#is best silly filly

[viverridae]

also. i finally got another cat.

her name is felicity 🤍

[yanderes-galore]

Can you do a headcanon for platonic yandere Princess celestia where the reader is rebellious and tries to escape from her at any chance

Thank you!! <33

I can write down my ideas for this, yeah :)

Yandere! Platonic! Princess Celestia with Rebellious! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Isolation, Manipulation, Abuse of power, Implied kidnapping, Punishment, Forced companionship.

I personally can imagine this scenario happening when Celestia picks another student after Twilight.

She keeps you in the castle to study and rarely lets you out.

You are her new apprentice and student... she's just keeping an eye on you.

Understandably, you don't take well to her new lessons and orders.

She's essentially manipulated you into staying in her castle for "studying".

Kidnapping you without any force.

When you come to your senses, you want out.

These leads to you and your escape attempts.

Such attempts amuse Celestia at first, in a way you remind her of Luna's rebellious behavior.

However, Celestia always manages to have guards find you again or Celestia herself hunts you down.

To her, this is like disciplining a filly/foal.

You're being silly... you should know you're better off in the castle.

Celestia will entertain your escape attempts for a little bit.

She herself has been mischievous, so she understands.

However... the more frequent your attempts, the more Celestia grows annoyed.

At some point I imagine she'd cast a spell on you to restrict your magic and lock you in your room as punishment.

It really does feel like she's a mother disciplining her filly/foal.

Celestia would scold her rebellious darling eventually.

You can't expect her to tolerate this forever, can you?

She'll have to reprimand and punish you at some point.

Perhaps you can get your magic back and be let out of your room once you learn where you belong.

No pony's going to help you... they know Celestia has your best interests at heart.

You have no pony to turn to but Celestia.

So how about you be a good student and listen to your Princess...

She grows tired of your games the longer they go on.

[mllemaenad]

Why so anti-Brotherhood?

At their best (Roger Maxon, Elder Lyons, Paladin Danse) they're massively effective humanitarians; even at their worst (Father Elijah, Paladin Casdin) they posess admirable traits (valour and determination); and most of the tine they are somewhere in the middle (Arthur Maxon, Knight Maximus): flawed but ultimately well-intentioned men and women trying to stop humanity from repeating its biggest mistakes.

They helped out in the early days of California, and when the NCR began to start following in the doomed footsteps of the old world, the Brotherhood tried (unsuccessfully to stop them). On the East Coast, they helped to save the Capital Wasteland from drought, and they stood up to the reckless experimentation of the Institute. In Filly, Lucy Maclean would probably have died without Maximus's intervention.

They can be unsubtle, and heavy-handed, and sometimes almost arrogant, but they ARE good people.

Hi, Anonymous person.

It feels like ... maybe you have the wrong end of the stick here? It sounds like you think I've got some kind of specific grudge against every individual member of the Brotherhood. And I ... don't. That would be silly and unfair. The Brotherhood has existed for a couple of centuries now. People are born into it, or indoctrinated as children. That's ... sort of the point Fallout: New Vegas is making with Arcade and Veronica – the forward-thinking children who have to contend with the mistakes of their very backward parents.

My issue is with the institution, not some random guy in power armour.

I'm not going to go through that whole list, because that's a lot. But – well, Maximus, since the TV show is going to be the hot topic.

Maximus is a refugee from a recently fallen civilisation who joined up with the Brotherhood of Steel because he was briefly impressed by the image of a knight in very literal shining armour, whom he saw breezing safely through the destruction of his home.

Then he found out that they are a group of militant cultists who use brutal beatings and ritual humiliation to "condition" their recruits (and possibly force them to take on new identities, as Maximus seems to be a name they "gave" him). His friend Dane is so frightened of going out on a mission with one of these knights that they actively injure themselves to avoid it, and Thaddeus's experience confirms that Maximus's treatment is completely normal.

When he is assigned to a knight, he quickly discovers that literally all of Titus's dignity comes from wearing a helmet that makes his voice sound deep and commanding, and underneath all that armour he is a bully and a coward. Not just a bully and a coward, but the kind of bully and coward who can't figure out that specifically bullying the only guy who might be able to save his life is a really fucking stupid move.

Nothing in that series made me think "Wow! The Brotherhood are good guys!" It made me think ... "Get out now, kid. Run as far and as fast as you can."

It is true that Maximus steps in to protect Lucy. It is equally true that Maximus would have very much died of dead-battery-in-soldier-suit had Lucy not intervened to help him. I'm not sitting here wishing ill on Maximus. But this ain't a story about how the Brotherhood are worthy saviours of the wasteland; it's the story about two lost kids (and one embittered pre-war Ghoul) finding their way together through hard won trust and understanding, which are pretty much always presented as the hopeful counterpoint to Fallout's grim "war never changes" theme.

I mean ... Maximus also falls uncritically in love with Vault 4 because they give him oysters and slippers. This is his standard for joining up with anywhere. He is a starving refugee whom the Brotherhood exploited.

I have no patience for The Brotherhood of Steel because they are violent, bigoted, technology hoarding isolationists whose defining trait is their extreme arrogance. They treat every problem as a nail and themselves as the hammer, and even when individuals in the organisation are actively trying to do good it's astonishing how ineffectual they are. I'm not sure they've had a relationship with another organisation they haven't poisoned.

They are actively genocidal towards Ghouls, Super Mutants and Synths. Owyn Lyons is undoubtedly one of the more open minded members, but a) one of the reasons they are able to appear as "the good guys" in Fallout 3 is because the particular nature of the FEV disaster going on in the Capital Wasteland means that there are virtually no non-hostile Super Mutants b) even Lyons' people still just shoot indiscriminately at Ghouls, an attitude that is simultaneously so morally bankrupt and tactically stupid that it makes me tear my hair out every time I think about it.

Also: The Brotherhood of Steel kills Danse. I don't think you can reasonably put Danse on your list of reasons why they're worthwhile without also noting that they, you know, send you out to murder him because he's a Synth.

And ohhhhhh they are so very bad at everything. It's actually quite difficult for me to think of things they've done that don't piss me off.

In the original Fallout they're sending aspirants off to die in The Glow because they think it's funny.

Lyons may be the (relatively) benevolent protector of the wasteland in Fallout 3, but he's also responsible for The Scourge: the wanton slaughter of half the population of the Pitt, the looting of their technology, and the kidnapping of their children. Undeniably conditions in the Pitt were awful, but this was no mercy mission: it was more of their mutants-aren't-people-and-all-your-stuff-is-ours bullshit. And they leave a guy behind who starts a raider gang and is basically the reason slavery exists in any large scale form in the Capital Wasteland. I'm not sure it's possible to fuck up worse than that.

Even in Fallout 3 ... they are not what you'd call an inspiration. Half of Lyons' forces threw a hissy fit and went off to sulk in Fort Independence because apparently obsessively hoarding laser riles is infinitely more important than helping people. By 2277 no one's even looking at the water purifier. That situation gets resolved because James finally decides to get off his arse and finish the project (I respect the man's commitment to procrastination). They don't manage to deal with the source of the Super Mutants. They basically spend a couple of decades mostly adequately guarding GNR – while places like Big Town get overrun – and tinkering with their stupid robot. They don't even fix the stupid robot. You know what the answer to fixing the stupid robot was? "Hey, did anybody think to ask Madison how the power supply works?" Useless.

In Fallout 4 they roll in and start extorting the settlers, like those people don't have enough to deal with, and the things they say if you bring Nick or Hancock with you to visit them are appalling.

I've recently been reminded of them threatening their allies at gunpoint in Fallout 76 because they think they have the right to steal everyone's research.

Okay. Enough ranting.

What's my problem with The Brotherhood of Steel? They are the walking definition of "following the doomed footsteps of the old world". They are just about Vault-Tec: military edition.

So we have to grab every schematic, every holotape, every book, and every goddamned note that holds the building blocks of the Old World before it's too late. Our Scribes will hold onto them, preserve them, perhaps even progress beyond them. And the Knights will protect them. Like a hard shell around a precious seed. One day, when the time is right, that seed will grow. And a new civilization will be born. – Fallout 76: Preservation of Technology

They think that somehow they are the true last bastion of civilisation, and that they have the right to decide when the world will begin anew. They can't even deal with the idea that there are different kinds of people in the world these days that your standard homo sapiens. They hoard, and they look backwards, and for all their self-righteous we-are-protecting-the-world propaganda, in practice all that means is that they get to keep all the big guns and threaten everyone else with them.

But civilisation has always just been people choosing to collaborate and help each other. And they have zero right to interfere with that.

Also: I think power armour is stupid and no fun at all to play in, and I am sitting here judging the Brotherhood for their obsession with the stuff. :)

[puckleberryfinnie]

beta squad vs. amp match prompts

because of the support I got for my little idea on a host!reader during the amp and beta squad football/soccer match, (love love love you guys), I decided to expand on it! here are some prompts that I came up with revolving the beta squad and amp!!

you can send in a request for these and I can expand on them, or if you’re a writer for either of these groups (you have my heart), send me a little message and you can take them - I’d be soso grateful to see these expanded on <33

if you’d like me to expand, send a request over with some info on what you’d like (whatever you’d like to share, I’m flexible)! I’d lovee to write more on these, so feel free!! maybe give me some info on your favorites so I can incorporate those the most!! just know that they might not be the best ever, I’m really not great at writing just yet <33

anyways!! here they are!!:

1) meeting everyone for the first time

2) being childhood best friends with one of them and reconnecting through the match

3) nella rose being your cohost as well as wingman (love that girl <3)

4) going out for drinks after everything

5) one of the members coming over to you during a sideline interview throughout the game and being super tired but still super sweet/flirty

6) them fighting over who gets to give you their jersey

7) them asking about your celebrity crushes (them ofc😛) and being jelly about whoever you choose

8) you being goofy with filly / any other one of them that’s a little more silly, and them just enjoying it from the sidelines

9) wanting a pre/post game kiss/hug

10) a celebrity reader being the halftime show, and then just admiring and vibing to the music <33

ok so that’s what I have so far, just some silly little thoughts! I’m sure you guys have some better ideas too, so be sure to send those over if you’d like! thanks so so much, I hope you guys enjoy <333

love ya!!

[roosterbruiser]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱

✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲) ✯ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A baseball game goes awry. Things are tender. ✯ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.7k ✯ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✯ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐓𝐗

“Alright, Filly,” Jake shouts, grinning at you. His vision is blurry, his chest is warm, his belly is full--but he’s still sober enough to gesture that he has his eyes on you. “You don’t even know what’s comin’, girl!”

You’re drunker than you care to admit. This is really the drunkest you’ve been since that first night Jake touched you, when he was still with Emmaline, when you were in your bedroom together and he was playing his invisible guitar. You haven't’ eaten much today, either--just a scoop of ice cream on shift and a handful of Jake’s Doritos--so your belly is sloshing with all the lukewarm Pabst you’ve drank.

But still you stand on home plate the dinky dirt field at McAnthem Park, squinting under the buzzing street lamp above you and adjusting your grip on the wooden baseball bat you’re holding. 

“You’ve got it, Filly! Don’t let him scare you, honey!” Hyde calls from third base, sending you a lopsided grin and a thumbs up. 

“Just remember--you only get three chances!” Ruth follows, standing in the outfield beside Jake. She’s swaying on her feet, your flask tucked into the waistband of her shorts. “Not to make you nervous or anythin’!”

Hyde’s scratchy little radio is playing Rocket Man by Elton John now.  

Jake is tossing the baseball up in the air jovially, grinning at you. You’re patting the bat on the dirt, trying to wipe that silly smile off your face and look more menacing. 

