#my little pony season four

[fluttershyyay]

[freckleslikestars]

“...we developed, shortly after, I think, the battle pony, which became famous apparently in playgrounds. Ian Watson, one of our directors, was saying that his daughter had taken the expression to school and everyone would go out and play in their battle ponies. À la Aeryn. Little Aeryn Suns running around everywhere.” ~ Claudia Black

FARSCAPE | 1x09 DNA Mad Scientist Audio Commentary

or Aeryn Sun's Battle Pony Appreciation Post

[kinokoshoujoart]

[cute-mlp-outfits]

Maud pie?

[ghosttheatre]

I got into tumblr because of pm seymour

I now read every tumblr post with his voice, so if you see me reposting something just know that pm seymour said it not me

[awacatto]

My pony seasons collection and I love them so much, even thought I'm bad naming them lol

We got

☆ Marigold Summer

☆ Autumn Fall

☆ Wintermite Frost

☆ Eastertide Plum

They are terrible *cry

[anakinlove]

Hello Lili my love how are u

Hello!!!!

I am good!!!

How are you??

[twentyponiesperday]

1x01: Friendship is Magic, Part 1

[juviabrainrot]

LET'S GO TO THE FAIR !

PAIRINGS ... d.kaminari, h.sero, e.kirishima x fem!reader

a/n: it's fair season! (at least where i live) and i got the idea to do this. also we're not gonna talk about my tiktok ban crashout but that shit was literally 14 hours i am so dramatic idc. this also isn't proof read (again!!! are we surprised) ALSO ignore how sero's is probably longer than the rest of them bc idk he's bae and needs that extra little ramble

requests are open!

d. kaminari

ik damn well this man is trying to do all the fair games and loses at nearly all of them

and yes, he did win one game at the very least! (it was the one where you have to squirt water into the whole)

for his prize, he got a minion plushie and was mad because when you guys had previously passed, there was a pikachu plushie but it was gone by the time you came back

he only wanted it so he could give it to you since it was "basically his twin", but it's ok because minions are TOTALLY better!! (imo, fight me idc)

you both decided to go on the zipper and halfway through the line, he started getting scared because of the plethora of screams

with lots of reassurance, you two got on there and it was... something!

he screamed like a baby and started crying for his mom at one point

"I'm too young and handsome for my death to happen like this!"

after, he acted nonchalant and like he wasn't just bawling his eyes out

for some reason, he really wanted to go on zero gravity and pretended to climb the walls to take a pic and send it to sero

"wait catch my good side I want to look mysterious"

h. sero

definitely snuck his penjamin in

his plan was to go to the fair 2 days: - day 1: get high af and eat literally every food, play games, and go to the petting zoo - day 2: ride all the rides

literally the first thing he did was go to the corn dog stand and tore up an XL corn dog

next, he attacked a turkey leg and got the juices all over his mouth

did he know? no. did you let him walk around with them decorating his mouth for a while? yes

he was starting to get a little stuffed so he got himself a fresh squeezed lemonade to share and you both walked around the fair grounds

you walked past the basketball stand and he was convinced that he could shoot the hoop with perfection, but ended up bashing the ball into the front of the hoop and it came back and hit him

he gave up and pouted a little so he decided he wanted to pet some goats in the petting zoo

was about to cry when he saw the miniature ponies because he wanted to take one home

made sure no one was around, whipped out his pen and asked the horse if he wanted a hit

before you were about to leave, he decided he wanted to split a funnel cake with you but could only eat four bites before he gave up and left the rest to you

on day two, he bought the unlimited pass for you both and wanted to go crazy on all the rides

the first ride you went on was the thunderbolt and you accidentally crushed him because of how fast it was going + literal air force

forced you to go on the pendulum ride 4 times and the fireball 3 times

went into the fun house and pretended to be a hamster on a hamster wheel in the spinning tunnel, and accidentally kicked a kid that was trying to get in

e. kirishima

like denki, he was also trying to do all the carnival games, but there's one difference - he was actually getting prizes

his favorite game was the hammer and bell one since it showed off how strong he was

started winning so many prizes for you that you had to give some to little kids because you physically couldn't hold them all

you both walked through all the crazy popup shops and got weird/cringe matching shirts ( I am so sexy that even life gets hard / I am life)

he also ate a chicken leg and held his face out with a smile for you to wipe it clean

held your hand the whole time as you walked around and you became one of those cringe couples in the lines even after you swore you wouldn't

he wanted to go on quite literally every ride, even the kiddie rides

his favorite ride was definitely the fireball and rode it 5 times

took loads of pics in the photo booth and put one of the strips in the back of his phone case

ended the night with a romantic ride on the ferris wheel and took tons of pictures to post, some of them you didn't even know he took

©juviabrainrot - please do not copy/repost any of my work on any platform <3

[ms0milk]

pitch in a teapot

sanemi x inn keeper

reader has a business to run and sanemi can't help but watch you do it well, barking orders, teaching firmly, smiling and scurrying around like a fancy little bell. There's something he's been trying to get out of you all afternoon but chores keep stealing you away. cw MDNI, frustrated thunderstorm quickie, reader w vagina + penetration, slight manhandling, desperation and a little bit of sass. 4.1k

thank you so much my darling @neiptune for requesting a little sanemi this @ficsforgaza season! you were so generous and patient waiting for this to come out, I hope you enjoy angel

Six bowls of soup upstairs and an old man somewhere in the bowels of the inn with a limp and half a shoe. Right, okay, send two girls to the garden– no. One to the garden and one to the kitchen. That’s dinner taken care of as long as the scholar with the fat pony– donkey, maybe– doesn’t regurgitate an encore of the rakugo performance that couldn’t have been funny in the first place.

