbury House?” he asks tentatively.

You kiss your teeth a few times as you think of where you’ve heard that name before. “Oh!” You look at him, puzzled. “You sure that’s your house?”

“Well, my name is Ralph Penbury, so…” he wiggles his shoulders from side to side before shrugging. You appreciate the extra flair.

“Right, but Penbury House is the name of the place they turned into a Waterstone’s,” you explain. He looks lost again, so you explain, “Waterstone’s is a bookstore.”

Ralph scoffs, “Oh, pish-posh, my home has not become a bookstore! That would be quite preposterous!”

So far your entire interaction with this strange man has been a tennis match of bewilderment, just exchanging expressions back and forth. “Are you, like… On something, mate? Do you need me to get you somewhere safe?”

“I want to go home, please! And not a… Bookstore, my real, actual home!” He’s starting to sound quite overwhelmed now, so you take a step back.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay. We can calm down. You mentioned looking for a man? Do you know this man?”

“Well, not personally, but I travelled here with him. About yea tall,” he holds his hand just in line with his eyebrows, “very old. Silent man. Hair just past his ears. Looks, um. Unwashed.”

Your eyebrows raise in realisation. “Ah, Homeless Pete!” Makes sense that Pete and his crew would be involved somehow. “Shall we go and find him?”

“Do you know where he is?!” Ralph asks, his expression lighting up. He may be dressed like an absolute twat, but you can’t deny his adorable little puppy-dog face.

“I know where he hangs out, we can go see if he’s there?” you ask, and Ralph nods. “C’mon,” you jerk your head in the direction towards where you know Homeless Pete tends to hang out when he’s not walking the streets. You wonder what ol’ H.P. (as your friends call him) could have given his poor boy to make him trip like this. “So, uh, quick question. Sorry, I completely forgot. What’s the full date today?”

“Well, the last I checked, it was September the 7th, 1926,” he replies simply. You stop in your tracks, and he looks back at you with a frown. “What’s the matter?”

“N-nothing, nothing,” you shake your head and carry on walking. This poor boy must be on something pretty damn strong. “Let’s get you to H.P, yeah?” Just to find out what he’s taken. Then it’s straight to the hospital.

Ralph inhales so loudly that a guttural sound forms in his throat. “Oh my goodness! Do you think - am I in - the future?” He grips your arm tightly. “Was the lift a time machine, perhaps?”

“Maybe,” you tap his hand lightly with your own as you keep walking with him, "considering that it's September the 7th, 2022." Normally, you would be throwing any stranger that hugged your arm like Ralph now is to the ground, but there’s just something about him. Either he plays the innocent human puppy role far better than any indie boy that’s ever tried to hit on you on a night out, or he really is just going through it.

You eventually reach the underpass where a large part of the local homeless population gather, and sure enough, there is Pete himself, sat between two shopping trolleys. He spots the two of you and immediately bursts into laughter. “What the fuck, H.P?!” you yell. “You’re usually chill, what have you done to this poor boy?!”

“‘M not a boy, I’m a grown man, thank you,” Ralph mutters into your shoulder.

“‘Course you are, babe,” you murmur sarcastically as you nod at him, before once again turning to Pete. “Well?! You’ve got him talking about - about time machines, and the 1920s, I mean, just look at how the poor sod’s dressed!” Pete’s eyes widen as he waggles his finger at you, as though you’re both in a game of charades and you’re on the right track. You turn to one of the people Pete lives amongst, “What’s he been on today?”

The other person shakes their head. “Nothing, swear down! Besides, he’s a proper tight-arse, he wouldn’t go ‘round drugging any fucker going. ‘Specially not a toff like that,” they snort with laughter as they point to Ralph.

You look back to Homeless Pete. “So, you’re telling me. Time travel is fucking real.” Pete nods. “And you were in 1926, and you dragged this sad sack of shit out here with you, with no context.”

“You know I can hear you,” Ralph points out indignantly, but still quietly and still from the safety of behind your shoulder. His arms are still wrapped around yours, too.

“Yeah, but look at you, mate. You’re not exactly getting us answers as to how to get you back to… Wherever we get you back to,” you explain before once again turning to Pete. “Where is this… Time machine? Ralph said something about a lift.” Pete snarls as he gestures over to a block of flats you vaguely recognise. “So we go there, get him back in the lift, and then what? Is there a button, or a combination, or -?” Pete moves his hand from side to side. “And what does that mean, is it a random button each time?” Again, it feels like you’re in a game of charades as he silently tells you you’re on the right track. “Is the random part right?” Nod. “So, it’s not about the button, but… The floor you get on?” A shake of the head. “Is it just at random times?” Nod. “So, how do you know when to go back to it?” He shrugs, then points to his temple. “What, you get some kind of vibe, some Spidey sense?” He nods with an upside down smile. You sigh. “So we don’t know when Ralph here can get back.” A shake of the head.

“Do I have to stay here with him, then?” Ralph asks you sadly.

You sigh again. “No, c’mon. I guess you won’t want Chinese or Indian, we’ll just get a chippy dinner on the way home.” You start walking in the other direction, and Ralph quickly paces to catch up with you.

“A chippy dinner?” he asks, baffled.

“Yeah! Like fish and chips? They had that in the 20s, surely?” you reply.

“Well, yes, I suppose, but we only ever had it at the seaside,” he cocks his head as though reminiscing fondly. It only accentuates the cuteness of his whole face.

“Think you can be a big boy again now, or do you still wanna hold on?” you ask, outstretching your arm. He doesn’t appear to blush in the conventional sense, but his ears do flush a bright pink. Even more adorable. Fuck. Remember, he’s technically like a hundred years older than you. He slinks one arm around yours and you pull him in tightly by pressing your own arms towards your torso. “There we go. Now I can make sure I’m guiding you so that hopefully you don’t get bumped into anymore.”

“I think I’ve certainly learned my lesson in not standing still in front of people!” Ralph jokes, making you genuinely laugh for the first time all day. It feels strange, you can feel every muscle in your face move with it. But you also feel the weight on your chest lifting, too. You’d been at boiling point all day at work, and discovering a time-traveller wasn’t exactly helping you to simmer down. But you can make this work. He’s just an… Eccentric, extremely sheltered family friend who’s staying with you for a short while. That’s what you’ll tell anyone who asks.

“Yeah, you’ve learned that if you do, some dickhead’ll throw their iced coffee all over your back!” you laugh.

Ralph frowns, “You’re not a - a one of those, at all! You’re very nice to take me in like this. Most people seemed to think I belonged in a jungle.”

“Yeah, the old school military uniform kinda looks more… Safari explorer, these days,” you explain.

Ralph’s eyes light up. “Someone finally recognises the Army uniform for what it is!”

“Yeah, I thought I recognised it from when we went to the War Museum for school once. That was the kind of get-up they used to wear in the First World War.” You trip over your own feet a little as Ralph once again halts to anchor you to him, despite what he’s just said. He looks… Distraught. “Alright, mate?”

“Why did you say… First World War?" He asks with fear in his voice. "We won the Great War to restore the - the balance of power, how long did that last?!” He looks at you, dumbfounded.

You hiss air through your teeth. “Oh, boy. Yeah, there’s a lot that’s happened in the last century. I don’t know if it’s such a good idea telling you all of it, since once you get back, it’ll be your future, so…” You contemplate. “We’ll just keep all the questions you have to stuff you’ll need to get by in the here and now, alright? Anything you learn about history, just try and let it go over your head,” you pull him forwards gently and he falls back into step with you.

“One question I have about the here and now,” Ralph starts, and you look over at him. He makes eye contact with you to ask, “What exactly is your name?”

Laughing again, you tell him. “Sorry, I really should have led with that, shouldn’t I! It’s been a long day."

“I’ll say. About a hundred-odd years long!” A giggle bubbles out from Ralph’s lips and it makes you snicker, too.

“You’re a funny one, Penbury. For an old sod, at least,” you push your shoulder into his before leading him into the chip shop. “So, are you a fish guy, sausage, fishcake, pie?”