But you’re happy, too happy to stop smiling: you’re with your three best friends at McAnthem Park playing a low-stakes game of baseball under a wide-open night sky, drinking beers between innings and switching teams sporadically. It’s warm outside and the crickets are crooning and the owls are hooting. Moths are gathering above you on the streetlamp and lightning bugs are flitting across the field, landing on dewy blades of grass. 

“I’ve got nerves of steel,” you call, flexing your biceps as if to prove your statement. “You don’t scare me, Jake Seresin!” 

Jake bites his lip, shaking his head in amusement. You look like a goddamn newborn deer, wearing a tired tank top and too-big jean shorts, all limbs and curly hair. You’re swaying on your feet, just like Ruth, but you seem to have just the slightest bit more control of your body--enough that you hold the bat at ready, even if it’s wavering in your grip. 

“Hey, batter-batter! Hey, batter-batter! Swing!” Hyde croons, readying himself to sprint to homebase as soon as your bat connects with the ball. 

Ruth is eying Hyde--she’s already decided that she’s going for him instead of you. He’s been so cocky tonight, somehow getting all the way to third base while she was busy scrambling after the baseball in the outfield. She wants to take him down a notch. 

“Well, throw the Goddamn ball, mustang! I don’t got all night!” 

Jake nods, sucking in a breath. He’s good at this--he knows what he’s doing. He’s the best pitcher the Silver Bullets ever saw; he knows that and he knows that everyone knows that. He winds up, planting his feet in the dirt and filling his lungs. And then he lets go, the ball hurtling through the air.

It’s maybe when Jake feels most in his element--throwing a baseball. That or when he’s with you. 

It’s a low ball--which Jake rarely throws, but he is so very drunk--and you swing too early. You stumble at the perfect moment, just as the baseball sinks in the air. It collides with your bare knee with a thunderous clap, a shockwave of pain shooting across your body as you yelp and fall to a heap in the dirt. 

Jake, who started for you as soon as he realized that the ball was low, curses as his dirty tennis shoes squeak on the grass. Ruth hurries towards you, too, her jaw dropped and her eyes wide. Hyde, who was too busy making a plan of action to notice that you were hit, sprints to home plate and promptly begins to do a victory dance over your crumpled body below him. 

“Eat my dust, Ruth Gabriel!” He shouts, shuffling in the dirt.

Ruth, who has shifted her concern from you to Hyde, points an accusing finger at Hyde.

“Filly’s hurt!” She seethes. 

Hyde glances down at you as you gasp, the very breath knocked out of your lungs. 

“Well, how the Hell did that happen?” He asks. He plants his hands on his hips and then leans over, trying to catch your gaze. “You’re supposed to hit the ball, Filly. Not let the ball hit you!”

“Give me that fuckin’ bat,” Ruth growls, starting for Hyde and stepping over your form. “I’m gonna beat you dead, you idiot!” 

You’re biting your lip hard, hands over your knee. Fuck, it hurts--which scares you because you’re the kind of drunk that usually makes your senses dull. 

Jake immediately falls to his knees before you, body flushed with panic and a sheen of sweat on his tanned face. You’re looking up at him, eyes watery and slacked. Your lips are twisted and your face is pink. You’re in pain--he can see it clear as day. 

“Shit, you alright?” Jake asks. Red-hot guilt is already sitting heavily on his chest like something forged in fire, gathering all the saliva in his mouth under his tongue.

“Just peachy,” you grunt through grit teeth.

You’re rocking yourself, still gripping your knee. 

Hyde is sprinting away from Ruth now, his stringy hair blowing in the warm wind, as Ruth chases after him with the bat. 

“Alright, lemme see,” Jake insists, reaching for your leg. 

“No!” You hiss, pulling into yourself. “M’fine! Really!”

You’re perhaps a bit traumatized from the splinter surgery yesterday, your palms still sore and scabbed from the fish hook Jake was so uncareful with. You know that he knows what he’s doing--he’s basically been playing baseball since coming out of the womb--since there are very little parts of his body that haven’t been pelted with a ball.

Jake scoffs, swiftly grabbing your ankles and sliding you closer to him across the dirt. Again, he tries to reach for your wrists and you whine, shaking your head. 

“You really are such a baby, aren’t you?” He sighs, perching a brow at you. 

You stick your tongue out at him. 

“Fuck you,” you mutter. 

But then you’re blushing. Not too drunk to forget the past few weeks you’ve shared with Jake, apparently. 

“Where’s that spitfire?” Jake asks. He feels more sober now, the sound of the baseball ricocheting off your kneecap ringing in his ears. “Your daddy didn’t raise no baby, did he?” 

Without further ado, Jake holds onto your wrists and pries your hands away from your knee. You let him, thinking about your daddy telling you to buck up, buttercup. As if he didn’t pretend to have to take a phone call outside of the room when you got stitches in the third grade and cried the whole time.  

The wound is nasty. The ball hit you just right, the loose stitching slicing your already-welting skin. Blood drips down your knee, stains your hand. It’s starting to roll down your bony shin and into the dirt beneath you. 

Jake does his best to keep his face neutral, especially when you grimace at the blood. He doesn’t want your flip-flops to be stained with blood so he carefully holds your ankle, pulling your leg straight. 

Pain sits heavy in your chest. So much so that you hiss and bring your balled fists down on Jake’s shoulders a few times. 

“You son of a bitch!” You cry. 

He takes the hits, holding your calf in place. 

“Girl, I’m tryin’ to keep those damn flip-flops from gettin’ stained! You’re welcome!” 

Elbows against the dirt, you glance over and squint through the night around you. Ruth and Hyde are still going at it, always at each other’s throats. But Jake is right here, not even thinking about moving. 

“How am I bleedin’?” You ask. 

“Loose stitchin’ on the baseball,” he explains. 

“You cheap-ass,” you mutter. 

He smiles, rolling his eyes. He’s delicately wiping the dirt off your leg, trying to keep it from getting too close to the wound. If the cut on your leg was bigger, he would be rubbing dirt in it by now. But it’s not very sizable, just a little gash--but you’re a bleeder. 

“Ruth!” Jake hollers, not turning away from your wound. “Toss the flask!” 

Ruth, who’s out of breath, narrows her eyes at Hyde. 

“This ain’t over,” Ruth says to him. “I’m still gonna kill you. When you least expect it.”

“Lookin’ froward to it,” Hyde teases, grinning. 

Ruth begrudgingly hands the flask to Jake, tucking her hair behind her ears as she gazes down at you. You look like you’re in pain, biting your lip and watching every one of Jake’s movements. 

Jake quickly unscrews the cap of your ugly flask, motioning for you to open your mouth. You comply, tilting your head back. The Everclear burns your tongue and throat alike, lighting a fire all the way to your belly.

“Here,” Jake says. “Need somethin’ to bite down on?” 

“Hyde, this is your chance to help!” Ruth calls. “Quick, we need your dick!”

Hyde slings his arm over Ruth’s shoulders, much to her dismay, and pretends to start undoing his belt. 

“I always knew this is how I’d go,” he says wistfully, grinning as you glare at him. “With my dick in Filly’s mouth.” 

Blindly, Jake reaches out behind him and taps Hyde in the crotch, rolling his eyes when Hyde doubles over with a groan. Ruth is delighted by this, assisting Hyde in crumbling all the way to the ground with a swift push to the shoulder. 

“Bite down on this,” Jake insists, pressing his wallet into your mouth. It was his daddy’s, a tired old thing he left behind in one of the kitchen drawers. And between your lips, with your teeth sunk into it, Jake hasn’t ever been more fond of it. He pulls your leg over his lap and then nods at you. “Ready, girl?” 

He doesn’t wait for you to nod. He spills some of the Everclear out and onto your wound, holding your thigh against his so you don’t jerk away. You groan, biting down hard on the worn leather, digging your fingers into the dirt. 

The crimson blood becomes watery with the alcohol, dripping on the ground. Jake wipes the rest away with his hands, gentle not to press down too hard on your already-swelling skin. 

You spit the wallet out.

“Well, Goddamn!” You cry. “No need to be gentle!”

��Jake just sticks his palm before your mouth, biting a smile. 

“Spit,” he commands. You do without a moment of hesitation, the saliva warm and beer-flavored in his hand. “Good girl.” 

Something about hearing him say those words to you make your thighs ache, makes your throat quiver. You squirm, readjusting, and he pretends not to notice. 

“She gonna make it?” Hyde asks, still on the ground holding his crotch. His voice is strained with pain. 

“It was touch-and-go there for a while,” Jake says softly, smearing your saliva over the wound to staunch the bleeding. “But she’ll be fine.” 

“Will she ever play baseball again, doc?” Ruth asks, winking at you when you scowl up at her. 

Jake sits back on his haunches, rubbing your calm gently. 

“Not tonight, I fear,” he says, smiling softly at you. “We’ve gotta get the girl home.”

He takes his wallet back, brushes the dirt off it. There are teeth marks pressed into the leather now, distinctly you--a little gap between the front teeth. He lets his finger drift across the indents, which are still wet from your mouth. 

“Damn, Filly,” Hyde exclaims, pointing to the wallet. “Gotta get those teeth filed down or something!” 

“It’s alright,” Jake says, pushing the wallet into his pocket. That wallet, the one Wade left behind probably on accident and doesn’t even remember leaving, is suddenly more precious to him than ever before. “Can you walk?”

Hyde and Ruth walk ahead, collecting their flimsy backpacks full of empty beer cans and the remnants of your baseball game, towards Rusty sitting in the parking lot. 

You can’t walk--at least not without shockwaves of pain rolling up through your tense thigh and through your taut belly. You try to, though, until Jake has enough of seeing you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“C’mere,” he says, sighing. You try to keep walking, your shoulders squares, but then he swiftly hits the back of your knees so they buckle and scoops you up in his arms. “Hardass.”

You hold onto his shoulder, a hint of relief in your belly at not putting pressure on your knee.

“How the Hell am I gonna be a cowgirl in these conditions?” You mutter. 

Jake grins. Of course that’s what you’re worried about. He holds you close, pulling your bony shoulders against his chest and slowing his pace. He wants to hold you for as long as you’ll let him, which is oftentimes not very long at all. 

“With a trusty ranch-hand at your side,” Jake answers. He takes a moment to breathe you in, that lewd citrus sitting so heavily in your curls and over all your skin.

It’s quiet for a moment, just the crickets singing. Silverkeep is always quiet past ten o’clock, especially on Sunday nights when everyone’s getting ready for the work week. 

Tilting your head back, you look up at the vast sky above you. It’s beautiful tonight, not a cloud littering your view. All those bright stars twinkling overhead, that big old moon that you used to think followed you everywhere you went, all that endless black--it makes something settle in your chest. 

You and Jake were born under the same sky. Soon, you won’t be living under the same sky. Soon, he’ll be in Austin and you’ll be here. You will look up and see the same stars and he will see the same moon but you will be too far apart to ride your bikes to each other’s houses. 

Jake feels it when you pull into yourself, feels it when a shiver runs across your body. He looks at you, his feet practically dragging to prolong this walk, and sees that you’re gazing up at the sky. Your jaw is flexed and your lips are pursed and your eyes are wide. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

“Mmm,” you hum, sighing. “Thinkin’ about bein’ born under the same sky as you.”

He scoffs quietly. 

“Everyone’s born under the same sky,” he says. 

You tut, giving him a less-than-enthused look. 

“You know what I mean, smartass,” you whisper. “Don’t you feel lucky?”

“What do I have to feel lucky about?” Jake asks, wrinkling his nose. 

