#scotti <33

[williefresh]

Back on my Bull-shit.

.33.

[whoregaylorenzo]

Scotty giving out merch to a fan <3

[firefated]

imo,  (my)  jean  would  of  woulda  never  walked  away  from  scott  /  or  even  thought  of  ruining  their  marriage.  literally  the  first  dude  to  be  protective  &  not  make  her  pain  worse.  he  is  /  was  her  first  love.  their  psyche  bond  -  fluid  team  work  -  the  romance  &  roasts  ...  idk  i  just  think  they’re  neat.       @cyclopstm​

[vulcanhello]

[bonolewis]

antonios-hair -> bonolewis

[jrueships]

IT'S SCOTTIE'S BDAY!!!!!!!

💙💙💙💙💙 !!!

[whorekneecentral]

*resubmitting my request

prompt 33: “you look so pretty with my cock in you”

prompt 64: “say my name- louder” with danny ric!

where there are at a party/gala and daniel gets jealous with all the male attention shes getting🫣

oh this is a banger - also is this the 400th piece I've used chloe and scotty's wedding as the event ? yes but shhh // prompts: “you look so pretty with my cock in you” + “say my name- louder”

Daniel wondered where you disappeared too. The last he saw you, you were taking photos with Chloe and the rest of the bridesmaids before you went off to get a drink.

To no one's surprise, he found you by the bar, surrounded by a group of Scotty's friends that looked absolutely enamoured by you. Daniel didn't blame them, you always did have a certain aura about you that held the focus of any and everyone around you - how else do you think you got his attention ?

"Anything interesting ?" He butts in, standing next to you. you smile when you see him, leaning into his side. "I was just telling them a story from your Redbull days with Seb."

"Hm, I have a few good ones from then."

The guys start to realize Daniel wasn't a fan of the attention they were giving you and one by one fizzled out. Your boyfriend rests his hand on your lower back, telling you to follow him as you two walked out into the hallway. It was a short walk before Daniel pulled you into an empty room, locking the door behind you.

"Everything okay, love?" You asked, looking at him confused.

"Did you really want attention so badly ?" He steps closer to you, you're still confused. "What are you talking about?"

"If you want attention," he drags a finger up your shoulder to your neck and finally he holds your chin, forcing you to look at him. "You come to me."

"I was just getting a drink-" "Then why were all those men fawning over you, darling?"

"I can't stop them from looking, Danny."

You barely have time to register what's happening when your boyfriend turns you and bends you over the closest surface. He pushes the dress up over your hips, you can feel his belt clink as he undoes it.

Your arms are propped on the counter, holding you up. You watch as he pushes your dress up, bunching over your hips. his hand slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your panties and your head drops forward. 

Panties pushed to the side and He smiles at the way your face twists in pleasure. “You look so pretty with my cock in you,” he hums, kissing along the back of your shoulder as his hips dig into your ass. 

"Mhm hm," you can barely keep yourself up at this point, Daniel's hand digging into your hips. "Daniel-"

“Say my name- louder.”

You give in, his name falling from your lips like a prayer until he's finally satisfied.

[ddejavvu]

Andy Doesn't Know - Eddie Munson x Reader

WC: 3.3K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Eddie hates seeing you with your dickhead jock boyfriend, Andy. He'd much rather see you where you are now: underneath him. Heavily inspired by / based off of Scotty Doesn't Know

Contents/Warnings: smut (18+, minors dni), p in v, oral sex (both receiving), cheating, slight spit kink, brief choking, eddie calls reader 'princess' and 'his girl'

A/N: i dooo have a part two to this already in progress that's a threesome with chrissy so i hope you look forward to that!! beta read by @gettingrailedbyreid thank you lea for your wonderful feedback because 300 words of this would not exist without you <33

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

“Andy, you really don’t need to worry! I’ve got enough money,” It takes all of your effort to keep your voice together over the phone, the receiver held so tightly in your hand that you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter, “The dress isn’t that expensive.”

“But I like buying you things.” Andy drawls into the phone, a lazy smirk surely on his lips, “And I wanna see the way you look in it. You know blue’s one of my favorite colors on you.”

Eddie’s long, slender fingers snap the pad of your powder blue panties against your cunt, the fabric stretched to the side while his tongue writhes expertly through your folds. 

“Me too.” He murmurs into you, his voice near-inaudible, but the vibrations that come off of it leave your stomach in knots.

“I- I’ll wear it to church,” You promise, “I gotta go! I see a cute pair of shoes.”

“Bye baby,” Andy pipes up, “Just let me know if you want me to pick you up before mass-” But before he can finish you’re spamming the ‘end-call’ button, hanging up before you could reveal your current compromising position.

That position just so happened to be stretched out across the folded-down seats of Eddie Munson’s beat-up van, your bare cunt to the roof as your legs are draped over his shoulders.

He took extra care to work you up for your phone call with Andy, a devilish smirk on his face when he prompted you to answer the call. 

“He’s so fucking stupid.” Eddie snickers between lithe licks at your cunt, “Can’t even tell when his girl’s getting fucked.”

“Eddie,” You whimper, torn between scolding him for calling Andy stupid and melting into his ministrations, “I- I should go soon. If I’m here for too long he might come looking for me.”

“You’re not leaving,” Eddie scoffs, spitting lewdly into your cunt and prodding his saliva into you with his tongue, “You could get up and go home right now if you really wanted to. But you aren’t.”

“I- I need to!” You struggle to brace yourself on your elbows, Eddie’s tongue delving deeper into your pussy and making you see stars, “If he finds out-”

“He’ll kill me.” Eddie grumbles, sucking harshly on your clit, “I know.”

You let out a strangled gasp at the waves of pleasure rolling through you, slumping back onto the seat. You don’t have the energy or the need to leave anymore, all that you’re focused on is Eddie and his tongue.

Soon to be his cock, by the looks of it, because his hands stop squeezing the flesh of your inner thighs and they start grappling with his belt buckle.

He manages to slide his jeans down his hips, his boxers peeling away with them. His cock bounces up to stand below his tummy, a sight that pools saliva around your teeth and on your tongue.

“Come on,” Eddie urges, “Sit up, Princess.”

You try, you really do, but you’re clumsy with your limbs and his breath is still hitting your cunt, sending shockwaves through you. All you can do is whine desperately up at him, “Eddie, help.”

He slides your thighs off of his shoulders, and they happily tighten around his waist. His hands slide beneath your shoulder blades and he lifts you effortlessly, tugging you upright to straddle his lap.

“Nice and easy, baby.” He urges you, his hands prying at your hips as you sink slowly onto his cock. He hisses in appreciation at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him, his teeth digging into his plush lower lip.

“You’re a real expert at this.” Eddie muses, “S’pose it helps you’ve got two guys to practice on.”

“Eddie,” You scold, tucking your face into his shoulder, “Don’t!”

“You do,” Eddie presses forward, tucking your calves beneath your thighs so that you can use them as leverage to bounce on him with, “Does Andy’s dick fill you up this much?”