You roll the sleeves of your apron slightly tighter in their tasuki. The cyprus walls of your inn bleed fragrance before summer thunderstorms so you make a mental note too, to order storm doors for the second floor before the clouds go black and blue. Incensed breeze, juniper, wisteria, paper windows, one foot, the next, again, each step down the wooden hallway is a quiet knock. Each summer at home is heavier, heavier, and this year is the flood.

“Oi.”

“Not my name,” you blow from the corner of your mouth without changing pace. That breath was ready to jump off your lip before the demon slayer even called out to you; he hates doing nothing and hates even more what great pains your staff take to avoid his room.

“It reeks.”

“Excuse me?” You huff and this time do turn enough to interrogate him via glare. Sanemi, ridiculous, folds his arms in the doorway of a very nice room, a too nice room, without any of the appropriate embarrassment of someone who has been lying in wait. The stippled blue pattern of his robes doesn’t suit him. They clash with his ugly scars and uglier attitude but don't keep him from wearing the chest wide open like a well paid rent boy.

“Stinks.”

“Whatever of, princess?”

He growls and drops his arms as you brace for the lecture, “Demons.”

His heart is incapable of peace and yours with it, and every summer he’s assigned a post in your mountains by a master you’ve never met and who couldn’t possibly be sane themself. Four years of this. Four years of twelve weeks of sixteen-hour-days of the world’s most neurotic demon slayer.

“The whole property is wide open for any fuck to attack.”

You adjust your grip on a slender bucket handle and the cloth in your other arm and continue back downhall, “You always say that.”

“I’m always right,” he nags and pushes free of his bedroom.

You met Sanemi when you were sixteen and still working under your parents. He was a brand new hashira then and prone to fist fights, spitfire, bloodshed. Nothing special. Nothing new. Hashira come and die and new hashira come again. They arrive in flashbangs and ego and leave like everyone else, in pieces.

Your parents were calm, they had peace and practice, they ran this inn, they welcomed Sanemi with his summer floods. They loved him, took his counsel and died by it, and they probably wouldn’t have lost an old man inside the house. But this is your inn now. They aren’t here anymore and at your inn sometimes old men get misplaced.

“And what would you like me to do about all that, sir?”

The hashira keeps an easy military pace behind you, “The gardens need to be reinforced and–”

“Nine acres of wisteria arbor need reinforcement? Yeah I’ll get right on that.”

“The storm will take out ha–!”

“And the other half will hold until autumn. Go berate the kitchen staff for their unpreparedness– they’re all unarmed you know? Totally unprofessional.”

“Y/n–”

“Shinazugawa,” you spin and it all comes out as a threat, a hiss, instead of just a whisper so much so that the water in your bucket nips up your sleeve. “I am the lady of this establishment and you will not address me so familiarly.”

Dark cyprus, cool hallways, the undeniable scent of thunder. Sanemi rests his hand on his sword to glare like he does when his hands don’t quite know what to do with themselves. His eyes roam, quiet under long lilly lashes until they have traced the shapes your tasuki makes with your waist and rise again to your gaze. “We’re not fucking finished.”

“Go eat,” you snap and turn back down the hallway, red at the ears. Lady of the establishment, great job.

Feet aren’t complicated, bone to tendon, tendon to muscle, muscle to skin, one step and another. You tilt your head back and an eager girl rises to wipe sweat from your temple.

“Like this,” you hum and tilt the old man’s heel in your palm. He winces but lets you continue while the girl stares on. “When the skin is split like this it can’t receive moisture– sorry sir, better?” You set his foot on the hammock of cloth between your thighs, “So you need to soak it first before applying salve. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” the girl parrots, still unable to look away.

“Yes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile through an eye roll but gesture for her to come sit beside you. You’ve been like this since he’s met you, too old for your body.

You’ll train anyone who asks, hire any runaway girl, absorb the cost of thieves when runaways are exactly that, and you will wash old men’s feet before eating dinner with the self preservation of a samurai. Famously long-lived, those. Sanemi has to look away when you take scissors to the gnarled yellow nails and almost covers his ears when your pupil starts asking you questions about it.

“Feels good right?” You chuckle at the man’s response to your ministrations, and then a little louder, when you realize just how seriously the girl beside you is trying to focus. Birdsong. “Do you have companions on your pilgrimage, sir?” He shakes his head.

You lean away again so the girl can dab your brow and push back stray hairs and turn back to explain overdetailed care instructions to this man who is obviously so embarrassed he can’t hear a word you’re saying. Something about tallow and socks, Sanemi tries to read the syllables off your lips and loses focus the second time your teeth catch damp and pillowed pink.

The man seated in front of you grumbles some and flexes a few fingers around his cane like old men do, but doesn’t protest your instructions. He nods instead of thanking you like a real tough guy.

“Fetch a new pair of sandals from the garden shed,” you instruct your girl who bolts up and out the door past Sanemi without so much as a breath. “And you,” you turn back to your patient, “keep the nails short, you hear?”

He nods again, increasingly avoidant of eye contact. Sanemi tenses in the dark outside the guest’s complimentary room and hates ungrateful fucks enough for both of you.

“And don’t skip any more meals.” 

The man’s wrinkled skin unfolds at his eyes and he pulls his legs back underneath him. You dry your hands after scrubbing clean in a soapy pot and stand to collect your tools. “I couldn’t find you this evening and I hate to lose track of my guests at mealtime.”

You are going to feed every stray you find until the economy collapses. Peasant monks, pickpockets– you’d put up a demon if its stomach growled. After too many unnoticed minutes watching you, following the white x between your patterned shoulders, eating your voice, warming the hallway, you finally pick out Sanemi’s eyes in the dark behind the sliding door. He’s waiting for you. You clear your throat for the broke old pilgrim one last time, “You don’t owe any money. Do not skip meals.” And bid him a wordless good night. The door cracks shut behind you. It isn’t late enough for sunset. Thunderstorms make it so dark so quickly and they mask the scent of blood with all their rain and iron. “What is it?” You deadpan and shuffle towards the stairs with all the confidence in the world a tenured hashira will work to keep up with you.