He’s wearing a shirt that’s older than the both of you combined--one his mama got at a garage sale a couple years ago. His shoes have holes in them. He has to get up before the sun rises and shovel horse shit. 

Jake isn’t looking at you now. He’s looking ahead, his hair flopping over his eyebrows and his mouth in a solid line. He’s thinking, you can tell. He gets pensive when he drinks sometimes. 

“To know each other,” you answer softly. 

That nearly stops him in his tracks. If he was less careful, he would’ve tumbled forwards and dropped you. But he would rather chew rocks than topple over with you in his arms. 

His heart is sitting low in his belly, pulsing. 

“Of course I feel lucky to know each other,” Jake says. “You’re drunker than a skunk if you’re admittin’ it, though.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I’m not,” you insist. You are still pretty drunk, though. “Just feelin’ reflective.” 

“God, did you hit your head on the way down?” Jake teases. You scoff, shoving his shoulder. “I can’t say you’re beautiful but you can get all mushy on me?” 

“Oh, shut your trap,” you hiss.

Jake laughs, grinning at you. 

“Filly, I know I’m the luckiest guy in Silverkeep. I think everyone does.”

Pink paints your cheeks and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, tasting all the dirt that’s landed there during your game. You tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching his sweaty scalp softly, sighing. 

“I don’t think everyone does,” you whisper. “But I’m glad you know. Knew you were smart. Must’ve been all that studyin’ you did.” 

Rusty rumbles to life just ahead in the parking lot, Ruth already clamoring into the front seat. Ruthless Ruth isn’t going to let you sit in the cab, even injured. She hates sitting in the bed of the truck--which she calls the smoking section. 

“Not sure all the studyin’ matters, anyway,” Jake says quietly. “I’ll just pay all the nerds to do my homework for me.” 

“Spoken like a true athlete,” you laugh. 

He sets you down on the bed of the truck carefully, letting you squirm and scoot yourself until you’re resting against the cab. Then he climbs in beside you, closes the bed, and knocks on the cab window.

Hyde throws Rusty in reverse and then you’re all moseying away from McAnthem Park. 

There’s a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face, tracing every freckle on its way to your flexed throat. Jake’s watching it happen. If you were alone--thoroughly and completely alone--Jake would lean forward and let it fall onto his tongue. Not even in a sexual way--not entirely. Just to have a piece of you inside of his mouth, just to taste something that your body made. He thinks about it often: having pieces of you in his mouth, having pieces of you wrapped around him. It’s in his dreams sometimes: droplets of your sweat on the flat of his tongue, your thigh around his neck, those dirty nails tangled in his hair. 

You light up a cigarette, wrestling with the pockets of your jeans. Your knee is throbbing, but at least you’re sitting now. Jake is watching you as you bring the cigarette to your lips, looking out over the desolate town fading past you. 

“Can I come over tonight?” Jake asks. 

You take a long drag, eyebrows pulled together.

“Figured you’d wanna stay the night,” you tell him, smoke drifting from your parted lips and up to the night sky. “Figured we could…you know.” 

Jake’s thighs are tense just thinking about it. He’s anxious suddenly to get back to that little trailer of yours, to get you settled on the bed, to taste your mouth and kiss your breasts and feel your hand wrapped around his cock. 

“We could what?” Jake says. 

He’s teasing and you know it. 

You roll your eyes, ignoring the rapid pace of your heart.  

“Fool around,” you answer. 

Honestly, you’ve been thinking about it all night. Watching his Adam’s apple bob with every swallow of warm beer, watching his capable hands grip that baseball, watching his arms flex, watching his hair billow in the wind, watching his grin light up the field. Even watching him pour Everclear on your gash and spitting into his hands has a spot of arousal dotting your underwear now, has a tickle sitting in your belly. 

Jake throws his arm around you, pulling you against his chest. It’s a movement that you are both used to and it doesn’t feel different now that you’ve made him cum and he’s touched you the way he has. It still feels like it always has: safe, natural, warm, solid. 

“What’s sex like?” You ask after a moment. 

The Pabst is apparently sitting between your throat and mouth now. 

But Jake doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t chide or tease. He just swallows, inhaling your Marlboro and sighing gently. 

“S’different with everyone,” he answers. Then he reaches over and plucks the cigarette from your fingers, taking a long drag. He resists the urge to cough as the smoke coats his throat and lungs, his fingers drawing nervous shapes on your bare arm. “Like, it ain’t the same with Emmaline as it was with Grace Lynn or Christy.” 

You think about Jake’s cock, the thing you’ve held in your mouth, the thing you think is so pretty. And then you think about Emmaline’s pretty hands wrapped around it, her nails clean and trimmed and her palms soft. God, she’s such a priss that she probably wore gloves to touch Jake--the bitch. 

Something pulses across your chest, a little flash of white lightning. It hurts, makes your toes curl in your flimsy flip flops. It’s a worse pain than your throbbing knee.

“Okay,” you sigh, taking the cigarette back from him and bringing it back to your own lips. You’ve been wondering about this, like everyone does, since your very first encounter with Jake. You haven’t gotten anything even remotely close to the sex talk--you’re not sure where to begin. “So, what was it like the first time?” 

Jake breathes out, humming. 

It was bad the first time. He was nervous, she was nervous. He came very quickly. She didn’t cum at all. She cried. He didn’t even take his shirt off. 

“Not great,” he answers honestly. He knows you would call him out for lying if he dared. “Lots of people make real messes of it the first time. I definitely did.”

“Howso?” You ask. 

This time, you hold the cigarette to his lips and he takes another drag despite the ache in his chest. 

“Didn’t know what I was doin’, really. Didn’t use a condom, too, so I came, like, right away,” he laughs softly, shaking his head. You’re not laughing, though. The white hot pain is back. “And, you know, she just wasn’t someone that I wanted to have sex with again. We were just young and wanted it.” 

You think about it: are you just young and wanting it or is it something more than that? You glance up at Jake, who’s looking up at the night sky. And then the realization just dawns over you all over again, all doubt fading instantly: it’s something more than that. It is unequivocally something more than that.

You let your hand rest on his thigh as you press your cheek against his shoulder, inhaling all that sweat and beer on his skin. 

The night air is still warm and you know that Jake won’t confuse you for cold--but he still pulls you into him, letting his lips and nose rest in your curls. 

“And what about with other girls? Like Emma?” You ask softly. 

Jake’s palms are sweating. 

“It was fine,” he answers. He isn’t lying--it was fine. He likes having sex. He just didn’t like anything that came attached to it after: the mind-numbing pillow talk, the cuddling, the cooing. But maybe it’s because of who it was with--it’s a feeling that’s dawning on him as he holds you against him, totally content. “What do you, like, wanna know?” 

You shrug. 

Everything. You want to know everything. 

“What’d it feel like?” You ask. 

His chest rumbles as he hums. 

“Good,” he answers. “It’s like…a different kinda good. One that’s kinda overwhelmin’, you know?” 

“No,” you answer, stubbing your cigarette out and flicking out of the truck. “I don’t know.” 

He isn’t sure how to explain it, especially since he knows that it will feel different for you than it did for him. He thinks for a moment, chewing on his lip. 

“You know when you rub your eyes real good? And you feel like you can’t stop and you’re, like, seein’ stars?” He asks. You nod. “Like that, kinda. Overpowering.”

The thought excites you--sends a jolt straight to your clit. You press your thighs together, your lashes fluttering. 

 “And it…it felt like that with them? Emma and everyone else?” 

“Jesus,” Jake laughs softly, wrapping one of your curls around his finger. “You say everyone else like it’s the whole damn cheerleadin’ squad.” 

 “Well, isn’t it?” You ask. 

You’re only partly teasing. 

“No,” Jake answers. He grins. “Only half.”

You laugh--it feels like it’s the only sound in Silverkeep. 

Jake thinks about it again--your thighs pressed into his neck, your body writhing above him, his hands holding your hips. Just thinking about it is making all the blood in his body rush to his crotch, is making his chest tingle. 

“Let’s try somethin’ new tonight,” he suggests softly. “You’re gonna like it. Promise.”

You trust Jake more than anyone else in the world--so you nod, leaning into him, holding his thigh. 

In your bedroom, which is just as messy as it always is, there is no sound besides your measured panting. The radio is off, the window is closed, and blood is rushing through your ears. It’s almost entirely dark in here, all except for the moonlight streaming in through the parted curtains. 

It’s just enough light for you to make out the faintest curve of Jake’s features as he sits on his knees before your naked body, his palms resting on your thighs. He’s naked, too, and he feels like this is the hardest he’s ever been. He can see pieces of your body, too, like your pebbled nipples and the indent of your belly button.

You’ve been kissing since nearly the moment you climbed in through the window, discarding your clothing quickly and pressing your skin against Jake’s skin. You’re wet--but you have been wet since your discussion about sex in the back of the truck, just thinking about him pressing into you. 

“Spread your legs,” Jake whispers, thumbs pressing into your thighs. You do, very carefully, and without saying a word about it, Jake helps move your injured leg to the side. “Your knee okay?” He asks. 

You nod, a breath stifled in your throat. 

Wordlessly, he leans down and presses his mouth to your knee. The skin there is hot, swollen. He can taste the Everclear and the blood staining your flesh and he lets his mouth linger there. He’s tender with you--so tender that your chest grows tight, tight like you can’t breathe.

“All better?” Jake whispers, letting his hand rest on your belly. He can feel how tense you are, every muscle in your body tight.  

“Mm,” you mutter, laughing quietly and nervously. “This that new thing you wanted to try?” 

He chuckles, his breath warm against your wound. 

“No,” he whispers. “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Then he starts to kiss up your thighs, all that soft flesh making him feel a bit dizzy. You’re breathing rapidly already, your mind racing and your fingers fidgeting with the sheets. 

Jake lets his body rest against that stupid small bed of yours, his feet hanging off the bottom, as he hooks his arms around your thighs. He continues kissing your legs, glancing up at your silhouette in the dark, watching your chest rise and fall. 

You’re trying to keep yourself from moaning already. It feels so good--just this, even. Just the way his lips are tickling up your thighs and provoking gooseflesh, just the way his breaths are coming out hot and heavy on your skin. 

And when that breath fans over your core, a plume of pleasure wafting up your body and practically making your hair stand on end, your head snaps up to look at him. 

“It’s okay,” Jake soothes, squeezing the bend of your hips. “It’s gonna feel good, okay? I promise. And if you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

You nod rapidly, trying to calm that anxiety sitting so heavy on your hips. 

But then it dissipates entirely because Jake reaches up and takes your hand in his. He squeezes it, squeezes you, then carefully sets your hand in his hair. His velvet locks between your fingers ease all that fear in your bones, all that uncareful panic. 

 Jake is nearly vibrating with anticipation, pressing his erection into the sheets in a desperate attempt for friction. 

Then he buries himself against your core, lets his nose nudge your clit, lets his tongue dip inside of you. And then you are on a different realm, somewhere above this sky that you were born with Jake under, somewhere further away. It feels so good that it makes your chest raise off the bed, that it drains all the breath from your lungs. 

And Jake knows he’s doing something right when you pull his hair for the first time. 

“Oh,” you mutter, your voice pitched and weak. “Oh, holy fuck.”

Jake can’t believe he’s tasting you now--this honey pot that he’s always wanted on his tongue. You taste just like he always imagined: just you. Nothing frilly about it. You’re all real, entirely authentic. And you’re so wet already, just from him stripping you, just from him closing his fingers on your nipples. 

He laps at your cunt, pressing himself against you and holding you close as you writhe and tug at his hair. You’re biting your lip so hard that metal is starting to invade your mouth, eyes squeezed shut tight.

