#A Quiet Evening

[madcat-world]

A Quiet Evening - Alexey Egorov

[ask-de-writer]

A QUIET EVENING : MLP Fan Fiction

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A QUIET EVENING

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1208 words

© 2019 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 10/01/19

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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Possible triggers:  graveyard with real ghosts and such.  CMC

As they caught sight of Bonnie, poking her head through the door of her family crypt, the three began to back slowly away.  Sweetie Belle whispering to the other two, “Now?  Now you listen to me?  I told you that coming here was a bad idea.”

Scootaloo replied, “It is not like we are even breaking any sort of rule.  It is still daytime.  The cemetery gate isn’t locked yet or anything.”

Bonnie, her cloudy white fur and black mane contrasting well with the aged oak of the crypt door actually agreed.  “You don’t need to act frightened. The orange filly is right.  You have not broken any sort of rules by being here in the daytime, even on the eve of Nightmare Night.  I’m afraid that we don’t have any sort of treats for you, though.”

Cautiously, Apple Bloom pointed out, “We might not be quite so cautious if you weren’t about half out of that door while it’s still closed.  Are you some kind of ghost?”

Bonnie looked back in confusion while she stepped free of the crypt.  “No, I’m not a ghost or anything like that.  The ones here are my friends but I’m not one of them.  I am as alive as you are.  Why would anypony need to open a door?  What does that have to do with going through it?”

The CMC looked at each other blankly.  Apple Bloom pointed, “Are you SURE that you are alive?  See those hinges and lock?  Normal ponies need to unfasten the lock and then they can open the door to go in.”

Comprehension dawning on her face, Bonnie observed, “So that’s what those things are for!  I always wondered.  Before I learned to use a door properly, Zom or Junea always let me out.  I was little then and did not really pay attention.”

The CMC looked at each other in mild consternation.  “Who did you say taught you about using doors?”

Bonnie shrugged, “You know, just the ghosts and my other playmates.  Who else would?”

Pausing, she gave the CMC the old steely eye.  “Exactly what are you doing here?”

Scootaloo looked down and scuffed the grass before she replied, “We heard that Morgripe and his buddies were planning to mess up some graves. That’s wrong.  We kinda planned to set them up a sort of haunted graveyard.  We got springs and sheets to do fake ghosts that could jump out from behind gravestones.  You know, stuff like that.  Don’t want to hurt them, just scare them off so that they don’t damage anything.”

Bonnie perked right up!  “Oh, that will be so much fun!  I would love to help you!  I have some friends that would like to help too!  The Nightmare Moon is already up, so they can come out to join us!”

Sweetie Bell looked up at the gibbous moon lurking high in the sky and at the nearly set sun.  “Doesn’t the sun have to be down before, um, your buddies can come out?”

“No, silly!  They all follow the Night Mare.  As long as she is up, we can play!  They just usually wait until her sister goes down, that’s all.”

Bonnie bounced happily over to a big mausoleum, and stuck her head through the door!  The CMC could not hear anything through the heavy stone and solid door.  

Bonnie cheerfully came back and told them, “Wait here!  I am going to see if Flowering Ash or any of the other Ancient Ones want to help!”

She galloped off towards the back of the cemetery, where it faced the Everfree forest.

Apple Bloom watched her go.  She wondered in a soft voice, “Are Ma and Pa here? Will they be helping us?”

Sweetie Belle was watching critically and replied, “I don’t know, Apple Bloom, but Bonnie just jumped past the wall and it is sort of tumbldown and moss grown.  I have been here before and the back wall was not like that.”

In only a few moments Bonnie came floating serenely back, her legs folded neatly under her as if she were resting on something invisible.  She alighted in front of them and exulted, “We are getting two unicorn litches and Flowering Ash to come help!  We are getting some ghosts too!

“When Flowering Ash gets here, show us how to help and where to set your “haunts!”  The whole graveyard thinks that this is hilarious!”

It was only a few moments before they saw the head of a beautiful gray mare across the moss grown wall.  She reared up, forelegs folded and crossed the wall, her forelegs remaining folded as her huge snakelike body slithered across the stones and undulated swiftly to them.