Ralph looks at all the options in the serving counter with an upturned nose. “What’s that one?” he asks, pressing his finger against the glass.

You look over and answer, “Battered sausage. Sausage, but in the batter they cook the fish in. Bloody lovely,” you smile wistfully.

“I might just stick to the classic cod and chips, thank you,” Ralph mutters under his breath as he stares around the small room in fascination. You order on behalf of the pair of you and take the bag from the server with a grateful smile. Ralph notices and plasters one on as well, though his definitely comes off as more fake. He basically attaches himself to your arm again the second you’re out of the door, as though you’re bound together magnetically, and you guide him to the tower block that contains your pokey little flat.

After spending several minutes convincing Ralph that the lift isn’t going to suck him into another time period, and that he’s more than welcome to traipse up all the stairs that lead to the ninth floor, he relents and stands in the lift with you, though he stands so close that you’d think his goal was for you to wear him. Brushing against his chest feels nice, though. Shut up, you’re just touch-starved. This is not your ticket out of your dry spell. This is a fever dream.

Once you’re in your flat, you quickly dig out whatever men's clothes you have laying around - some sweatpants and a white T-shirt, and you throw them at him. "Just to get out of your dirty clothes while I plate up, eat before this gets cold, then you can go shower. I'm sure there's some boxers in my pyjama drawer you could use, too, I'll find those for you in a bit." You point to your bathroom and he quietly complies.

You could've just eaten the meals straight from their wrapper, the way you always do. But you figured Ralph has had enough culture shocks as it is, you'll give him the decency of eating from a plate. Besides, spending your night with a man dressed in 1920s army gear who's eating fish and chips out of some paper on his lap might just be enough of a sight to tell you to get yourself checked into the psych ward at the earliest convenience. At least you can try and create some kind of normalcy in this moment.

A quick Google search tells you television wasn't around in 1926, so you don't want to expose him to that tonight, too. Give it a day, maybe. You could play some old-time-y music on your Echo but you're not sure what he'd want to listen to. Instead, once you're both sat on the sofa together, you make conversation with him about his past as you eat. He tells you about how the Penburys were known socialites, how he and his sister had pretty much the same group of friends, how they had recently found friends in a rather special group of people, one of which he'd fallen head over heels for, just for her to reject him, and his heartbreak caused him to join the Army, which he hated.

"It's rather funny, you know," Ralph adds. "People here talk very similarly to Lauren and the others. I wonder if they exist in this time, too."

You start piecing things together. "Lauren… Plays jazz… She the drummer in this little quartet?" Ralph nods, his eyes wide. "Kinda short, has a brother called Nick?"

"Nicholas, yes! He's tall and he wears thick glasses! You know them?!" Ralph asks excitedly.

"Yeah, Nick was in my class all through high school! Always used to fancy him," you reminisce happily before stifling a laugh. "Wait, wait. So you mean to tell me that this Lauren you're besotted with is - is Little Lauren? Oh, you poor, sweet boy."

He looks offended. "Why would you think that that’s such a bad thing?!"

"Mate, I've known you five minutes and even I know Lauren would chew you up and spit you out," you look at him sympathetically. "And you're not gonna be able to change her on that. Unless you're into all that kinda stuff," your nose turns up a little as you joke, just to get a reaction from him.

Sure enough, there go the illusive colour-changing ears. He sputters, "W- I - I don’- I’m no- That is no appropriate discussion topic over dinner!” and you collapse into a fit of giggles, falling into him a little.

“Oh, lighten up, Ralph. Things are far less proper round here, that was nothing,” you explain, to his horror.

Once you’re both finished eating, you grab a clean pair of boxers from your pyjama drawer and toss them into the bathroom, gesturing to Ralph with your head that that’s where he ought to go. “Sorry you’re gonna have to use your finger as a toothbrush tonight, I’ve not got any extras of those, but -”

“Oh, all of this is already above and beyond! Even taking me in, I - I hope you understand how truly grateful I am, and with your patience acclimating me to… All this,” Ralph gestures around with his hands.

You nod with a soft smile. “Uh, give the shower a few minutes to run, though. Goes from freezing to scalding and then you’ve just sort of gotta… Keep fiddling with it. You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”

The various screeches you hear from behind the closed door suggest that he is not as successful in figuring out the shower as you’d hoped. While he showers, you do a little more digging. Thankful that your mum’s weird obsession with your family tree may finally come in handy, you ask for the login to her online ancestry account. Tapping through to the census search, you type the name ralph penbury and set the dates between around 1890 and 1930 to look for any documentations of birth - or death. Sure enough, an entry pops up:

Ralph Penbury - Date of birth: 01/02/1901 - Parents: William and Delilah Penbury - Occupation: Private in the Armed Forces - Death: Announced 19/09/1926 - MIA, presumed dead

You frown at the result. Was Ralph always doomed to go missing in action, you wonder? Is he only presumed as such because he’s travelled through time? His existence hasn’t been completely erased by the trip, obviously, but how much of this was affected by it? It hurts your head to try and think about. But at least you know when his birthday is. It’s still a few months away by all accounts, you may not even get to celebrate it with him. You still make a note of it in your phone.

Ralph soon emerges from the bathroom, and the sight causes your breath to catch in the back of your throat. He already had a certain cuteness about him, but as he rubs his hair dry with the towel, his damp natural curls stick out in all directions. Some facial hair and a neck chain or two, and he’d be exactly the kind of guy you’d let break your heart in a smoking area. He studies your face carefully as you’re staring at him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No!” you snap yourself out of your trance quickly. “No, not at all. Um, you can - you can take the bed. If you want. Get a good night’s sleep.”

Ralph gasps in horror, “I could never! I am simply a guest, I must insis-”

“And I must insist that you’ve literally travelled almost a hundred years to be here. Who knows when you’re gonna be here until, so… I don’t mind. I can sleep on the sofa for now, I promise,” you smile. “Just let me get in there real quick to get changed myself too, yeah?” Despite still standing in the bathroom doorway, and therefore not in the way of your bedroom, Ralph still steps aside and gestures towards it for you.

You change into a tank top and trousers combo, grab a blanket and some cushions out from your wardrobe, and head back into the living area. “Are you decent?” Ralph asks, his eyes squeezed.

You laugh, “Down, boy, I wasn’t exactly going to come out in my birthday suit, was I?! Yes, I am, you can look.”

He opens his eyes, takes one look at you, and yelps before covering his face with his hands. “You said you were decent!”

You look down at yourself, confused. Sure, the top is well-fitting, but you don’t think it’s indecent at all. You walk over to him and pull his wrists down. His eyes are once again shut tightly. “Ralph. It’s okay. I promise. Again, this is absolutely fine and modest in these times. Unless you want to stick out like a sore thumb, you’ll have to get used to it,” you shrug, letting go of him. He opens his eyes slowly and his breath shudders as he quickly jolts away.

“Okay, very well. I’ll try my hardest,” he nods, though he seems to be making the effort to keep his jaw up to maintain a high eyeline. “Are you sure you’ll be okay sleeping out here?”

You sigh, repeating once again, “Yes, Ralph, I’ll be fine. Go get some rest. You’ve had a big day.”

“Yes, very well. Erm,” he ducks his head down and to the side for a split second, as though to kiss your cheek, before stopping himself and once again raising his head high, his eyes wide and his ears pink. He clears his throat. “Thank you, again. Good night.”

“G’night, mate. Sleep well,” you pat his arm and start setting up the sofa for the night as he enters your bedroom and closes the door behind him.

You stick the TV on, not really caring what’s playing as it only really serves as background noise, and turn your lights off. The glows of the television screen and your phone screen illuminate the room as you search for any other evidence of time travel. Nothing that matched Ralph’s story comes up. You’re somewhere deep into a conspiracy theory about someone with a mobile phone being spotted at a Charlie Chaplin premiere when you finally drift off to sleep.

next chapter

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #fic: bsbl #*myfics

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trans-librarian · 4 months

Text

Good Mornings and Model Kits

Tags: M/M, Fluff, Domestic, Established relationship, Team Fortress 2, Medic, Engineer, EngieMedic, Science Party, German Engineering

WC: 1.5k

CW: None this is the fluffiest most self indulgent garbage I have ever written. We die like mercs choking on the sugar of this fluff. You could consider a line or two hinting at suggestive buuuuut it's nothing explicit

Translations:

Mein Leibe - My love

mein bärchen - My teddy bear

A/N: Sooooooo I always promised myself that I wouldn't start writing fanfic because like idk I told myself that it would be cringey to write fanfic and that anything I wrote would suck but to be cringe is to be free and this image was too strong in my brain not to write and gods I gotta let myself be and create what I want instead of what I think is good enough.