“Not fucking finishied with you,” Sanemi grunts, working to keep up with you. The apron over your service kimono forces your hips to sway in tight little circles and Sanemi sucks his teeth. He doesn’t look away.

Through the hallway and down the servant stairs, socks on polished wood, you tap, tap, tap nimbly to your next assignment. The room below radiates heat and life. “What do you want?” you whisper.

“I–” he slips barefoot on the slick last step into the kitchen and you stumble in your newly damp right sock. “Euh, I–”

“Mimiko!”

“Lady?”

“Wet.” You point behind you, palming Sanemi out of the way, and a free washerwoman dives for the spot with the rag tucked into her belt. The kitchen rages silently in the easternmost corner of the mansion; men and women sweat over donabe, rinse their body weights in rice, and beat little fires with littler fans. Two women and a boy linger just outside the paper door in clothes that match yours for formality and Sanemi assumes as he weaves through the bustle, that they are responsible for bringing food to customers and for doing everything they can not to sweat through their pretty borrowed uniforms. Your own kimono is purple tonight, a cool little shape bobbing nimbly between flames.

Sanemi opens his mouth to shout after you and shuts it again just as quickly to grind his teeth instead as you lift your apron over your head. You let a girl feed you a spoonful of something on your way out of the room and she wiggles when you nod several times before ducking through the door.

Laundry next, then a double check of the firewood cache and the whole while Sanemi occupies your shadow. A few times you hiss over your shoulder at him for looking so gruff, for looking like a bodyguard, for making your customers imagine your distrust of them, always you bite back before he can get more than a few words out but mostly you just scurry in preparation for the storm picking up warm wind outside.

You avoid the entrance with him so close in tow, armed and obstinate, but make a show of circling both tatami halls where guests come after dinner on rainy nights to stretch and smoke by the brazier with strangers. A female musician trills her koto. The sky hasn’t let loose a single drop of rain yet but wet hangs like a fog and thunder scents the air ahead of its arrival. As Sanemi trails the outer walkway of the mansion behind you, the sky bleeds with the last of day’s light in the cracks between bruised and racing storm clouds.

“Second floor secure?” You confirm with the men slotting thick panels into grooves where paper doors usually go. They nod in their white uniforms. Beyond the porches, beyond the east garden and its fat green vegetables, beyond dogwood trees and sarusuberi and maples that have begun to tremble violently in winds buffeted by humidity and nightfall, the wisteria arbor glows. You radiate a cool purple pull beside him just like your flowers.

The arbor surrounds the property on all sides for half a mile and all three paths away from the house are barred by gates of twisting wisteria vine. The inn belongs to your family, but does not serve Ubuyashiki. Theirs is not the only house that discovered a use for these flowers. Yours is not the only wisteria business in the country. 

“Do you see that?” You murmur at so much the same tone as the wind that Sanemi almost cannot hear you.

Three years ago he left before the end of summer, called away to investigate a massacre nearby. A tree fell that season. It crushed a straight path through the edge of the mountain forest and onto your property where, lured by so much blood and wine, a pair of sister demons descended through the broken orchard and devoured everyone who wasn’t fast enough to hide in the flowers like the slayer suggested they should in an emergency. Your parents evacuated the house and died in it with the guests who couldn’t walk on their own. Nestled under three braided vines at the far edge of the property, you listened to them die.

The winds kick up sand from your vegetable garden and you step off the porch into the start of the storm. Tiny and purple. “Y/n!” Sanemi lunges for you. His sword whips the meat of his thigh and you step out of his way before he can grab any part he intended to. The men on the porch watch you both scramble through the backyard. You snap at the strange guest and duck when he swings a hand towards you, hop in your sandals when he tries to trip you into his arms and dart away like a dragonfly.

“Get back here!”

“Go inside!”

“Y/n!”

“How dare you!”

“Motherfucking, Y/n!” 

“That’s enough!” You bark and twist back towards the garden shed. Your pupil left the door wide open and all its shining tools caught your eye across the yard. Sanemi was staring when you stepped outside. His eyes feel like beads of sweat on the few bare parts of you. His gaze is all teeth on the back of your neck.

With all but one storm door up, not a single guest can hear the ruckus you two kick up outside in the prologue of the storm. “It’s about to pour!”

“Then go join the other guests!” You shout through a particularly violent breeze and you have to grip to the break in your kimono closed. He does not. By the time you lay a winded hand on the wall of the shed, it has started to rain.

A silencing wall of water falls from the back of the property straight towards you. It kills dust clouds in its path and paints every surface soaked in a perfectly straight line. Sanemi rushes from behind and nearly lifts you off your feet to get inside the shed as you watch the supernatural army advance on your home.

“Shit,” he grumbles and winces when the rain overcomes the little shed and splashes off the pavement into his face. He pulls you deeper inside and you jolt. The first crack of thunder is a scream that shakes the ground, “Scared of thunder now?”

“Scared of my profit margins, you oaf.”

Under his shoulder you are glaring at the storm between this shitty stuffy shed and your business. You are so small and wrapped so tightly in layer after layer of fabric. It must be hot. The damp drips down his open chest and thighs, it frizzes his hair at his ears. You must be sweating somewhere in that formal getup. Wet glistens at the curled little hairs on the back of your neck where the skin is just barely visible and it sparkles under your high collar.

“I can’t walk back inside soaked,” you groan, “there’s not enough time to change before final rounds.”

