#space pony... in hell!!

[zarla-s]

it had to be something like this, right

[patreon]

[countdown-til-sanders-take-over]

what sorts of hairstyles do you like

Peppermint I am not the one in control here my hair is the one in charge

[necromancy-enthusiast]

To help everyone understand the gravity of the situation with Unity's recent bullshit, here are some games made in unity:

Cult of the Lamb

Bendy and the Ink Machine

Untitled Goose Game

Road 96

Cuphead

Power Wash Simulator

Genshin Impact

Getting Over It

Inside

Tem Tem

Kerbal Space Program 1

Kerbal Space Program 2

Rust

Rimworld

Outer Wilds

Dream Daddy

Thomas Was Alone

I Am Setsuna

Tunic

Night in the Woods

Pony Island

Return of the Obra Dinn

Among Us

Pokemon Go

Hollow Knight

Ori and the Blind Forest

Ori and the Willow of the Wisps

Vampire Survivors

Two Point Hospital

City Skylines

The Long Dark

Firewatch

Oxenfree

Subnautica

Subnautica: Below Zero

Fall Guys

Many, MANY MORE

Unless you only play tRIpLE A titles this will most likely affect a game you like. Hell, it can even affect really big games like Pokemon Go.

For a long time, starting years and years back, a lot of people have been talking about the preservation of games and being against moving to digital only games for reasons like this, and how the greed of various big companies in the game industry will negatively impact access to games and their preservation. It's happening. This will impact games that are already out. This will impact games being made. This will impact games made in the future. So if you care even a teensy tiny bit about a single game made in unity, or you care about the future of game development period, I suggest you pay very close attention.

A good article from an indie developer detailing the changes and exactly how it screws devs over:

[baphofemme]

now that i'm taking my on-campus class the hairdo possibilities are endless

[callmearcturus]

The vinyl comes with... this. This is not the lyrics to the songs. I'm gonna transcribe it, because I think the first time you listen should be with this.

You are about to listen to an album by the Glass Animals. You don't always listen to albums from beginning to end, but maybe you will this time. It was written for you. (Linear Notes by Gabrielle Zevin)

SHOW PONY

You are a child. Before you were a child, your parents were children. Most origin stories begin with love, and yours is no different. Once upon a time, two people fell in love, and then it ended. It's the first love story you were every told, and it teaches you the one certainty in life is that all things end. From this point forward, you are not a romantic. They call you the cynic, and to protect yourself, you take on many forms.

WHATTHEHELLISHAPPENING

You are kidnapped. You are in the trunk of a moving car, fetal position, darkness, screech of the tires against the road, the scent of gasoline. You don't know how you got there, but it isn't the worst place you have ever found yourself, and in a way, it feels inevitable. You know you could die, so you find yourself thinking about all the people you have ever loved. The trunk is like a womb. You could live here forever but eventually you'd get lonely. Your relentless need for company is your hamarita.

CREATURES IN HEAVEN

You are a psychic. You ask your lover if they want to know the hour and the day that the two of your will part. They laugh at you, and they say they don't believe in psychics. You suspect that their failure to believe in your gift might be the problem that leads to the demise of your relationship. But who cares? This relationship ends in three months, and you may as well enjoy it. Evanescence can sometimes be a profound pleasure.

WONDERFUL NOTHING

You are a prizefighter who is in love with a boxer. You say, "It's a bad idea." (JAB, JAB, CROSS.) And the boxer says, "It's only a bad idea if it gets in the way of our work." (SLIP.) And you say, "Promise me you'll never pull any punches." (CROSS. CROSS. HOOK.) The boxer swears they won't. (SLIP. JAB.) But when you fight, the boxer always pulls their punches, and you never do. You're pretty sure this makes you a bad person. You're a prizefighter, and you do not love this boxer or anyone enough to pull punches. (JAB. CROSS. HOOK.) Just before throwing the knockout punch, you whisper, "I love you so fucking much."

A TEAR IN SPACE

You are a sock. You are an earplug. You are a miniature glass horse. You are easy to misplace. You are you, so you think you matter. You are nothing. No one even notices when you left the party.