“Fuck,” you moan, voice low. “Oh, fuck. Jake, Jake.” 

Then he moans against you, his cock twitching.

You said his name--you said it with no prompting. And it sounded fucking delicious in that voice of yours, edged with pleasure and overwhelmed with adoration. 

He’s done this before, of course. Only a handful of times when Emmaline would let him. He likes doing it, especially when he can lay on his belly and rut himself against the mattress. But this is on another level--this is fucking intoxicating. He’s sucking your clit, pressing his chin against your entrance, moaning against you when you pull his hair. 

And you’re both drunk still, drunk enough that every single bit of pleasure feels heightened. You’re the kind of drunk that would make every false promise under the sun if it meant that you would feel like this forever. And he is the kind of drunk that would let him eat you out forever. 

“Fuckin’--Jesus, fuck,” you moan, rutting your hips against his. “Fuck, Jake. Fuck.”

He lets his hand slide down from its spot on your hip, carefully dragging it down between your legs until he’s nudging at your entrance. You let him in with little resistance, hugging him tight, coating his finger easily. You’re so warm, so tight--it makes his hips buckle. 

“Oh,” you mutter, hyperventilating almost. You swallow hard, letting the sensation of his finger pumping into you slowly and his mouth attached to your clit wash over you. It feels like something is building, something rapid and all-consuming. “Oh, Jake. Oh, Jake.”   

He curls his fingers and that sends your hips straight up into the air, away from his lips, away from the bed. You grip his hair so tightly that a few strands rip, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. 

You’re so overwhelmed with pleasure, so caught up in the moment, so unbelievably turned on, that you sit up and grab onto his shoulders. He’s shocked for a moment, leaning up. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when you crash your lips against his, when you urge him to lay on top of you with a few careful tugs. 

He does lay on top of you, his body alight with excitement. He’s so hard that it’s almost making him lightheaded, especially when your tongue is in his mouth, especially when he knows that you’re tasting yourself on his tongue. 

“Fuck me,” you whimper. You mean it for a moment--you want to have sex with him. And you want it right now. You want to be the girl that he fucks, even if he cums quick, even if you don’t cum. “Please.”

He’s so caught up that he obliges for a moment. He brackets himself on either side of your head, pressing down on your curls. And he nudges your legs further apart, kissing down your throat and your chest. 

Your mind is racing, pulsing. Your heart is thrumming. This is it. This is it. You won’t be a virgin when you wake up tomorrow. You’re going to have sex with Jake right now. 

“Filly,” Jake whimpers, eyes nearly misty. He’s been waiting for this moment his entire life, it feels like--he isn’t entirely sure he’s awake, honestly. He feels like he’s going to wake up any moment and haul his ass to the Carolina’s as the sun rises. “Oh, Filly.”

Yes, it’s your name he’s whispering. It’s you he’s on top of. He’s about to press his cock inside of you and feel all of you, feel you hold him tight. And it’s making him dizzy. 

“Fuck me,” you repeat, desperately digging your nails into his shoulders. “Please, please, please.” 

He lines himself up, presses his forehead against yours. Fuck, even just feeling your lip around the head of his cock, even just feeling the slick that has gathered there--he shudders. You’re panting and so is he, your lips hardly touching. 

“Yeah?” He asks. 

You swallow thickly. Your mind is swimming. 

“Yeah,” you answer, nodding. 

He presses himself into you, just a tiny bit. But at the exact moment that he does, he accidentally lets his weight fall on your injured knee. And suddenly you’re hissing in pain and he’s jolting backwards, away from your heat, back onto his knees. 

“Fuck! Filly, are you okay?” He whispers harshly, scooting down the bed to hold your knee. 

You’re sitting up on your elbows now, tears dotting your eyes.

“Yeah, shit. Fuck, that hurt. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Jake insists. He presses his lips to your knee again, stroking your calf. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

 “It’s okay,” you insist, because it is. “It’s okay.” 

But now you both feel more sober than you did a moment ago. You’re both still heaving, reeling. You’re wet and he’s hard. You fall back into the pillows, blinking yourself back into reality. And Jake watches, still holding your leg. 

You almost lost your virginity a few seconds ago. Jesus Christ.

Jake almost took your virginity a few seconds ago. Fuck.  

“Maybe we should just…stop for now?” He asks, voice thin. 

You nod a few times, not trusting your voice. 

Then you scoot over, making room for him on the bed. He collapses beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder. And you two stare up at your ceiling, trying to regulate your breathing. 

“We should wait, I think,” Jake says after a few moments. 

You nod. 

“Alright,” you say. 

He glances at you. You’re just twiddling your thumbs and staring up at the ceiling. 

“Say what you’re thinkin’,” Jake insists. He tucks a few curls behind your ear fruitlessly and you nuzzle your cheek against his fingers.  

You hum. 

“We almost did it,” you say softly, biting your lip. 

He sighs, nodding. 

“Yeah, we did,” he says. He rakes his hand down his face, tries to calm the racing heart in his chest. “Jesus.”

“I liked it, you know,” you tell him. “Like, everythin’ you did before. Jesus Christ, mustang, where the fuck did that come from? I mean…Jesus.” 

Pride swells up in Jake and washes over his chest, submerging him. 

“Good,” he says, nodding. “Figured you would.” 

Neither of you speak for a moment. He pulls you against him, just like he did in the truck, except now you’re both naked. He can feel every single bit of you against every single bit of him. All that endless skin, all that wetness, all that hot blood. You rest your head on his chest and count the beats of his heart. 

“I think we should, like, make it special,” Jake says. 

He’s terrified that you’re going to shoot him down. He’s terrified that you’re going to laugh in his face. He’s terrified that he’s giving himself away, that you’re going to know how in love with you he is. 

But your heart is swelling now, your eyes wet. If you speak, your voice will be broken. So, you just nod against him, just hold him tight. 

“How do we do that?” You ask. You really don’t know--you’ve never done any of this. 

“Maybe find a time when your parents aren’t home,” Jake suggests. “And we should use condoms.” 

Jake is being coy. If he had it his way, he would rent a nice motel at the edge of town. He would shower the room with flower petals and bum some champagne. He would light tea lights and fuck you slow and sweet on the bed. It’s the most romantic scenario his juvenile brain can conjure right now--you, him, and a motel room. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “That sounds good.”

You’ve never put much thought into losing your virginity: who will be there, when it will be, where it will be. But knowing that it’s Jake makes something click into place, like there was a missing piece. Yes, of course it’s going to be Jake. How could it be anyone else? The stars are aligned. 

“I’m glad it’s gonna be you,” you whisper. 

Now he can’t speak. He can’t speak because he’s worried that he’ll say he loves you. 

So, he just kisses your forehead. He lets his lips linger there.

The next evening, just after sunset, you’re leaning against the glass-lidded freezer in Dairy ‘N’ Berries, just about to untie your stained apron when the bells above the door chime.

Sighing, you straighten your apron and turn so you’re lingering near the cash register. But you’re instantaneously relieved when you find that it’s not another ratty-haired brat waiting for another free sample before you--it’s Jake. He’s leaning over the counter, grinning at you, his eyes heavy but shining in the harsh fluorescents. 

“Well, howdy,” you greet with a huff, mirroring his position so your elbows are pressed together. “Thought you were gonna be another rugrat. And you brought Misty!” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. He has his guitar strapped on him, resting against his back. He settles it beside him carefully, grinning.

“Disappointed?” He asks. 

He’s trying to take you in without you growing uncomfortable--not that his gaze has ever made you uncomfortable. You’re wearing the ugliest hot-pink collared shirt with the Dairy ‘N’ Berries logo on the breast, a faded pair of blue jeans, and clunky tennis shoes that he thinks used to be white. Your hair is pulled back--as much as you can pull your hair back--and your face is free of any makeup. You’re tired, like you always are when you pull a double, but he sees the relief written all over your features in seeing him.

“Entirely,” you tease right back. You glance at the clock. Only another hour until close. You have time. “Pick your poison.”

Jake glances down at the buckets of ice cream, all six of them, and ignores the fat black fly buzzing around in the glass. Beggars can’t be choosers. He points to the strawberry and you nod at once, grabbing one of the shitty paper cups from beside the register and scooping the ice cream hastily. 

“How was work, honey?” Jake asks, taking the cup from you and leaning against the counter. You don’t hand him a spoon so he simply digs his two fingers in the cup and sucks the ice cream off them. “Make enough money to get us the Hell outta dodge?” 

You shake your head, frowning. You untie your apron again and hang it up on a crooked hook. 

“Someone tipped me in fuckin’ dryer lint today,” you say, pointing to the measly tip jar. “Honestly, maybe they thought that was our trash can. Can’t blame ‘em, I guess.” 

Jake is making a proper mess--like he always does. He’s scooping the pink ice cream out and sucking his fingers clean devilishly, making lewd noises when his tongue twirls around his fingernails. He has cream all around his mouth now, doing his damndest to finish the free cup of ice cream as you watch with an amused smile. 

“You poor thing,” Jake tuts, sticking out his lower lip. 

You nod, throwing your hands up. 

“I know. People should just throw their money at me,” you say. “Like a stripper.” 

“Would if I could,” Jake sighs, eyebrows raised. 

That makes you laugh. 

“Think I’m stripper material?” 

Jake snorts, his eyes falling to his fingers dipped in the quickly-melting ice cream. His cheeks are dusted pink, which is strange because you hardly ever see his cheeks get pink. Not unless he’s pissed off or very drunk. But this is a new blush, surely--one that has something to do with the thought of you taking all your clothes off and performing for Jake. 

This is your usual banter, something you’ve probably joked about before. But now there’s something sitting between you two, something that makes your thighs feel weak and your tongue dry. You almost had sex last night. He felt you grip the head of his cock, felt you take him inside for a few precious moments.  

“I think you can do anythin’ you set your mind to,” Jake decides on, winking. 

The two of you look at each other for a long moment, watching each other’s mouths. 

“Slap that on a poster,” you whisper finally, biting your lip. 

Jake looks at your face--how earnest and lovely it is, even in this dingy ice cream shop with the awful overhead lighting--and sighs softly. 

“How’s the knee?” He asks. 

“Hurts like a bitch,” you tell him, smiling. 

He frowns, finally plucking a spoon from behind the counter so he can shovel the ice cream into his mouth properly. 

“Poor Filly,” he pouts.

He wants to ask you if everything else is okay. If you woke up and regretted almost having sex with him as you laid on his naked chest. It isn’t that you gave any indication that you did--which you absolutely did not regret at all--it’s just that Jake has been fretting about it all day. Since he kissed your sleepy lips early this morning and left through your window, you’re all he’s been able to think about. 

“Stupid games win stupid prizes,” you mutter. “And yes, I am callin’ baseball stupid.”

“Watch your mouth,” he teases, pointing the pink plastic spoon at you. “You could be talkin’ to the next Babe Ruth.” 

“Didn’t know Babe Ruth threw low balls,” you say softly, furrowing your brows in faux-confusion.

Jake settles into a chair behind the counter, strumming Misty as you count the register. He’s tired, having been up since six in the morning, but he’s happy to be here.  

It’s only the two of you in the dinky place, the fluorescents flickering and buzzing above. It’s hot in here, hot enough that you have the drive-thru window cracked open to allow fresh air in. At the very least, it smells like ice cream in here, even though you’ve already put lids on all the gallons in the freezer. 

“Sounds pretty,” you mutter to Jake as you finger the crumbled dollar bills, not glancing up at him. “What is it?” 

“It’s Leonard Cohen,” Jake says. “Suzanne.” 