Eddie is overwhelming. His cock stretches you, his words intoxicate you, his hands leave bruises on your hips. 

All you can do is shake your head against his neck, the feeling of Eddie practically splitting you in two with his cock overtaking your brain function.

“Use your words,” One of Eddie’s hands flies from your hip to your chin, tugging your face out of his shoulder, “Open that pretty little mouth of yours and tell me who’s better, sweetheart.”

“You.” You manage to mumble, your tongue heavy in your mouth as heat pools between your thighs, “You are.”

“Say my name.” He commands, holding your jaw tight, “Who’s fuckin’ you dumb right now, princess?”

“Eddie!” You cry out, the word slightly distorted from how firm his grip around your chin is, “N- Not Andy. Never Andy.”

“‘S a shame you gotta stick with that dick,” Eddie croons, a sick grin on his face, “You’d do so much better on mine.”

His words are proven by the searing pleasure that rips through your insides, his cock thick as it prods deeply at your core. You’re bouncing on him, barely helped at all by his hand on your waist, your strength reinvigorated just to fuck him. Your eyes are screwed tightly shut, your tongue hanging limply in your mouth as he holds your jaw.

“Tongue out, baby.” His words pry your eyes open, desperation flickering in your irises as you stick your tongue out obediently for him. His jaw shifts slightly and he spits into your mouth, his saliva spreading over your tongue and pooling around your teeth. Before you can close your mouth, intent on swallowing what he’d given you, he leans in, licking a long stripe up your tongue. You tuck it into his mouth, eagerly meshing it with his own and he closes the kiss, his lips stained with a mixture of the both of your spit as he licks sensually around your mouth. It’s obscene, you can feel drool leaking from the seam of your lips and it lands perfectly on the base of Eddie’s cock, eliciting a guttural groan from the man. He breaks away, his forehead pressed against yours as he peers at the saliva on his cock, slowly dripping down to coat his balls. 

“Spit.” He commands hoarsely, and though you long to tuck your tongue into your mouth, swallowing Eddie’s drool, you don’t. You release your mouthful of saliva, aiming for his cock and watching it drip obscenely around the base.

“Fuck,” His breath heaves, your spit probably staining his seat, “That asshole’s gonna taste me on you.”

“Hm?” You’re delirious, humming questioningly up at Eddie with shining eyes.

“Andy,” Eddie spits, the word venomous as it flies off his tongue, “Next time he tastes you, he’ll be tasting me too.”

You whine pathetically, tucking your face into Eddie’s shoulder again. The surge of pleasure through your core at Eddie’s words is embarrassing, and your lips part gently around Eddie’s skin as you pant into his neck.

“Tell him..” Eddie grunts, snapping his hips up into yours, “Tell him to tell me how my dick tastes, baby.”

There’s a surge of pleasure in your gut at his words, but you blurt out what you’re thinking instead of letting it consume you, “He doesn’t..” You breathe, “He.. He doesn’t taste me!”

Eddie’s hips don’t stop, but they slow. You can’t see it from your position in his neck, but he frowns, his front teeth digging viciously into his lower lip as he pondered how the hell Andy was able to resist burying his face in your pretty pussy.

“Fuck him,” Eddie seethes, not a command but an insult as he picks up his previous pace, “That dick doesn’t even pleasure you? No wonder you keep comin’ t’me.” He croons, pressing a kiss to your sweat-beaded hairline, “Does he even make you cum?”

You sniffle miserably against his shoulder, pure ecstasy ravaging you from the inside out, “Not always. I- I have to- to do it myself.”

Eddie groans into the crown of your head, his breath fanning over your scalp hot and heavy, “Poor thing,” His voice is raspy, his words dragged out with sympathy, “‘Gotta touch yourself ‘cause he doesn’t?”

“Mm-hm,” You hum pitifully into his flushed skin, “It- It never feels this good!”

Eddie wants to let a triumphant smirk cross his face, but he’s still fuming about the idea of you having to get yourself off because Andy doesn’t want to. So instead he ducks his head down, pressing a kiss to your heated cheek, “I’ll always make you feel good, sweetheart. If he ever quits early… y’know, doesn’t let you finish? Call me, I’ll help you through it on the phone.”

Phone sex with Eddie sounds filthy. So filthy, in fact, that you’re closer than ever to your orgasm, but you let it linger, not worried that it’ll be ripped away from you just before you can achieve it. Eddie feels safe and secure, and you nuzzle your cheek into his lips.

“On- On the phone?” You murmur, your belly swirling with desire, “What if we get caught?”

“We won’t, baby. Trust me. You promise, though? You’ll give me a call whenever he doesn’t do it for you?”

“Promise,” You nod once, his lips sliding slickly over your cheek.

“That’s my girl.” Eddie praises you, and that does it.

You’re seeing stars, your thighs trembling and your core aching as you cum. Eddie has to hold your hips, your bouncing becoming sloppy as you lose control. Your orgasm is messy, cum oozing out around Eddie’s cock and dripping into the hair there, as well as coating his balls. You can’t tell if you’re squirting, because Eddie’s stuffing you tight enough that there’s no room for it to build momentum, but it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie lets out a choked groan, the sound raspy and low, ducking his head down to nudge at your temple. You lift your head blindly out of his neck, whimpers and whines flowing from your throat in the sweetest song Eddie’s ever heard. He bumps his nose into your cheek, clenching his teeth to keep himself from cumming inside of you. You scramble off of him before he can lose control, the sudden emptiness causing your gaping cunt to contract around nothingness, and Eddie’s eyes track the movements.

“Get on your knees, baby.” Eddie pants, his cock standing stiff near his belly, “Hurry up, I’m gonna lose it!”

“No, no, Eddie, I gotta go!” You plead, “Church starts soon.”

“What does it fucking matter?” Eddie scoffs, “You’ll be on your knees either way.”

“Eddie,” You whine, white hot shame curling up in you like billowing smoke, “Don’t- don’t-”

“Don’t what, babe? You’re really gonna hike up those panties and sit next to Andy in church?” His breathing is labored and his cock is in dire need of attention, the tip flushed red, “I think if you walk in there now, the place’ll go up in flames.”

“What.. what do I tell them?” You linger by the phone, your eyes flickering down to the mouthwatering sight between Eddie’s legs.

“Tell ‘em you’re sick.” Eddie supplies lazily, “That’s what you are, y’know? ‘Bout to gag on my dick instead of going to church with your boyfriend.”

Shame fills your gut once more, but the sight of Eddie’s leaking cock overpowers it. You nod shakily, ringing Andy’s number and waiting with bated breath for him to answer.

“Babe?” His voice bleeds through the speaker, and you can see Eddie mimic him with a disdainful expression from the corner of your eye, “You ready for mass?”

“Actually,” You start, your voice conveniently raspy from the adrenaline of sex, “I went home. I’m really not feeling good, Andy, I think I’m getting sick or something.”

