#HEHEHEHEHEHE I HAD FUN

[thebrandywine]

Hey ! That may be weird, but would you want to say a little more about “The New woman in the city during the 20th century and her intersection with a rise in immigration ” ? I never heard of it before (I’m not from America), but it’s seems quite interesting from the few things I just read (Wikipedia).

NOT WEIRD I LOVE THIS SHIT

This is going to be fast and dirty because I don't have any of my sources with me BUT the turn of the 20th century in America saw a LOT of social and cultural change in part due to the growing prominence of metropolitan areas/cities. Industrialization had firmly settled in and that meant factories and THAT meant more jobs which led to an increase in immigration (mostly because factory owners/foremen could pay immigrants less which meant a better cut for them). So you have the 'melting pot' of the American city starting to get a lot more complex culturally at the same time as a growing movement of young women wanting more independence-- they might want to live on their own or they might want to support themselves on their own without a husband or any number of things. A good way to do that is to move to the city and get a job!

This IMMEDIATELY led to a cultural panic because for the first time a large number of America's young women were on their own and away from the protection of their family. Who would make sure that they conformed to societal values? Who would keep them safe? This was especially exacerbated BECAUSE of immigration-- pure, young, virginal white women (America's pride, blah blah, other weird sexual and racist stuff) coming into contact with stupid, brutish, predatory immigrant men (NOTE: I AM REPEATING THINGS HERE lol). A MASSIVE moral panic ensued.

One of the most interesting things to come out of this, I think, is the resurgence of captivity narratives. Media is an incredible way to measure the values/fears of the populace at the time of publishing which is why you can follow the rise and fall of captivity narratives in American history and really easily find points of conflict. Captivity narratives have a long history in general but in American history they're mostly present at three points: colonization/westward expansion, the Civil War/Reconstruction era, and the turn of the 20th century.

I keep saying 'captivity narratives' but what I mean are stories about women (again, The Pure, Virginal White Woman who represents white America) being captured and sexually defiled by The Other, who represents a larger threat to American society and culture. During colonization/westward expansion, that Other was Native Americans. During the Civil War and Reconstruction (which immediately followed the Civil War), it was slaves/recently freed black men. And then, at the turn of the 20th century, it was immigrants!

This is a whole other ramble, but the 'immigrant' in question really, really depended. There was an idea of an 'acceptable' immigrant-- white (though 'white' had yet to be more specifically defined and the concept of it varied from person to person), well-spoken, deferential, and fully converted to the cult of the flag. The unacceptable immigrants were largely from Eastern Europe-- Italians, Polish people, some Russians, and, of course, Jewish people (because this is America-- who else is the most common scapegoat of all fucking time?). If you read captivity narratives from the turn of the century, you can ALWAYS tell who The Bad Guy is: he'll have a heavy accent, he'll be described as 'swarthy,' and the author will A L W A Y S make a point to mention his race.

A different ramble I could go on is the idea of the 'white slave trade' which is wholly connected to the moral panic and captivity narratives, but I've rambled enough lmao. If you'd like to read some captivity narratives (don't worry, the authors are long dead) or do more research about any of the stuff I mentioned above, here are some sources:

White on Arrival by Thomas A. Guglielmo [looks at the idea/evolution of whiteness for Chicago Italians at the turn of the century. secondary source]

Behind the Mask of Innocence: Sex, Violence, Prejudice, Crime: Films of Social Conscience in the Silent Era by Kevin Brownlow [SUPER interesting read about a bunch of the stuff i talked about above! secondary source]

The White Slave Trade and the Immigrants by Cordasco and Pitkin [what it says on the tin. secondary source]

The House of Bondage by Reginald Wright Kauffman [the captivity narrative of the time- very racist and extremely critical of/incorrect about sex work. primary source]

The Social Menace of the Orient by Jean Turner Zimmerman [VERY RACIST and I do notnotnot like the word 'Orient,' which is no longer used by anyone in scholarship that's hip with the times. primary source]

Tiger by Witter Bynner [short play about a white slave- notice the language used for the antagonist!! primary source]

Traffic in Souls or While New York Sleeps, dir. George Loane Tucker. can be watched here!

i will be very strong and limit myself to those sources-- thank you for asking so i could infodump about history. if you've read this far... sorry lmao

[luna-loveboop]

Linktober day three- Zelda

Skyward sword Zelda my baby <3 I carved her riding her loftwing and didn't like it too much, so I did her playing her harp on the egg as well.

The top two lines of music have the notes for the Ballad of the Goddess, and the bottom three are Zelda's lullaby. The Ballad of the Goddess is Zelda's lullaby backwards so I wanted to have both :)

@hero-of-the-wolf @la-sera

[gothsuguru]

THANK YOU @teddybeartoji FOR THE TAG 🙂‍↕️🫡

it’s me and my mains 🤭

OK LET ME SCREAM RAHHHHHHHHHHHHH ME HAVING AMAZING COMPATIBILITY W SUGURU + TOJI + JINSHI IS ALL I COULD WANT <333 kinda crazy how two of my main men (suguru & toji) are both introverts like they love me and my extrovertedness sooooo baddddddd they wanna kiss me so bad it makes us BOTH look stupid :3

GOJO & WEI WUXIAN BEING IN THE 85% THOUGHFJFJFJFJFJ their personalities are so close to mine so ig it makes sense they’re my besties and my boyfies… <3

tagging: @mikichko @connorsui :3

[insertsomthinawesome]

CYNO IS COMPLEEEEETE!!!! Only Wolfwood left to go before I can working revealing all the full pieces >:D >:D Heheheheheehe, I'm excited to share it with ya'll!!!

[lychniis]

aine hiii 4 + 5 + 17 + 22 for the hsr oc asks pls c:

PULLING OUT THE WHOLE ROSTER FOR THIS ONEEE-

what is your character’s path?

engel - preservation ( despite being a galaxy ranger, this guy is more worried about keeping his daughter alive. tired dad fr ).

elke - destruction ( but magical girl style, y'know. )

aastha - abundance ( my self insert calls for her to be a tired medically aligned hermit like me ).

what element type is your character?

engel - imaginary ( like his sleep schedule ).

elke - quantum.

aastha - wind ( the bird motif returns guyssss ).

what are the best team comps for your character? which characters do they synergize well with?

engel - with elke since they are a pair. that and considering he's a shielder? anyone except blade XD. but i'd imagine he'd pair well certain hunt characters since he does provide either bounce or aoe follow up attacks when his shields are hit. so if there are multiple enemies, he does compensate for the hunt's singular hit base.

elke - the brawler. i thought of something like...a reverse blade kit for her XD. the less hurt she is / the more hp she has, the more damage she deals. so yes, any team that is shielder heavy. team comps with aventurine, gepard or engel would do, that or a decent healer.

aastha - as a healer? with any team, tbh. but she works better with erudition characters or burst reliant characters since she does add in in an additional boost of energy and that healing rate reliant on damage dealt on individual enemies. so like...the more targets you hit, the more you heal ( also the hilarity because she'd be...okay with hunt characters. given the hunt and abundance have beef ).

is there an event or story quest associated with your character’s debut? if yes, tell us about it!

engel and elke - depending on how it goes, they will be heavily influencing boothill's storyline ( they're partners, read : gay ) and penacony. engel is mute so he's...not talking that much. so you have elke translating him and boothill with the signature seven year old sass.

aastha - she strikes me more as a recurring gag character because her entire shctick is how she may be considered so normal ( as a medic in the ipc ) but has the craziest shit happening to and around her. i would not take hsr's events well. that stuff would fuck with my sanity XD.

ask game !!