I was super inspired by @creedei and his engiemedic art. I was low-key inspired by these posts: (I also love popitdontdropit on AO3 they're transmasc engie fanfic will make you ascend to a higher plane)

https://www.tumblr.com/creedei/727483531127914496/sketch-dump (third image)

https://www.tumblr.com/creedei/721589317420695552/cute-aggression

https://archiveofourown.org/users/popitdontdropit/

Also its not noted in the fic or relevant but my engie is transmasc I need everyone to know because its my favorite hc. I fell in love with creedei's engie. He's mad gender euphoria for me as a transmasc guy with the same body type (also because i simp hard for medic so seeing the character I project onto with the character I like is just *chefs kiss*). And pyro who is mentioned in passing uses they/she pronouns because I like when this shit is as queer as possible and I get to choose what happens in this story.

I'll probably also cross post this on AO3 at some point and link it here. Anyway, Enjoy!!! *runs and hides*

A quiet dawn begins to trickle light into the Red barracks. All is quiet on a seldom day off for the Red Team. Medic drinks in this treasured time. With a cup of tea in hand he turned towards the infirmary where the notes from his most recent experiment await review. He definitely needs to reevaluate the actual size of a gorilla liver before putting it into Demoman again. The muffled sounds of snores creates a lulling tune that echoes in the halls until...

tink tink tink clunk

"Hm?" Medic's ears perked up to the quiet sound

click click

tink tink tink

"Vhat is zhat?" Medic turns to follow the sound.

A tiny symphony of clicks and clacks emanates from deep in the halls past the common area and the majority of the bedrooms. Medic follows the sound through the hall.

tink tink tink clunk

tink tink tink tink clunk

tink tink clunk

Medic finds himself at the Engineer's workshop.

"He never usually vakes up zhis early on a day off at least not vithout vaking me for some.....private time" Medic smirks to himself thinking of Engie and his previous day off exploits in Engie's room, Medic's room, the infirmary operating table, the shower... Medic gets lost for a moment in a glow of those steamy memories and shakes his head bringing him back to reality. "Vonder vhat he's doing?" Medic thinks and slowly opens the door and sneaks into Dell's workshop.

Dell's back is facing the door as he sits at his desk. The small bulbed lamp on his work desk illuminates a halo of light around the man. The soft sweater he's wearing adds a comforting warmth to the glow. An etheral god tinkering with his realm. Like a moth to a flame, the medic slowly crossed the room beelining to the one place where he slots in perfectly. Once within reach, Medic wraps his arms around Engie leaning his head on Dell's shoulder placing a gentle kiss before resting his head.

"Good morning mein leibe" Ludwig cooed "What's got you up so earl-" tink "Ow! vhat vas zhat"

"Sorry darlin' sometimes the little bits go flyin' because of the nippers," Engie turned "Where did you get hit?"

"Why?"

"So I can kiss it better." Dell smiled.

Ludwig groaned at the horrible pickup line and smirked "I got hit right here" and points to his mouth.

"I'm very sorry" Dell chuckled. He grabbed the Medic's chin with his gunslinger with the lightest touch only he is capable of and gave him a gentle kiss. "What brings you by the workshop this early, dumplin'?"

"I was getting some tea and I heard the sound of..."

tink tink

"Ow!" another small piece of plastic hits Medic in the forehead. "...Zhat. I heard zhat and started following and it brought me here, mein bärchen. Vhat is zhis anyway?"

"Sorry again. The lil bits that come off the model kit pieces can go flying in unexpected places."

"Model kit? I didn't know you even were interested in these let alone where to find them."

"Pyro turned me on to these last time we went to town. They begged me to take her to this store with all these fancy plushies that are imported so they could get a new one for their collection. Real quality y'know. She ended takin' a while but ended up choosing this nice bear fox thing that I learned is called a tanuki and then there was this other one that was an armadillo and I was thinkin' about it but I realized I would never use-"

"Sveetie. You're rambling"

"Thank you" Engie laughs, "what would I do without you?" He places a hand on medics cheek and places a kiss on the other. "So Pyro showed me these model kits they have and they said I would love these and I grabbed a couple to keep 'em around. This is the first chance I've had to put one together."

"Interesting. Vhat's it going to be?" The Medic looks at the subject of their boyfriend's focus and sees....well a lot of pieces that will make something? Small red and black pieces of plastic twinkle under the work lamp. A large pile of injection mold sheets loom next to Engie's work area. Pieces are in various states of progress some starting to take shape like limbs.

"It's gonna be a robot. A lot of these kits are different robots couldn't tell you much because I can't read the Japanese on the box, but it'll look neat when it's done based of the pictures." Dell informed his boyfriend as Medic snuggles closer to listen to the Engineer tell him about his latest project. "This piece is gonna be one of the arms and it bends like this so you can pose it and change out the hands. And this is gonna be the leg."

"Can I stay and vatch vhile you vork?"

"Of course, moon pie!"

Ludwig pulls a stool over behind Dell so he can stay in his current position arms wrapped around the engineer sinking slightly into his plush yet muscular tummy and rest his head on his lover's strong shoulder.

The symphony of click and tinks resumed as Dell settled into a new rythmn of work. The sound of Engie and Medic quietly talking, giggling, or just enjoying the intoxicating calmness together.

Ludwig watches Dell's hands deftly click the plastic pieces together. He marvels at the precise and delicate movement of the gunslinger. The same robotic hand capable of crushing bone and tearing metal also able to pick up fragile things with ease truly is one of the greatest miracles the Medic has ever seen. He can't help and feel so much love when with Dell. He could just...

"Gah! Ludwig, did you just bite me?" Engineer cried out grabbing the side of his neck.

"I couldn't help it." Medic chuckled "You looked so perfect and it's so cozy. I had to bite."

"You're lucky I love you, moon pie"

"I know. Love you too leibe"

Dell refocuses as a faint set of teeth marks bloom on his skin.

tink tink tink clunk

tink tink clunk

tink tink tink clunk

click click click

click click

clunk

"Leibschen you put the thing on upside down."

"Are you sure? this looks right, dumplin'."

"Look at the picture the angular part of the kidney shaped piece should be pointing towards that half frisbee piece on the big piece"

Dell picks up the instructions and squints closely at them. Ludwig reaches his hand over and turns the upside down instructions right side up.

"Oooooooh. I see what you mean"

clunk click claclunk

"Thank you, sweetie"

tink tink clunk

tink tink tink clunk

click click

"Finally finished" Engie and Medic look at the little robot model in all its completed glory. The small figurine shined in the now brighter lit room each piece sanded perfect and each sticker placed precisely. The angular crimson robot sported a long bazooka in one hand and a clenched fist on the other arm. The sleek robot stands posed with one fist raised triumphantly.

"Let me try" Medic gently picks up the robot model and begins to fiddle with it. He pops out the gun hand and puts in a fist. He bends one leg while straightening the other completely. The arms are folded in front of it. After, carefully balancing the model on the table. Medic reveals the robot in a Katosky Kick. Dell and Ludwig chuckle looking at the cutely posed robot. They look at each other. Such a nice moment together. Engie leans forward and kisses Medic lovingly.

"Thank you for spendin' time with me, darlin'." Dell cooed warmly, "havin' company really made my mornin'." He gently places a hand on Medic's cheek and strokes it with his thumb.

Medic places a hand over Engie's. "Of course, my bärchen. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my morning."

Dell and Ludwig bask in each in this moment. Engie looks at his lover and sees the passionate and ambitious doctor he always fell for and keeps falling for every day. Medic sees the strong and beautiful inventor that fought to be here in more ways than one.