“Oh, sorry baby. You gonna be okay? I guess I can, like, grab soup or something, or-”

“No!” You’re not very good at lying. It’s a wonder he hasn’t figured you out yet, to be honest. “No, I- I don’t want you to get sick, and I’m not very hungry right now.” That’s a lie. You want nothing more than to swallow Eddie’s cum, keep his cock in your mouth for as long as he’ll let you, “Just go to church, hopefully I’ll make next time.”

“Alright,” Andy sounds hesitant to let you go, but he complies anyway, “Feel better, babe.”

You’re barely able to offer a meek ‘thanks’ in return, once more tossing your phone away from you the second you hang up.

“Put that lying little mouth to good use,” Eddie pants, his ring-clad fingers bunched up into fists at his sides, “I’m gonna cum soon, and I want it to be on your tongue.”

As if the sight of his cock isn’t enticing enough, precum already leaking from the flushed, red tip, his words are. Your knees scrape roughly against the seats of his van but you don’t care; no amount of temporary pain is enough to alleviate your carnal urge to drool on Eddie’s cock.

You eagerly take him into your mouth, a wanton whine escaping your lips at the taste of him. He’s musky, sweaty and sex-crazed, but you’re desperate, and it only makes you more needy. Your post-orgasm haze clings to your consciousness, your brain fuzzy as you lick and lave at Eddie’s dick. His eyes are squeezed shut, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his hands into fists. He had been mere seconds away from cumming inside of you, and the urge to blow his load down your throat before you even take him in fully is overwhelming. It takes all of the self control in him not to drown you, not to fill up your throat so lushly with his cum that you’ll be tasting him for weeks.

“Shit babe,” He pants, his voice painfully raspy as he staves off an orgasm, “You’re real messy.”

It’s true. You’re drooling, saliva once more pooling at the base of his cock and dripping lewdly onto his balls. It’s quickly become one of Eddie’s favorite sights, but it gets topped mere seconds later when you grab hold of his saliva-slick balls, massaging them sensually in your palm. His hips jerk and he bottoms out in your throat, his cock triggering a violent gag when it bumps against the back. You hollow your cheeks and tighten your lips around the base of his cock, your tongue curling wetly against the underside. He swears you’re making him explode, the gentle, rolling stroke of your tongue against his cock while your lips brush his base absolutely intoxicating. He knows then and there that he’s never felt anything as good as you, and never will again. 

In a desperate effort to get more stimulation, more of your tongue, more of your throat, more of your mouth, more of you, his hand cups the front of your neck, his fingers digging into the sides of your throat as he tugs you closer.

Perhaps it would be more efficient to push on the back of your neck, Eddie muses. But that wouldn’t give him the sinful sight of his veiny hand, fingers ring-clad and nimble, stretched around your throat. He feels it constricting under his palm, feels every shift of your tongue against his cock, and he knows he’s nearing the point of no return.

“Babe I- shit.” He hisses, pressing firmer against your throat and relishing in the choked whimper it tears from you, “You’re good at this. ‘S like,” He cuts himself off with a groan, “‘S like you were made for my dick.”

You whine around him, the vibrations nearly throwing him over the edge. But sudden rage flares through him as he remembers you’re with someone else, that your mouth isn’t just for him, and he squeezes tight at your throat. 

You let out an indignant cry, but it melts into a moan as he maintains the pressure. He’s not hurting you, he knows you’d tell him if he was, and he watches your eyelids flutter softly as your tongue presses tight against the bottom of his cock.

“Not Andy’s. You hear me? 

You nod vigorously and he grips you tighter, “Say it. Tell me you’re mine, princess.”

“I’m yours,” Your eyes shine as you mewl pathetically around his cock, your words mumbled and strained, “I’m yours, Eddie.”

That does it.

The combination of your sweet gaze locked on his, your lips stretched around his cock, your hands cupping his balls, his hand on your neck; it’s all too much. He longs to throw his head back and let his orgasm consume him, but he wants to see you. He watches as you close off your throat, his cum painting the inside of your mouth and gushing out from between your lips, It’s the filthiest thing he’s ever seen, and he feels your lips tighten around the base of his cock as you slowly pull away, licking him clean as you go.

Once his cock is out of your mouth your cheeks are bulging, probably more full of air than cum but he appreciates the dramatics. There’s a smear that drips lewdly down your chin, and Eddie swipes it off of your skin with his rough thumb.

“Swallow.” He commands, and you obey instantly. The feeling of his cum sliding down your slick throat warms your belly, the perfect cherry on top to the orgasm you’d had only minutes prior. He holds his thumb out in front of you and you eagerly take it into your mouth, your soft cushy tongue sliding over the pad of his finger.

You lick him clean, and yet he’s never felt so dirty. He presses roughly against your tongue, pinning it to the bottom of your mouth, and he feels drool pool around his finger.

“Y’got all of it, baby?” His voice is much softer now that he’s coming down from his high, and you nod eagerly at his gentle tone. You let his thumb slip from between your pursed lips with one last swipe of your tongue over his skin, then a pop as it leaves your mouth. Eddie grins softly at the sound, leaning in to press a kiss to your still-puckered lips. You hum into his mouth, your noses brushing. When he breaks away it’s with a grin, his tongue slipping out from between his lips to glaze over them. 

“You taste good.” He hums, and your tummy flutters softly, “You taste like me.”

You’re well aware of the lingering traces of Eddie’s orgasm still sticking to your mouth. The taste isn’t unpleasant, though, and you hum contentedly, “Yeah.”

He laughs at your dreamy sigh, reaching for the panties that were pooled at your ankles.

“C’mon baby,” He urges, gently pulling them up your thighs, “‘Gotta get goin’.”

“I don’t want to,” You whine, pressing your face into his neck and kissing gently at the skin there.

“I thought you had to make church,” He teases lightly, his thumb and pointer finger pinching at your side. You flinch away from the teasing contact, groaning, “Eddie, stop!”

“Oh, please.” Eddie gripes, “They’re gonna figure us out soon if you keep stickin’ around.”

“I know.” You admit resignedly, “I just don’t wanna leave you.”

There’s a momentary sweet silence that falls after your admission, and you’re worried you’ve put too much meaning behind your bizarre hookup. But then Eddie is leaning forwards, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips.

“There’s always next Sunday.” He soothes you, his brown doe eyes flicking between your glum ones, “Same time and place?”

“Same time and place.” You tug your skirt down your thighs, peering timidly out of the grungy windows of Eddie’s van to make sure no one is watching. The coast looks clear and Eddie pops the trunk, something forlorn in his eyes as he watches you slip out of his van and back onto the ground. But it’s gone in an instant when you turn around, your skirt billowing around your thighs, “Bye Eddie, drive safe!” 