[sanddusted-wisteria]

i THINK i've finally locked down the outline for the rewrite of earth and sky now, drafting's well on its way too

final chapter count: 44

estimated word count: > 70K? (hard to tell)

fluff? ✅

angst? ✅

a hint of cosmic horror? ✅

more organic symbolism? ✅

themes? ✅

percentage of the human emotional spectrum to be yeeted directly at qi: ~75-80%

percentage he's prepared for: 0%

[bitternace]

"He stands tall, arms crossed over his chest, watching as Lunatic comes close in a breath of air. The heat is so high that it jumps right into freezing. Axel doesn't move. 

The claymore dematerializes a second away from his face.

A beat behind the weapon follows Saïx,—" [ID: A colored digital sketch of kingdom hearts characters axel and saix shown from the hip up. The background is various shades of washed-out blue in geometric sections. Axel, in profile, crosses his arms, looking unimpressed. Saix in berserk state leans forward, grabbing at Axel's coat, hair flaring behind him. He wears a single glove and has his teeth bared. /End ID.]

[gibbearish]

god theres no better feeling than when a joke lands great. today i was helping a friend move and her brother was helping out too, at one point we were waiting for the person w the housekeys to get there and i asked if there were any bathrooms close by, answer was no but then friends brother goes "i mean you could find a nice private bush probably" and im like ahahaha yeaaaaaaah unfortunately not really an option, he's like "ahh we're all adults we won't be weird about it" and i just. stage whisper back "yeah but you see my rifle doesnt have a scope. so aiming is kinda, yknow..." and this man. looked like he was about to piss himself laughing for like a solid five minutes. i will run off of this high for months

[shomatoriashi]

7/30/24: 11:15am

yandere!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

{ request - oneshot }

- the academy arc -

@nyashykyunnie asked: KYUNNIE COMING IN CLUTCH AND SHALL DO A REQ BECAUSE BLESS UR SOUL FOR LETTING ME DO A REQ!!! MWAHHHHH!!! Hmo... Childhood friend reader x Jinwoo who went back in time >;3. He was always the chill typea boy best friend but ever since bby had puberty and became tall n hot he suddenly became... A little more posessive hehehehehehe. And what Jinwoo doesnt know is reader is secretly transmigrated and was his biggest fangirl for a long time and instead of being scared of Yandere!Woo they giggle at his murderous spree when she discovers that woowoo is going yandere over her heheheh Otherwise, go crazy bby>:3

warnings: unedited; petty bullying; violence; blood mention; gore; body horror; possessive and obsessive behavior

disclaimers: i do not condone such behaviors in real life; since this is purely a work of fiction, anything goes and i am willing to portray this creatively in the best way possible.

you are 5 years old, and your parents just moved into a quaint apartment complex. they were excited to be able to live in a space that they could call their own while surrounded by friendly neighbors.

as you busied yourself with your sketchbook, drawing ocean waves with colorful fishes swimming in them with your crayons, you heard a knock at the door. your ears perk up at the sound, and just as you were about to answer it, your father stops you with a stern expression. he calls out your name before gently reminding you, “what did papa tell you about opening doors? you should always let your mama or papa answer first, okay?”

you twist at the strands of your hair while pouting at him, giving your father a hesitant nod before following him to the front door. you hid your face behind the back of your father’s legs, eyes peeking curiously forward the moment he unlocks the door.

settled directly before you was a family that seemed to tower over you. you saw what looked like a tall young man and woman greeting your dad with kind smiles. in the woman’s arms was a baby wrapped in blankets, but what perhaps caught your attention was a little boy that hid himself behind his mother’s legs.

with your fascination growing with each second that passes, you slowly move away from your father’s legs while the little boy does the same. his grey eyes seemed to take you in, the blush dyeing his pale cheeks a rosier hue as the woman gently calls out to him, “jinwoo, go on and talk to her. she’s the same age as you, and i’m sure you’ll have fun.”

with his mother’s permission, the boy (jinwoo, it’s such a nice name), gives her a nod before standing before you, taking a hold of your hand. “wanna play together?”

you give him an eager nod, leading him to the floor of your living room as you showed him your sketchpad and the various drawings you had. as you turned the pad to a fresh page, you shyly offer your crayons to jinwoo, asking him if he’d like to draw anything. he gives you a smile while eagerly nodding at you.

and just a few moments later, when your father and jinwoo’s parents enter your home, they would see two giggling kids drawing while laying flat on their stomachs, basking in their imaginations all while knowing that this was a friendship that would last a lifetime-

you and jinwoo would become inseparable ever since that fateful day.

{ … }

days go by, quickly turning into weeks as the weeks slowly morphed into months while the months carried the ever changing seasons leading up to the new year-

and you found yourself here, 10 years later, ready to begin your first year of high school. you look at your reflection, adjusting the ribbon settled on your collar while brushing back your hair. you had plans of leaving your apartment 15 minutes ago-

however, jinwoo specifically told you to wait for him; that he was the one that would walk you to and from school as an extra means of protection (whatever that meant.) as you look at your clock settled on your desk, seeing how close it was to being 8am, you let out a huff and began marching out of your room-

only for your face to come into contact with a hard wall of muscle, earning a gasp from you. massaging at the slight ache felt against your nose, you look up to see jinwoo smiling down at you, already standing at nearly 6 feet despite only being 15 years old. a smirk graces his features when you feel him playfully flick at your nose, “ready to head to school?”

you grumble when he teases you, ready to walk ahead of him when he wraps his arms around your waist. he keeps you close to him, making your eyes go wide when he walks out of the apartment with you. he sees your mother doing the dishes and announces your departure, earning a knowing smile from her, “have a good day at school you two!”

before you could answer, jinwoo closes the door, a strange, dark look crossing over his expression as you trembled a bit in response. he shoves a hand in his pocket, using his other hand to hold onto yours as he interlocks them together. you take note of his expression and ask, “are you okay? you seem… upset.”

his expression immediately changes, eyes going back to its normal hue of grey when he looks back at you all while playfully ruffling your hair. “i’m fine, no need to worry your pretty little head over me.”

jinwoo then proceeds to annoy you, making kissy faces at you as he tries to get closer to you. you end up laughing while struggling to maintain your balance on the sidewalk, noticing how he still kept his gloved hand hidden within the pockets of his coat. admittedly, you had some anxiety pertaining to your first day of high school, yet with jinwoo’s constant teasing and jokes, you felt yourself becoming more comfortable as time passed.

arriving at your high school, jinwoo remains close to you, standing in the midst of a crowd of student while interlocking his fingertips with yours. as you stood together, ready to enter the school and start your day, you became achingly aware of several girls excited whispers. from your periphery, you notice the way they point their perfectly manicured nails at him.