Sanemi takes his hand off his sword. There must be damp parts of you hiding from him. He brushes his knuckle up the bare skin of your neck, across your throat, and you falter slightly.

“Sanemi–”

“Nuh uh, don’t address me so familiarly,” he smirks and cups your cheek in his big hand when you jerk around.

“That’s not–!”

“Not what?” He smiles now, and drops his hand back to his sword so that you might find your own weapon and finish the fight. Four years of this.

You shove a finger into his chest, “You’re such a clingy fuck Shinazugawa,” and shout a little because you know the thunder will hide it. A sudden gust blows the sheet of rain sideways and straight inside the open door of the garden shed, up your dress and down his robes and through your prettily pinned hair. “Y/n this, y/n that, I’m busy Sanemi, I’m stuck in a shed! You’re the only one who calls me and people think we’re fucking! You want my attention you have it so please tell me all about the demons that’re gonna slurp up my customers and fuck my taxes to shit and–”

The door creaks in Sanemi’s hands even through the oceanic sounds of storm when he begins to close it. He nods as you get louder, nods as he slides the door closed and flicks the latch.

“Do not,” you growl, “there’s five thousand–”

“Five thousand little bitches in there lost without direction? They’re fine, Y/n.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“They’ll survive, little lady.”

You spit, “not better.” And the new humidity of the closed shed begins to swallow you whole. It fills your throat. “What about all the demons you’ve been crying about?”

“You’re such a cocky cuss.”

“And you’re needy,” you taunt. It’s Sanemi’s turn to wince and his frustration starts to drip from all those places he shoves it away from you. He's been gentle with you since that summer. He lets you interrupt him, he follows where you go. “I watched you check perimeters this morning, you don’t need to talk to me about demons.”

“Eyes everywhere huh?” His throat is pink, “Lady of the house.”

You grin and pull him by the loops of his robe into your tiny purple kiss, “Shut up.”

“M’lady,” he growls against your lips and succumbs.

Four years of stolen touches, lips on damp summer skin, coming out of empty rooms too ruffled and pulling the hashira between your legs without disturbing the folds of your work kimono. “Don’t call me that either,” your breath hisses against his throat like an iron and he drops his sword quickly to gather you in his arms.

Too much fabric. Shovels and shears clatter against the floor and one another when the thunder shakes their little house again, and they tremble at every thump and roll of your body against Sanemi’s. He pulls your hips against his and guides your legs around his waist so he can sink into those soft parts of you. So he can tilt his head back to look up at you, so you can pour your kisses down his throat like wine.

You drag your nails up the back of his head when he offers his tongue to your lips, biting, suckling, drawing out gentle sounds and eating them before they compete with the rain outside. Where his hips dig into your own the folds of your skirt fall apart. Legs that glisten with sweat and rain part nicely for him and his own robes grow clingy with exertion where he grinds hard against you. Every subtle roll breaks your concentration in kisses, in lips sliding, begging with salvia and rainwater. His hands cup your cheeks, thighs, the collar of your kimono shudders open for him when he dips to suck bruises under your jaw and the swordsman’s hand loses control as he grips your belt to free you from all this formality. He’ll press crescents into your breasts, he’ll lower his tongue through your peach sweet folds and drink until you cry– but you pull his head back with a sharp yank of your wrist.

Your breath comes in clouds. The inn glows with candlelight across the yard but the light through the shed’s window is too weak. Welts of lighting illuminate the flush of your chest and cheeks. Two seconds of bright and twelve of dark warmth, shaking swirling thunder and then only rain. Sweat rolls from your temples and into the depths of your kimono. It’s been days since he’s had you like this and longer since you’ve had true privacy, others a whole yard away.

You can’t be gone long, he knows. Staff watched you race in here together, watched him shut the door, he knows he knows, he just can’t put you down yet. He leans in for another kiss and you let him fall close enough for his chest to crush yours before pulling back on his hair again.

“Y/n,” he’s suddenly not above begging but you hold his gaze tight. You watch him as your hand slips between the place your bodies meet. Pretty fingers reach for the heat between his legs. Pretty knuckles ghost over the swell of his robes and draw the fabric aside instead of ordering he bring you back inside. Sanemi’s cock perks up in free air as high as this position will let it and rests heavy under the swell of your ass.

He kisses you again, toothy and smiling and when you kiss him back your sharpest teeth clink together. He ruts into your desperation against the wall, harder than the rain, harder than the wind that threatens to blow your shed away and you with it. Obviously he wouldn’t let it but the thought that nature might be jealous of the rumple you made of each other drives him harder against you. Slipping, cock hard and suddenly shifted up against the hair under your belly. Peach fuzz yields to warm slick and Sanemi drops his head to your chest when he shudders to avoid whimpering into your mouth. He slips through your folds with a tight hold still under your thighs and drags himself up, down, up, hypnotized always by the faces you make when you’re trying to keep quiet.

The scars across his body are forever numb, but when your clammy hands paw is his chest he swears he can smell color. He can touch light when you pull his face back to yours frantically, when your hips with all their fabric flowing off of them buck sloppily against his, when he thrusts once deeply inside of you and forces a broken gasp from the back of your throat.

Before you can catch your breath your lips have crashed against his and his hips against yours. Sanemi keeps the relentless, restless, starving pace you like and knows he’ll last only the next few minutes before the worst of the storm blows over. Again and again he carves a palace for himself inside of you. You guide him with the falter of your kisses when he finds that perfect spot and with the slick that coats both of your thighs. Your voice escapes you in choked whimpers, his name comes out in hiccups. You’re a little bell in his arms folded in half and singing for him.