"Now vhat?"

"I don't know. Wanna go make a real robot?"

"I've got the perfect spider monkey brain I've been saving for a rainy day!" Medic squealed "You get the supplies. I'll get the brain and bring it back here" Medic planted a hard kiss on Engie's temple before running off.

#team fortress 2 #engiemedic #science party #german engineering #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 #fanfic #I'm posting this on the way to work because im too scared to look after hitting post #gay

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meraxesmoon · 4 months

Note

FR THO!

Cersei lannister and alicent have NOTHING in common. Cersei is a narcissist, she doesnt love anyone but herself, she only "loves" jamie because he is a copy of herself physically and it was like having sex with herself 💀 and they stay comparing to my queen girl boss aly.

And when people compare daenerys "started from the bottom now we're here" targaryen to rhaenyra... WHERE? HOW?

Love them both but dany is clearly superior, and she is not fighting for a throne against a man... She fighting against cersei

Of couse there misogyny... Its westeros... But thats to every woman

Dany doesnt want to be like the targaryens while being a targaryen, her might and mind doesnt even compare to rhaenyras.

Team black power comes from jace, corlys, rhaenys and jace not her.

Thats why the ending of the show felt so wrong and forced, dany had always cared about her people and peers first, and had always outsmarted her enemies.

(i love it here in this blog, i feel like opinions are respected and heard)

I didn't really like Cersei, even in the show, because she's just plain gross. She doesn't love her children in the slightest, she just sees them as extensions of herself. In the books she has this weird possession over Tommen, and it made me SO uncomfortable.

Not to mention, Jaime is a whole victim. He's moved on with Brienne now, and unlike in season 8, I don't believe that he'll go back to Cersei because he's finally discovered what healthy love feels like.

And yeah, I get pretty annoyed when I see people compare Dany and Nyra as well, because the whole point of Daenerys is that she's the opposite of the Targaryen's. Rhaenyra grew up in a castle, she was spoiled by her father, and she lived in luxury for the majority of her life, even when the war was going on. Daenerys, however, was basically living from place to place as a child. Not to mention, Dany was a literal child bride. She was only around 13-14 when she was married off to Drogo and she lost her baby when she was very young as well. Like, I know we all hate Viserys (Dany's brother, damn Targ's and not being original with their names), but he did everything in his power to keep her safe.

Also, Rhaenyra wasn't a feminist icon like a lot of people portray her to be. She didn't want equal rights or anything, she just believed since her father named her as heir that she was the exception. I definitely prefer show Rhaenyra to book Rhaenyra, they made her much more likable in the show.

Daenerys is different because she grew up watching the commonfolk suffer, she knows that the cycle of kings and queens is poisonous to the people! She doesn't really seem (to me) to want to be like her ancestors, because they really weren't all that great. This is why I think Dany and Varys would have been a great combo, because they both have the people's interest in mind.

She never would have burned Kings Landing, the DnD were just getting lazy with the writing.

I'm glad that I'm providing a safe place for you to voice your opinions! I definitely grinded on some nerves with the last rant thing I posted because someone reblogged it and spouted all sorts of nonsense. That just proved my point that you can't criticize team black without them getting mad and petty. I've blocked both people because I don't have to deal with that, but I thought it was super funny.

in the tags they were like #team green sucks blah blah blah

It doesn't bother me because I'm not team green lol.

#it's near impossible to have intelligent conversations with these types of people #but that's the asoiaf fandom for you lol #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd 2 #rant post #team alicent #queen alicent #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #cersei lannister

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mykatsudon · 2 years

Text

My thoughts on Yuri On Ice and where it went

So I’ve been wanting to properly articulate what I feel is off about the Iceado production and how abnormal it is, what I think could be happening and my reasoning. So far I’ve only posted about these feelings on asks, replies and discord but I want to expand on them in writing. This is kinda long so I apologize in advance. Feel free to send me asks or reply to this post with your opinion.

First of all. Anime is a product and a property, and as such, it is usually milked until it no longer produces enough money to be profitable for the studio.

Yuri on ice was a total best seller, It trended #1 every Wednesday on both Tumblr and twitter. Episode 7 crashed Tumblr. They have a huge international audience, which is something that is so valuable.

The first 2 years after YOI ended we had had all sorts of events. Collaborations, pop ups, the live stage, all sorts of merchandise etc..

Please. just read this bit on the popularity and success of YOI ( X )

with that in mind,

what in the hell happened?

Here’s the two train of thoughts I see a lot in asks/replies:

It’s a “focusing on other bigger projects” kind of issue

It’s an LGBTQ censoring issue

Here’s why I think it’s neither of those two:

focusing on other bigger projects is the most popular theory and the one that honestly makes more sense. yoi being put on pause to produce the money cows JJK, AOT, CSM, and Vinland saga. It makes sense except for the fact that they still found the time to animate 12 episodes of a relatively obscure Ballet manga, Dance Dance Danseur. which already finished airing and despite being a MAPPA property, it wasn’t very popular online. Why take the chance to order 12 episodes from DDD and not Yuri on ice? which if you read the link I placed earlier had impressive statistics. This exact fact leads me to believe it's not a time or focus issue.

If LGBTQ censoring was the issue, we wouldn't have BL animes coming out every year, and since Yuri on ice came out we’ve had quite a bit of BL animes and movies, for example: Given, the clouds gather, Given the movie, Sasaki to miyano, Umibe no étranger, Yes Ka No Hanbun Ka, sankaku mado, and a bunch more including live actions.

and you might say “but yoi is not tagged BL so it could be censored” well, just a year after Yuri on ice aired Banana fish, a Mappa property, had a full on screen kiss between the main two characters. and that wasn’t tagged BL either. Y*richin B*tch cl*b got an anime adaptation and it doesn’t get more explicit than that so no. While I’m not claiming censoring doesn’t exist in anime, the laws aren’t a strict regime as some people make it seem. Implying the whole project got scrapped because of the main gay relationship is beyond unlikely. I don't think anyone could possibly deny that Yuri and Victor’s relationship was by far the biggest selling point of yuri on ice; the audience knows it, the creators know it, the producers know it.

So what is it?

I present my leading theory... simple yet I find it quite likely...

Creative differences and doubts about where to take the story.

what do Jujutsu Kaisen, Attack on titan, Chainsaw man, Dance Dance Danseur, Vinland saga, and hell’s paradise have in common?

they’re all manga adaptations.

Yuri on ice is an original story through and through. Thought up by the wonderful minds of Kubo Mitsuro and Sayo Yamamoto. Yuri on ice has been both the last anime they’ve worked on so far since 2016.

The thing about Yuri on ice is that the story, by virtue of being so original in it’s plot and setting, deviated heavily from the usual money-making structure of your average sports anime.

The characters were not teenagers in high school

A major plot point is that both of the main characters are nearing the end of their careers.

the story wraps and by the 12 episode mark you’ve already been to a bunch of competitions that in other sports anime would’ve taken seasons. EX: Kuroko no basket, haikyuu, slam dunk

Most important character arcs are resolved.

Main conflict in the series is resolved. Victor and Yuri get together.

The truth is, Yuri on ice is a series that really wraps up neatly. where can you go from there? go through competitions all over again until Yuri wins gold? when we’ve already stablished that Victor loves Yuri for who he is and will stay no matter what? what would be the point of that? Have Viktor keep being a playboy celebrity when already his search for live & love was resolved?

There is a danger of falling into the same story beats and a season 2 would have to be carefully constructed. Where do you take this franchise?

I used to not understand why they opted for a prequel movie instead of a season 2. Now that I look at this decision from a different perspective and while I do not personally agree with it, I can totally understand it.

Going forward with this original series is difficult, and I can tell the writers Sayo & Kubo care a great deal for their creation. The way YOI is so carefully structured shows that so much thought and care went into it. seriously, have you ever thought about how much detail, narrative, interaction, and character arcs YOI manages to have in just 12 episodes? it’s quite impressive. this is a project that they had no idea would get green lit for a second season and they knew the studio was taking a chance on them with this original series so they were incredibly concise as to have it end as neatly as possible.

but that “see you next level” was a promise to an eager fandom.

