#tonight was my late class

[pansyfemme]

i really love my friends

[buglaur]

i'm so excited for the new packs features i had to build something from scratch for the first time ever. can't wait to play with row houses omfggg

[player1064]

Footy RPF Fictober, day 2 - injury

also available on ao3

MINDLESS NONSENSE!!!! also side-note writing about Gary having tight muscles that need a massage is making me very aware of how tight MY muscles are. massage roller save me....

carraville, set vaguely while they're off on one of their little trips to film the overlap on tour

---

Jamie hauls a limping Gary out of the lift and into his hotel room, lets him put his weight on him as he gingerly lowers himself to sit down on the bed with a wince.

What a drama queen, honestly. They’d been spending their afternoon off of filming on the beach with Roy and Wrighty – a chance to relax, but of course Gary Neville’s not relaxed a day in his life and he’d started getting antsy after a few minutes on a sun lounger.

Jamie’s also not much for sunbathing, so he’d found them a frisbee and they’d been playing around with it when Gary had suddenly done a weird little hop mid run and gone ‘ooh, fuck, I’ve done me ‘amstring’ in that squeaky little voice of his.

So now: Jamie’s left Roy and Ian at the beach (not that they’d notice if he was there or not anyway) to bring Gary back to the hotel, tease him a bit about being an old man with a broken-down body, and then get back to enjoying his day.

But Gary just looks so miserable, like he feels guilty for not being a twenty-something anymore, like he’s just personally ruined their whole trip, and Jamie feels – well, he should try do something, shouldn’t he?

“D’you want me to—” he gestures vaguely at Gary’s leg, not sure if he should say it. If it’s allowed. “I mean, I do an alright massage, if yer –"

“Oh.” Gary blinks. “Oh, I – ha. Thought you were just gonna give me an ibuprofen and leave me to ‘ave a nap or something.”

“Oh,” Jamie echoes. “Yeah, no, that – makes more sense, doesn’t it? I’ll just –” he looks around the room, all of a sudden feeling slightly desperate. Does he even have any ibuprofen on him? Does Gary?

“Massage sounds nice, though.”

Gary isn’t looking at him as he says this, is fidgeting with the starched white sheets on the bed instead. Oh, Jamie thinks again. Oh, he’s not used to asking for help.

A memory hits him, unwelcomed, of a summer’s day a lot like this one. But instead of the warm sands of Italy he’s on the battered grass of Melwood, instead of Gary sitting awkwardly at the end of the bed like a child waiting for a telling-off it’s –

He shakes the thought off.

“Go on then,” he replies, nodding towards the bed. “On your front. And off with those shorts, eh Gaz?”

Jamie’s never felt right using that nickname for Gary, but it’s a necessary evil. ‘Cause otherwise he’d just be a man asking another man to strip for him. So: Gaz it is.

Gary rolls his eyes but he shifts his shorts off – he’s got black boxers on underneath, big fucking surprise. Jamie could’ve told you that without even needing to look; he’s pretty sure it’s the only kind of underwear he owns.

Jamie goes into the bathroom to fetch the hotel-brand body lotion trying to pass itself off as fancy, then he hovers awkwardly at the edge of the bed, kind of half-kneeling half-standing next to Gary as he tries to work out how to do this in the least questionable way possible.

“Where’s it worst?” he asks, cringing at the way his voice cracks, just a tiny bit. Probably not even noticeable.

Gary hums in thought. “Hamstring,” he says simply.

Well, duh.

He eventually realises that Jamie’s not making a move because he needs more information, so he takes another second then says, “uh, think it’s the centre muscle. Maybe six inches up from my knee.”

Jamie spreads his hand over the back of Gary’s thigh, runs a firm line over the muscle with his thumb. “Here?”

“Hmm, bit lower maybe.”

Every muscle in Gary’s thigh is tight, left unattended for god knows how long. But Jamie knows it when he’s got it, feels the hard knot of muscle that makes his whole leg twitch when he presses into it. Slowly, slowly, he starts working at it, tries to stay gentle so he doesn’t put Gary off when he’s just barely started.

“Mmph,” Gary says, his voice muffled by the pillow, “you’re not bad at this, y’know.”

Jamie digs his thumb into the muscle hard, just ‘cause he can. It twitches involuntarily under the pressure, and Gary lets out a displeased, squeaky sort of hum. Then, after a few seconds, he watches smugly as the tension holding Gary’s entire body rigid starts to fade, as he relaxes back into the mattress.

“I’m serious.” Gary tries to twist around and look at Jamie, moving to prop himself up on one elbow. Jamie pushes him in the shoulder so that he lies back down. “D’you take a class or  somethin’? Don’t think I’ve had a half-decent massage since before I retired.”

“Bloody cheapskate,” Jamie mutters. Because of course Gary would never go out and pay for a massage. Though to be fair to him that’s probably less because of the cost and more because it’s never occurred to him that he might need one. “No classes, no. What, you think I can’t just be naturally talented?”

He can practically hear Gary rolling his eyes. “Just tryin’ to make conversation, James. Makes it less like I’m just lying half naked in a hotel room while another man feels me up.”

“Steady on, lad. There’s a long list of people I’d rather be feelin’ up right now than you.”