Again and again, out and so deep back inside, Sanemi’s feet grip the floor as he plunges his hips into yours and both of your bodies into the swelling wood walls. His rhythm staggers as you flutter around him and with his head against your shoulder he watches the circles you draw on your clit with the tips of four clumsy fingers as your other hand muffles your voice. He grabs that quieting wrist without thinking and without taking his eyes off the place your bodies connect with lewd squelches and sticky white threads. His threatening grip, his thick cock and your fingers push you right over the lip of your pleasure and fluttering becomes milking spasms quicker than Sanemi can think to treat you gently. That half-sobbing voice he loves so much cheers him towards his own climax and the more sensitive you grow the easier it is to coax those sounds out of you that you try to keep hidden, “Don’t– don’t be so quiet.”

“Inside,” you whisper in reply and draw his face into your hands as his pounding stutters in pace and loses all flow completely under your dreamy gazes. Sanemi can’t keep his eyes open when he cums. His pretty lilly lashes flutter with lost concentration. He shudders, ruts you deeper into the wall and groans with release as he fills those swollen wet parts of you. Warmth pools in your belly and trickles off his cock still buried. Sweat falls like the rain outside.

“Wanna taste,” Sanemi rumbles without setting you down or stilling his thrusts fully. He nuzzles somehow farther into the dip of your collarbones. Soft snow white hair, a heartbeat in the fingers that grip you. Every twitch of his hips is a starving ache.

“C'mon,” you grin, “dinner’ll get cold.”

“Let me taste you.”

“Sanemi, what will I eat if you eat me?”

“Have a few ideas,” he smiles back through the trembling of the shed in encores of thunder and gale. A leak tip tap tip taps nearby. Four years of this, maybe more.

[totaly-obsessed]

Chaos and dressing rooms

Alessia Russo x reader fic

-> Chaotic reader doesn't know how to do her hair, Alessia helps her out

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The Arsenal dressing room was always a vibe, even if it was just for practice sessions. Usually, Leah Williamson would be blasting music, but with her being out with a torn ACL, Katie and Steph took over, making for a wild mix.

This would be your second season at the club and even with the new additions, you were one of the younger ones, forever in awe watching the likes of Kim Little and Beth Mead play. But you fit in well, making fast friends with Lotte and Laura who always laughed at your half jokes-half stupidity. In the beginning, Katie tried to recruit you for her pranks, but in the end, it was Jen who would take on the role of your ‘mentor’ for getting around and meeting people.

Now in your second season, four new girls were joining the team – Laia, Amanda, Cloe, and of course Alessia. Meeting them was easy enough, especially the English striker, as you had played her last season – but the other girls were nice as well. You not having competed in the World Cup, as you hadn’t managed the jump up to the senior Lionesses just yet, made it easier to meet Laia, who was joking with you as well as she could with her limited English.

Your dressing room cubby was situated between Steph and Beth who constantly were teasing you for taking forever to get ready – always the last one out on the pitch. Nobody thought anything of it, the girls just thought that you liked to take your time, or that you weren’t organized well enough, and while that was true, the real reason was you struggled to do your hair.

Every single day it was a battle – buns were insecure and fell out easily, tight pony-tails gave you a headache and the swishing hairs annoyed you to no end. Not being able to braid your own hair was incredibly annoying.

It's not like you didn’t try.

You did.

Every single practice session and game, at home before going out, and just when you were bored – nothing worked. After a while your arms started to hurt and tears threatened to fall due to frustration. That’s why you were the last one out, giving your hair just one last attempt before giving up and throwing it in a nice and easy low bun.

And today was no different. It was the third training session since the girls got back from the World Cup, and the new players joined them. Everyone was hyping themselves and each other up before they left the room.

“Has anyone seen my Jersey?”

Jen rolled her eyes, “In the bathroom.” With quick steps you retrieved your jersey, no clue how it got there.

On the way back you tripped over Laia’s shoes – the Spaniard barely catching your arms and keeping you from hitting the ground.

“Where are my shorts?”

“In my bag, you left them yesterday, I washed them.” Katie threw them to you, your forgetfulness and clumsiness highly amusing her.

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

Slowly everyone left but you. When you didn’t see anybody you tried again, desperately trying to braid your hair in front of the quite high mirror.

“Why isn’t this shit working?” With a loud clattering, your brush fell to the floor.

“God damn it! Why can’t I do this? Why am I so stupid?” Alessia, who was still in the bathroom listened with a little smirk on her face until she heard your voice wavering. You were always so fun to be around, so hearing you this frustrated with yourself and being so mean to yourself was new and terrifying for the striker.

“Fuck this.” You had given up, resulting in a low bun. Alessia heard you throw your brush into some corner, frustration getting the better of you.

Not wanting you to be embarrassed, she waited until she was sure you were gone before entering the changing room. The brush she picked up was littered with cute little stickers, and covered in hair - obviously yours.

The tall blonde could just imagine you roughly brushing your hair in anger, feeling sorry for your scalp.

Carefully she put it down in your cubby, and before she left Alessia collected your things that were all over the room and folded them neatly for you.

The rest of the team and training staff were already standing in a circle when Alessia joined them.

“Looks like we have a new late-commer!” Jonas was laughing at the striker, not mad at all. When Alessia's eyes met yours, she could see the realization dawn upon you – She had been there when you were so harsh to your mirror image.

During the whole training session, you were much quieter than usual, embarrassed that you had been caught – by Alessia at that. Alessia who was new, and who you admired so much.

Katie, your traings-buddy tried to get information, on why you were so strange, but you deflected, making her talk about Lauryn’s game instead. While the Irish woman obviously knew what you were doing, she was more than happy to talk about her little sister to someone genuinely interested – even if it was just to distract you.

Alessia tried to get close to you, but somehow you were always gone before she got there. At the end of training, you just packed your bag, not even changing, and stormed out the door.

You took notice of your thing being neatly folded on your cubby and you briefly glanced at the tall blonde who was already looking at you.