“hey, he’s cute…”

“and so tall too…”

“ugh, why is he with such a plain girl though? don’t tell me they’re dating?!”

“no way! i’m sure she’s his pathetic best friend or something! hehe, i bet she gets friendzoned by him all the time.”

you purse your lips at the sounds of their giggles and harsh words, yet jinwoo squeezes your hand in yet another reassuring manner, moving slightly forward to block your view of them. you give him a grateful smile, seeing jinwoo meet your gaze before giving you a wink.

when the bell rings, you and jinwoo both enter the school together, ready to begin your first day. despite being in different classes, jinwoo was adamant in walking you to your class, frowning all the way. as you stand in front of the classroom, jinwoo places a hand on your shoulders, eyes seemingly glowing when he tells you, “if anyone dares give you any trouble at all, you tell me, okay?”

you giggle and awkwardly shuffle your feet from side to side, “i think i’ll be alright, jinwoo… but, thank you for your concern.”

he returns your smile with a strained one, ready to head back to his own class as he never once looked away from you. only when he disappears into the corner of the hallway did you let out a shaky breath.

surely, you had nothing to worry about, right?

you were bound to have a completely normal day at school, right…?

{ … }

and oh, how wrong your assumptions were!

you had barely finished the day, ready to meet jinwoo for lunch when your exit was blocked off by another student. she was a haughty girl that wore an expensive, ruby pendant that was shaped in a delicate rose while hanging by a thin, golden chain. it was clear that her family had money, as she was dressed in all the accessories and clothes that seemed to accentuate the beauty of her silvery blonde hair and startling green eyes-

a beauty that was used to getting what she wanted-

and a girl that shared your class.

you didn’t bother to know or even recall her name, since all she did was increase your anxieties with her mere presence alone.

“i see you walk into school today with what has to be the hottest guy in our class. so what’s a mousy little thing like you doing with a gorgeous guy like him?”

bile was felt rising up the confines of your throat as you held your sketchbook closer to your chest. the girl sneers at you, already reaching out a hand to snatch away at your sketchbook. you gasp, trying to get it back from her as you felt the tears dot your vision. “please, give that back! that sketchbook means a lot to me!”

buried within those pages were various sketches and stories that you and jinwoo shared, and if she were to ruin them, then all would be lost to you. you watch as her green eyes flash with malicious intent, already opening up your sketchbook as she idly flipped through the pages with a bored expression on her face.

it was when she flips to a random page that she sees the various sketches of jinwoo you had kept, her smile suddenly widening as she tore off the page and folded it, placing it within the confines of her pocket. “now this i can keep. as for the rest…”

her feign sigh of reluctance was all you could hear when she began ripping the rest of the pages out of your sketchbook, tearing up the pages into as many tiny shreds her hands could handle before tossing them up into the air, allowing the torn pages to fall like flower petals in the wind.

by now, your tears blinded you, making you fall to your knees as your heart broke with each torn page that lands on the ground. your breathing became uneven as the girl lets out a tiny “oops!” in response, finally walking away from you while tossing aside her silky hair.

you had no idea how much time you spent gathering the pages in the empty hallway, already knowing that lunch was nearing its end. as you were so focused on picking up the torn pieces of your sketchbook, you were unaware of heavy footsteps approaching you, calling out your name.

“hey, what are you doing? lunch is almost over-“

upon recognizing jinwoo’s voice, you allow your teary eyes to meet with his gaze, seeing them darken before flashing purple. “who did this to you?”

he ignores the ruined sketchbook and focuses his attention on you. picking up your shivering form, jinwoo places your face against his chest, allowing the front of his jacket to soak up all of your tears. several seconds pass when you were finally able to tell him what had happened. “it’s just… i-i wanted to meet you, b-but a girl in my class stopped me from going to you. s-she was mad that i was with you this morning and… she… she tore up my sketchbook while keeping my sketch of you.”

jinwoo’s hands stopped threading through your hair when he lowly asks, “who is she? what’s her name?”

you tremble upon hearing the dark tone of his voice and admit with a shaky sigh, “i don’t know her name… i just know that she’s pretty, with silvery hair and green eyes.”

jinwoo hums at this new information, keeping your face pressed against his chest to hide his expression of sheer rage from you.

soon, you wouldn’t have to deal with such trash like this ever again.

{ … }

you had filled 240 total pages inside of your precious sketchbook-

(jinwoo knew this since he was the one who religiously asked to see each drawing, read each story, painted within those pages)

and for all those 240 pages that had been so callously ripped out from your sketchbook, he had cut park yeon a total of 240 times with his daggers.

it was easy to lure her to him after school. jinwoo had made up an excuse to you about needing to talk to the coach and sign up for track, reassuring you to go home first and that he’ll text you later. with you out of sight and in the safety of your home, he then works on luring yeon to him.

her green eyes were blazing with a possessive hunger for him, following him with little question to the back of the school. he recalls the way yeon fuels his rage by telling him how she was made for him; how she was all he could ever need.

needless to say, she didn’t get a chance to speak further the moment jinwoo slices through her throat, cutting off her vocal cords as he began his revenge on her.

the night air was thick with the scent of blood when he looks down at the girl’s now lifeless body. his glowing eyes manages to dim down, his anger and fury now dying down to a simmer of annoyance as he now had a body to deal with. before he calls upon his soldiers to take care of the evidence, jinwoo’s eyes take sight of the glittering, rose pendant hanging loosely from the girl’s neck, a smirk gracing his features when he leans down to carefully release its clasps from her neck as he held the gorgeously crafted necklace within the palm of his hand.