While the CMC were watching the lamia, their eyes bugged out, two mostly skeletal unicorn litches leaped gracefully over the wall as well.

With all gathered, Flowering Ash wrapped her long body about the CMC, providing them with a comfortable resting place.  Bonnie, with absolute confidence, joined them in her coils.

Flowering Ash, smiled and suggested, “Please tell us what we need to know to help you set up this trap of frights for those vile vandals.”

Eagerly, Scootaloo dug into a big saddlebag and pulled out parts!  As she set a spring mounted to a cross stick, Apple Bloom pulled out a sheet, bound around soft straw with big googly eyes stuck on!  Sweetie Belle attached trigger strings and set stakes to hold them where hooves would trip them!

Giggling, Bonnie stomped one of the demonstration “ghost's” trigger strings!  The false haunt leaped up, driven by the spring!  It fluttered down flat, except for the bulbous head.  Suddenly it lifted up and floated about, flapping a little.

The CMC clapped hooves in delight!  “A real ghost in our fake one!  That is so perfect!”  

They guided the whole group to the area where they had overheard Morgripe and his buddies plotting to cross the cemetery wall.  Choosing tombstones and other grave markers with care, the whole group planted the phony ghosts to provide the best scares.

Thoughtfully, they planted some near the graveyard gate, too.  While they were doing that, Sweetie Belle noticed, “I guess that we are stuck here for the night.  They have locked the gate already.”

Apple Bloom felt the softest of hugs and a gentle neck kiss.  Almost like a breeze, her mane got ruffled.  Her eyes misted up.  “That you, Mom? Dad?  Thanks.”

Flowering Ash pointed out, “If you are here when things happen, it will spoil the effect.  Here, let me help.”

One by one, she held the CMC and lifted them over the wall, setting them gently on their hooves and pulling back to her massive coils for the next.

The next morning, all of Ponyville was abuzz with the story!  Morgripe and his friends had done it again!  They came running over their ladder screaming about ghosts and monsters in the graveyard!  Constables opening the gate had got a bit of a fright too, as spring trap “ghosts” jumped out at them!

Morgripe and Co. were in trouble again!  And the CMC, giggling behind their hooves could not say anything about their Nightmare Night adventure that actually worked like it was supposed to!

~THE END~

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[aslyran]

Visions

[obsob]

friends forever

✹print shop✹

[triona-tribblescore]

UH- UM- MY HAND SLIPPED-

Tw// suggestive material

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[brookheimer]

shiv was not being altruistic nor intellectually self-interested when she voted against kendall. that was pure raw visceral desperation to maintain some semblance of dignity that she felt kendall being ceo would shred her of. sometimes people do not act in other people’s best interests or their own best interests. sometimes people do the wrong thing for the wrong reasons just because it feels like the right, the only, thing to do. shiv could not let kendall be ceo. she just couldn’t. not because she wanted to sacrifice herself to “stop the cycle,” not because she made a calculation and decided tom was her best interest — because the thought of kendall being ceo and acting like That the rest of their lives when shiv earned that job, she fucking earned it, that was too much to fucking bear. watching him sit in dad’s chair, conduct that vote, grin with entitlement and cockiness and certainty — seeing that elicited a visceral painful all-consuming sensation not dissimilar to overwhelming nausea that, summed up in two words, would simply be: fuck. no. she couldn’t live with that. she just couldn’t. it’s not kind. it’s not smart. it’s just human. painfully, destructively human. because sometimes, that’s all there is to it. not just for shiv, but for everyone. god knows roman and kendall have had those same feelings, made those same self-destructing yet necessary-feeling decisions throughout the show. why does it have to be different for shiv? why can’t she be painfully destructively human, prone to impulsive ill-conceived viscerally felt actions, like everyone else? why are we incapable of allotting her the same nuance and humanity (the good and the bad), the same trauma-informed self-destructive life-ruining hamartias, as we do her brothers? why can’t we fit a whole woman in our heads?

