30 happy tracks for joseph/caesar, bc all of their other mixes (including mine) are sad enough that they deserve one filled with just upbeat pop love songs tbh
(including a few about banging bc they are v horny but its not marked as nsfw bc i dont think its too bad...?)
{ album art source }
EDIT: WELP GUESS ITS CAEJOSE WEEK 2019 SO THATS SCARILY PERFECT TIMING FOR ME TO FINISH THIS OLD-ASS MIX LMAO
Sorry I’ve been a bit inactive the past few weeks, recovering from surgery and whatnot. Now that I’m back to it figure I’d update on what’s coming next.
1. Danny/Dash slow burn fic (I’ve been waiting to get super sappy lately and I need me some drama)
2. Greg vs the Universe short follow up (Who stumbles upon the messy Greg?)
3. Zangief/Ralph maybe? (I’m thinking a slow burn between the two)
Soooooo recently Coe and Blaine have been having Twitter conversation that have been giving me Feelings and now I am extremely curious to if there is an established ship name or fic written for Coe/Blaine
are they now.... what is this conversation of theirs about i am very interested
Zangief looks up from the entertaining pages of The Husband's Secret when he hears the front door shove open and violently slam shut. There's a sound of aggravation that accompanies the enraged action, which is all the proof Zan needs to know what kind of day his Ralphie has had.
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A/N: YES HELLO I AM STILL ALIVE. Just...very inactive on this account. But! I do still write for my lovely AU whenever inspiration strikes me. Thus, I’ve decided to fulfill this request that I received ages ago. I reallyreally think the Ralph/Zangief pairing is adorable (they’re like huge teddy bears???). So yes, there will be some slash or, yanno, GUY LOVIN’ all up in here. There’re also be some detailed descriptions of an injury, so if you’re squeamish you miiiight wanna bypass this one. This is set in the future of the Hero’s Cuties AU, after the birth of Felix and Tammy’s son, Jack. GOD BLESS ALL OF YOU WHO STILL LIKE ME AND HAVE FAITH IN THIS SILLY STORYLINE. ; A ; <333
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Zangief looks up from the entertaining pages of The Husband's Secret when he hears the front door shove open and violently slam shut. There's a sound of aggravation that accompanies the enraged action, which is all the proof Zan needs to know what kind of day his Ralphie has had.
Setting down his novel (after he marks his place for a later continuation), he stands up from the couch, stretches his heavily muscled arms over his head, and then follows the sound of grumbling that's coming from the kitchen; he leans in the doorway, ankles crossed, and watches as his partner digs through the fridge.
"Welcome home," Zan greets, startling the unhappy man that turns to glare over his hulking shoulder.
"Hunh," Ralph grumps, securing various cold cuts, mustard, and a jar of jalapeños from the fridge's well-stocked shelves. He snatches a loaf of Wonder Bread on his way to the counter, where he proceeds to make the world's angriest sandwich.
Now, all of this wouldn't be considered unusual (at least not when it's a known fact that Ralph's had a bad day) but there's one detail sticking out like a sore thumb that causes Zangief's brow to furrow: Ralph is only using one of his hands. Concern floods Zan's gaze as he steps over and assesses the situation for himself, because chances are he won't get a solid answer if he asks Ralph what happened.
As he draws closer, he can't help but notice that the reason Ralph isn't using his other hand is because it's wrapped up in what looks like a handkerchief. Upon further inspection, he sees that not only is it wrapped up, but his hand is also bleeding through the plaid fabric.
Nyet. This won't do.
"What happened to hand?" Zangief inquires, his voice as soft as the touch he sets on Ralph’s thick wrist.
This, of course, only encourages Ralph to draw his injured hand closer to him in defense. "It's fine. Don't worry about it," he mutters, struggling with the jar of jalapeños as he tries to open it one-handed.
"Raphie," Zan tries again, gently. "You are hurt--"
"I SAID DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT!" Ralph explodes, unintentionally slamming the jar against the counter and, well…breaking it.
Jalapeños go everywhere, sloshing along the counter and floor on a tide of spicy, green juice. The two men stare at the damage for a few seconds before Ralph sets his good hand over his face and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"That's great," he says, more to himself than Zangief. "Just what I needed."
In spite of everything, Zan maintains a perfectly calm disposition and gingerly grabs onto Ralph's bicep. He leads Ralph to the kitchen table and sits him down. By this point, Ralph isn't putting up a fight anymore; he falls onto a chair and melts back into it, his shoulders slumped and expression bordering infinite exasperation.
Without saying anything, Zangief returns to the counter to begin cleaning up. He starts by mopping up the juice with a handful of paper towels and sliding the spilled jalapeños into his hand; they're not salvageable due to the tiny crystalline shards that are now mixed in with them. After disposing of his handful, Zan finds a broom and dustpan and sweeps up the chunks of broken glass around the liquid on the floor.
From the table, Ralph watches his considerate and far too patient other half clean up his mess. He should be doing this, Ralph thinks glumly, yet he knows that it's better if he remains sitting. There's no telling what else he'll break if he happens to fly off the handle again.
When Zangief is officially done, he picks up where Ralph left off and finishes up the sandwich Ralph had been in the process of making. He sets the overstuffed snack on a plate, grabs a can of Ralph's favorite soda, and brings them both to the table. A kiss is deposited into the messy brown spikes of Ralph's hair before Zan briefly leaves the kitchen.