{ … }

park yeon was not in class this morning, and you briefly wondered what had happened to her-

yet perhaps more-so than that was jinwoo’s sudden absence as well. feeling more concerned about your best friend, you recall how this morning, jinwoo’s mother had told you he had already gone to class, having an early meeting with the track team-

yet when you tried searching for him, he was nowhere to be found.

you check back on your phone when you ultimately decided to make your trek back to class, seeing no reply from jinwoo. letting out a sigh, you enter class and sit at your desk. as you worked on getting out your notebook from your desk was when you felt something cold against the palm of your hand.

your eyebrows were furrowed when you manage to pull out whatever lay deep within the confines of your desk-

only to see a ruby rose pendant covered in dried flecks of blood.

your mouth goes dry at the sight, making you swallow thickly before a wide grin paints your features.

sheer giggles of delight were heard coming from your parted lips as you held in your hand the same pendant that bitch had flaunted when she tore apart your sketchbook. grateful that no one was around, you continued to laugh, never once stopping as you cradled the necklace close to your chest.

jinwoo had done something about it after all!

and you couldn’t have been happier.

of course, you knew about him and his deepest secret.

you knew that he was the shadow monarch and had somehow reversed time to save the world-

you knew of how the two years he went missing was to take on the monarchs by himself-

and you knew that you had his heart within the very palms of your hand, for he had held yours since the very beginning.

back when you were a mere civilian and he had saved you from beasts that escaped the gates-

back when all you could see was himhimhimhim!

and now, that same man was all yours; with fate somehow placing you within his life the moment your parents had moved into the same apartment complex he had lived in all those years ago…

and now, he would never leave your side so long as you played your cards right.

forcing yourself to calm down, you adjust your blouse and put on the necklace, allowing the blood stained rose to settle against your collarbone as you hid the pendant with the fabric of your blouse. once it was all buttoned up, you adjust your blazer and smiled innocently at your classmates that started to walk in while your phone was felt vibrating against your desk. sliding open the screen, you smile when you saw a text from him:

[ my monarch 👑: sorry i wasn’t able to walk you to school today, i wanted my gift to you to be perfect. let’s meet up for lunch later, and i’ll give you a brand new, leather bound sketchbook to make up for the one you lost :) ]

[ you: that’s okay, my love! i look forward to seeing you again. thank you for the gift, i love you ♡ ]

[ my monarch 👑: i love you, too. always. ]

smiling at your phone’s screen, you give jinwoo’s profile picture a light kiss, all too eager to see him again when you dutifully turned your gaze forward and began taking notes, doing your best to hide your smirk when your teacher questions park yeon’s absence.

end notes: this feels like the most, true to genre yandere story i have ever written and i am so sorry for this, especially if it’s not my best work 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[disneyprincemuke]

driver’s parade * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic fem!driver

notes: HEHEHEHEHEHE

| "wanna hang out?" | driver's parade | american burgers | american football | the thanksgiving incident | another williams adoptee | beating the heat | you’re embarrassing me | santa baby | the favourite driver | the situationship | it's nice to have a friend |

“hey, florida man!” you call out, jogging to catch up to the taller man ahead of you. “heading to the driver’s parade?”

“aren’t we all?” logan answers, turning around to glance at you. “hi.”

“hi,” you greet back with a proud smile. lunch had gone great with alex and george the day prior. though, it was still a little awkward from the obvious disconnect between you and the american driver.

he was slightly more withdrawn and only talked to alex and george when he needed to. he only ever spoke to you when you spoke to him. alas, you are still very committed to make a best friend out of the younger man.

admittedly, his tendency to be quiet and a little shy is very reminiscent of when you attempted to make a friend out of lewis a couple of years ago. and kimi, when he was still around.

though, kimi was a lot different from lewis and logan. he still had his moments.

“how’d you enjoy your first race weekend?” you ask, glancing at him as you take a sip from your water bottle. “have fun?”

“it’s okay so far,” he shrugs, dropping his head slightly. “have you seen alex anywhere?”

“you don’t like hanging out with me?” you frown jokingly. a smile stretches your lips when his head shoots up, eyes wide as strings of apologies start to spew from his lips.

“no, i didn’t mean it like that. i’m sorry. it’s just-“

“i’m kidding!” you laugh, patting his shoulder. “i’ve only seen you with alex anyway, so it’s probably just a preference.” you turn and scan the pitlane, lips pressed together. “he should be around here with george.”

“how come you aren’t with them?” logan hums hesitantly, glancing at you shyly with his hands in his pockets. “i always saw you guys together last year.”

you laugh. you’re typically sighted with george and alex by default: george is your teammate and alex is his best friend. it’s just a natural thought that george and alex come together as a package deal to you.

“yeah, but i try not to intrude when they’re out dating,” you wave off his concerns, “makes me feel like a third wheel.”

“they do kinda have that effect, don’t they,” logan mutters, shaking his head. “so, um…”

“oi, you’re late!” you look ahead, finding your teammate with his hands on his hips. behind him in the truck that’s supposed to take everyone around the track collectively. “come on, we’re waiting for you guys! and max. where is max? have you seen max?”

“why are you asking us like we’ve seen him?” you scoff, watching george hop onto the back effortlessly. “i haven’t seen him. ask checo.”

“you don’t suppose he’s ditching,” george whispers, bewildered at the though.

“is he allowed to do that?” logan asks softly, glancing at you.

“no, but he’s max,” you point out. you rest your water bottle on the surface of the truck and hold your arm up to george. “he can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“yeah, we’ve stopped asking questions,” george giggles. he grabs your extended arm, yanking you up easily to the elevated surface of the truck.

somehow, in the past year of being teammates, you and george have perfected the art of lifting you onto the back of the truck effortlessly.

you pick up your water bottle before you turn around to face logan. you extend a helping hand towards him and smile. “come on.”

george watches you with his eyebrows furrowed, also yanking the rookie up to stand between you. “aw, that’s kinda sweet,” george teases as logan walks past them after alex calls for him to walk further in. “you reckon you guys are friends now?”

you huff, shaking your arms. “he’s a tough nut to crack. he’s very shy.”

“now you know what it’s like trying to be your friend.”

[totaly-obsessed]

hiii! i love ur work so much!!!! i was wondering if i can request a kcc fic where she gets jealous hehehehehehe

Favorites

Kyra Cooney-Cross x reader request

-> Kyra finds out that she is not the favorite aunt or girlfriend

-> Hope you like it Anon, even though you probably meant a different jealousy haha

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The national break was always a welcome break from the daily club life, even if the World Cup was not that long ago. You had arrived together with the other Matilda’s that played in England. The plane journey was a long one, but one most of you were accustomed to by now.

Your plan for it? Sleeping. As much as you could. Trainers and mostly everybody you knew tried to tell you that it was bad, but you didn’t really listen – the want to sleep much too big.

Sam, your club teammate sat next to you, anxiously chewing her nails for most of the trip as she was one of the worst fliers you knew. Your captain was always thankful to sit next to you, as you calmed her down with your deep sleep and not a care in the world.

The two seats across from you were occupied by Mary and Kyra who were playing cards, bored out of their minds. Eventually, it was the new Arsenal signing who kicked your feet to wake you. “Huh? Are we there yet?” The two started laughing at your startled face and at how fast you had sat up in your seat. “No, still a while out. You’re playing cards with us.”