I CAN'T MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE AGAIN

You are an astrophysicist. You believe you can use sound waves to control time and space. A song is a time machine, you tell your colleagues. If you sing the right song, you could transport the lover to a particular time and place. You could reverse time, and if you could reverse time, you could make them love you again. Your belief in science occasionally makes you pathetic.

HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE THE BOMB

You are a damsel, and you are in love with a monster. You're not sure how it happened. You'd been warned about such creatures by the fairy tales of your youth. But in bedtime stories, the monster always presented as monster. The beast was hirsute, the vampire had fangs, the wolf in your grandmother's clothing was clearly not your grandmother. But your monster is clean cut and has good teeth. They knock at the door. You invite them in, and just like that, you are fucking a monster. You should be upset about it, but you aren't. The thing they don't tell you about monsters is that they are sexy as hell.

WHITE ROSES

You are Proteus. You are a god and you can change forms when the situation calls for it. This is hand for work, but difficult when it comes to relationships. You have occasionally been guilty of taking a form that you knew would make you lovable to some unsuspecting mortal. But it always ends the same way. A terrible row at an inconvenient time-- say, just before you're about to leave for the airport-- and then, you're forced to reveal yourself. You don't always mean to change forms, but it's second nation for you to shift a bit here and there-- pretend you like a certain band, express an enthusiasm for sport. Are you shapeshifting, or are you concealing yourself, and is there a difference in the end? Still, you love making people fall in love with you. Every time you do it, you promise you'll never do it again. And they you do it again.

ON THE RUN

You are an escape artist. You are handcuffed, straitjacketed, loaded into a zipped and padlocked duffle bag, wrapped in chains, tossed into the bottom of the ocean. It is billed as "The Greatest Escape of the Greatest Escape Artist, and the Culmination of a Career of Death-Defying Acts!"

The spectators on the pier anticipate your deliverance. They are sure you'll surface because you always surface. They aren't fearful; they are waiting to be dazzled. What they cannot know is how bored you are of dazzling.

You exit the bag, careful to take the props of your confinement so there will be no remains. You swim to another, distant pier. You don't see the people on the pier cry. You don't read your obituary. It's no longer your concern.

A week later, you are homesick, and you concede that your plan has failed. You miss the people on the pier and your cat and your bed and your favorite restaurant and your wristwatch. You don't remember what problems your faked death was going to solve so you can't say if it solved them.

The greatest power in the universe is nostalgia, and it that's true, maybe the people on the pier will forgive you. maybe you could come back from the dead. Now wouldn't that be the greatest escape ever?

LOST IN THE OCEAN

Who are you, anyway?

Why are so many songs addressed to you?

It's simple, you think. The songs are for you because I love you so fucking much, and when you say you, you mean all the yours: the parents and the child, the damsel and the monster, the escape artist and the crowd on the pier, the sock and the one who forgets the sock, the prizefighter and the boxer, and the world that contains all these people. You are all the lovers you failed, and all the ones who failed you. You are the lovers you haven't yet encountered-- there will be many because this world is filled with people to love. You are the singer, and you are the song. And you conclude that the only way to resist the ephemerality of all things is by singing love songs to you, whoever you are, wherever you are in the universe.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

hello!!! hope you’re doing great, I kinda wanna ask about Thomas x Sister Shelby if you do that ? And if you do I’m thinking she’d be smart, has a very quick tongue and she wants to get out of the Shelby business to marry the love of her life (alfie😝😍) so she fakes her death and ofc everyone is distraught and angry than after a few years Thomas sees alfie at his home and than comes his sister who he thought had died and he berates her than she says something like you’re a worse person than me always killing for money like he can’t live without a war. Also I am in the mood for a very angst ending

A/N: Hello my love! How are you doing? I am so so sorry that this has taken forever. Truthfully, I had no clue how to do this. I thought about this long an hard, and though some things I switched up, I hope you enjoy this. I feel like this got me to stretch my writing muscles, and it was really fun. Let me know what you think darling!

Run Away With Me Darling

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader; 3.8k words; fluff, angst

Warnings: language, contentious family relationships, arranged marriage???

It started innocently enough.