He grins fondly at your cheery wave, the gesture seeming out of place for someone who'd just been screaming his name minutes earlier. He waves back, offering you a cheeky wink before you turn around, “Send my fondest regards to Andy, babe, and don't forget to call me.”

tags: @rivekel @wh0reformunson @santaatemypuppy @dead-bl0g @twisy123 @kellysimagines @meaganjm @catherinnn @1800-fight-me @theh3aven

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[coimbrabertone]

So Can NASCAR Drivers Turn Right or Not?

So in the past couple of weeks, I've watched a couple of races and a couple of things crossed my timeline that had to do with the following question: just how good are NASCAR drivers at turning right?

I don't mean this in like the Formula One fan newbie kinda way, I mean this as like a legitimate discussion as to the quality of the NASCAR field and the fact that road course ringers have seemingly returned to the series.

So, first things first, Shane van Gisbergen. Love him, New Zealander race car driver that went over to Australia, won three Supercars championships and three Bathurst 1000s. SVG then came over to America last year, won the NASCAR Chicago Street Race to be the first guy to win in his first attempt since 1963, and impressed so much that Trackhouse partnered with Kaulig Racing in the Xfinity Series to give Shane a full-time campaign in American stock car racing.

Well, last week he won the Pacific Office Automation 147 at Portland International Raceway, and this week he won the Zip Buy Now, Pay Later 250 at Sonoma. Which brings two things to mind:

One: Gee Xfinity races have some crappy ass names, don't they?

Two: Wow, he went back-to-back on road courses...that is really impressive, but also kinda sad.

Like two weeks in a row now the Xfinity field got beat by a thirty-five-year-old rookie on road courses. This is supposed to be the most road course heavy era of NASCAR, in the past five years the top three NASCAR series have gone to the likes of Mosport, Road America, Mid-Ohio, the Daytona Sports Car Course, the Charlotte Roval, the aforementioned Chicago Street Race, Circuit of the Americas, and NASCAR's traditional road courses in the form of Sonoma and Watkins Glen.

NASCAR drivers turn right a lot, they're not the oval only meme that F1 fans like to present it as, so what is going on?

Well, I think the simplest answer is that Shane van Gisbergen is a damn good race car driver. Supercars have long been compared to NASCARs and that's even truer in the Next Gen era, plus he's gotten a lot of support and advice from Marcos Ambrose, someone who I'll talk about more shortly. Plus, there's also Scott McLaughlin.

SVG and Scotty Mac are quite possibly the two best drivers to ever come out of Supercars, and we've seen Scott be successful in Indycar for a number of years now. Just this last weekend he was competing for the win at Road America with his Penske teammates. So it's not that NASCAR drivers are bad at turning right, it's that they've been unlucky enough to come up against a once in a generation talent.

To support this, there were another two Supercars drivers in Sonoma this past weekend. Cam Waters in the #60 RFK Mustang and Will Brown in the #33 RCR Camaro, and quite frankly, both of them had weekends full of bad luck that didn't amount to much of anything. Will was third in one of the practice sessions, and that's as close as he got to pulling off an SVG-esque performance in the Cup race.

And even in the Xfinity race, Ty Gibbs and Austin Hill both presented very real threats to SVG during the race, before Gibbs got caught up in a wreck and spun around into his own teammate trying to get going again, and Austin Hill got pushed into the grass after trying to slam the door shut on SVG in turn two.

It wasn't a cake walk.

Hell, Boris Said, long considered to be the archetypal NASCAR road course ringer, has been around the series since the mid to late 90s...he's never won a Cup race. He has one truck win at Sonoma and one Xfinity (then Nationwide) win at Circuit Gilles Villeneuve to his name.

So even way back when, NASCAR drivers could handle themselves on the road courses.

There are three road course ringers that have had a lot of success in the modern era, and I think all of them subvert the idea that it's as simple as being able to turn right.

The first is the great Juan Pablo Montoya, who famously got sick of F1 mid-2006, quit McLaren, and decided to become a NASCAR driver instead. Well, come 2007, and JPM is driving the #42 Dodge for Chip Ganassi Racing, and he won at Sonoma in his first attempt. He would only win one more NASCAR race, the 2010 Watkins Glen race. Despite this, I would argue his best season was 2009, when he finished eighth in the points after running as high as third in the season.

The high point was six top five finishes in eight races towards the end of the season, all of which were on ovals. One of which, Fontana, he was well acquainted with from his CART days!

The second is Marcos Ambrose, who in 2011 and 2012, had two consecutive duels with Brad Keselowski at Watkins Glen and came out on top both times. Those two races are badass, and I recommend you watch them, because it's just two big giant stock cars fighting tooth and nail without a care in the world for track limits. It's freaking glorious.

But after that 2012 Watkins Glen win? Well, Marcos then took two straight fifth placed finishes, at Michigan and Bristol, two ovals, and two very different ovals, no less. The third is AJ Allmendinger, who is still in NASCAR and still doing well. With wins on road courses in Cup and the old Champ Car series, and wins on both road courses and ovals in Xfinity. His story continues, most recently as SVG's Kaulig teammate.

So, the moral of the story? Being a good road course racer isn't enough to win NASCAR road races, you need to be a pretty damn good race car driver, and you need to learn stock cars. That means you'll have good showings on the ovals as well as the road courses.

To that end, in addition to SVG's back-to-back Xfinity wins, he also finished third at Atlanta earlier in the season and managed to finish on the lead lap in a Cup race at Talladega this year as well. In fact, I remember in that Talladega race SVG did well in the draft and worked his way to the front, only to fall back when the uppermost line collapsed behind him, and he was left all alone a lane above the drafting pack.

Something that could happen to anyone in a restrictor plate race in NASCAR.

So...NASCAR drivers are good at turning right, the top "road course ringers" in the form of JPM, Marcos Ambrose, and Shane van Gisbergen just happen to, you know, be pretty damn good drivers, and Xfinity races have some crappy ass names.

They let the crappiest name of them all die though.

So please, let's pour one out for the Beef. It's What's for Dinner. 300, the NASCAR Xfinity season opener at Daytona International Speedway.

RIP, 2021-2023. Your name was so bad that it was actually great.

[scotty-headcannons]

Scotty is a sex neutral asexual and helps bones figure out his identity when he’s struggling <33

Ahhh, I absolutely love when people send hcs about these two. Their relationship (in any form- platonic or romantic) are so underrated. Love me some of these guys.