It wasn’t a question, Kyra knew that you would just roll your eyes and close them again, desperate for sleep. But she also knew that even you couldn’t resist her puppy eyes, so she batted her lashes at you, knowing that you would cave in.

The two of you had been dating for over a year now. Her joining Arsenal had been the best thing ever – you finally moved in together, which was quite hard with the midfielder playing in Sweden before. Even with the both of you on rival London teams, it was the best thing ever.

When in public Kyra might seem like the excited, touchy one when in private it was you who would simply refuse to let the brunette go, cuddling as close to her as you could. So whipped as you are, you played cards with them and even managed to get Sam to play as well.

“Man, I can’t wait to see Harps again. She grows so quickly.” This has been Kyra’s first time being away for such a long time from the toddler since meeting her. The two-year-old quickly found her way into all the Matilda’s hearts, helping the team relax after a long day, her gleeful giggles sounding through the halls of the facility. “Me neither, maybe she finally decides to be a striker.” Sam was back to consciousness, always happy to talk about the youngest team member – also distracting herself from flying. None of you could help but laugh, knowing that if little Harper decided to be a footballer one day, she would follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a midfielder.

The rest of the journey was long and hard, you were just happy to have Kyra at your side, knowing that you didn’t need to talk, the brunette filling the silence all by herself.

When the group of you arrived at the team hotel it was already late in the day but most of the Tillies that roamed the halls were excited to see each other again after a very successful World Cup. “Auntie Y/N!” A small body made its way through the sea of players, crashing into your open arms as you couched down, ready to hug her. “Harps!” Giggles filled the room as you threw her up in the air and caught her again.

You could feel Katrina’s watchful eyes on you but the short midfielder was never worried when Harper was with you. With Charlie and Kyra? Panic. But once you joined them? Everything was alright. It wasn’t like you were more mature, but the way you carried yourself; serious and careful when needed but you also knew how to have fun – the perfect combination.

“Harper look, Kyra’s here too!” Your girlfriend tried to get the girl's attention but she was much too busy playing with your hair, telling you the story of how her favorite stuffy had found its way to Australia. “Babe, I’ll go make out with Charls, yeah?” When you didn’t even react, the midfielder scoffed offended.

She just got replaced by a two-year-old.

Kyra didn’t know who she envied more. You for being Harper's favorite auntie, or Harper for having all your attention when in the same room.

Once back on the ground, the toddler grabbed your hand, swiftly pulling you out to a field, commanding you to grab a ball. The rest of the Matildas watched in awe as their very stoic teammate turned to mush once the tiny blonde shouted “Again!” signaling you to roll the ball to her so that she could kick it back.

“My girlfriend just got stolen.” The young Arsenal player’s mouth was wide open as Harper took you from her, in broad daylight. Harper kept pulling you out on the field further and further until you couldn’t hear the teasing anymore – not that you paid it any mind.

“Kyra just got replaced!” It was Mackenzie who started joking at their young teammate's expanse. “I still have an open room, should harper take your bed as well!” But it was Caitlin who caused the brunette to whine in defeat.

Katrina knew that you were up to no good when she saw you crouched on the floor, telling Harper something while pointing at the rest of the Matilda’s at the side of the pitch – a devious smile on your face.

Just a few short moments her daughter ran towards them, as fast as she could, arms wide open an excited smile on her face. “Auntie!” Kyra had now crouched down as well, copying your previous action, opening her arms as the small blonde raced directly toward her.

“C’mere Harps!” But Harper had a different plan, throwing herself on the ground as she army-crawled through the midfielder's legs – jumping into Alanna’s strong arms, who stood directly behind Kyra. The crowd erupted in laughter, as you made your way back to them, a sly smirk still on your lips, seeing your girlfriend's very prominent pout as Sam patted her back. “Not the favorite girlfriend, not the favorite aunt – Man, that’s gotta hurt."

[clegfly]

OUGH AH PLEASE DO!!!!!!!!!1 Favourite show ever 10/10 would brainwash all my mutuals into watching again

SHSHFBHS i actually really appreciate this reblog because I was working on basil and a lot of his concept designs have MAJOR spoilers so now I will know to add warnings!!! <3

I had a vision…

[anniekinsart]

CW: Suggestive content

"We gator halfies are nice and all, but I can't say that for the rest of everything that lives in these waters."

"Sun's almost done settin'. You don't wanna be out there...when the night falls.."

AU: Bug ignores the warnings not to venture into Silverben at night. Ghary notices.

((THIS IS JUST A SIMPY AU! Not how Ghary would actually react!!))

Still had fun drawing it though >:) hehehehehehe

[nico-di-genova]

A Lesson in Braking

Chapter 2

Read on Archive of Our Own

A/N: hehehehehehe (my only thoughts while writing this fic).

Warnings: NSFW and a brief mention of anti-harm dorm furniture.

“I fucked an old guy last night,” Lance says to Esteban, when he’s lying on the floor of his dorm room, head resting on the Spider-Man pillow he bought Esteban for his birthday last spring. “Behind the Barnes & Noble. Hand job.”

Esteban hums. He’s  sitting at his desk that he’s moved to slot beneath the single small window of his room, curled over his laptop and working on some complex string of numbers. Three weeks into the semester and Esteban is already drowning in assignments – Lance doesn’t envy him.

“He ate my cum,” he continues, picking at a fraying edge of the pillow. When he pulls at the red string it snags on the fabric and then releases, growing longer in Lance’s grip. He should buy Esteban a new one, maybe a whole bedspread to match. The thought occurs that he could buy a matching set, just to sleep on during the nights when he’s too drunk to get back to his own place and crashes in the living room.

Esteban hums again, pushes his glasses further up his nose, keeps clicking away on his laptop so that the number sequence only grows longer. Lance can only catch pieces of it from where he’s lying on the floor, head angled backward to stare up at Esteban as he works. But even the small bit he can see is enough to give him a headache.  

“When I kissed him I tasted it.”

That gets him.

Esteban sighs, leans back in the chair as far as it will go given its anti-tip design – dorm furniture made to prevent kids from hanging themselves from their light fixtures – rubs at the bridge of his nose and then falls back forward with a groan.

“You’re telling me this, why?”

Lance pouts, tips his head further back on the pillow so he can get a better look at Esteban with one arm on the back of his chair, leaning down to stare at him with mild judgement.

“You don’t want to know about the old man sex I had?”

“I can barely tolerate hearing about the normal sex you have.”

Lance laughs. The spider-man plush, also bought by Lance from the birthday trip to Disneyland last spring, rises and falls on his stomach with the movement. Technically, he has homework for his intro to Marketing class, but it’s more fun to laze around on Esteban’s dirty floor, talking about his sex life, than it is to learn about how to make people buy things. Besides, he’s grown up listening to his dad rant about his successes in the industry, so much so that his first word might as well have been entrepreneurship. It shouldn’t be a hard class to pass.