You hum, nodding. 

He’s good at playing the guitar--he’s been doing it since his mama scrounged and bought him Misty a little over a decade ago. Taught himself with sound, obsessively replaying songs and strumming until they sounded identical. 

Glancing at the clock again, a breath finally leaves your lungs. You set all the cash down, lock the front door, turn off the neon open sign in the window, and shut off the front lights. 

“Thank fuckin’ God,” you sigh, smiling at Jake when you return to your place at the register. “Today’s been so fuckin’ long.” 

All that’s kept you going today is thinking about last night. You have to keep reminding yourself that it was real, that it happened to you. You can still feel his tongue against your folds, his cock against your thigh, his hair between your fingers. It makes you shiver just to think about. 

“Miss me all day?” Jake grins, glancing at you through his lashes as he continues to strum leisurely. 

“Yes,” you answer honestly, glancing at him. “Kept thinkin’ about last night.” 

His fingers falter, Misty crooning notes randomly. His throat is tight as he lets his hands rest on his lap, arms resting on the guitar. 

“Me too,” Jake answers. “Are you okay? Like, with everythin’ that happened?” 

You don’t break your gaze from his as you nod. 

“More than,” you answer. “And, you know, I think you’re right. We should make it special.” 

His fingers are stiff now. 

“Yeah?” He asks. “Any ideas?” 

You shrug, pink coloring your throat. You stuff the money back into the register and close the drive-thru window, locking it. 

“You’re the experienced one here,” you tell him.

He watches you move about the shop, wiping things down and double-checking machines. And he can tell that you’re just busying yourself, avoiding his gaze. But then when you’re in range, when he can swing it, he rests his guitar beside him and pulls you towards him. He wraps his arms around your waist and opens his legs so you’re standing between them. 

You look down at him, heart in your throat, lip bitten. But relief courses through your veins to just be touching him. You want to sleep in the same bed as him every night this week, want to press your belly against his belly and feel his hunger. You want to sit inside his mouth and feel every word he utters. 

“I’ll make it special,” he promises. 

He reaches up, strokes your cheek. 

You’re both very tired. But you both know, in a big and scary way, that you’ll never be too tired to fall into each other’s arms. It nearly frightens you, the way your bones seem to turn to liquid as soon as you’re in his arms. You want to give it all way, want to give it all up, want to give in and just lay against Jake. 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

And then you fall into his lap, your arms around his neck. You just breathe him in as he holds you tight. He smells like a barn--you love it. And you lace your fingers in his hair and nestle yourself against his face. 

“Sure you’re okay?” Jake asks. He’s only asking because of all this sudden affection, all this closeness. “Cause you can, like, talk to me. About anythin’.” 

You nod, sighing. 

“M’just tired. Wanna sit here with you.” 

His throat is warm. 

“Yeah, we can do that,” he says softly. “We can do that.”

✯ 𝐚/𝐧: yeefuckinghaw!! did I trick you with the almost-sex?

✯ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

✯ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

✯ 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✯ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

@violetta-ximena

@hazyretina

@illicithallways

@callsign-cacti

@chicomonks

@royalpurplehuskies

@widemiffyhappy

@djs8891

@shari_berri

@dempy

@ofxinnocence

@jmitxhieo

@jstarr86

@myfaveficrecs

@princess76179

@roosters-girl

@thedroneranger

@blahblechblah

@aemondssiut

@twsssmlmaa

@shawnsblue

@wolfiealina

@hangmanscoming

@whoeverineedtobe

@fragile-heartt

@averyhotchner

@jjlevin

@bradshawseresinbabe

@unhinged-btch

@bradshawbabe

@lt-spork

@maddievevo

@linkpk88

@eli2447

@cosmic-psychickitty

@shanimallina87

✯ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝/𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬, 𝐃𝐌 𝐦𝐞!

[n3hmof1sh]

I know I’m just a filly And my dreams may be silly But I know there’s somepony Who’ll always be by my side She is my big sister I wanna be just like herShe’s taught me how to be myself No matter what life throws at me I’ll show everypony That I can be the best me And someday I will fly up high beside Rainbow Dash in the bright blue sky

Can’t you see me Flying faster? I will make her proud to be my sister!Rainbow Dash reminds me To never give up on my dreams Even if I screw up, every now and then But I know that someday My wings will take me away So long as I don’t give up and keep on trying again

I’ll keep tryin’ And tryin’ And tryin’ again I’ll keep tryin’ And tryin’ And tryin’ And tryin’ again Cuz I know If I wanna grow up to be like you I’m gonna have to find a way to follow through You taught me How to be True to myself

[I WANTED TO SEND THIS TO YOU LIKE 30 MINUTES AGO WHEN YOU FIRST LIKED THE MLP/OMORI POST BUT TUMBLR WAS BEING MEAN also knowing tumblr the color will prolly get fucked up erm]

FUCKING SCOOTALOO AND RAINBOW DASH IM CRYINGGGG

Damn [tumblr] fucked up the colour real badly.... 😔

[mjtheartist04]

So how are Rika and Genya celebrating their Christmas? ✨️🎄🥺 and maybe a little Ichiro joining them??

Ahh HI CHERRI🥺💖 ok ok we gonna do the modern au for this🎄✨👀

Oh boi- THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR!

This girl-…SPOILS HER BOIS ROTTEN. I mean-👁️👁️…

Don’t think genya doesn’t spoil her too- HER GIFTS ARE INCLUDED IN ASWELL 🤭🎁

Ofc some fun activities!!! Ice skating, snowball fights, making snowmen, sledding, you name it! BAKING IS ON TOP OF THEIR LIST! it’s their little tradition☺️ every year they make little gift boxes fillied with homemade Christmas cookies, too give out to friends and family!✨🍪

They also have matching Dino onesies🥺 Genya may think it looks sillie on his big form, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to match with his two favorite people. He absolutely adores it, no matter how sillie it may be.💜

He also likes to place a mistletoe anywhere around the house. once he gets his wife to get under it with him, on accident he’s like “oh?…wonder who put that there…” and he’s avoiding eye contact while red in the face, acting innocent🤭 Dude still gets shy whenever they kiss, no matter how many times they’ve done it, it always tends to make his heart skip a beat💕

Tree decorating is ichis favorite part☺️ he loves the way the lights brighten up the Christmas tree and how sparkly the ornaments make it look✨ he also crafted a little angel tree topper, and his parents ADORE IT! They put it on the Christmas tree every year.🎄💖

Christmas morning is just as wonderful🥺 the purest smile on their baby’s face when he opens his Christmas gifts, TRULY PRICELESS😭💜 it never fails to make their heart flutter watching him get so excited. Truly one of the best gifts they’ve ever received was having their baby boi come into their lives, and nothing will ever change that.💜💙🩵

[the-character-lounge]

Randy and Spinel becomes official (Also Spinel is Demisexual as fuck)

Spinel nodded and took a breath, his body slowly slouching and losing a lot of confidence in doing so. "... I never really... Enjoyed sex." He looked up slowly, "Except... You."

Randy was both flattered and crushed. All the years Spinel was.. well sexually active… and he didn’t enjoy it? Ever? That made it sound like Spinel forced himself to do things he… he wouldn’t have if the circumstances were different. “I don’t kn-.. I’m not s- sure wh- what to say,” he had a wide eyed surprised look in his eyes. “I- It’s not s- silly to s- say at all m- my love, i- it just… it caught m off g- guard.” He poked his hooves together and stared at the floor. “Y- You.. really never e- enjoyed it b- before?”

He looked guilty a moment, even angry as he shook his head and looked away. "I always did what I had to do to be my best. Even... With you, at first..." He smiled absently, "And you have to admit I was fucking amazing right? The best you had. Right?" He bit his lip and shook his head. "Everything my body does is what it's supposed to, but mostly in my head I'm doing my best to make it be over with as fast as possible. Even with... With your ex, before, except no matter how much I did it wouldn't end. It just wouldn't end. He was too good at it." he choked up and buried his face in his hooves.

Randy suddenly felt.. guilty. Guilty that he had given into his own temptations.. and he felt like he had taken advantage of Spinel all.. all those times he had felt ‘forced.’ When he mentioned his ex.. he felt his heart sank, and old fury began to boil deep down inside him. But, it was shadowed out by feelings of sympathy and affection. He scooted over to Spinel and wrapped his forelegs around him, nuzzling the top of his head and shooshing him gently. “I- It’s going t- to be okay… N- No more pressured th- thoughts. No m- more.. being forced t- to do things y- you don’t want to… You’re s- safe…” he continued to gently whisper ‘you’re safe’ rocking him softly and kissing the back of his ear.

He nuzzled to Randy, still with that little smile peeking in the corners of his lips. He spoke quietly, "There was one thing I liked though. Thinking about how much they want me. That they'll never find a better fuck than me. I can get off on thinking about that, that's how I do it, I just think about what it would be like fucking me from their perspective and holy shit does it ever work as a turn on. I stop giving a fuck who it is, just that it's me they want."

Randy continued to rock him and listened quietly. He was going to listen, and listen only. It was good to talk things out and have some pony listen to you. That was something his therapist had never taught him.. but something he had learned from experience. He pressed his lips to his forehead, and continued to listen thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure what happened... I get turned on sure but more from thinking about myself." He huffed, mumbling now, "I think ponies just turn me off in general when I think about them. I don't know. A beautiful pony will always be just that." His face started to heat up, "But then you uh, after you helped me or something, I don't fucking know, you... Yoou're... kind of.. hot...? I-- ghfh, I never..." He was fidgeting like a school filly at this point, hooves clacking softly until he occupied them with the chains on his collar.

Randy’s cheeks burned up, and he softly rubbed Spinel’s back with one hoof, the other sitting on his own thigh idly. H- Him? Hot? He had certainly been called a lot of things in his life thus far, but ‘hot’ was not one of them. He giggled, and leaned a bit closer to him, smiling a goofy, smitten grin. “Y- You never what?” he asked, flattered and feeling even a little flustered.

He slowly had to cover his face, feeling stupid and embarrassed suddenly as he muffled out quickly, "Neverthoughtanotherponywasactuallysexybefore." And then silence, keeping his face covered, waiting to feel even more stupid any moment, heart beating faster and faster.

“.. s- sexy?” Randy asked, now blushing from ear tip to ear tip, face as red as a beet. His hoof stopped massaging, frozen in place. “I- Humm…” He started giggling and covered his mouth with both hooves. Spinel would probably recognize it, and Randy suddenly felt like he wanted to hide. It was weird.. no pony had really said that and meant it before. His ex was like a compliment vending machine, and he just pumped those out whenever he wanted some action, so those times didn’t count. But.. but hearing it from a pony he was… he was crazy for… He hugged Spinel, his tail wagging happily as he continued to giggle like a little filly, flattered, flustered, and feeling.. just wonderful.

Spinel blinked, and then the unicorn suddenly had a big triumphant grin on his face even though he was blushing as well. So that's what did it. Now he had ammo too so it was an even playing field, and when he saw the tail wagging he couldn't help but reach back to pet and caress it. "Mmmwho knows, maybe I just rubbed off on you one too many times~"

“Wh- What? Y- Yeah right! I- I’ve always b- been hot, baby~” he said, almost mimicking Spinel’s confidence and postured before collapsing back into a giggling mess. He nuzzled him affectionately, and after his giggling fit finally settled down, he rested his chin on Spinel’s shoulder, and stared at him from the side. “Y- You beautiful j- jerk you."

"Tell me it never stops being like this because I'm going to be pissed if it ever ends." He grabbed hold on Randy's chin, then kissed him and pinned him against the couch slightly as he did so, tilting his head and breathing deeply before deepening the kiss.