Back to why I think creative differences and testing the waters as to where to take the story is what’s happening:

In January 2019 an Ice Adolescence teaser was shown in Japan only, in complete exclusiveness. the people who saw it weren’t allowed to record it so they talked about it in great detail on twitter. For more than a year, this very same teaser was kept from the international audience until it dropped on YouTube on November 2020. According to the people who saw it in the exclusive screening nothing had been changed or added, it was the very same. So why the long wait? It’s like there is an uncertainty as to where to take the project and if it should continue in the same direction. “Let’s give it a year and see if we’re still on track with the current story”

To be honest, there have been many times where I’ve genuinely believed the project has been dropped. I know there are franchises that take longer to produce, look at Evangelion’s last movie, it took like 9 years to be made. As I was reading on the story of EVA 3.0 + 1.0 and why it took so long to be made when Eva is a well stablished money making franchise, I learned that Hideaki Anno, the creator, developed severe burnout and had to take a break, he was undecided on where to take the story and other people who worked with him in the project left the studio.

Since I am a yoi blog, and I’m always scanning the tag, replies, twitter, reddit, I see that a lot of discussion surrounding Iceado always seems to point to the fact that people believe this is studio meddling. What happened to Hideki and EVA could’ve happened to yoi. That even a huge property like EVA took 10 years because the creator was not comfortable, and did not want to continue just yet points to the weight the creator holds. I believe that if it were up to mappa, given how much money yoi made them, we would've had yuri on ice season 3 by now. But no, this is ultimately Sayo and Kubo’s child and I strongly believe that if we do not have something by now, it’s because something is taking place between these two, perhaps burn out, perhaps creative differences, or perhaps they seriously just need lots of time to think this one through. Even though it’s hard sometimes because I love this franchise, I want to trust Kubo and Sayo as I did before. I want to trust they’ll deliver a product that is good, and campy, and fun, and deep and sometimes heartbreaking. I will wait until I can see this through

#sorry for the wait!#I actually cut a big chunk of this post and might have to put it in a part two... whoops #I get carried away when I write :(#Yuri on ice #yoi #iceado #ice adolescence

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crazyassmurdererwall · 1 month

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tagged by @cinematicnomad to post 7 comfort movies. (i would like you to know i struggle with lists like this because my autistic brain very much wants me to be AS PRECISE AS POSSIBLE and i only learned very recently that neurotypical people don’t worry about that?? they just…answer without worrying if they’re picking their top 7 comfort movies?? they just…pick 7 movies and move on with their life?? wild.)

1. spotlight. kat and i have this one in common, and for good reason - it’s just so. damn. satisfying. people who do bad things get called out on their bad stuff and people who had been ignored get heard. it’s (in my opinion) one of the most re-watchable dramas out there. and man…such a good cast.

2. howl’s moving castle. look, probably most of the studio ghibli movies could make this list, but howl is the one i turn to the most because the whimsical, fun, warm vibes of this movie feel like a HUG. the growth of all of the characters makes me smile and you just want to FALL into this movie. i absolutely want to take a walk through some hills and find myself at the door of a wacky castle with a super hot wizard, thanks very much.

3. major league. i asked my younger brother once how many times we’ve seen this movie and he laughed and said, “oh man…at least a couple dozen.” you have to understand this movie is a solid piece of the foundation of my childhood. we only had the basic stations when i was a kid and this movie was on on saturday afternoons constantly. CONSTANTLY. i can probably quote the entire thing from memory. there’s something about a baseball movie that always makes me feel like i’m living in an endless summer afternoon, like i have nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. it’s an unsurpassed vibe: just baseball and a warm afternoon that never ends.

4. 10 things i hate about you. another endlessly quotable movie - and one i share with my sister. also our dad loves it - and quotes it to me too. there isn’t a lot to say for this one other than sometimes a movie comes along and it’s just yours, you know? this is one of mine. when my sister had her oldest child i bought her a tiny red izod polo shirt and she immediately asked, “did you buy this from an outlet mall?” YES. I ABSOLUTELY DID AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN PROUDER RO BE YOUR SISTER THAN IN THIS MOMENT, RIGHT NOW.

5. rudy. if there’s something i think everyone needs to know about me, it’s this: i love inspirational sports movies. LOVE THEM. absolutely cannot get enough. do i know exactly what the filmmaker is doing to me every time i hear sweeping music and someone starts running in slo-mo? oh yeah. abso-fucking-lutely. do i care? not the smallest bit. in fact i lean into that shit. rudy is one of the best ones and it also gets extra bonus points because for a long time it was the only movie i ever cried at. that’s not hyperbole. people would refuse to watch it with me because i’d always be reduced to a blubbering mess by the end. HE’S SO LITTLE. AND THEY CARRY HIM OFF THE FIELD. give me a break. i’m not made of stone.

6. steel magnolias. the hallmarks of this list are a) i have watched this movie at least a dozen times, b) this movie has a VIBE, and c) this movie is insanely quotable. this movie passes all three with flying colors. the cast is absolutely stellar, and this community of women who love and support each other is just…THE ACTUAL BEST. but also: it has dolly. DOLLY. “what size shoe do you wear?” “well, i wear a size six, but a seven feels so good, i buy a size eight.” perfection. PERFECTION.

7. ocean’s eleven. you know how i love an inspirational sports movie? I LOVE A HEIST MOVIE. like LOVE. the whole genre is smart and fun, and ocean’s eleven is also stylish and funny and just a fantastic fucking time. it has an insane cast and a great soundtrack and it’s just so GOOD. so so good. it’s a film told with a wink that manages to carry the best part of 50s/60s swag into the 00s, and we are all the better for it.

i tag: @tattooedsiren, @machtaholic, @smowkie , @itsactuallycorrine , @caroandcats , @elisela , and @missanniewhimsy and whoever else wants to do this. it’s a fun one.

#alli does tags

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cakeinthevoid · 3 months

Note

Happy STS, Void!

What's your favorite common writing tip to ignore?

Happy STS!! This is so neat—I love these asks!

This one is super interesting…

After some thought, I think it’s a tip I heard that was something along the lines of ’develop your characters and know them well’. HEAR ME OUT—

For a majority of my characters, I truly don’t know that much about them. That’s why asks about them are so fun because most of the time it’s me trying to come up with something that would make sense/be relevant.

Most of the time, characters are simple my vessel to tell a story. That’s why I struggle so much with names and the like lol. There was a post where I rambled on in the tags about how my writing process is often like idea>scene>character. Part of it is because I’m not confident in my ability to make likeable/interesting characters that people want to follow, so I need to hook readers in with a premise. But also, that’s just it! There’s a story I want to tell and the characters are just people who do that job.

My oldest OCs are probably my most developed OCs, so much so that they damn near came full circle where I am not sure what their true personality is. Then you get stuck in the ‘would they fucking say that’ problem lmao. How to solve the problem? Build the character around what they need to say!

Ok final bit is just a disclaimer: I think it’s totally awesome to develop just a character. It’s very valid. Take a look at my OC Flange Gusset! That man is quite literally just a character. I just want to put him in other people’s stories honestly. But I hope budding writers don’t get bogged down in knowing every little detail about someone they create, because, like I saw in a post one time, you are creating the illusion of a real person.

Thanks for the ask!!!!

#WAHOO STS #I might need a dedicated tag for this!!#I just like to ramble incoherently lmao #but truly I appreciate the ask so much!!#I love the writing community <3

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romanceandshenanigans · 9 months

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AITA for wanting to get back together with my now engaged ex? (AITA Tag Game)

Rules: Write an AITA question and post from the POV of one your OCs

Tagging: @janec23, @kittttycakes, @auroramagpie, @can-of-pringles and anyone else who wants to join in!

Thanks to @clairelsonao3 for tagging me! This was genuinely a lot of fun!