The dorm room is so tiny he almost runs the whole length of it, one foot nearly to the door, his head at the base of Esteban’s chair, one knee propped in the air. One of his arms is spread wide enough that it’s laying underneath Esteban’s bed, fingers toying with the shoelace of a sneaker that’s been kicked off underneath. It’s a familiar sight by this point, Lance taking up space in Esteban’s room, his life, with ease and spreading out enough that he can be found in nearly every corner of it. Esteban always makes room for him, sometimes will join him on the floor when his course load isn’t too much. But junior year is already different from the two prior, kicking off with a speed that is giving Lance whiplash.

He misses Sovi, the freshman dorms that once made him feel caged, but provided infinitely more freedom in that they weren’t tied to the paths that had led them here.

“My normal sex life just involves Pato, you’d rather hear about me fucking Pato?” He asks, smirks, just barely dodges the pencil Esteban flicks down at him.

“I don’t want to hear about you fucking anyone! Get a journal!”

Lance muses, “I guess there was also that one guy a few weeks ago. From that party in Q,” the building a few doors down from Esteban’s. It sat on the shore of the lake and far enough away from the central hub that university police tended to overlook it. Esteban had called Lance four beers deep a week into school and told him to get there quick, didn’t specify where ‘there’ was, so Lance had to use Find My to even locate him. When he’d pulled up the party had been in full swing on the third floor, and he was welcomed into the cramped apartment by Esteban who reeked of alcohol and weed. Lance ended up fucking one of the guys who lived there, riding him hurriedly and enduring the guy keeping a sweaty palm pressed to his mouth so he didn’t make too much noise in the room they’d locked themselves in.

 Esteban squints at him, “You said that guy was shit.”

“He was.” He came first and then didn’t even bother to get Lance off.

“So why the fuck would you want to talk about it again?”

“Because you don’t want to hear about the good old man sex.”  

Esteban’s nose crinkles in disgust, “Well how old was he?”

“I didn’t ask.”

The mechanical engineering is quickly forgotten, Esteban spinning around fully in his chair and staring at Lance with wide eyes. Lance grins up at him innocently, flutters his eyelashes, scoots over on the pillow as a silent invitation for the man to join him on the ugly blue carpeted floor. Esteban doesn’t take it, yet, Lance is still confident he can convince him.

“How old did he look?”

“I don’t know, forties maybe?”

“Forties?! What the fuck, Lance!?”

“What?”

The deadpan stare Esteban gives him isn’t new, it’s pretty standard actually. “You are insane. And stupid.”

Lance, because he likes testing his luck, pushing at the boundaries of his and Esteban’s friendship, seeing where the line is so he can be prepared for when it snaps, keeps going, “I’m seeing him again tonight.”

He wishes he’d been filming, just so he could preserve the way Esteban’s eyes get impossibly wider. Finally, Esteban gets out of the chair, but he doesn’t join Lance on the floor, instead he paces the length of the room, hands held on his head and mumbles a rapid string of words that Lance doesn’t quite get but he thinks are mainly swears.

“You are joking, yes? Tell me you are joking.” Hands on his hips, towering over Lance, he looks like a giant. Tall and lanky with big eyes behind his wire-rimmed frames.

Lance hadn’t been. He’s been texting Fernando since late last night, ignoring calls from his dad in the process. So far the conversation has consisted of little substance, just enough to establish that Lance is a junior, Fernando is retired, and lives in one of the mansions on the other side of the lake that is right outside Esteban’s prison cell-sized window. Mainly they’d talked about Fernando’s cock, how Lance is upset he didn’t get to see it, taste it – how he’d like to return the favor preferably outside of the backseat of a car and somewhere a bit more comfortable.

He wants to be called beautiful again, reverently, spread out on silk sheets and spread open by Fernando’s fingers. He blames the accelerated horniness on the dry summer he’d just had, the time spent at his father’s house with little else to do and no one to hook up with because Lawrence had insisted on spending as much time as he could with Lance. They’d gone to the track to watch a few races, the office where Lance was meant to be shadowing, galas and banquets, and the golf course most mornings so Lawrence could ensure Lance actually had something to show for the tuition he was fronting. Lance knows it was mainly a last ditch effort on his dad’s behalf to maintain their relationship, before Lance slipped off back to Florida and began predictably sending him to voicemail. Which is why he had even bothered enduring it in the first place, when he just as easily could has gone off to the Mykonos with a group of guys from his frat.

He'd refrained from debauchery all summer, was paying the price for his abstinence now. But, like always, the cost was something to which Lance paid very little, until the bill began to raise eyebrows, as Esteban’s now are.

“Lance. Tell me you are joking!”

“Why would I be joking?”

Esteban glares down at him, while Lance sprawls out further across the thin carpet, concrete flooring beneath digging into his shoulder blades, and smiles. It’s wide, lazy, slow to draw across his face. The sort of shit-eating, self-assured, smirk that Esteban hates.

“It was good sex, Este! He did this thing-“

“Stop! No! Stop! I don’t want to know.”

Lance stops, goes quiet, but continues to smirk. In his pocket, he feels his phone vibrate, probably Fernando again. They’re meant to be meeting in a few hours, once the suns gone down enough that being outside doesn’t make him feel like he’s melting. When Fernando can take him to the bar in the shopping plaza nearby and treat him to a beer before he fucks him senseless, as he’s been promising all day.

He doesn’t tell Esteban this, figures he’s maybe traumatized him enough for the day. Instead, he changes the topic to Esteban’s course load, feigns interest in the math still open on his laptop. Esteban is all too willing to explain it to him, to turn his attention away from the phone Lance pulls from his pocket and grins at with cheeks turning red.

Fernando has sent him a photo of his outfit, button of his slacks undone, zipper pulled low,  hand holding the waistband below his hips. He has a tattoo on the inside of his forearm, close to his wrist, something Lance hadn’t noticed in the dark of his car last night, but that he now can’t draw his eyes away from. It’s a cross of some sort, produces the sort of sacrilegious thoughts that he can’t linger on for too long for fear of losing his religion.

‘Wear something nice,’ Fernando’s text says, when he manages to read it.

Lance doesn’t own much that fits the description, other than a suit he saves for formals, but he figures it maybe doesn’t actually matter that much. Fernando promises to rip whatever it is off of him anyway.

Esteban throws another pencil at him when he tries to show him the photo, holds his hand up to block the view and then lands the writing utensil right on Lance’s nose.

------------

His dad calls when he’s fresh out of the shower of his own apartment, steam curling in the air around him and his phone vibrating steadily against the granite countertops of his humid bathroom. He answers before it goes to voicemail, figures he owes his dad this because it’s the third time he’s called since that morning, and he doesn’t want to risk pissing the man off too much.

“Hey,” he says as he’s wrapping a towel around his waist, slicking his wet hair back out of his face with his free hand. He leaves the phone on speaker, lets his dad’s voice fill space as he busies with getting ready.  