He muffled a moan of surprise before falling victim to the kisses depth, relaxing and returning the kiss. He reached back and held the back of the couch to steady himself, his free hoof placing itself on Spinel’s lower back and rubbing softly. After holding the kiss for a few moments, he broke it, sticking his tongue out and giggling. “Y- You keep k- kissing me like that, a- and I promise it won’t end~”

He snickered and stuck his tongue out as well, "I hope you realize this means I have to spoil you more than I already have. Mmm nothing less than the best for my special jewel." He felt good like this, maybe Randy had a different idea of how this worked but this right here made a lot more sense than before when he wasn't sure if they were friends or colleagues or what. Maybe this was something only he himself could understand, but he knew he could at least work with it.

Randy leaned forward and stuck their tongues together, still giggling. “Nnnnn den boil meh wotten~” he said with his tongue still touching Spinel’s, having a good laugh from how silly he was being. He leaned back and pulled his hind legs up on the couch, hugging his thighs to himself and still feeling wonderful. “S- So.. do you l- like b- being um.. you know a.. a ‘couple?’” he asked with a blush and gazing at Spinel with a playful shyness.

"I ah..." he blinked in surprise. "Oh." And theeeen he felt like a fool, it didn't make him angry though, just very embarrassed. "Is that-- this- Is that it? I mean it's just going with it and that's all it takes?" He laughed awkwardly, "Isn't there... I don't know, a ritual or something?"

“I- I don’t.. know really.” He chuckled, and rubbed the back of his head. “I.. I suppose if you feel l- like we sh- should make things official or s- something… w- we could do wh- what colts and f- fillies do.” He chuckled and took Spinel’s hooves in his. “So um.. Sp- Spinel? W- Will you.. will you be my special s- some pony?” he blushed, feeling ridiculous and childish, but it was still fun.

His heart was beating heavily, and he moved a little closer when his hooves were grabbed. Even if he didn't know what it meant to be a couple, it meant something special. That he was special. More than any other pony to Randy, that's what it meant. He smiled, it looked longing and relieved, "As long as it means I can be your special everything..."

Randy chuckled and leaned forward, their lips about to touch. “I wouldn’t h- have it any other w- way!” There had been a lot of kissing today. But.. he could care less. He closed his eyes, and gently turned his head to subtly deepen the kiss. His hooves gently squeezed Spinel’s, and he muffled a giggle. His tail wagged happily, and Randy was feeling better than he had ever felt in his life. He softly broke it after a moment, but kept their lips inches apart in case they decided to kiss again. He grinned and gently rung Spinel’s bell. “Y- You can be an- anything you w- want my love, as l- long as you are mine~”

Spinel was deep crimson and positively glowing, the bell only amplifying this as he pushed his face to hide in Randy's neck. "This is starting to sound like a contract, I'm usually not on the signing over end of those you know." He breathily laughed against his neck fur, "And you're my exclusive jewel, no pony else's... Is that right...?"

He chuckled and gently nipped his ear. “N- No pony else. Just you a- and me~” he softly kissed the top of his head and sighed. “I’ll b- be loyal and f- faithful; st- strong and h- have courage; a- as long as you are here in my embrace.” He softly nuzzled him and smiled confidently.

"I don't care as long as you always want me..." he said wistfully, giving a dreamy sigh as a hoof traced around Randy's chest. "And nopony else will ever be a gem as perfect for me as you..." He paused, and then giggled, closing his eyes and hiding a little more. It felt silly to talk like this but it felt sort of powerful and submissive all at the same time.

He buried his cheek into Spinel’s mane and chuckled. “Y- You’re right.. th- this better not end o- or I’ll be pissed too.” He sat quietly and cuddled with his new colt-friend, taking in the sweet scent of his mane. Even with his heart a flutter, and the warmth in his chest radiating steadily, he felt so at peace. He let out a small hum, and let out a long sigh. “… y- you smell nice,” he said softly, his hooves squeezing Spinel’s again.

"So do you." he said with a smirk, "I noticed that a bit earlier too, I love how you smell..." He took an over exaggerated sniff of Randy's cheek and neck, and chuffed in to his neck after, giving it some tickles with his lips.

[brokenonyxestate]

FOALS GROWING UP (KINDA)

Calypso's POV

Babies BOE Chancellor and BOE Kaida has just reached 1 year old today! Those beautiful babies has just gotten sooo big, and I hope Ma will let me ride one of them, when they get old enough. Chancellor (the bay) is a colt/young stallion after BOE Cisco x BOE Brillianta with BOE Commodor in his pedigree.

Kaida (the solid black) is a young mare/filly after our old BOE Solomeus and a mare named SC Keep the Faith from @CassieJames. The have grown up so nicely!

Chance is a speedster, and often tries to outrun the mares in the pasture. Soon he will go to the stallion or gelding pastures, when his balls has dropped, as we don't want any surprise babies xD

Kaida is more slow, here she had just woken up from a nap forgetting how her front legs works. She is such a silly girl really.

After Chance's run he decided to lie down, and soon after Kaida joined him. It will be hard for them to be separate, but we have to. At least until we have decided if we want Chance spayed or not. They have been each others' support and best friend after they were weaned from their dams.

[kotesiisetok]

An idea I had for Luster Dawn’s parents, this was originally just a silly little idea, but I fleshed it out a bit and now I kinda love it, enjoy some ramblings below

~ set right after the events of the MLP movie ~

"Okay, that is, the most AWESOME NAME, EVER!!" Pinkie exclaimed, a hoof still around Tempest's shoulders. Tempest smiled, before something caught her eye. Princess Cadence was approaching the group, Tempest felt her stomach drop as she got close.

"Your majesty, I-" Tempest stuttered.

"Tempest Shadow, how would you feel about accompanying me back to the Crystal Empire?" Cadence gave a warm motherly smile, something Tempest wasnt used to. She hesitated before speaking, but mustered up the courage quietly.

"I mean no disrespect your majesty, but may I ask, why me?" Tempest cocked her head a bit, in question.

Cadence shook her head and smiled softly to herself, rolling her eyes a bit.

"As much as my husband hates to admit it, hes starting to feel his age" Cadence began, looking down for a moment before back up at Tempest. "..and I could use a strong mare like you to take over the guard, if you'd be interested?"

Tempest stared at the mare for a moment, unsure of what to make of this proposal. Suddenly Tempest felt a hoof on her shoulder, she turned to see Twilight, who gave her an encouraging nod towards Cadence. Tempest looked back to the pink mare before her, before stepping forward.

"I will serve you to the best of my ability your majesty" Tempest took to her knee, bowing her horn to the hooves of the princess, a show of respect. Cadence smiled.

"I have no doubt Tempest"

(Rough timeline for afterwards below)

- Tempest Travels back to the Crystal Empire with Cadence

- Cadence offers Tempest a room, and guard duty around the castle

- Sunburst, not paying attention, bumps into a uniformed Tempest on duty and immediately crushes on her hard

- Tempest accidentally destroys a few pages with her magic trying to levitate them back to Sunburst

- this sparks a conversation about Tempest's horn

- some time later, Sunburst surprises Tempest with a prototype horn prosthetic, in hopes of helping her have more manageable magic

(Other notes)

- they discover they're both softies for sappy romance stories

- Sunburst finds out Tempest loves stuffed animals and lovingly indulges this obsession

- Sunburst calls Tempest Fizz, and Tempest calls Sunburst Sunny, it's their version of pet names essentially

(Timeline continued below)

- Luster was conceived a couple years after Tempest joined the royal guard, and she held off going on maternity leave till Shining had to send her home, shes a very dedicated guard but Shining reminds her, she's also going to be a parent soon and should take it easy

- after Luster is born, Tempest finds herself overwhelmed in early motherhood, and she goes to Cadence for help

- Cadence, having experience as a parent, teaches Tempest and Sunburst the ropes of parenting. Teaching them essentials like how to change a diaper, which neither knew how to do at first.

- Tempest has a hard time at first trusting her prosthetic around her foal, but eventually she gets comfortable using her magic near Luster

(Luster Dawn asking about Tempest's horn, shes maybe 4 or 5 here)

"Mama?"

Tempest looked down at the filly, setting the dish she was cleaning down gently.

"yes Luster?"

"can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"why does your horn look different than mine?"

Tempest froze for a moment, opening her mouth to speak before stopping again. She figured Luster was old enough to know what had happened, so she began.

"I.. well you see, as a filly I-" she was cut off by a familiar voice entering the house.

"Fizz! Luster! I'm home!" Sunburst called in from the front room, before entering the kitchen. Immediately he sensed Tempest's tension.

".. is everything okay?" Sunburst asked, looking between his wife and daughter.

"I asked mama why her horn looks different than mine" Luster chimed in innocently.

Sunburst gave Tempest a questioning look, but her face said it all. He then turned to Luster, who was looking at them both curiously. Tempest sighed softly.

"We have no reason not to tell her Sunny, it's time she knew"

Sunburst nodded, turning back to Luster.

"We've held off on telling you this, to avoid scaring you, but you're old enough..." Sunburst took a deep breath "Mama had an accident as a filly, and that accident was bad enough, that her horn was unable to grow back." Sunburst explained.

Luster scrunched her nose in confusion, "mama's horn isnt broken, it's right there!" She exclaimed, pointing a small hoof at Tempest's forehead.

Sunburst stifled a small laugh, "yes it is right there, but it's not her actual horn. It's a prosthetic"

"Prost-tet-tic?" Luster mimicked, even more confused.

"Prosthetic, it can be a horn like your mom's, or a leg in some cases. Heck! Some ponies even have prosthetic wings!"

Tempest smiled softly at her husband's enthusiasm, this had become an interest of his not long after they'd met, due to Tempest's horn sparking his curiosity.

"But why?" Luster tilted her head, awaiting an answer.

"Because.. well.. sometimes bad things happen, and sometimes bad things cause forever accidents that keep you from doing certain things. The prosthetics help by making ponies feel better, when they can do the things they love again."

Luster nodded, seemingly making sense of it all, then her face lit up. "So some ponies just get bonus parts!?" She chimed in excitedly.

Tempest and Sunburst both laughed a bit. "That's a good way to look at it" Tempest said, smiling softly.

just some writings and ramblings, thank you for reading! :)

[ask-de-writer]

NIGHTMARE NIGHT AT

THE SWEET SPOT :

MLP Fan Fiction :

Tales to Read AFTER the Lights Are OUT!

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

NIGHTMARE NIGHT AT THE SWEET SPOT

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

1492 words

© 2017 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 10/23/17

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.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

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.

///////////////////////

Molly and her foals, Sis and Morty, all in silly fake deer costumes, approached the welcoming door of the Sweet Spot.  The happy jangle of the door’s spring bells announced their entry into the shop.

They heard a cheerful, “Be right with you!  Just tending to a tiny bit of business!”

A tan colored unicorn came out of the back of the shop.  He was wearing a silly looking deer costume too!  He had a pair of the nuttiest looking horns on his head that any of them had ever seen! The big spring holding them onto his head had a hole in it for his unicorn horn to stick up through.  The rest of his costume was a tan cloak with white spots and a phony short tan tail with a white underside.

He called, “Welcome to the Sweet Spot!  Best candies in all of Ponyville!”

Molly, Sis and Morty all chanted, “Nightmare Night!  What a fright!  Give us something sweet to bite!”

Smiling, Roe hoofed over his justly famous foal bowl, full of treats.  They all helped themselves.

Roe escorted his family into the back, where his living quarters were, before he married Molly and took in her family.  They now lived over at Molly’s cottage with its prosperous wood lot business.