I know it sounds bad and it is, probably, really bad, but I need to get this all off my chest. I feel like I’m going insane and could really use a slap in the face right about now. There's nobody else in my life I can talk to about this. Apologizes in advanced for any spelling or other errors, this is my first time using Reddit and not used to the formatting.

Some backstory. I (30M) met my Ex (26F) eight years ago. She had left home for personal reasons I won't get into here and we ended up living together for almost nine months.

I know, you're probably thinking I'm a rake for living with a woman and not immediately proposing marriage, but circumstances made that impossible. Again, I know this sound like I'm making excuses, but for her privacy I won't divulge. Just know that for the majority of that time we lived as old bachelors. It was only in that last month did things change.

I loved her like mad. I still do, that's why I'm in this mess, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The point is, I had fully intended to marry her. I wanted to marry her, but before I could propose a FF (family friend) discovered us and convinced me not to.

I feel like now it's important for me to clarify that I am not a gentleman. My father was a common sailor and my mother was a cook. I made my living in theatre and working any kind of odd jobs I could. Now I do theatre full time, but even then I can barely make rent some days.

She, however, is a gentlewoman. I didn't know this at the time, but when the FF arrived, he made it clear she did have connections. Being with me all but assured the destruction of her reputation.

The FF, however, gave us an out. Either I could marry her and risk her family cutting her off leaving her destitute or I could let her go and pretend it never happened. (The family had a cover story on where she was during our time together.)

I ultimately decided to leave. At the time, I thought I had done the honorable thing. She could move on, find a husband who could make her happy and comfortable and not have to live with a mistake she made when she was eighteen.

Now we come to last week. A business associate invited me to a party and, for the first time in eight years, I saw her again. I didn't even know she was in town. As it turns out her fiance is my associate's brother.

The fiance not a bad man as far as I know. He's a bit of a stiff and doesn't seem to understand theatre or the arts at all, but that can be easily forgiven. His brother clearly loves him, so he must have other qualities that makes up for it.

This is exactly what I wanted for her. She's about to marry a good man and be set for life.

It's just…she doesn't seem happy. I know I'm projecting, but I can't help it. Every time I see her with him there is just no spark between them. It's like their cousins or siblings rather than lovers.

She’s was always so passionate. I can't imagine she's so changed she could content herself with mild affections.

I keep coming back to the question of why now? And the only conclusion I've come to is maybe her heart had been broken as much as mine. Maybe she's only marrying now because she has to. Or maybe it's taken her this long to move on. If she had moved on sooner, surely she would be married by now.

Needless to say, I'm not getting any answers soon. My associate has been bringing her in as a kind of counselor, so I have see her a few times since that first night. She’s treating me rather coldly, but that’s to be expected. As if stands we have to pretend we don’t know each other and it’s killing me.

If I knew for certain she was happy, I could let this go. The only reason I’ve been able to live with myself was the thought that she was living a life I couldn’t give her. My circumstances haven't changed, but I'm having regrets.

I should have asked her to marry me before I left or at least spoken with her on what to do. Now she likely thinks I'm a bastard for leaving without a word, and rightfully so.

Despite all of that, I can't help feeling there's a chance. Sometimes I catch her turning away when I look her direction. Even now and again she seems to slip and allows herself to relax around me before walking away. She even defended me in front of a whole dinner party when she didn't have to.

Am I going mad? I haven't done anything. We haven't had a single moment alone together. But every time I do see her, all I want to do is pull her into my arms and never let go, damn the consequences.

TLDR; After eight years my ex is back in town, engaged to a good man. She doesn't seem happy and every fiber in my being is telling me to get her back. AITA?

#writeblr #writeblr tag game #wip: untitled regency romance #regency romance #michael finnegan smith #tag game #original characters #romance #romance writing

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echthr0s · 6 months

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when I see people say things like "tag your shit [insert whatever shit they care about being tagged]" in posts obviously my automatic response is "yeah I'm definitely going to do a thing just because this random tumblr user said so" but it also puts me in mind of a concept -- that while the vast majority of tumblr blogs are technically accessible to everyone, not all of them are meant to be socially accessible to everyone

I don't know if I used the right words there but basically what I mean is that, yes, my tumblr can be accessed by anyone with an account. however, it is not meant for high visibility or a large following. it is a personal space -- not a curation space, not a community space, not a professional portfolio, not a gimmick blog. if you run a blog like that, one that is meant to garner high visibility, then it is in your best interest to adopt certain practices that make your blog more user-friendly for a wider variety of people. like tagging common triggers, using a queue, that sort of thing. whereas if you're just a guy with a blog, people can just leave if they don't like what you're doing. you're not providing a service or establishing a brand or trying to earn a living, you're just hangin out

it's like the difference between running a community Discord server and running a friend server. the community server requires more strict moderation, a higher level of channel organisation, stuff that the friend server could afford to be lax about because it's just people with a certain level of familiarity and comfort who want to hang out in a virtual living room with each other.

like... if I'm going to tag for something that I wouldn't normally tag for, it'd be because someone I'm familiar with or care about asked me to, personally, and I would like to keep their followship. but otherwise whatever I do on this blog is for my pleasure because that's the kind of blog this is. this blog is like if my bedroom was on the internet. you can't tell me how to decorate my bedroom. if you don't like it, you can leave. I don't even mean that in a bitchy way, it's just... the reality of the situation, yknow

this isn't meant to be a safe space unless you just happen to feel safe here, and I am perfectly content to lose out on potential followers if they're not about what I'm about or they have the kind of needs I'm not willing to meet. that's just life, man

#this isn't like a ~hot take~ or anything i just be thinkin about how weird the social dynamics on the internet can be #singularity.txt

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 1 year

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I posted 551 times in 2022

That's 155 more posts than 2021!

178 posts created (32%)

373 posts reblogged (68%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@letters-to-lgbt-kids

I tagged 175 of my posts in 2022

#lgbt - 150 posts

#lgbt+ - 149 posts

#good addition thankyou! - 2 posts

My Top Posts in 2022:

My dear lgbt+ kids,

"I am Oliver. We don't know each other yet. It's nice to meet you!"

Those are pretty simple sentences, easy to understand, right? You don't need to be an expert on language to use sentences like that. I am fairly certain that even Elon Musk could do so - even though I used pronouns in each of them.

I and We and It and You are pronouns. A pronoun is a word that is used as a substitution for a noun. If we used no pronouns at all, we'd have to constantly repeat nouns: Instead of "Lily likes coffee. She drinks it every day.", it'd be "Lily likes coffee. Lily drinks coffee every day."

That's not how the majority of people speak now and it wasn't the way they spoke a few years ago, either. Pronouns are not a new invention and they weren't invented by trans people.

You probably don't need an English lesson from me - I just want to highlight how silly it is when people claim stuff like "Nobody used pronouns before 2020, it's ridiculous to expect people to suddenly know how to use them now" or "Most people don't even use pronouns, it's just a tiny majority of people who use them" or "Most people are not trans, so they don't understand how pronouns work" or "Pronouns ruin our beautiful language! We can't just suddenly decide to change the way language works".*

Just think of this letter as your permission to roll your eyes at statements like that (internally, if necessary). It's not your job to teach basic English to adults.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

* Note how all of those statements actually contain pronouns as well?

1,605 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I just committed the big mistake of looking at the notes of a random cute "I love loving men" post that I stumbled across and, wow, it's disappointing how something as sweet as talking about love can attract so much hate.

But among the obvious bad takes ("If you like men, you are not queer" and all that jazz), there were a few that I assume were written by well-meaning people and I noticed a common theme in them, so I wanted to address it here:

No, you do not help trans men by talking about how much you hate cis men.

You do not help trans men if you take positivity for men and turn it into a "this is only about trans men! cis men are evil" thing.

You do not do anyone a favor by separating men into good (trans) men and bad (cis) men - and you can only do that online anyway. How would you do it offline? You can't always tell if a man is trans or cis just by looking at them. Do you assume we all look feminine? Or would you ask us about our genitalia to determine if we are good or bad? And if so, then what about trans men who got bottom surgery? Do they suddenly turn from good to bad after surgery?