[devilishlyanna]

I love Scotty bilgrim gang,, BUT ANYWHOO random impulse/test drawing i did with me and my GFF <33 @suqarbreadz

since we both obsessed with scott pilgrim eheha

OG IMAGE UNDER THE CUT V V

[fratboybeezer]

Flyers Primer - Text Version

Presentation version here

featuring many of my personal opinions on players & some phantoms i find notable

*edit: fuck carter hart and i was very harsh on sam for no reason also there’s a lot of typos sorry

Cam Atkinson

forward (rw), #89

drafted 157th overall to CBJ in 2008

amazing instagram comment-er

on the nhl player inclusion coalition

played for torts in cbus

seems just happy to be here

basically #1 gritty fan

Sean Couturier

forward (c), #14

coots, couter, no chest

drafted 8th overall to PHI in 2011

playing this season after being on ir for like a season and a half

should have an a or c

used to live with now gm danny b

last of my fav ginger trio (him, g, and jakey)

toothless

Marc Staal

defenseman, #18

drafted 12th overall to NYR in 2005

2nd of 4 staals

homophobic, boycotted pride night with his brother eric in florida last season

career overall +/- of +50, over 1100 games played

Scott Laughton

forward (c), #21

our one and only a

laughts, laughtsy, scotty tatum

drafted 20th overall to PHI in 2012

passionate LGBTQ+ ally

always the one to put up the pride flag in front of the farg

first guests of the season were a lesbian couple celebrating their 1 year wedding anniversary

best drip on the roster (decided by me after that horrid drip night they had)

kinda reminds me of a cat idk

drinks a black, hot coffee

let atkinson wear his a for atkinson’s first game back in cbus after being traded to philly (back when we had a c and 2 a’s)

had an a with team canada at world’s

has a cat named brucey

Travis Konecny

forward (rw), #11

tk, teeks, tiki bar

drafted 24th overall to PHI in 2015

literally one of the best (if not the best) player on our roster idc argue with the wall

called a “short king” (he is 5’10, there’s shorter guys on the roster)

certified DILF!!

my mom’s fav flyer (she can only name 3 total)

once lost his shoes on the plane and therefore postponed press

pest/rat/raccoon (affectionate)

lives in penalty box yet an absolute goal scorer

his best on ice comparison is a chihuahua

best flow on the roster idc

our media rep this year!!! Slay!!

best chirps on the roster

Joel Farabee

forward (lw), #86

beezer, young beezer, bee, young beezy

drafted 14th overall to PHI in 2018

my favorite player i could go on and on about him

had neck surgery after 21-22 season and came back and played all 82 games in 22-23 season

is already becoming a leader on the team

bought a house from coots early 22 and now it’s a hub for the young guys on the team

gives off frat boy vibes in the best way

is such a teammate guy

asg shootout hater

has (at least 1) tattoo

his game day coffee order is an iced coffee with almond milk, no sweetener, on off days gets a brown sugar shaken espresso, prefers iced over hot coffee, and never met a coffee he didn’t like

grew up liking the flyers & phillies and really wanted to be drafted to philly

“i thank my lucky stars” -bee when talking about getting drafted to philly

claimed in a tk mic’d up that he was dropping a mixtape and never dropped it :(

silliest guy on instagram

Carter Hart

goalie, #79

hartsy, cahtah haht

drafted 48th overall by PHI in 2016

our starter <3 love him

as i’m making this is injured but is practicing with the team so hopefully he’ll be back soon

deserves better than philly but you can pry him from my cold dead hands

@st-louis has a great primer about him

Samuel Ersson

goalie, #33

drafted 143rd overall to PHI in 2018

not the best but he’s trying (i think)

would benefit from some time down with the phantoms

tbh shouldn’t be our #2

Cal Petersen

goalie, #40

drafted 129th overall to BUF in 2013

looks like he would blow away in the wind ngl

me and my friend hate him i’m sorry (sorta)

has spent most of his career so far with the kings

Felix Sandstrom

#32

drafted 70th overall to PHI in 2015

he should be our #2 idc

or down with the phantoms to improve

i can’t think of him without thinking of those pics @mad-bee posted of him like

👁️👁️

Bobby Brink

forward (rw), #10

drafted 34th overall to PHI in 2019

a baby!! (is a 22 y/o man)

my friend knows him specifically as “our rookie”

a REAL short king (5’8)

university of denver

Cam York

defenseman, #8

yorkie, yam cork

drafted 14th overall to PHI in 2019

umich boy, would’ve graduated with team 101

also a usndtp boy

i’m too lazy to look for evidence but probably part of the hughes summer club

Tyson Foerster

forward (rw), #71

drafted 23 overall to PHI in 2020

even more of a baby than brink (he’s a 21 y/o man)

roomies with beezer, stayed in philly during the off-season

i don’t think he stops smiling

described by beezer as “like a little adhd kid”

seems to be besties with yorkie

Egor Zamula

defenseman, #5

undrafted

was super excited to play alongside pr*vorov when he got called up from the Phantoms

part of beezer’s summer group

Nicolas Deslauriers

forward (lw), #44

nic, des, delo

drafted 84th overall to LAK in 2009

french canadian

hit 600 games 10/10!!

usually one of the top guys on the team in hits, pim, fights

has a career overall of -91 but like isn’t a goal scorer so. averages about 6 points per game in overall career

great fighter very hot 10/10

Nick Seeler

defenseman, #24

seels, seal team

drafted 131st overall to MIN in 2011

underrated!!!!!!!!

another great fighter that’s very hot 10/10

there’s not much to him other than punches but that’s ok i love him

fought des when des was playing with the wild

Noah Cates

forward (lw), #27

catesy

drafted 137th overall to PHI in 2017

has a brother who was with the organization but now is with bridgeport in the ahl (got to play some nhl games together!!!!)

once said flyers locker room lacked the “swagger of the winning mentality” which is a fucking hilarious way to word it

was on 2022 us men’s olympic roster

Morgan Frost

forward (c), #48

frosty

drafted 27th overall to PHI in 2017

never captions his instagram posts

angered torts or something because he keeps getting benched with no chance to properly prove himself

flyers hater

Travis Sanheim

defenseman, #6

sanny, sandy, sandra

drafted 17th overall by PHI in 2014

besties + neighbors with tk (known together as travii or travis²)

whl boy

besties with tk’s oldest kid

Owen Tippett

forward (rw), #74

tippy, tipper

drafted 10th overall to FLA in 2017

got him when we traded our captain :,( miss you G

hair looks unnatural but like i’m 90% it is natural

Garnet Hathaway

forward (rw), #19

undrafted

signed as free agent in july

part of phd line (w/ des & poehling)

UHM HIS FIRST NAME IS FUCKING JOHN?!

i don’t like him please don’t ask why i don’t have an answer

Ryan Poehling

forward (c), #25

drafted 25th overall to MTL in 2017

another guy signed in july

saved him from the penguins 🫶🏻

phd line

honestly i don’t know much abt him

Louie Belpedio

defenseman, #37

drafted 80th overall to MIN in 2014

has like 3 nhl games under his belt (12? as i’m making this)

signed july 2022 but has chilling in lehigh valley

went to miami of ohio

has a totally of 3 points but like i said only 11 games he’s got a lot of space for more

Victor Mete

defenseman, #98

drafted 100th overall to MTL in 2016

signed as a free agent in july

more of an assists guy than a goals guy and honestly i’m content with that

career overall +/- of +19

about 250 games under his belt

Sean Walker

defenseman, #26

walks

undrafted

bgsu grad & 2 seasons as captain there

his trade helped us send pr*vorov on his way, hope the door hit him on the way out

not rly talked abt but i think he’s cool (i’m going to bgsu lol)