“She was weird today, right?” Kim, who liked to title herself as your big sister asked into the silence that you left behind.

“Yeah. Yeah, she was.”

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

The next day your chaos started all over again, and the older girls were relieved that you seemed to be back to normal again. Alessia was surprised that you even talked to her, she thought you were mad at her when you really just needed to get over your embarrassment.

After everyone else left, it was just the two of you left.

“I’m sorry that you had to witness that. Yesterday, I mean.” The striker knew what you meant and sat down next to you, one of her big hands stroking your back, trying to get you comfortable.

“Don’t worry about it.” It was silent for another second, your cheeks felt like they were on fire from blushing so hard.

“You’re not stupid.” Her hand stilled and she gently grabbed your chin, turning your face to her. Your brain just blanked, and she saw, “You were really mean to yourself yesterday – You are not stupid.”

Upon your attempt to turn your flushed face away from her, she held it more firmly. “Do you understand amore?”

A weak nod earned you a raised eyebrow. “I’m not stupid…” The blonde smirked satisfied and turned your face to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Come now, I’ll braid your hair. No need to make your scalp bleed anymore.” With gentle hands she pulled you in front of the mirror, braiding your hair with quick fingers before squeezing your shoulders when she was done.

Katie and Beth wiggled their eyebrows at the two of you when they saw Alessia enter the pitch with you at her side – your face so flushed no one could miss it.

And from that day on, Alessia did your hair in the dressing room. But it wasn’t kept a secret for long, so with her help, you managed to get ready on time. Alessia, your own little assistant, who would never complain about your jitteriness, clumsiness, or forgetfulness. An angel sent from heaven – or hell when you looked at Manchester United.

[fluttershyyay]

[ponett]

i sent this on cohost but also idk if this'd be long enough that answering it might involve a writing process so long it'll outlast cohost's posting period. what're your thoughts on the fact that G5 MLP is like. apparently DONE done?

I'll answer this here on the site that isn't closing down in 25 hours, but I don't really know if there's much that needs to be said lol

I'm just not surprised in the slightest. G5 never caught on. It's not the worst thing ever, but it was never a hit. It wasn't this huge runaway success with kids, and despite efforts to tie things back to FiM it never got much attention from adult fans, either. I still see people posting about FiM every single day, but you will never see a meme edit with Misty from G5 that says "Just rolled this joint in traffic, AND I'm a girl. Don't ever give up!" with 20k notes. I have so many mutuals who literally still go to dedicated My Little Pony conventions! Have they seen more than a few episodes of Make Your Mark? Couldn't tell you! To many fans they might as well have never made a fifth generation at all

But also, this is just Hasbro's typical M.O. They reboot their toy franchises every few years. They do this with Transformers all the time. Those shows last three or four seasons tops. FiM was the aberration here, a reboot that was such a shockingly huge sensation that it got nine seasons and over 200 episodes. That was completely unheard of for them. So it's really not surprising to see them eager to wrap up G5 and move on to whatever's next, especially given the lackluster state of the company as a whole. They need MLP to be a hit again

As for what's next, I would like to see something that feels genuinely fresh and new, rather than a halfhearted centuries-later sequel to FiM. That approach pleased nobody. I'd like to see new characters, but given the lack of enthusiasm for the G5 cast I fully expect them to go right back to the Mane Six with a direct reboot of FiM. They could make that work, though. We'll see

[teleit]

I've fucking had enough

Tiktok PISSES ME OFF. It's unbearable. The number of media-illiterate people per square meter has exceeded my tolerance. At some point, I won't be able to stand it and will break my vow not to explain to idiots on the Internet why they are idiots - this will make me an idiot, because I will waste my strength, time, energy and nerves on useless attempts to hand over grains of common sense to empty-headed consumers who have never opened a book in their lives, and therefore are not capable of analyzing more complex moral dilemmas than My Little Pony.

HOWEVER

Stop driving me crazy with the "poor show!Luke was only five years old in Driftmark, an innocent baby, this is the worst death in the entire Dance of the Dragons" bullshit comments and tiktoks BECAUSE IT'S NOT

Yes, in the book, Lucerys Velaryon was five years old when he gouged out the eye of Aemond, who was ten. He died at fourteen, while Aemond was nineteen. This was not an adult killing a child, these were two teenagers with a five-year age difference. Still bad, I agree.

However, in their wisdom, unavailable to us mere mortals, the writers of HOTD stuck the chronology in a blender along with their fetishes, poorly executed agenda, sexism, racism, nepotism and a dozen other problems, turned it up to maximum and fed us the most vomit-inducing smoothie ever.

For some reason unknown to me, Aemond is officially sixteen in episodes 8-10 of season one. God knows why, but he left us and so we can't ask him. Lucerys is officially fourteen, so there's a two-year age difference between him and Aemond.

So in Driftmark, which takes place in 124 AC (again, unlike the book, which took place in 120 AC, but there's no point in complaining, believe me, I tried), Aemond is ten, Lucerys is eight. That's not a big age difference, right?

Moreover, since Jacaerys, Baela, and Rhaena are also sixteen at the end of season one, we get the following picture - Aemond is not fighting little kids, but his peers. He's 10, the twins and Jace are about 9-10, Luke is 8.

Yes, it was different in the book, but you know what else was in the book? A sound timeline, sound logic, complex characters, moral dilemmas, need I go on?

Lucerys was fourteen, making conscious decisions like mocking the man he had mutilated, knowing there would be no consequences, and running away like a coward when he was alone with the man. He was wrong about that. He still didn't deserve to die, but calling him an innocent angel wasn't right.