As a trans man myself, I can tell you that you do not make me feel safe or supported by adding "Yes but only trans men lol" to positivity posts for men. In fact, it has the opposite effect: You are just telling me that you only see me as "a man who is Not Really A Man". A man lite. Not the same gender as cis men.

Trans men and cis men are both men. We all equally belong in the category of men. We are the same gender! Making a big deal out of hating some of us doesn't help any of us.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

1,716 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

My dear lgbt+ kids,

If you know you don't want to get pregnant anytime soon, here are some options to consider.

Implant

A birth control implant is a plastic rod (about the size of a matchstick) that is implanted under the skin. It releases progestin which blocks ovulation. It lasts up to 3 years and can be removed anytime. It doesn't require a pelvic exam and it doesn't have estrogen (important for people who want or need to avoid it).

It can cause side effects but they are usually minor, such as acne or breast tenderness.

Copper IUD (also called nonhormonal IUD)

An IUD is a small, T-shaped instrument that gets placed in your uterus. Sperm don't like copper - when they run into a copper IUD, they swim in the opposite direction which keeps them from getting to the egg. It lasts up to 12 years and can be removed. (If you change your mind and want a baby, you can even start trying immediately after removal!)

Side effects can include random spotting during early use as well as a heavier flow and more cramps during your period. Some people experience discomfort after the insertion but that's short-lived and can usually be relieved with OTC painkillers.

Hormonal IUD

The same as above but it releases a small amount of progestin (much less progestin than found in birth control pills). It lasts for 3 to 7 years and usually makes you stop having periods or makes them much lighter. (If you change your mind and want a baby, it will take some time after removal before you can start trying.)

You may experience cramping or dizziness during the insertion procedure. Some also experience spotting and cramping for 3 to 6 months after but once your body gets used to it, it goes away.

All three of these are very effective ways to prevent pregnancy (with over 99% effectiveness) because they are "forgettable". You don't need to remember any schedule or plan ahead before you have sex.

Important to remember: They do not prevent STDs!

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

1,757 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Here are simply a few short reminders:

trans men and lesbians are not enemies

trans men and lesbians are allowed to relate to each other and find comfort in shared experiences

trans men can find comfort in content that was made by/for lesbians, and the other way around

friendships between trans men and lesbians exist and are beautiful

claiming that such friendships are by default predatory/toxic/weird is bullcrap

"We can support each other but unfortunately we are fighting for totally incompatible goals :( " is bullcrap too (and also a big red flag that you are talking to a terf)

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

1,933 notes - Posted July 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Here are some good things that happened in 2021!

January:

Just hours after his inauguration, President Joe Biden (USA) signed an executive order for more protections against discrimination on the basis of sex, sexuality, gender identity and sex stereotypes.

The Labor Department (USA) suspended an executive order banning government agencies from providing diversity training.

Also USA: transgender people are now allowed to serve in the military.

February:

Homosexuality is no longer a crime in Bhutan.

Homosexuality is no longer a crime in Angola.

The new penal code in Angola contains anti-discrimination protections on the basis of sexuality and gender identity

In New York, commercial surrogacy has become legal for same-sex couples.

March:

The EU parliament decided that all EU member states are a "lgbt+ freedom zone".

Victoria (Australia) banned conversion therapy.

April:

Religious leaders in Uganda released a video documentary preaching love and support for the lgbt+ community.

May:

In the USA, healthcare companies are no longer allowed to deny coverage to gay and transgender people.

Croatia allows adoption for same-sex couples.

June:

The Mexican State of Sinaloa legalized same-sex marriage.

India banned conversion therapy.

The UK allows gay men to donate blood.

France allows gay men to donate blood.

July:

Minnesota (USA) banned conversion therapy.

Argentinia included "X" in the National Identity Document as an gender option for nonbinary people.

August:

Yucatán (Mexico) legalized same-sex marriage.

Yucatán (Mexico) banned conversion therapy.

See the full post

3,248 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#your tumblr year in review #slightly self-indulgent since this is probably more interesting to me than you

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vampyrsutton · 1 year

Text

EraserMic~Somnophilia

Summary:

Somnophilia: A paraphilia in which sexual arousal is stimulated by intruding on and awakening a sleeping person with erotic caresses (but not force or violence).

Ao3 Tags:

Consensual Somnophilia, thigh fucking, aizawa doesn't get paid enough, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is Tired, Kinktober 2020, Kinktober, Pet Names

“You’re terrible at staying quiet you know?” Aizawa yawned from where he was leaning against the bedroom door frame in his robe as a freshly showered Hizashi left the bathroom. “You could have just woken me up.”

Hizashi flushed upon hearing that his husband could hear him getting off in the shower. “You get so little sleep as it is, I didn’t want to wake you. ...sorry.”

Aizawa sighed. “This is why our room is soundproof. You are literally known for being the opposite of quiet. And you’re fine. You can wake me up if you need to get off that badly.”

The blonde’s ears were pink now as well at his husband’s bluntness. “It’s fine really. You need your sleep.”

This earned him a raised eyebrow as Aizawa studied him for a moment before sighing again. “How well did your shower plan go in terms of not waking me up?”

Hizashi looked at the ground. “Not very well.”

“Mhmm... sigh if my lack of sleep schedule bothers you that much then just don’t wake me up while doing it.” The dark haired man shrugs.

Hizashi lifts his head, furrowing his brows at the other in confusion. “Huh?”

He was met with the pretty sight of pink dusting Aizawa’s own cheeks now but maintaining seemingly bored eye contact. “As long as you don’t wake me up...you can use me to get off…”

‘There’s no way I heard him right.’ “What?”

Aizawa looked away now. “Please don’t make me repeat it.”

Hizashi just blinked at him dumbly for a moment before it apparently clicked. “Are you telling me to fuck you in your sleep?”

Aizawa’s face burned but he nodded slowly. “Maybe not fuck since pretty sure that would wake me up, but you could probably use my thighs instead? Or my mouth? Both of our gag reflexes are pretty much non existent at this point so it might work.”

Hizashi was just staring at him with his jaw dropped but closed it to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. ‘So this is a thing I didn’t know would sound hot let alone happen, but okay then.’

“I-” his voice came out in a squeak so he cleared his throat. “I-um-you sure, Sho?”

Aizawa still wasn’t looking at him, his horribly neglected cuticle apparently needing attention. “I mean, I can sleep through class 1-A the majority of the time. I must have been in that weird half asleep state for your,” he gestures vaguely at the bathroom, making Mic flush again, “escapades to even wake me up so I don’t see the harm in it. Better than waking up half the dorms and scarring the brats right?”

Hizashi hadn’t even considered that through his adrenaline filled, post patrol haze and sputtered for a moment before collecting himself a bit as he also avoided looking at the other. “So-uh-what brought this on? What’s with the sudden interest in somnophilia?”

Aizawa looked at him now to raise a confused eyebrow. “Samneh-what?”

Mic laughed a bit, some of the surprised tension leaving him. “SOmnOphilia. Basically when someone has a kink for fucking someone who’s sleeping...would it be somnophilia still since you’re bringing it up?” He wondered aloud.

The confused eyebrow only rose higher before he sighed, a chuckle escaping him. “I’m going to assume Nemuri taught you that?”

Hizashi sighed. “I wish. I heard Mina and Hagakure talking about fanfiction in the commons and Mina mentioned it. I didn’t know what it meant so I Googled it. I have regrets, but better than the educational lecture I would have gotten from Kayama.”

The eyebrow returned, paired with a very disturbed face before another sigh left Aizawa. “So that’s what she accidentally emailed me instead of her homework.”

Hizashi’s eyes widened before she burst out laughing. “She did what ?!”

“I’ll forward it later. I think it was a Villain and Hero one, but it was last year so I don’t remember the pairing. Was tempted to send it to Cementos to see if it would help her Literature grade because it was actually rather well written, but I think he’d have a heart attack.”

Mic was covering his mouth to hold in his laughter and not wake the whole building. “I would pay money to send the look on Cementos’ face, but you’re probably right about him having a heart attack.”