“Mmm,” Gary says. He sounds softer than Jamie’s used to, less frantic. “You do this for Nicola? She’s into her running, right? Bet she appreciates havin’ a masseuse at her beck and call.”

Jamie freezes, just for a moment. The sun beaming through the windows is warm on his back, and if he closes his eyes he can almost convince himself that he’s some other place, some other time. In his memories it’s always summer, warm and hazy and sweet. God, Carra, no wonder the girls all like you so much.

He shakes himself back to reality, back to Gary and his troublesome hamstring – or rather now his calf, because as Jamie works his way down his leg he’s realising there’s not a single relaxed muscle in his body. Typical Gary, of course.

“Not for Nicola, no,” he says, all light and conversational like. “She’d rather go to a professional. No need to risk my meaty hands making things worse.”

“Oh, right.”

Who, then? Gary kindly doesn’t ask. After all, he’s the expert in half-truths, in talking his way neatly around a subject until you forget the question ever crossed your mind.

Gary’s still built like a defender. Solid, stocky. Thick thighs that were never going to make him a sprinter but could get him in the air, could win him his fair share of tackles. There’s a faded surgery scar on his knee, a few more scattered over his ankle, his foot. Jamie’s not sure he could name a single footballer that doesn’t have scars like that.

Is all this really worth it? he’d asked once, a few lifetimes ago. He’d got a call from Mo, late evening, and he’d gotten straight into his car and driven half an hour to find him home alone, lying on his plush carpet with his face twisted in agony. And the only person he’d tried to call was Jamie. He always used to call Jamie.

Don’t be stupid, Carra, he’d said. He’d been trying to sound confident, cocky, but it had been through gritted teeth as Jamie tried to ease his leg back to a useable state. Of course it’s worth it. He’d let out a cry of pain that shot right through Jamie, that made him want to fold in on himself, then he’d looked him straight in the eyes and said it again. Of course it’s worth it.

“Sometimes,” Gary says now, interrupting the scene in Jamie’s mind, “sometimes, when it’s really cold I still feel an ache in my foot.”

Jamie’s nowhere near his foot, so he’s not sure why he’s bringing it up at all, but then –

“Becks used to get the same. An’ it’s so stupid, isn’t it? The things that make us – but every time I feel it, I wonder if he’s feeling it too. And I wonder if he’s thinkin’ the same about me, d’youknowwhatImean?”

The Foot, the papers used to call it, and The Foot’s Best Friend. Jamie kneads his fingers into Gary’s calf, thinks about all the times he’s gone through the same motions a on slimmer pair of legs, wonders if Michael ever thinks about calling him again when he’s in pain. Feels a twinge of guilt that he doesn’t ever really think about Michael at all.

He clears his throat. “That any better?”

Gary shuffles to sit upright, stretches his leg out like he’s testing it still works after such a grievous injury as the minor hamstring pull he’s suffered. “You know what, I think it actually is. Thanks, Carra. Maybe I should keep you on retainer, eh?”

“Not enough money in the world, Gary, this was a one-time offer.”

[spamsandsuch]

self reflection (2) preview

[skyburger]

i think its pretty awesome that you can go online and look at cool plants & animals whenever you want for free

[bird-likes-to-fandom]

me when the lambs are siblinging

the context for this is that when they were in america for Legoland, they went and saw Wrestlemania! Ezra made Penny buy them Undertaker shirts and he got his a few sizes too large so that he could wear it longer and keep growing into it.

she's a little late, but technically fits with @june-doe-event's legoland prompt!

[ialpiriel]

me, the coyote who's just gotten out of the leg trap after five months: man, why do i feel so fucking bad about everything this week?

[orcelito]

Getting ready for bed now. Ended up taking no nap. Realized that I have gotten about 4 hours of sleep over the past 58 hours. Which is not recommended.

Also realized upon taking them off that id been wearing my glasses for Most of the past 23 ish hours. Maybe closer to 22 hours (for shower and such). My ear kinda stung a lil when I took it off. Which made me realize how long I'd been wearing them but ALSO the fact that they HAVENT been hurting my ears in daily wear. For a while there, wearing them for too long would make my ears Hurt. Hell, I literally ended up getting scabs on my nose where they rested. But it seems like my body has been adjusting to them... it is accepting that we are a glasses wearer now... this is a marvelous realization

[sunflowerdragonsunny]

Porter: You can hold concentration while you rage?

Gorgug:

[wolfchans]

pain and suffering (it's the 3rd day in a row I have a fucking headache)

[aimarann]

I want my gf to come back home I can't sleep without her and I'm so tired I'm gonna cry

[salty-soda-pop]

i feel like the fact that the sun starts coming up at like 5am during the summer is kinda ableist, actually

[isfjmel-phleg]

:/

[mangoisms]

thank you to the itsv and atsv scores. if anyone got me i know it’s them

[gothwizardmagic]

the inherent deliciousness of not having to set an alarm

[e77y]

Currently listening to this 'lofi hip-hop beats to study/relax to' ass hold music for 10 mins while sitting in a towel on my bed post-shower bc I realized I still haven't switched from an online to in-person major for next semester. And apparently this is the ONLY kind of major change I can't do myself through my student portal. I'm supposed to be signing up for fall classes in like an hour from now 😭 Sigh. At least it feels kind of artsy. I've got my little towel hat on and the music is good. I could be someone's manic pixie dream girl rn