Aemond was sixteen, making conscious decisions like threatening his nephew to remind him that his ass couldn't be covered forever. He couldn't expect Luke to fail to discipline Arrax, who would provoke Vhagar. He could assume that an angry Vhagar would retaliate despite her orders. He was wrong about that. He still deserves blame for his actions, but if the fandom is so vocal about how a fourteen year old boy is not responsible for his actions, shouldn't a sixteen year old boy get the same innocence card?

But if we go back a little earlier, say six years, shouldn't a ten-year-old child receive the same treatment as an eight-year-old? Why is one boy, who had to fight off four peers, considered a monster, since he took a stone and insulted the offenders, and the second is a little defender, since he took a dagger to hit his neutralized enemy with it?

This wasn't the "hydrogen bomb vs. coughing baby" situation the book portrayed. This was two teenagers, one with a bigger stick than the other.

[ghysry]

how do you think s4 five would react to someone hurting/attempting to hurt his gf/partner??? s4 him is chilled down so idk if it'd be a stare down or he'd get physical

Season four doesn't exist in my head so here we go

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

"I'm very much capable, thank you."

A lot of people think Five Hargreeves isn't the type to have a partner. Only a select few (most likely his family) actually knows he has a partner

The family has met reader, yes, and maybe they have him the wide eye stare for a few seconds before accepting it two days later.

"I didn't think you could get a partner," Diego was on the couch that time, cleaning one of his knives on the occasion that he's gone hunting for criminals again, his sentence was filled with a mild laugh to it, before being cut off by Klaus. "Especially not pinkie pie from my little pony," Klaus bent down to meet you eye to eye, his dirty eyeliner surrounding his eyes.

Most usually, Five is by your side. And if he isn't, he's somewhere watching you. Not in a creepy way - no, maybe in a creepy way. He's seen you die before, he won't let you die again. (Live laugh love to anyone who knows what I'm talking about)

Sometimes stares at you when you sleep until he passes out from exhaustion himself.

One time, he let you go shopping on your own and you came back with a spot that was turning weirdly purple on your arm and it looked like he saw the apocalypse happen in 14 million different timelines (no exaggeration)

Yes he got physical.

Did he send the guy to medical care? Maybe, did you know about it? No, so it didn't happen

Trusty ax in hand💘

Short because I'm at work right now and my co-worker is asking why I'm writing about a guy named Five

[thecaptainsdeck]

Captain_CumShot

Chapter 2 - Tier III Summary: You treated yourself to a tier upgrade. Looks like you've got a message!

Admin: Thanks for upgrading your subscription to Tier III! The Captain will want to thank you personally ~ drop your next available hour slot and we’ll set it up. You: 10 PM Admin: Talk to you soon ~

10:00 PM

Captain: Hey doll. I’ve seen your likes and comments around here for a while and I’m chuffed that you finally upgraded. What changed?

You: Truthfully, I challenged myself to save up so I can really treat myself when I felt I needed it. Especially after the last year and four months at work.

Captain:…

Captain: You waited ONE YEAR and FOUR MONTHS before you felt like you needed a break?

Captain: I’m flattered you’ve chosen me as your reward but gat damn girl. You need to treat yourself more often.

Captain: What the hell do you do for a job??

You: I’m an accountant at a small but valued firm, so we’re kind of just always busy! Especially at tax time which is ALMOST over. So I spoiled myself a few days early.

Captain: Congratulations ~ Do you work in a stuffy office with a buncha dorks?

You: Well I wouldn’t say dorks and it’s not a closet! I work in an office building with maybe less than 50 other people. I have a corner office so yay for small wins!

Captain: Aye that’s the least they can do fer’ya!

Captain: Do they make you dress business professional like you’re gonna meet the president every day or is it a normal place that lets you dress like a human being?

You: Haha, nothing so refined. Business casual for the most part, Fridays we can wear jeans, and sometimes during the seasons they’ll do a morale boosting themed clothes week thing.

Captain: 🤔

Captain: Does anyone enjoy that?

You: Some do, some don’t. The bosses buy a big lunch spread though so it’s not all bad.

Captain: Tell me, are the morale boosting bits mandatory?

You: You’re not required to dress up. They don’t technically say you have to be at the luncheon but they do have someone sweep the desks to make sure no one is still working. I think they legitimately think they’re providing a “break” for us but like, a paid lunch hour would be a thousand times better.

Captain: Bet.

Captain: You ever skipped it all together? Just said fuck it and hid on the roof to scroll on your phone and eat lunch?

You: Sometimes my car! We have a secure parking garage and its air conditioned so it’s quiet and not boiling hot.

Captain: Hooray for small victories.

Captain: Have you ever gotten uncomfortably turned on enough that you’ve escaped to your car to get relief?

You: 😳

You: Maybe once or twice. I’m always afraid of getting caught.

Captain: I’d make sure we wouldn’t.

Captain: See I personally fucking hate it when instead of just paying people more, employers make their people do a whole dog and pony show. Leave people alone!

Captain: This is literally a crime.

Captain: If you’d let me, I’d come and save you from those stupid lunches.

You: 🤔

You: I wouldn’t hate that!

You: Not sure you could pull it off though, you would garner a lot of attention just from standing, you’re just that attractive 👉👈🥺

Captain: Relax, I’m nothing if not professional. Want to hear my grand scheme that I cooked up, just now?

You: Oh go right ahead!

Captain: I’d start by doing research into your company and get the lunch reservation details of these luncheons. I would then pose as an employee dropping off the food order/doing set up and while everyone is gathering, I would linger a little, totally incognito, and slip out to find your office if you haven’t already entered the room.

Captain: Should I continue? I’m really proud of this scheme actually.                           

You: Please, I wonder how you plan to get away scot-free and not get me fired!