Long term IR Boys

Ryan Ellis

defenseman, #94

drafted 11th overall to NSH in 2009

i don’t think he’s played a single game with us

like was injured when he was drafted and has been on ir the whole time

we lost phil myers for him (and nolpat too ig)

back injury? i think?

i have no thoughts on him ngl

Rasmus Ristolainen

defenseman, #55

drafted 8th overall to BUF in 2013

horrid career overall +/- (-176)

traded robert hagg & 2 draft pics for him?

i like him tho ig

looks like a different person in like every photo i’ve ever seen of him

his injury is undisclosed

The Phantoms

Wade Allison

forward (rw), #19 (#17 with flyers)

wader, ally, ally cat

drafted 52nd overall to PHI in 2016

he’s my girlfriend i miss him

lived in beezer’s basement last season

part of the fratboys (w/ frosty & beezer)

wmu boy

spent all of last season with the flyers

Tanner Laczynski

forward (c), #9 (#58 with the flyers)

drafted 169th overall to PHI in 2016

OSU boy (ew)

has never spent a whole season up with the flyers :(

my mom once told me he looked like a loser before finding out he was an nhl player

buds with wader

Zayde Wisdom

forward (rw), #14

drafted 94th overall to PHI in 2020

used to live with foerster?

he would cook and tyson would clean

i need him to be called up so we have that duo back

scored 29 goals in his second ohl season

Emil Andrae

defenseman, #6 (#36 with flyers)

drafted 54th overall to PHI in 2020

played 4 games with us this season

not much of a goal scorer but can do it

kinda looks very stereotypical swede

Ronnie Attard

defenseman, #12

drafted 72nd overall to PHI in 2019

was tri-city storm captain for the 18-19 season

another wmu boy — played a season there with ally in 19-20

played 2 games with the flyers last season and 15 the year before

[maria021015]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 33!

“Are you sure you wanna go through with this, Scotty?” Stiles whispered in a questioning tone as the wolf pushed open the front door to a dingy little tattoo parlour downtown. The neon sign in the window was the main source of light in the dark alleyway.

“I don’t think his answer has changed from the other three times you asked him on the drive over here,” Zaida pointed out with a roll of her eyes as she followed closely behind Scott. She was starting to get good at handling her feelings around Stiles now, even though it did nothing to calm the way her heart raced or how her cheeks flushed whenever he brushed past her. There was nothing much else she could do about that though, save for waiting for her affections to pass. As the werewolf spoke to the man at the front counter, her eyes roved over the stencils on display on the walls, catching on some beautiful fine-line floral designs.

“Why are you even here?” Stiles shot back at her. She’d sort of showed up at Stiles’ house and invited herself as an excuse to avoid going with Allison and Lydia tonight. It was the Argents’ first day back in Beacon Hills and Zaida was not looking forward to the awkwardness between her and Allison resuming right where they left off.

“My other option was to go with the girls to a ‘hang-out’ Lydia organised that she claims was definitely not a triple date. Though she’s kind of right. It’s not a date so much as a hook-up.” Zaida shrugged and Stiles let out a choked sound. “Needless to say, I’m not interested.”

“Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture…” The burly tattoo artist looked down at the scrawled visualisation Scott handed him as he sat in the chair with Stiles and Zaida standing around him. It was a scribbled sketch of two lines of varying thickness - not exactly the most informative design.

“Hey, Scott! You sure you don't want something like this?” Stiles snickered and held up a sample folder, which opened to a page with a black ink creature that looked eerily akin to the Kanima. Scott stared at his friend with a raised brow. “...Too soon? Yeah…”

As the tattoo artist prepared his ink and sterilised his tools, Stiles grimaced once more. “I don't know, man. Are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?”

“I'm not changing my mind.” Scott insisted, evidently excited about it.

“Okay, but why two bands?” The boy asked his friend, not quite understanding the purpose of something so seemingly unimportant.

“I just like it.” Scott shrugged, and honestly, that reasoning checked out for him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to think too deeply about anything and it was something Zaida had grown fond of.

“But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning?” Stiles tried to make sense of it. “You know, or something?”

“Getting a tattoo means something.” The werewolf pointed out eagerly.

“I don't think that's-” Stiles began sceptically, but the tattoo artist nodded in support of Scott and scooted his wheely chair closer, preparing to start.

“He's right. Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word ‘tatua’ means "to leave a mark," like a rite of passage.” The man explained.

“Yeah, see? He gets it!” Scott nodded enthusiastically.

He's covered in tattoos, Scott-” Stiles scoffed, eyeing the man’s inked skin stretching down both of his arms in completed sleeves. “Literally.”

“God, I wish Xander was as cool as Melissa,” Zaida shook her head, watching on longingly as the artist hovered the needle over Scott’s left bicep. Scott’s Mom had signed the permission slip for Scott to get his tattoo, and she’d even allowed him to buy a motorcycle with the money he’d saved up from working at Deaton’s.

“Okay, you ready?” The man double-checked. “You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?”

“Nope!” Scott answered excitedly, raring to go, and the tattoo gun hummed to life.

“I tend to get a little squeamish, though, so…” Stiles said weakly, scratching his face as he peered at the needle puncturing Scott’s skin again and again at rapid speed. Within seconds, Stiles was on the floor with a loud thud, and Zaida’s head snapped towards where the boy had only just been standing.

“Oh God, what do we do?” She asked in concern, rushing to his side to check him for any injuries, but he seemed fine.

“Just leave him there. Carlos will get him.” The tattoo artist answered her casually, not so much as batting an eyelid.

Surely enough, a younger guy who looked to be in his early twenties came over from one of the back rooms, nodding to her before pulling Stiles’ limp form up and half-carrying, half-dragging him over to a small couch by the front window, just a few feet away from where Scott was being tattooed. “It happens more often than you’d think. He’ll be awake in no time.” He smirked at her, looking her up and down with grey eyes. His tousled black hair brushed the top of his eyes. “See?” He added when Stiles shifted and groaned, starting to come back into the land of consciousness.

“You look a bit young to be a tattoo artist,” She struck up a conversation with the guy, noting the lack of ink on his body. He had a few small, tasteful tattoos along his forearms and a tooth hanging from one ear, but that was all.

“I’m still an apprentice.” The boy - Carlos - gave her a lazy half-shrug. “I noticed you looking at my sample book when you came in. My work is at a discounted price, but for a pretty girl like you…I could hook you up with something on the house, if you want?”

“You do fine-line?” She raised a brow, her curiosity piqued. He must have thought she was of age, and she wasn’t about to correct him if she could get a free tattoo out of it. She’d always wanted one. “I’ve heard it’s a difficult style.”

“Yeah, it is. But I’m great with my hands,” He winked at her and Stiles scowled at him as he clutched the top of the couch to haul himself into a seated position.

“Hey, buddy? She’s sixteen.” Stiles warned threateningly and Carlos’ grin dropped from his face. “Oh, and did I mention, my dad’s the Sheriff?”