As he escorted them into the back, he told them in a serious voice, “You all know what I truly am.  A deer like me, disguise or no, is a creature on the borderlands between dream and Nightmare.  

“Through your good hearts and kind wishes, you have seen the good side of me. I had help in setting up this room for our party.  Those who helped me would like to come but must be invited by you all, as well as me.”

Molly took one look around the room, now hung thickly with real spiderwebs. There was a drink fountain that flowed from the jaws of a pony skull.  It had phosphorescent glows in its eye sockets.  Treats and game prizes were laid out on top of an ornate coffin.  Ring toss targets looked like the skulls of unicorns.

Molly got a chuckle out of the dart board.  It was rear end pictures of the Ponyville Council from last year.  Every pony remembered them trying to shut down even small Nightmare Night parties to boost attendance at a Gala that was supposed to be for charity.  Grumpy Goat, up on his mountain, and some Rom had put an end to that plot!  And this year, their plots were dart targets!

There was fog of some sort flowing over the sides of the apple bobbing tub. There was dark crepe all over and real bats swooping about!

It was Sis (actually Sisterca, but she didn’t care for the name) who said simply, “If they are friends of yours, Roe, they are welcome!”

Morty agreed, “If they helped to set this up, they should enjoy the party!”

Molly looked about in admiration and said, “It would be a shame if those who helped to set up the party were not here.  By all means, Roe, they are invited.”

As she finished speaking, a black maned and tailed filly who was white as mist simply trotted through the door!  It opened behind her to admit a pair of liches, followed by a number of small zombie like foals.  Behind them came a normal looking pony with a lamia gliding along beside him on her sinuous serpent’s lower body and tail.  Behind them were two normal looking ponies that Molly recognized!

She exclaimed, “Prilla!  Charley!  I thought that I heard that Charley was killed in an accident!  Didn’t you move to Trottingham?”

Prilla nodded, a smile on her face.  “Both true, Molly.  Roe brought Charley back as well as he could.  Vampony.  I had to choose whether to let him go back to death or join him in undeath.  It was no choice, really.  I loved him then and I love him now.  We moved to Trottingham to have a safer place to stay.”

Charley spoke up, “We owe Roe a lot.  Thanks to his help, we have not killed anypony and get along really well in Trottingham.”

Roe nodded, happy that things had gone so well for them.

The two litches nudged the ghostly white and black filly toward me.  She ducked her head in acknowledgment and came over to Molly and Roe. Fishing in a saddlebag, she pulled out a wrapped rectangular bundle.

She offered it to us both.  As we took it, she spoke.  “This is by way of saying thanks, Mister Roe.  It is from all three of us.  I copied the words.  Junea did the pictures and Zom bound the book.  It is a copy of Elane, Vampony of Canterlot.”

Molly was carefully examining the lovely book.  She asked, “What did Roe do for the three of you?  You look more, um, don’t get me wrong but, well, more alive than Junea and Zom.”

The filly smiled, “Sorry, not used to being around the living that much.  I am Bonnie Bones and I am as alive as you are.

“Mister Roe found an abandoned unicorn filly with a stunted horn near the Everfree.  I wished that somepony cared about me.  Roe sent me to Ponyville Cemetery.  Zom and Junea took me into their crypt and raised me.”

Junea put her skeletal head into the conversation.  “Zom and I always wanted a filly.  We had a book binding business and I did art that we sold too.  We both died in a fire at the shop.  Zom could have got out but was trapped while trying to save me.”

She inclined her mostly skeletal head toward the now revealed deer.  “Roe hears more wishes than just those of the living.  Bonnie has made us and many others in the Borderlands of Life very happy.

“It was the ghosts that taught her how to walk through walls and the like.  Being alive, she brought games and liveliness to the Forgotten Foals.

“Bonnie has done for us what Canbe has done for the ancient ones.  Canbe is the mortal over by the lamia, Flowering Ash.”

Molly was looking about the very active party with new eyes.  She leaned against her husband and said, “You take care of both the living and the dead, dear.  I am even prouder of you than I was.”

Over in small clear area, Sis and some of the Forgotten Foals had a busy game of jacks going, ball bouncing and hooves sweeping up the sets. They were up to foursies.  Mort had a bunch playing ring toss and some of the Forgotten Foals were over in a clear area playing hop-scotch.

Flowering Ash slithered up and asked, “It is a lovely party, Roe.  Will there be refreshments for us?”

He replied, “Honestly, Flowering Ash, I am not certain.  I know that one who is a candidate is coming to the Sweet Spot.  If he does no wrong, he will go away safely.  I do not think that he will though.”

Just then, we all heard the shop door’s spring bells!

It was Horace, a local ne'er do well, barely in costume.  He saw the phony deer costume and hollered, “Nightmare Night!  I gives you a fright!  Gimme all the candy in sight!”

He pulled the foal bowl away from his greedy hooves and said sourly, “Horace, you do know how to say it right.  Say it right and get your treats or go away.”

Horace cocked a rust brown ear toward the back.  “They is a party back there!  I goin’ and no puny-corn like you gonna stop me!”

He actually stood aside as he retorted, “I wouldn’t dream of it!” Locking up and following him into the back room, he called out, “Refreshments are served!”  

Lovely Prilla, now known as Vamprilla, stepped up to him and gave him fine bedroom eyes as she suggested, “No need to be so loud and brash. Just lie down and let us take care of you.”

Like they had a mind of their own, his legs folded under him and he laid right down.  Prilla stroked a gentle hoof along the back of his neck and leaned forward, her bite as gentle as a kiss.  Charley joined her.

Flowering Ash slid across to them and softly suggested, “Neither of you has killed any pony yet.  That is a good thing.  Drink your fill but leave him alive.  Let me kill him for you.”

Roe considerately led Molly, Sis and Mort out to the front.  Shortly we were joined by Canbe.  A little later, Bonnie Bones popped out and asked, “Are you guys OK?”

Sis replied, “I thought that you were alive, like us.”

Bonnie chuckled, “I am, Sis.  I’m snagging goodies off the refreshments coffin.  But, you know, I do eat with them, just not the same things. After all, they are my family!  Wouldn’t be polite not to eat with them.”

~THE END~

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to Tales to Read AFTER the Lights are OUT!

[kindheart525]

Just because she successfully bonded with one cousin didn’t mean Luster Dawn was ready to let her walls down completely.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do some crafts with me?”

The cousin closest to her age, Peach Pit, asked her yet again. Her tone wasn’t begging, but more concerned and disappointed. She was excited to get to know her cousin; she didn’t necessarily care what they did, but she really wanted to show her what she did best so she could connect with her even more. 

But Luster wasn’t interested.

Artsy stuff wasn’t her thing. She was a science and magic filly, excelling in books and figures rather than anything creative. More than that, she was afraid that doing what Peach wanted would end up like her time with Marm, with the supposed expert taking over. She didn’t want to take that risk.

“No thanks. I don’t do crafts.”

She declined her once again, a bit snippy in her response.

“Okay.”

Peach relented, feeling pretty let down but not wanting to guilt Luster. She already felt like she’d overstepped a little bit.

“Well, whatever floats your boat. I’ll be here if you change your mind!”

Luster mentally kicked herself watching this graceful reaction. Peach had been super nice to her and she was being so rude! Even Luster had to admit her attitude was a bit uncalled for. Even if it ended up not going well she could at least be the bigger pony and say she tried.

Plus, last time she was this rude to somepony, she ended up regretting it dearly…

No time for that! Luster shook the thought out of her mind, getting up and making her way over to the craft table Peach had set up.

“Fine. I mean, okay, sure.”

“Really?”

Peach instantly brightened up at this.

“There’s no pressure of course! But if you’re in, I’m so happy to show you!”

“Yeah, no, I am in. I do want to do this.”

Luster insisted, feeling a bit more at ease from Peach respecting her boundaries.

Her cousin pushed some assorted art supplies over to her—a couple socks, some buttons, a bundle of yarn, the works. As she got to work on her own project she started chattering away.

“I’ve always found this stuff to be really therapeutic! See, I’ve always struggled with quite a bit of pain and physical challenges since I was a little girl, and whenever I’d get a really bad flare-up I’d focus on an art project. It always helped me feel better, at least emotionally. Which is why I’m studying to be an art therapist!”

“Interesting!”

Luster nodded along to Peach’s story, not really relating at all but doing her best to connect.

“I’m glad it helps you, and uh, it’s nice that it helps others. I’m not much of an artist myself though.”

She held up her puppet which wasn’t complete yet, but was already so haphazardly done that it was almost pitiful. She couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at how bad it was in her eyes.

“Anyone can be an artist, silly!”

Peach laughed, but not at her work.

“As long as you’re having fun with it, you are an artist! And it’s not always sock puppets and painting, are you telling me you’ve never written any stories? Even when you were little?”

“Well…”

A rush of memories came back to Luster, from so long ago that she thought she’d forgotten them.

“My dads used to tell me stories a lot…”

“See, that’s something!”

Peach tried to tread lightly after this, she wasn’t an expert in art therapy and didn’t want to act like she was. She wasn’t even trying to perform therapy on her cousin, but rather bond with her through something she found therapeutic. She was certainly opening up, that’s for sure.

“I’d love to hear one if you want to share! Or…you could make up a story of your own? If you want?”

She offered an alternative as she passed Luster the puppet she’d been working on, letting her take the lead.

For so long Luster had been trying to avoid talking about her parents, even thinking about them. Anytime she did she only felt worse, and she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wallowing in mourning and regret. She was trying to make herself move forward even if it meant pushing some things down.

She didn’t know why she was bringing it up now.

“I guess…”

She slipped on the sock puppets, trying to recreate the scene in her head.

“Once upon a time, there was a wizard named Starry Night…or Starry Eyes? She could solve any problem with her magic, until one day, somepony threw a Molotov cocktail at one of the king’s guards…”

Recreating the story also led to her recreating her fathers’ retelling, the way her Daddy came up with improvisations that made Papa’s enchanting fairytales into daring adventures. The way her Daddy lifted her up in his strong embrace as her Papa laughed along. 

The way they both loved her so much…

“I-it started a big fire, and everypony was in danger, but Starry knew just what to do. So she…she…”

Luster didn’t realize she was crying at first but she was, despite how much she tried not to. Finally she couldn’t go on any more, the lump in her throat leaving no room for anything but her true feelings that she’d tried to ignore for so long.

“Oh Luster, don’t—!”

Peach started to panic a little, not expecting this level of opening up. She was still so new to art therapy, but this was a matter of basic compassion. So she let her instincts take over her as she made to comfort her.

“There, it’s okay. Let it all out.”

The pain was unbearable but at the same time it felt cathartic for Luster to finally cry it out, finally letting herself face her feelings head-on.

And Peach was there for her as long as she needed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Dog-Eared Page Next: Peach Pit

[robin-writes-and-such]

A silly man! Pony OC!!!

So this guy was made for a oneshot rp im doing with my friends, in which our party are the new replacements for the elements of harmony and the one rule is “interpret the element totally differently from the mane 6”

Lore below 👇

AMANITE AND DOUGHBOY DONT READ THIS!!!

Persiflage

MLP ONESHOT CHARACTER

Alias: Void

Former aliases: Percy, Scourge, Curse, Jinx, Hex, Karma

He/him

Aroacespec

The ultimate edgy pony

26hy

Void is a unicorn with an almost entirely black mane and pelt, (minus a few gray and white flecks here and there) and astonishingly pale blue eyes. The colour of his magic is a yellowish orange, which is a stark and jarring contrast to his depressing gothic colour scheme. He is silent and stoic, frankly quite intimidating, and seemingly judgemental. His cutie mark is a clock with a smiley face on it, which feels incredibly ominous and threatening. While unicorns are by nature somewhat tall, at least in comparison to their winged counterparts, Void towers over most ponies, being the size of a larger earth pony (earth ponies are typically the size of draft horses). He rarely speaks apart from the odd snarky or sarcastic comment.