[drunkenlion]

I love love love how Larian made Astarion:

Avoiding having sex with Tav altogether if you kinda have a wholesome relationship after he confesses that he really likes Tav for real and not just to secure himself a protector/ally. It’s so cute that he just takes some time to figure out what sex means to him in terms of genuine connection with someone and not just a manipulation tactic which has been a behaviour forced on him by Cazador 😭

He is sooo insecure about it, that I already found two instances of him mentioning it: when twin drows in Baldur’s Gate offer their services either to Tav or both to Tav and Astarion. He refuses and asks if the reason Tav would want this is the lack of sex between them. And the second time when Halsin offers to have a poly relationship and you ask Astarion about it (which he is in general chill about) but once again asks Tav if the reason is not Astarion not having sex with them.

Poor Astarion is still having fear that the only thing that can make someone be interested in him is sex. It makes me feel stuff 😰

[dreamsy990]

you know i used to think it was weird how sora and roxas have such different personalities for supposedly being 'the same person' but after playing a few games i sort of realized that they do have similar personalities, because roxas acts how sora does when he's under extreme stress.

compare roxas to sora in, say, kh1. that's where a lot of peoples idea of sora's personality comes from. sora is generally very upbeat and optimistic in that game. not very similar to roxas, right?

but let's switch the game and talk about a game where sora is ABSOLUTELY GOING THROUGH IT. chain of memories.

sora's resting state is melancholy in com. he only ever cheers up in short bursts, usually when he's joking around with friends. just like roxas.

he's quick to anger, and tends to lash out at the organization members. best example of this is when larxene makes him 'remember' namine, and he swings at her repeatedly, even after she's gone. he only stops when jiminy is able to snap him out of it.

you know what scene that resembles?

sora, while a bit more on the angry side and less sad, continues to act like this in kh2 when he's in stressful situations. (he also has a tendancy to insult people which, while it's not very related to the point, is very funny and sora saying 'gonna cry?' to xigbar is great.) i cant comment any further than that about kh2 off the top of my head.

so, roxas acts like sora does when he's stressed, right? but why is roxas always acting like that? to which i say, he isnt!

he only ever acts like that when he's also in fucked up and stressful situations, which happens to be a CONSTANT in his life. but when he's hanging out with axel and xion, a decidedly NOT stressful situation, he's a lot more like sora. he's teasing his friends and insulting his coworkers and joking around and acting like a normal kid. not really important, but unless i misremembered some sora lines which is VERY possible, both roxas and sora respond to friendly insults with "oh thanks!" a lot. just a funny little detail that felt relevant.

the biggest differences between roxas and sora boil down to environment and... i dont know how to put it besides volume? roxas is very quiet and tends to keep most of his thoughts to himself, while sora is very loud and expressive in comparison.

there is one other huge difference i noticed, which is less character based and more story. sora wanted to get off destiny islands and explore with his friends, but roxas just wanted routine. sora wants adventure, and roxas wants things to stay the same, for days where he gets off work and eats ice cream with his friends to last forever, to keep having conversations about nothing and watching the sunset. roxas wants normalcy, sora wants excitement. it's just interesting seeing their contrast.

not sure if this is very well said or anything i just wanted to talk about my boys

[noirsloth]

Neil Josten does the most bizarre side quests ever.

Fly to other part of the country to cheat-chat with mafiosi Uncle? Why not

Demonise and manipulate FBI while eating a take out? Regular evening

Order a murder for another rapist, because fuck anyone who hurts Jean? FUCK YEAH

Share philosophy that he learned from his found family and boyfriend? Yes, pleaaase

[hellfire--cult]

Look at our baby boy growin up

[ask-de-writer]

I would like to thank

@man1nblack76for READING, LIKING

and REBLOGGING

A QUIET EVENING

MLP Fan Fiction

Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

[blueteller]

You guys ever think about how funny it is that the whole reason why Cale did not have try at all to impersonate the original Cale, was because no one actually knew anything about him, despite the fact that everybody knew about him? On an international scale, even??

Cale: (doing an absolutely terrible job at being trash) Everybody else: That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about Cale Henituse to dispute it

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Chu Wanning, kit-tea man. (Part 2)

(for @onionlings)

[that-sweet-jester]

Neil Gaiman i love you but also want to fight you.

Of course, art inspired by J.C. Leyendecker "Men Reading"

[treasureplcnet]

inverness here they come!!!!