The boy immediately left without so much as another glance in her direction, and Zaida glared at Stiles, crossing her arms over her chest. “You just cost me a free tattoo.”

“Yeah, and I just saved him from a court case.” He snorted and pulled himself to his wobbly feet.

“You’re as pale as a sheet, Stilinski. Sit back down.” She rolled her eyes and pushed his shoulder, forcing him back onto the couch as she sank into the seat beside him. “I can’t believe you actually fainted.”

“And I can’t believe you were actually letting that guy flirt with you to get a free tattoo. Seriously, his lines were awful. ‘I’m great with my hands’? What was that? That’s disgusting.” Stiles gagged. “You know as the oldest of this particular trio it’s my responsibility to make sure you two make good decisions, and neither of you is making it easy for me!” He called out purposefully so that Scott would hear him, turning to look back at the boy who was still under the needle and immediately regretting it when he felt queasy again.

“We’re all the same age, you bozo.” She shook her head, not counting the months that were undoubtedly between their birthdays.

“Nope, think again little-Xander,” He smirked. “I’m seventeen.”

“Little-Xander?” She repeated the nickname with an upturned nose. “Also, since when? I could have sworn you were sixteen.”

“Yeah, you’re exactly like him. You’re both stubborn smart-asses with a mean right hook and a temper. And I was sixteen. Until I turned seventeen.” Stiles shot back with infuriating smugness and she narrowed her eyes at him, forcing him to yield. “Okay fine, my birthday was April eighth.”

“Shut up, there's no way!” Her jaw dropped open in surprise, but she could tell he wasn’t lying. “But that was ages ago! Why didn’t you tell me? Did you guys do something for your birthday without me?”

“No, we…uh, we didn't do anything for my birthday.” His playful mood died down and she could tell she’d struck a nerve. April eighth, why did that date ring a bell?

“Oh,” She realised. That was why. It was the night of the Lacrosse grand final, when he’d been kidnapped and beaten by Gerard Argent, and she’d been worried out of her mind.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded somberly, knowing she’d figured it out. Thankfully, the morose atmosphere was cleared when Stiles picked up a sample folder and pointed out a fine-line tattoo design of a long-stemmed rose. “That would look nice on you.”

“I thought you didn’t like tattoos?” She asked him with a raised brow.

“Doesn’t matter what I like, it’s your body and you like them.” He shrugged genuinely and her heart warmed at his sentiments. “Plus, you could make anything look pretty.”

Zaida suddenly regretted her choice of hairstyle for today as she found herself unable to hide her blush behind her hair as she usually did. Instead, she fanned herself, pretending it was due to the temperature of the shop. “Phew, is it hot in here?”

“Nope, just you.” Stiles winked and she knew it was a joke, but her heart stopped.

“Oh, man…” Scott groaned from the passenger seat of the Jeep, pulling up his shirt sleeve to inspect the bandaged tattoo.

“You okay?” Stiles asked him, eyes flickering off the road for only a second before he refocused.

“Kinda burns…” Scott winced, gripping his bicep tightly.

“Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about one hundred thousand times with a needle…” Stiles’ words were dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this.” Scott reasoned and groaned in pain. “No, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this! Oh, I gotta take this thing off!”

“No, no, no, no, Scott!” Stiles pleaded with a horrified expression as his best friend tore the bandage off to reveal his fresh wound. Zaida, on the other hand, peered over the seat for a better look. “Oh, Scott, please stop!”

“Oh, no! What? No, no, come on!” Scott sighed in disappointment as the ink faded away back to his normal tanned skin tone. “It healed.”

“Aw, thank God. I hated it.” Stiles wrinkled his nose and blurted out in relief. Scott frowned at him. “...Sorry.”

“What happened to ‘it’s your body’?” Zaida snorted and the boy ignored her jab.

“I can’t believe summer break is already over.” He changed the subject instead.

“Tell me about it, I was grounded for the whole thing.” Zaida huffed. “I am absolutely dreading school tomorrow.”

“Hey, at least Allison will be back.” Stiles nudged Scott with his elbow, trying to cheer up the boy who was now moping about wasting his money on a tattoo that lasted like ten minutes.

“That’s if she’s even gonna show up,” Scott mumbled back, not having heard Zaida and Stiles’ conversation at the shop earlier.

“You haven’t spoken to her at all?” Zaida questioned. She’d have thought they’d at least have messaged each other a few times, but Scott had clearly not talked with the girl, otherwise, he’d know she was returning to Beacon Hills High.

“Nah, we agreed to give each other the summer - no texts, no calls,” Scott explained. “And after everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all…”

“I think she is,” Stiles said as they pulled up at a red light beside a much smaller car. The road was completely empty at this time of night. The boy turned his attention to that black car next to them. “I'd say it's pretty definite, you know...Like, one-hundred-percent…”

Zaida instantly recognised it, and though Scott might not have noticed whose car it was, he certainly recognised the two girls inside of it. “What are the chances?” She shook her head with a snort.

“Oh, my God! Oh-” The werewolf panicked, his dark eyes going wide as he sank in his seat. “Can we just drive, please? Stiles?”

“Scott, it's a red light!” Stiles exclaimed in exasperation.

“It’s not like that’s stopped you before,” Zaida reached over the seat to lightly slap the boy’s shoulder. “Come on, have a bit of mercy for your best friend.”

“I think we should talk to her. I just think we should say something.” Stiles leaned over Scott to roll down his window as the werewolf began to lose his shit.

“No! No, no, Stiles! Come on! Oh, my God, dude, no!” The wolf floundered, but Stiles ignored him and plastered a broad smile onto his face.

“Hey!” He called out but the black Beetle beside them simply sped off in response, straight through the red light. Stiles pulled back from Scott’s window with a casual shrug. “...You know, they probably didn't see us.”

“I think they saw you, Stiles.” Zaida scoffed and shook her head. “Hence the dramatic exit.”

“What are you doing?” Scott freaked out as the light turned green and Stiles resumed along the same road, pulling up behind the girls’ car.

“I'm driving...?” His brows furrowed, not quite getting what Scott didn’t understand about that.

“We're right behind them.” The wolf whined, gesturing at the black Beetle in front of them.

“Okay, well, do you see any turns?” The boy pointed out with a huff.

“I don't want it to look like we're following them…” Scott explained his thought process.

“It’s not like we have a whole lot of options right now, Scotty boy. It’s either we keep going like any normal person would, or we just break in the middle of the road like crazy people and wait for them to get far enough ahead before continuing.” Zaida rose to Stiles’ defence.

“Is that what you want me to do? I can stop.” The boy offered and Scott looked at them both with his mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish, not being able to decide which option was better right now. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don't know - anything?” Scott exclaimed in frustration and Stiles slammed on the brakes, throwing Zaida forwards so her rib cage went barrelling into the seat she was currently leaning over, effectively knocking the air flat out of her lungs.