“Honestly, I don't know how the whole Bakusquad isn’t leading the Literature grades. Even Bakugou’s accidentally sent me All Might fanfiction that required me to bleach my eyes...Now that I think about it it’s probably not an accident. You should ask Kaminari about his by the way. His English is actually pretty good. Thank god he only writes fluff though ‘cause he’s either secretly dating or secretly wants to date Shinsou.” Aizawa cringed.

Hizashi moved the towel from his hair to his face to laugh into it. “Oh my god! You having little shits for students aside, what brought on the interest in what we’re going to stick to calling somnophilia since I don’t think there’s a word for the other way around?”

Aizawa looked away, color in his cheeks once again as he mumbled something.

“What was that, Sho?”

“I don’t like waking up to find you sleeping on the couch ‘cause you refused to possibly wake me up despite literally carrying me home in my sleeping bag countless times, and I’m horny too and want cuddles dammit. The bed's too big and cold without you.” Eraser tried to huff, but Hizashi could hear the pout even with the raven haired man hiding behind his own hair curtain.

Hizashi smiled fondly at his husband. “Aww~ Sho~!” He cooed, walking over to wrap the barely shorter man in his arms. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you is all, though I know from experience you’re more than capable of picking me up and carrying me back to bed with those arms of yours.” Aizawa muttered obscenities into the blonde’s shoulder earning a chuckle. “But wouldn’t you want to be awake?’

He can feel the heat coming from Aizawa’s face as he continues to mumble into the blonde’s shoulder. “I’m tired but it sounded hot, and I don’t have to do any work.”

Hizashi snorted. “Ah yes, Mr. ‘I’m Not a Pillow Princess’ Aizawa.”

Mic felt a smirk against his shoulder and knew he was in trouble when Aizawa’s sleep ridden voice whispered in his ear. “Oh I think we both know damn well I’m not a pillow princess. Don’t we, kitten?”

A choked noise left the blonde’s mouth followed by a whimper. ‘Oh to be even five years younger.’ “Right. SorRy! Ah, babe~ Give me like half an hour.”

“Hmmm. Are you sure about that? Someone else doesn’t seem to mind? And we also both know a little coaxing will have you up in no time~” Aizawa hummed.

“Mmmmph. Okay okay fine just get in the room before someone hears me.” Hizashi whined as Aizawa pulled him along by the towel around his shoulders.

One of these days he’d learn to watch his mouth, but what’s the fun in that?

~~~

After a week of running himself ragged and spreading himself far too thin, Present Mic got to end it by bringing in a particularly difficult villain and slinking into his shared apartment in the dorms with far too much adrenaline and stress pumping through his system and leaving him in a state similar to the week before.

As he opened the door to the apartment, he hoped to see a light on but no such luck. ‘Maybe it will just go away in the shower. Stupid slime based quirks. Even if that’s okay, he’ll rightfully kill me if I get slime in the bed.’ Hizashi sighed as he dragged himself to the bathroom. Peeling off layers of leather along the way. ‘Why did I think that was a good idea again?’ He questioned when his boxers and undershirt made particularly gross splat noises when they hit the floor. ‘DiSguStAnG!’

He quickly washed all the slime and sweat off of him and gel out of his hair before drying himself off, getting some clean boxers on, and lying in bed to try to will himself to sleep.

…

It did not go away in the shower.

‘Shit.’ Hizashi sighed to himself, tilting his head to the side to look at his sleeping husband.

Aizawa, probably from years of stubbornly napping in a sleeping bag, looked like a vampire when he slept. With his legs together and arms clutching a pillow, long black hair spread across his pillow and pale skin shining in the moonlight from the window. He really was beautiful, and it was not at all helping the blonde’s predicament.

‘Why does he have to be so pretty? ...I know we talked about it but is it really okay?’

Aizawa must have felt Hizashi staring at him as he peeked one blurry eye open and looked his husband up and down before closing it again with a groan. “Just do it, dumbass.” The raven mumbled before promptly falling back to sleep.

Hizashi turned as red as the belt he normally wears and looked back up at the ceiling, waiting for the other to fall back into his usually deep sleep so he could rest. ‘Well that answers that .’

Hizashi let a few minutes pass before he glanced back over at the Eraser Hero to make sure he was properly asleep. Once he saw the steady rise and fall of the others chest and heard his barely noticeable snores, he scooted closer and brushed his finger through black locks while leaving a kiss on his nose.

“Thanks, Sho.” He whispered before carefully shimmying out of his boxers and reaching to the nightstand drawer for the lube only to find it on the nightstand itself.

Mic couldn’t help but smirk at his sleeping husband. “So I see it’s definitely okay.” The blonde whispered as he moved down the bed. ‘Mouth or thighs? Looks like his mouth is closed for once so I guess thighs it is.’

Hizashi carefully picked up Aizawa’s legs, crossing one over the other as he let the lube warm up in his hands. Once he was sure the coldness wouldn’t wake the other up, he propped the raven’s ankles on his shoulder and spread some lube between his thighs and on his own cock. ‘I will never understand how he can sleep through some of the shit he can.’ Mic chuckled fondly as he slid his cock between Aizawa’s lubed up thighs and shuddered. ‘Damn him and his muscles.’

Mic held Eraser’s legs in place as he proceeded to thrust between them, stifling a noise when he realized the angle allowed him to also brush against the other’s cock. He kept the pace as slow as he could handle without waking the other, biting into his own hand to keep himself quiet. ‘So this is why Sho likes this position when I’m being bratty. His thighs are squeezing me just right. Shit.’

Hizashi increased his pace just slightly when Aizawa showed no signs of waking and angled himself so his cock would slide against the other’s and entice small noises from the raven’s lips. ‘Such pretty sounds. God I love him so much.’ Mic thought as he worked both of their cocks, slapping sounds filling the quiet of the room as he chased his release.

‘Shit, I just need a little more.’ He groaned, glancing down at his husband to find him just as hard as he hugged a pillow in his sleep, the occasional breathy sound leaving his lips.

‘Beautiful.” Hizashi thought as he reached his still lubed hand down to give his husband a few strokes to help get him off.

Aizawa squirmed a bit in his sleep but somehow still didn’t wake up as he gave weak little thrusts into the attention, his thighs squeezing Mic just a little more.

“Mphm!” Hizashi choked on a sound when the other’s thighs squeezed him. ‘Fuck, yeah that’s it! That’s what I needed.’ He groaned, trusting a little faster now as he sped up his strokes.

Aizawa produced his own choked noise as blurry eyes peaked open. “Zashi~ You suck at the whole not waking me up thing,” he grumbled with not an ounce of bite.

Present Mic chuckled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Sho. You’re just so pretty like this, I got a little carried away.” He smiled sheepishly.

Aizawa flushed at the compliment. “Shuddap and finish up so we can sleep. It’s cold and I want my human heater.”

Hizashi laughed now, picking up the pace of both his hand and his hips as he placed a kiss on Aizawa’s calf. “Adorable.”

“I thought I told you shuU-” Aizawa was cut off by a swipe of a thumb at his tip and a Prince Albert against the vein that made him choke on air.

“No, I don’t think I will,” the blonde smirked, green eyes shining with mischief in the moonlight.

“Jackass,” the raven mumbled as he squeezed his thighs again.

Hizashi’s thrusts faltered at that as he let out a low moan, “You love it.”

Aizawa just hummed as he moved his hips to help them both along with the occasional grunt. Out of the two of them he usually made barely any sound.

Hizashi gave a few final thrusts before he gasped out a breathy, “Cumming,” and spilled over Aizawa’s cock and stomach.

“Fuck,” Aizawa all but growled when the feeling sent him over the edge as well.

“Nah, I don’t think I have another round in me.” Present Mic laughed as he ducked to avoid the pillow that came flying at his head.

“Smart ass,” Aizawa muttered, already drifting back to sleep. “Go get a washcloth then get your ass back here.”

Hizashi just smiled as he leaned down and kissed his husband. “As you wish, my Sleeping Beauty.”

#erasermic #eraserhead #present mic #aizawa sensei #aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada #bnha #mha smut #cw: somno #Bakusquad writes fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2020

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