“I’m going to assume you’ve been ignoring my calls because you are going to class.”

He only has one class on Tuesday’s, and it’s finished by noon. Advanced golf merchandising, a pointless elective where he’s meant to be learning the management of a retail location. He takes notes, enough to retain the important bits, but he already knows management isn’t where he’s going to end up. His dad would secure him some corporate position within his company before that was even an option. Which, he doesn’t want either, can’t stand the thought of being forced to wear a shirt with a collar every day.

“Yeah, I just got back from campus,” he lies, he’s been hiding out at Esteban’s since class ended, it’s seven now. The lie comes too easy, but the truth would only hurt the both of them – that Lance is avoiding his father because their conversations hurt more than they help these days. That Lance is growing, but it’s in a direction away from Lawrence, from the idea of who his dad thought he would be.

His dad wishes Lance were still small, and Lance wishes that too, but only because when he was a child hurting his dad only resulted in a brief scolding. Now it leads to awkward silences that neither of them know how to fill.

“Class is going well?”

“Um, easy so far, yeah.” They’re only three weeks in. “Other than this financial accounting class, it’s brutal.” He’s already had to ask Esteban for help, already knows he’s going to need to visit the library for tutoring.

He wipes steam from his mirror with the palm of his hand, catches a glimpse of his dripping reflection. Somehow, he needs to assemble himself into something relatively attractive within the next ten minutes, only for it to most likely come undone the second he slides his helmet over his hair. There’s a twisted sort of humor in him wondering how best to style himself for Fernando, while he’s on the phone with his father, pretending to care about classes that had stopped being fun once Lance realized they were actually supposed to lead to something.

“You spent all summer looking at the books,” Lawrence says. Which is true, but it had made more sense when things were hands on. Now it’s just a jumble of words and numbers on a whiteboard, a professor who knows the course is meant for weeding out those who are too weak to continue, and who looks at Lance every time he shows up late with a knowing sort of disappointment.

People didn’t used to look at him like that, it’s a growing sentiment the more Lance stumbles.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just- it’s different. All reading and equations and- I don’t know. I’m not a numbers guy, dad, you know this.”

“You got it pretty well while you were here.”

Only because he’d felt his dad’s eyes on him the whole summer, felt the pressure and the weight and need to prove he could do something. His professor doesn’t bother to look at Lance once he’s sat at a desk, which means Lance zones out, doodles designs in the margins of his notes and then wonders why the numbers don’t add up while he’s doing homework later.

“It’s different,” the exasperation in his voice is audible, he pauses where he’d been drying his hair with a towel pulled from under the sink. Closes his eyes. Breathes. “But I’m trying. I’ll- I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will, Lance. I didn’t say you wouldn’t.”

They’re being careful around each other, the eggshells just beginning to crunch beneath their feet. Neither one of them want a fight and Lance can feel the tension of it through the phone, the tightening of something in his chest that threatens to break every time he speaks to his father now. This is why he lets it go to voicemail.

Fernando texts him, he sees the notification come through as he’s staring at the phone, hands braced on the bathroom sink. Probably asking if he’s on his way. Lance’s hair is still dripping water in cold tendrils down the back of his neck, a puddle forming on the carpet at his feet. He hasn’t even bothered to find an outfit or brush his teeth.

“Look, dad- I- um, I gotta go. I have a, uh, a study thing with Pato-“

“Oh, okay, yeah. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Lance closes his eyes again, bows his head, tries not to care about the hurt that’s audible in his father’s voice and finds that it somehow manages to dig between his ribs anyway. He hangs up before there’s the chance for the line to fracture further, and then he busies himself with texting Fernando back.

‘You are still coming?’ Fernando asks.

Lance says he’ll be there soon, and then he focuses on the toothbrush in his hands, getting himself ready, and ignores everything else.

-------------

“I need a drink!” Lance yells over the music, leaning further into Fernando, who holds him up with ease. “A shot!”

Fernando’s hand on his waist tightens when Lance rocks on his feet. They’re standing in the press of bodies on the dance floor, people on all sides. The crowd makes it easy for Lance to press against Fernando, the flashing lights adding to the disorientation. No one notices the way Fernando’s got one hand gripping Lance’s hipbone, the other on his ass, tucked into the pocket of his jeans and cupping the curve of him.  

They’re the same jeans he’d worn last night, pulled from the crumpled heap on his floor and slid back on because he couldn’t find anything else. If Fernando has noticed he doesn’t say anything, too distracted by the white linen button-up that Lance wear, only half done-up and exposing nearly the full expanse of his chest in the multicolored lights. Lance knows it puts the chain around his neck on full display, makes his collarbones stand out, shows how broad he is, and produces the impressed reaction Fernando had exhibited upon first seeing him.

He’d bought Lance his first drink, and then the first requested tequila shot, leaning on the bar top and staring at the exposed column of his neck as Lance tipped the liquor back and downed it with practiced ease. Lance had seen the way Fernando’s eyes had darkened as his adams apple bobbed, looking from the corner of his eye just to see the response that would be elicited with the movement.  

“What do you want?” Fernando asks now, hand on his hip coming up to pull Lance down to him so his lips just barely brush over Lance’s ear.

He shudders, breath stuttering when Fernando’s fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and pull just enough that there’s the promise of something better later. He’s been teasing Lance since Lance first arrived, the ghost of a touch, a tongue tracing over the sweaty line of his neck, enough to have him hard in his jeans but never doing anything to solve the problem.

It’s the most public foreplay Lance has ever engaged in, even if everyone is too drunk or too involved in their own games to even notice.

“Vodka?” Lance yells, knowing he probably seems young for only ordering shots, but he’d only just turned twenty-one last October. Most of his experience with alcohol has been bagged wine fountained before entry to a party or the mix of Kool-Aid and whatever liquor could be procured into a giant tub for jungle juice. Shots are simple, uncomplicated, and he knows he can handle them. Plus they hit fast, or at least feel like they do, give him the liquid courage needed to grind against Fernando as Pit Bull blares around them in the crowded bar.

The Keys is a mixed sort of space, half occupied by college kids who were too lazy to drive all the way to Rusty’s and half-filled by the locals who are looking for fun outside of their mansions. It means he and Fernando don’t draw attention, Lance fits in with the group of kids in their backwards caps and low cut shirts, Fernando blends with the guys in their pressed button-ups and black slacks. He just looks hotter than the others, the pants hugging his waist and ass well, clearly tailored. And the peak of a tattoo Lance gets on the back of Fernando’s neck as he follows him back up to the bar, Fernando’s hand around his wrist towing him through the crowd, separates him enough from the older guys smoking cigars outside on the patio. He wants to know what the tattoo is, slide Fernando’s shirt off his shoulders and trace the ink with his tongue.