“So you chose the crazy people option?” She wheezed out through laboured breathing, clutching her chest as it ached.

“Wait, they just stopped too.” Scott peered through the darkness, and he was right. The black Beetle had come to a pretty sudden stop too.

A sudden wave of sickening anxiety washed over Zaida, and she held up her hand for both of the boys to see how violently her body was shaking. “Something’s wrong.”

Stiles immediately flipped the gear shift into park and threw his door open, pulling his seat forward for her to clamber out of the back. He offered her his hand to help her jump down, and she accepted it, too busy worrying about Allison and Lydia to allow herself to blush at his touch as she now usually would. A loud smashing of glass echoed through the silence, snapping all three of their heads towards the Beetle. None of them wasted time, sprinting over as both girls got out of the car.

“Are you okay?” Scott got there first, and Stiles was next, going straight to Lydia.

“It came out of nowhere!” The redhead cried out and Zaida averted her eyes as Stiles checked her over for any injuries. She turned her head instead towards the windshield where the largest buck she’d ever seen had apparently crashed straight through the centre of the windshield - its neck lacerated by broken glass and its pelt soaked in blood.

“It ran right into us!” The redhead reported in a shaky voice.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked Allison tenderly, and the taller girl nodded her head.

“Well, I'm not okay! I am totally freaking out!” Lydia interrupted hysterically. “How the hell does it just run into us? I saw its eyes right before it hit us, and it was like it...It was like it was crazy.”

“Animals don’t just commit suicide,” Zaida murmured, walking around the bonnet with the shattered windshield crunching beneath her shoes. She reached out for the buck, her fingertips just barely grazing its fur before Stiles lunged forward and pulled her away.

“Careful, there’s glass everywhere.” He said with concern etched into his furrowed brows.

“It was scared,” Scott corrected Lydia’s assessment of the creature.

“...Actually, terrified.” Zaida agreed, holding up her still-shaking hand to the moonlight. She and Stiles exchanged worried glances. Her mother had warned them something was coming to Beacon Hills. Maybe it would arrive sooner than they’d thought.

[princepiastri]

can you share some of your recent favorite reads? been in a slump and looking for some good reads. if you wanna share more abt what drew you in, please. some summaries are not just calling out to me...

i can and would absolutely love to -

Lending a hand - LN4 by @userlando - the smut in this? *chefs kiss*

The Vegas series - MV1 by @theemporium - everything Cece writes is amazing but this is one of my favourites

Scotty doesn't know - MV1 by @mariahcarreyyy - this is a bit more intense but i was gripped the whole time, dom!max is a weakness

Don't cry about it - OP81 & MV1 by @piastrification - super invested in this series and excited to see where it goes

Meddle about - OP81 SMAU by @verstarppen - super funny, i actually recommend reading through her stuff if you want a laugh

In motion - OP81 hockey!au by @scuderiahoney - you all know lee is the love of my life but i cannot speak highly enough about her writing for Oscar, i'm super excited for this series

honestly these are all incredible writers and you should all go and show them some love and appreciation for their work <33

also you can check out all my recommendations for the drivers here!

[jrueships]

Maxey watching summer league appreciation!!

[semperama]

Sorry I didn't get to send this earlier! But thank you for filling my Daniel/Josh prompt yesterday! You don't have to publish this ask if you don't feel like it, but I wanted to let you know that I love daydreaming about Josh's perspective in both "On the fifty yard line" and the drabble you wrote! I love how you can tell through your writing that Josh is grateful for the 3 hit rule when he initially enters the ring with Daniel, because fighting these smaller guys always makes Josh feel scummy! But then his opponent is looking like he is thriving fighting Josh; So maybe Josh, like Daniel, is wishing this fight would last a bit longer.

Thank you so much, anon. <3 I feel bad now, because I ended up deleting the fic, but I just wanted to let you know it's not your fault. I'm just going through a really hard time right now, and today was a particularly rough day, and having that out there and feeling like it was not resonating was making me feel worse. I'm republishing it here under the cut for you in case you didn't have it saved though, because I don't want it to be gone for you. <33 I really appreciate this message. It helped me a lot to read. Thank you so, so much. <33

"You don't actually have to fight if you don't want to," Scotty says in his ear as they walk in, the miasma of salt and copper hitting Daniel like a physical thing. "It's not like the movies."

It's pretty much like the movies though--an abandoned warehouse, men stripped to the waist, glistening skin and rippling muscles. The floor is sticky beneath Daniel's feet. The air is humid from all the overheated bodies, and it makes Daniel want to shed his own shirt, whether he's fighting or not.

"But is the first rule still, 'Don't talk about fight club?'" Daniel asks. Scotty's eye roll is answer enough. The first fight they see ends in a guy stumbling out of the ring to puke in a dirty bucket. By the end of the second, Daniel is bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands flexing at his sides. He never planned on just watching, not since Scotty first told him about this place, but now that he's actually here, his curiosity has become a physical necessity, an itch between his shoulder blades, a tugging in his gut.

"I want next," he tells Scotty. "How do I--?"

The corner of Scotty's mouth lifts, like he knew this would happen, but fuck it, Daniel will have a meltdown about being too obvious later. He lets himself be dragged by the arm over to a swarthy man clutching a dirty sheet of paper and a stub of a pencil, and then his name is on the list.

The "ring" is really just a circle surrounded by men, the boundaries of which seem to be marked by the light thrown by one of the few working light bulbs in this place. Ten minutes and two fights later, Daniel shoves his balled-up t-shirt into Scotty's hand and steps into that circle.

He should feel stupid and small and scared looking at the man who steps out across from him--a man who's a full head taller than him, with broad shoulders and a wingspan for days. Instead, he feels relief. This isn't going to be easy. Good.

The man--Josh, the barker says--steps forward, and his hand engulfs Daniel's, making Daniel's stomach swoop. His smile is strangely kind, and he says, "Sorry," like he's done something wrong. Like Daniel didn't sign up for this. Like he didn't want it. Daniel can only shake his head. His throat is full of rocks. His vision is tunneling already, narrowing down to just Josh, only Josh. Someone puts a hand in Daniel chest, pushing him back, pushing Josh back too, and then--

Daniel dodges the first swing instinctively, ducking low under Josh's first jab. Hit me, he thinks as he bounces backward out of reach. Hit me, as if he can will it to happen. His body won't let him take a dive, the instinctive urge to avoid pain too strong, but it's bound to happen eventually. Josh's reach is longer than his. He seems more experienced too, his fists grazing Daniel's ear, his shoulder.

When it does happen, it's perfect. Just what he needed. Josh gets him right in the ribs, under his right pec, and the air whooshes out of him, the impact rattling his teeth. Pain blooms like relief, seeping outward through his chest.

Twice more. Those are the rules. To keep them all from killing each other, first man to land three hits wins.

It won't be enough, Daniel thinks as he skitters away from Josh again. Three won't be nearly enough.

He's grinning, he realizes. Across from him, fists raised and ready, Josh grins back.