Ralph starts to convince himself that that's the last he'll see of Zan for the night - that Zangief is mad at him and he's the worst boyfriend in the world. So when Zangief comes back with their first-aid kit and a damp washcloth, and then proceeds to take a seat beside him, Ralph can honestly say that he's shocked.
"Now," Zan broaches, taking Ralph's wrapped, bleeding hand and setting it in front of him. "Tell me what happened."
Ralph sighs a sigh that deflates all the air from his lungs. He glances down at the sandwich in front of him, his appetite lost, and then sets his attention on Zangief; he winces as the handkerchief is slowly unraveled from the bridge of his swollen, torn knuckles, taking flakes of dried blood and skin with it. Gross.
He can't help but think how Felix would pass out were he to see the damage on his hand. Heck, the little guy pretty much has a heart attack whenever little Jack bumps his head on the coffee table.
"I had a bad day," Ralph finally admits.
"That much is clear," Zangief replies, though not unkindly. "Why was day bad, is what I should have asked."
"Because," Ralph mumbles, trying to keep his hand still as Zan starts cleaning up the blood with the washcloth. "I hate it when people think I'm stupid and won't listen to me."
"Ahhh." The sound is one of understanding, and it shows that Zangief is putting together what went on. "What did Gene say?"
Even hearing the name of his supervisor threatens to make Ralph's blood boil again. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down before his anger can rekindle, and replies: "What does Gene always say? That I can't do my job. That I’ll never achieve anything. That the only thing I'm good for is messing everything u-"
Zangief interjects and murmurs a soft stream of comforting Russian words, encouraging Ralph to relax. "None of that is true, Ralphie. You know this."
"Yeah, well," Ralph huffs. "When he says it every single day to your face it gets harder and harder to ignore, and today I just…" He trails off and looks at his injured hand. "I lost it."
"You hit him?" Zan asks, arching an eyebrow.
"What? No!" Ralph blurts, and then amends: "I mean, trust me. I wanted to hit him. Right in his stupid mustache. But I didn't. I hit--uh. I hit something else."
Zangief sets aside the bloodied washcloth and reaches for some disinfecting ointment in the first-aid kit. "What did you hit?"
Ralph can feel his ears start to grow hot and red. He looks away from his partner and clears his throat.
"Ralphie."
I hit a wall, okay??" Ralph spits out, embarrassed. "A brick one."
Zangief pauses in his application of the ointment and looks into Ralph's honey-brown irises. Then, smirking, he goes back to tending to Ralph's knuckles. "I think wall won."
Ralph bites back a groan. "You're reaaaally not making me feel better, buddy."
"Prosti."
"No you're not."
Zangief laughs a little at his rejected apology and trades the ointment for some gauze and bandages. "What happened after you hit wall?"
"I got sent home," Ralph shrugged. "Could've been worse, I guess. But maybe this is a sign to get out of construction. Once we're done with this apartment building I should start looking for something else."
Zangief doesn't reply until Ralph's hand is fully bandaged. "You could come work with me."
"No offense, Zan, but I don't think personal training is for me," Ralph politely declines. "Like, I'm a big guy. And I've seen some of the bigger guys that come into your gym. I'm pretty sure they'd crush me if I tried to give them pointers on their backbreakers."
"They are not bad guys because they look like bad guys, Ralphie," Zangief points out, setting the first-aid kit aside and standing up. He walks over to the sink and washes his hands. "Eat sandwich."
Ralph looks down at his plate and finds, to his utter surprise, that he's actually feeling hungry again. It's amazing what opening up a little can do, he thinks, as he picks up the sandwich and takes a colossal bite. Man, does that taste amazing.
Zangief dries his hands, puts away the cold cuts and sauce, and returns to the table; he chooses to not sit down like he was. By then, Ralph’s already inhaled his sandwich and emptied his soda can. Affection blooms in Zan's chest as he reaches over to sweetly swipe a splotch of mustard off of Ralph's chin.
"Your day is better?" he asks.
"Yeah, it is actually," Ralph answers honestly. "Tons."
"That is good," Zangief nods, patting Ralph's cheek lovingly. He grabs the empty plate and weightless soda can, but before he walks off he says: "Oh, and Ralphie?"
"Hmm?" Ralph hums, looking up at his standing boyfriend.
"If Gene says these things again…"
Zangief's topaz eyes harden into sharp sapphire rocks while the soda can is crushed until it's nothing more than sad, sorry disk in his bulging fist.
"I will hit him."
Ralph gapes at the uncharacteristic display of aggression, though he isn't given time to react further when Zan bends at the waist, kisses him, and strolls back to the sink like he didn't just threaten the pants off of Gene.
Oh yeah, Ralph thinks with a smile. His day definitely got better.
I'm now convinced that one of the best perks of having artist friends who do commissions is commissioning them to them draw your OTP. There's something poetically appropriate about the fact that Olivia, a.k.a queendeedee, made me ship Street Wreckers (Ralph/Zangief from Wreck-It Ralph), and now I've paid her to draw it. (Was that her plan all along? Hmm...)
As you can see, I like my Street Wreckers art with Ralph having a bit "more to love" than he necessarily does in the movie. You might say I'm projecting my own preferences in men onto the pairing, and I would say you're exactly right. Olivia herself said this was a lot of fun to draw, so you know what?, no shame.
Many thanks to Olivia for bringing my idea to life. You can find her commission prices here.