But that’s for later, for now he lets Fernando guide him, lean him against the bar top, slide a hand back into the pocket of his jeans because the shape of his palm over his ass is becoming familiar. He flags down the bartender, orders two shots of Vodka and then they tip them back together. Lance can feel how flushed his neck is getting, wonders if the red of it is spreading to his chest, his cheeks. His hair that was still slightly damp from the shower is frizzing in the humidity of the packed space, falling over his forehead.

Fernando stares up at him, lips wet with vodka and his own spit when he licks them, Lance follows the movement, starts to lean forward like he intends to taste the lingering alcohol himself. Fernando stops him with a hand on his chest, fingers splayed across bare skin, index finger dipping into the hollow of his clavicle. Lance shudders, Fernando feels it.

“Let’s get out of here, yes?”

“Yes.”

Lance can’t drive his bike, just drunk enough that he knows he couldn’t keep his balance. Instead, he climbs into the passenger seat of Fernando’s Aston Martin, and deposits his own keys in the cupholder, casting a forlorn look back at his gear in the backseat. The same seat he’d come undone in last night, now occupied by his motorcycle helmet with the sticker of a cat waving the Canadian flag – something Pato had found online and ordered because ‘it’s Canada, Lance! You know, you!’. Fernando had asked him about it when he parked earlier, traced the outline of it before Lance had taken his helmet off, lifted Lance’s visor so he could see his eyes more clearly as he did so.

When he looks back at Fernando in the driver’s seat the man is staring at him. Lance knows what it looks like when someone wants him. He knows the way Pato gets all slack jawed and dopey-eyed, eyes flicking to Lance’s lips every two seconds even though he wouldn’t even try to kiss him. But Fernando’s look of want is different, more demanding and all-encompassing. He looks like he’s plotting the best course of stripping Lance out of his clothes before they’ve even reached their destination, like he is thinking of the best way to take him apart.

Maybe it’s because he’s more experienced, or maybe it’s because he’s less. Lance doesn’t know enough about him, anything really, to know if he is the first man Fernando has hooked up with or not. They still haven’t found much time to talk, or maybe just haven’t wanted to make the effort. Lance is okay with that, his idea of foreplay is not long discussions and get-to-know-you’s. He doesn’t have the patience for that, much prefers Fernando’s method of cutting to the quick and easy of it.  Which Fernando does when he leans across the console enough to grab Lance by the chain around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.

Lance is still not used to the kissing, just opens his mouth and lets Fernando’s tongue slide into it because he’s not practiced enough. He’s okay with letting Fernando take control, likes how he doesn’t have to think about it, just follow. Fernando tastes like vodka, and Lance swallows the familiar taste of it when their spit mixes and he can no longer tell whose is whose.

When Fernando pulls back Lance tries to chase him, is stopped again by a hand on his chest, firm and unyielding.

“You are still okay with coming to my place?” Fernando asks, and something in the way he says it is slightly sobering. It makes Lance remember his bike two spots over, prepared to be abandoned for the night and hopefully still there come morning.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“I will drive you home, instead. If you want. Up to you.”

“No. No I’m good. Trust me.” He’d prepped himself in the shower and everything, knew what he was getting into before a drop of alcohol ever touched his tongue. “I’ve been thinking about this since last night.”

Fernando eyes him, glances down at his chest where his skin is still red and hot and bare against his hand.

“Okay. God, you are beautiful.”  

The praise shoots straight to Lance’s cock, has a quiet moan escaping him, something he only just barely manages to bite back with the press of his teeth into his bottom lip. Fernando catches it anyway, grins like he’s realized the praise wasn’t just a one-off from the hand job last night, but something Lance actually enjoys.

"Don’t worry, pretty boy,” he promises, “Make you feel better soon.”

[dapper-lil-arts]

So, what are your favorite MLP ships? I don't know if you've already been asked this before, but meh

less about being asked, more about me posting them nonstop lmao;

#1 Sunlight - (Sunset Shimmer and Twilight Sparkle) Number one and two are interchangable due to my mood, because theyre both incredible, and easily fit on a "favorite ships of all time" list i could make for myself. Sunset and Twilight shipping is to me in general all about potential. And if im talking endgame, the show would have ended so, so much better, if there were two lesbians inheriting the night and day. These two are it, with flying colors. Going from rivals to friends to close friends to lovers that would do anything for eachother, to ruling the world in a golden age together, my goodness, this ship is like the chef's choice at a menu. I also may have written a large fanfic of how i would write an entire season of the show with Sunset on it, heheheheheh. Also worth stating, i concider Sunset x Scitwi To be on the same level, if not being the same ship, even if Scitwi is a diffrent character, if someone loves Twilight Sparkle, they would love her in all her versions. #2 Rarijack - (Rarity and Applejack) Did i say sunlight is the chef's choice at a menu? Rarijack is the whole fucking menu. What more can be said about the legend of how the most beautiful Unicorn and the strongest Earth Pony fell in love? The City girl x Country girl vibes are incredibly strong, the opposites attract is at it's PEAK, and both of these girls can easily concider themselves the luckiest women in the world for having the other. It was the first couple i shipped on the show when i watched passively, 'cause i instantly noticed their potential, and c'mon how couldn't anybody. They're the hydrogen bomb of mlp ships, and they could easily sustain an entire season on their back if it was about their love story, which is, painfully, not canon, like any of these ships. Also i'm literaly writing a fic that takes Shrek 1 and makes it about Rarijack and it's as dumbly amazing as it sounds #3 Startrix - (Starlight Glimmer and Trixie Lulamoon) Honestly this one is easy to ship because it's just endlessly funny. The biggest fail girl that almost destroyed the world falls for the only girl thats a bigger loser than her, and that is endlessly entertaining; specialy because compared to trixie, Starlight is the baddest bitch lmao, and they would hype eachother so much. (insert that post of loser ass gf being hyped up by other cool gf) And there's just an appeal to two unhinged women finding eachother and making eachother... better? worse? I think theyre both at their best when traveling together. #4 Flutterdash - (Fluttershy and Rainbow dash) Fun fact, i didn't ship this until i wrote "the return of midnight sparkle" i just had to write scenes with certain themes, and i realised it would be helpful to further the themes and plot and character development of the protagonist if Rainbow and Fluttershy were macking on eachother. And it grew on me! Daredevil girl and shy girl lift eachother up and improve eachother. Honorable mention: That one ship with with Cadance, Shining armor, and Chrysalis; because it is honestly funny as fuck; no matter how you spin it, be it cadance and chrysalis mack on eachother and shining tolerates it, or the Princess and the Queen have a silent rivalry as they try to be with their himbo, or even if the three of them gross together. it's always funny. (queue chrysalis with the "im not the stepdad im the dad that stepped up" shirt while playing with flurryheart)

[slanekthe3rd]

Sometimes she puts the wife beater on :(((((

Keeping the girlies in line