Special talent

Of course after reading this description you probably have many questions, but one big one. Why the hell is this guy the element of laughter??? Well, first of all, with him being so stoic and serious, anything he does that isn’t serious is inherently funny because it’s unexpected. But that alone shouldn’t be enough to qualify him, right? You’re correct. You see, like every other pony, he has a special talent. And his special talent happens to be comedic timing. He has a magical sense that allows him to sense when there’s an opportunity for something funny or ironic to happen, and through magic and fate he makes it happen. He doesn’t even have to intentionally try, any time there is an opportunity for something funny around him he somehow inadvertently causes a butterfly effect that makes it happen.

Namesake

The word Persiflage can refer to a type of tongue in cheek humour that is easily misinterpreted as mean spirited when it is only meant to be humorous- similar to how Void himself is misinterpreted as mean and intimidating, when in reality his sole purpose is comedy. This poor man is just a misunderstood comedic chaos magnet.

Tragic backstory

Of course our man’s gotta have a backstory!!

Persiflage (nicknamed Percy) grew up in a very small community, a rowdy and excitable young colt. Despite his affinity for attracting chaos, He had a loving family, friends, and a comfortable life. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. One day, a travelling comedy act came to town- featuring famous comedian John Mullmaney! Percy became obsessed with comedy, wanting nothing more than to make others laugh. Unfortunately, he bombed over and over. Every one of his jokes fell flat. Until one day, after telling a horrendous joke… “why did the banana call in sick? Because he wasn’t PEELING well!!!” To which nobody laughed, he began to sadly walk away when he slipped on a discarded banana peel, flying into the air. Everyone laughed at the irony and comedic timing of this situation, and in that moment Percy discovered his special talent- comedic timing! Maybe he wasn’t bringing disaster everywhere he went, but comedy! For a while he delighted in making ponies laugh, but like most comedians, he took a joke too far. Only in the MLP universe you don’t get cancelled, you get exiled and/or ostracized. A small filly ended up losing a leg in an incredibly comedic incident. The thing is, Percy can’t control his own power and inclination towards comedy. He just inadvertently makes it happen. Even if it means catching a young pony in a rockslide by accident. He became synonymous with disaster, a jinx, and ostracized. He decided it would be best if he moved away from home, to where he couldn’t hurt the people he cared about. He knew the only way he could exist on peace was to live near ponies that had the legendary plot armour, and couldn’t be harmed by flawless comedic timing. Luckily protagonists aren’t difficult to find, especially when princess celestia and the elements of harmony spend a suspicious and unnecessary amount of time in one place, and so he moved to ponyville.

[h0oty]

Tell me everything abt dusk shadows? Please? Theyre so so pretty and cool and edgy and i love them already and i know nothing abt thrm

ive waited my whole life to hear these words... this is going to be very long.

theyre my little skrunkle next gen oc i made when i was like 9 and have kept alive since then, their story has changed around throughout the years but i did make it when i was 9 so its not the best literature, keep that in mind.

basically theyre the mane character of my next-gen-mixed-with-au hootverse that all my silly little redesigns come from, some story elements are changed and this is important because Sombra takes the place of Chrysalis in season 9 because she accepted Starlight's friendship after she freed the hive.

so when the trio gets unfrozen to be reformed Twilight takes on reforming Sombra and of course it goes like this

because its a next gen and they get in a genuine relationship and Sombra works on himself and gets better, + they have kids but then he slips up one day and accidentally grows evil crystals or something by accident and the kingdom's ponies don't trust him and some even start saying shit like "what if their kids turn out evil like him >:((((" "i cant believe twilight loves tis guy what if SHES evil too?!?!?" and it was disrupting harmony and Twilights like "damn this is wild!!!!! i am going to start twilighting 24/7". so to 'keep her safe' in his eyes, while shes pregant with Dusk, Sombra acts like hes evil again and runs away and then when Dusk is born Twilight has to give them to up for adoption movie style on the doorstep in the rain because its the edgy 2010 oc backstory + ponies were threatening the children because of Sombra and all that (they couldnt give them to one of the mane 6 because it would be too risky for someone to realize it was her child)

Dusk goes to friendship camp one year as a filly and meets their first real friend, Firefly. They keep in contact until their teenage years when Firefly becomes a rockstar and stops talking to Dusk because of the pressure of keeping up a "popular" image. Dusk starts spending all of their time with their other friend Frost Lily, but their declining mental state causes them to see one of those waking nightmares (the ones Sombra trapped the castle with. they inherited it and like. cast it on themself by mistake somehow) and they see a vision of Frost Lily getting really sick and dying. They don't know this was just a nightmare their magic made them see, so they leave town, thinking there's nothing left for them there now. Their wandering leads them to Canterlot, where Twilight sees and recognizes them, and summons them to the castle, where she explains Dusk is her child and everything that happened and why she had to give them away, expecting them to be all happy huggy 'i love you mom'ing!!! But they were actually just really upset and angry at Twilight for not even trying and she kept and raised their other child, ect.

Twilight gets worried about Dusk's mental state which leads to her worrying about Dusk going down the 'same dark path' as Sombra, and she sends them to their own small town just like Celestia did for her when she was young so they can discover joy and friendship magic

this is getting SO long but they become a part of their own mane 6 of sorts that includes firefly, a griffin named boe, a dragon named Carbon, an axolotl named snorkel and a 'baby' ursa minor that goes by ursus once they get there. on the way they meet a suspicious trio of "ponies" that may or may not be demons summoned by Sombra to keep an eye on his child and report back to him on how theyre doing.

Eventually Dusk also turns into an evil alicorn thing but y'know their friends fix that with the power of friendship™  and then they defeat the demons too

wow look a window

i want you to know i was writing for an hour with no breaks i didnt even blink at all during this im so sorry

[ritsu-kageyamas-blog]

When I was just a filly, I found it rather silly

To see how many other ponies I could meet

I had my books to read, didn't know that I would ever need

Other ponies to make my life complete

But there was one colt that I cared for

I knew he would be there for me

My big brother, best friend forever!

Like two peas in a pod, we did everything together

He taught me how to fly a kite (Best friend forever!)

We never had a single fight (We did everything together!)

We shared our hopes, we shared our dreams

I miss him more than I realized

It seems

Your big brother, best friend forever

Like two peas in a pod, you did everything together

And though he's, oh, so far away

I hoped that he would stay

My big brother best friend

Forever

Forever

I hate ponies.

[contreparry]

Happy Friday! From the invisible cities prompts "Trading stories and discovering that you have traded memories as well" for Anders please?

Absolutely! Here’s some modern!Thedas roommates Anders and Fenris for @dadrunkwriting !

“Ooooooooh he’s a cat cat cat cat with aaaaaaaa snoot snoot snoot snoot!” Anders caroled as he pet Pounce’s fuzzy cream-colored belly. Pounce trilled and rolled on his back, stretching out his legs until he took up all the space on the rug in front of the glass door that led out to the tiny balcony.

“Big stretch! What a biiiiiig stretch!” Anders cooed, his heart full of big, warm, fuzzy feelings. A lazy Saturday afternoon was best spent curled up on the floor petting a cat, and anyone who disagreed clearly hadn’t experienced the pleasure of a friendly orange tabby allowing them to pet their soft, warm belly.

Unlucky bastards.

“Must you always announce when your cat stretches?” Fenris asked. Anders flopped over on his side and spied Fenris as he emerged from his room down the hall dragging a full canvas bag. A dirt-stained pant leg and most of a dark red sweater trailed behind him like the caboose of a train.

“Have you never made a simple observation before? Never found joy in the little things?” Anders honestly wasn’t surprised. Fenris was incapable of silliness. At least working with Justice inoculated him to perpetual solemnity, but if Anders had other options he probably wouldn’t have roomed with Fenris. He was entirely too serious to get on with- but it was a perfect arrangement otherwise, and Fenris tolerated Pounce (even if he refused to acknowledge the joy of singing to cats).

“Every living creature stretches. It is hardly remarkable,” Fenris claimed as he violently shoved his dirty clothing into the washing machine in great handfuls. 

“Don’t you pay attention to a word he says, Pounce,” Anders informed his cat. “You and your stretches are beyond remarkable. They are sublime.”

“You are absurd,” Fenris retorted. Anders sighed and rose to his feet. Fenris wasn’t picking a fight, he reminded himself as he passed the laundry closet and made his way into the kitchen. Fenris was terrible at conversation, true, but he wasn’t always trying to fight him. Their truce still held: don’t jump to the first worst assumption, and don’t deliberately provoke each other.

“Have you ever had a pet before, Fenris?” Anders asked. He opened the fridge, hand reaching up for the pitcher of filtered water when Fenris spoke.

“No,” he said, the word short and sharp. It pierced the tension in the apartment like a pin in a balloon, and Anders was left floundering.

“Ah. That...” that explained quite a bit, and Anders stood in front of the open fridge door, staring blankly at half empty jars of condiments and a jug of lemonade. Never had a pet. Didn’t know anything about pets- or cats- at all. Didn’t know the joys of a purring mass of warm fluff on a lap or the horror of a deposited dead bug or bird in your shoe. No fuzzy paws batting against your face, no screaming for food in the middle of the night, no nibbles on your feet, no winding around your ankles, no chirps or chattering-

“Can’t imagine that,” Anders murmured. “I grew up on a farm. Animals everywhere. Slept in the barn sometimes, with the colts and fillies and the barn cats.” It was never lonely, sleeping in the barn with all those warm, noisy creatures. Sometimes when he fell asleep he could smell the dusty hay and hear the purring of the barn cats and the low whinnies of the horses as they settled in their stalls.

“... that sounds... nice,” Fenris said hesitantly. Anders spied Pounce stretch luxuriously before making his way towards the kitchen, towards him. Yet at the last minute he changed course and, orange tail waving proudly in the air, he approached Fenris and began to wind around his ankles in front of the laundry closet. Fenris froze as Pounce meowed piteously, begging for attention.

No pets. No dog to play fetch with, no cat to purr on a lap, no fish to dote upon or even a little snake to curl around his hand- Anders shut the fridge and leaned against the door.

“He loves a good tickle under the chin. And getting slapped on the side,” Anders said.

“Slapped?”

“Like a drum. Not too rough, mind you, but he’ll let you know what he hates,” Anders stated. Pounce continued to love on Fenris, but the terrible betrayal stung less than it might have. No pets... perhaps Pounce had taken pity on poor Fenris, just for the day.

“Strange cat,” Fenris replied, even as he bent over at the waist to pet Pounce. One elegant hand reached underneath Pounce’s round face to scratch at his chin. Slowly, oh so slowly, Fenris placed the palm of his hand against Pounce’s side and began to tap a soft rhythm. Pounce’s loud purr filled the apartment.

“What a strange creature,” Fenris murmured, wonder crossing his face as Pounce continued to purr and purr and purr. “Such a... strange cat.” Yet he continued to pat and pet the cat, the cat continued to purr, and Anders leaned back, content to watch this strange scene play out, happy to learn something new and interesting about his roommate.

And if a few days later he happened to hear Fenris crooning “strange orange creature, such a strange little beast” to Pounce when the cat deigned to visit his bedroom, well... Anders could keep a secret.