Captain: You’d not only get fired – you’d get off, repeatedly and it would be a seasonal thing cause I’d never get caught. I think it would be a professional bonus because then you’ll be so satisfied at work, you might even get a promotion or pay raise or some shit😏

You: This I gotta hear

Captain: Where was I?

Captain: Just kidding

Captain: I would then smuggle you to the parking garage under the guise that you’re my ‘job equipment’ or whatever, and then, I’d take you to your car. Ideally, I can convince you to get in the van I rented as part of my infiltration disguise so I can actually sit and stand without breaking my neck. The windows are blacked out, I keep anchors and blocks on the wheels to keep it stable, and then I rock your fucking world.

Captain: Still with me?

You: I am

Captain: You’re probably thinking, ‘but if you’re as beastly as I think you are, won’t I be screaming my brains out?’

You: I was!

Captain: As a professional content creator – amongst other trades – I know a thing or two about sound proofing. There’s always a gag if you’re into that.

You: I could be persuaded…

Captain: I have a lot of things I’d like to persuade you to do in there.

Captain: Do you normally participate in the themed clothes or do you keep it professional?

You: I don’t usually, not really my thing.

Captain: I see.

Captain: Back to my scheme ~

Captain: After I’ve successfully fooled everyone and have you in my clutches, I’d take you to my van where you can have a lunch break actually worth attending.

Captain: I would first take off my disguise and reveal that it was me all along! After you get over your initial surprise, I’d ask you what you’re hungry for.

You: Oh I get options?

Captain: Hell yeah doll. Your choices can range anywhere from a quick snack to a mega meal.

You: Do the options change too?

Captain: I don’t believe in constraints. Unless they’re kink-related.

Captain: I think since you’re the kind of doll that doesn’t splurge too much on ‘erself, I’d start you off with a ‘left no crumbs.’

Captain: What that entails is me, sitting you all pretty like on a seat cushion, starting ngwith something soft and sweet. Kisses up the arm, on the neck, slow, building up anticipation. I’d tease you over your clothes, petting your kitten until I feel your wetness through the fabric.

Captain: Pepper your body with kisses and bites to keep you on edge. When I have you down to just your undergarments, I’d sit you in my lap. Spread your thighs open. Start rubbing your pussy until you’re leaking all over my hand. I’ll let you have a quick orgasm, a small and sweet one. But don’t think we’re done.

Captain: I might take my pants off to feel you a bit better. Push you down on my hard-on as I wrap an arm around your waist to keep you still. I’ll use my free hand to play with your pussy again. Rubbing you, flicking you, lightly smacking you, rubbing your clit, finger fucking you. Rub my big dick against your trembling body to make you even more sensitive.

Captain: Since you only have an hour, I’ll make sure you look presentable before you go back to the office. Where you can spend the rest of the day sitting in the mess I’m going to leave. How does that make you feel?

You: I’m…speechless, in a good way…Shit that’s really hot. It makes me feel devious, a bit dirty, like I really want to do it.

Captain: Damn and I haven’t even finished telling you what’s included in your lunch?

You: 🤐

You: Please forgive me

Captain: I could never stay mad at you doll.

Captain: As I was saying ~

Captain: I can’t let you leave your break without feeling fully satisfied.

Captain: Before you go, I’d spend some time with you against the van wall. If you’re into it, I can use rope to help keep you standing. I encourage it, you’re gonna need it.

You: I’m into it, I’m into it 🤤

Captain: Heh. Freak.

Captain: I’d keep you still and propped up, putting your blouse on, keeping my lipstick stains and bites hidden underneath. I’d pull your panties and bottoms over your ankles, slide your soaked underwear up your thighs…

Captain: And give you dessert.

You: What am I having??!

Captain: Me.

Captain: I’d pull your panties up your thighs but not put them on entirely. Leaving them maybe a few inches from your twitching pussy. Then I’d finally let you see my cock.

Captain: Do you want to touch it?

You: Yesss🥺please let me touch.

Captain: Don’t worry you’ll be feeling it.

Captain: I’ll prod my cock against your clit, slide it up and down your puffy lips, maybe push in a little bit.

Captain: After I get it nice and wet with you, I’d stand in front of you and fuck your body. I won’t go in in, I’ll slide in between your desperate lips, make you clench over my cock with your needy pussy, I’ll hit your delicious ass cheeks, pull back out and rub against your clit until you’re crying.

You: Oh my fucking god.

Captain: I’m not done.

Captain: While I do this, I’ll rub my thumb down on your clit, and I won’t stop until you’ve cum over my cock, frustrated yet relieved.

Captain: But don’t be disappointed just yet because the next part is my favorite part.

Captain: As you’re coming down from your orgasm, I’ll finish myself off. Jerking myself in front of you and finishing right on your cunt.

You: 🥵

Captain: Yeah.

Captain: I’d milk my length to cover you, watching it drip from your vulva and trembling lips down to your underwear and thighs. Whatever falls further down I’d wipe with my thumb and make you lick it off.

Captain: Then I’ll pull your panties up nice and high, make sure they sit on your hips just right, don’t want any of me to spill out. For good measure, I might even rub your underwear against you some just to smear it in you some more.

Captain: I love cum play.

Captain: I’ll pull up your bottoms, wipe your tears, and send you away with a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass.

Captain: How does that sound doll?

You: I would fucking die!!! I want this so bad fuck why would you DO THAT TO ME?!?🥵🤤 FUCK! You’re so hot, all I want is to touch you and be touched by you😩

Captain: Are you touching yourself?

You: If I said yes?🥺

Captain: I’d say me too. Check out the photo gallery later, you’ll see the load I blew for ya😘

Captain: Glad to add you to my harem of Cabin Hoes. I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I think I’m gonna grow fond of you.

Captain: G’night doll. Thanks for subscribing😘

<end chat>

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Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3 Originally posted