You bringing tea and biscuits to meeting rooms where the men started their schemes. Listening and taking notes alongside your ever watchful Aunt Polly. Sneaking glances at the big brute in the chair across from your big brothers.

“Thank you treacle. Yeah that’s real kind of you.”

That brute is the only man that would say thank you for the tea you bring by. And when you go to pour more for him, he’s the only man who says, “No need for that darling. Grown men can pour their own tea yeah?”

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than professional. But you should’ve known. Known from that first encounter outside those Shelby walls… you and Mr. Solomons shared a single soul… and heaven nor hell could keep you from each other’s grasp.

It was hot. London is not a tropical city by any means. But the sheer amount of bodies, activity, and warm rain, had transformed the city into a sauna. The wisps of your hair along your neck and forehead are plastered to your body. Rivulets of sweat sneak down your chest. The heat could only be described as oppressive. You were counting down the steps till you could go home.

On the one hand… it was strange having a home all to yourself. Truthfully, it was the Shelby homestead in London, where the family would stay when business needed attending to. However, when they all left, you stayed. Carrying delicate messages. Keeping a close pulse on the going’s on of the city. And perhaps most importantly… remaining a pretty show pony for the Shelby family.

You hated to admit it. But you were desperately jealous of Ada. She had the guts to sneak past Arthur, Tommy, and John. She had the foresight to marry her true love before Tommy could marry her off to the highest bidder. You had no such luck. No childhood love. No sweetheart to campaign for. The boys had made sure of it. Despite Ada and your protests, and Polly’s discrete ploys; Tommy had decided. The sweet, pure, and innocent youngest Shelby girl will be auctioned off to the richest and most lucrative partner for the Shelby Company. And she will remain pretty and docile. A prize.

The mere thought made your stomach twist and churn and burn.

You loved them. Your family. More than most love their family. But you could barely breathe under their watch. Even in another city you felt the reach of their eyes. Felt the whisperings of potential matches for your hand and womb. The sweat on your brow burned your eyes. Taking place of the unshed tears you long abandoned.

All you longed for was cold water. A cool bath. Anything to scrub off the sweat and dirt and exhaustion. However, shade covered your front door, casting a shadow over the threshold.

“Sweetheart! Been waiting a bit for you!”

No matter where you see Mr. Solomons, he seems to take up all the space. You don’t know how he is able to stand the heat, with his coat and hat and bushy beard. But he looks unfettered. Cool even. You finally felt the kiss of the breeze on your neck as you approached.

“Mr. Solomons. How can I help you?”

“You going to invite me in like a good girl?”

“I’m not in the business of inviting strange men into my home.”

“You think me strange?”

“Oh Mr. Solomons you are the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“Makes you a little excited though don’t it? A hint of danger yeah? Big brute standing at your door.”

You stuck your chin out, staring directly into his stormy eyes. “I’m not afraid of you Mr. Solomons.”

His mouth quirks up in the corner. A twinkle in his eyes, and your breath hitched as he leaned into your space, “Oh I know sweet. You ain’t like the others ain’t ya? I saw it… the first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. Those boys… cold blooded little snakes… you… nah… there’s a flame in you treacle…and I look forward to see you set things aflame.”

Before you could respond in any way, he leaned away, smiling at your response. He pulled out an envelope from his coat and handed it to you, “Contract and information for your devious brother my sweet. Don’t worry, put a little something in there for you too for your trouble.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand. Unsure of how to respond to his… behavior. His rumbling laugh set a shiver down your spine, but you pushed it down as you appraised him, “This seems below your job description… don’t you have messenger boys?”

He further smirked, “I hope you’ll forgive me, that I want to keep you to myself.”

“I’m not a kept girl.”

“That you are not. Just have to inform your brothers of the fact don’t you?”

Hot shame rose in your cheeks. The envelope in your hands crinkling sharply. You felt the cool brush of gold rings on your cheek, “I have a standing dinner every Thursday evening. Let it be our little secret, hmm?”

Before you could react, a coarse kiss is pressed to your knuckles. As he started walking away, you called out, “And if I don’t show up? What then?”

He turned, with a boyish smile, “You’re not a kept woman treacle. Not my business. I’ll just send my messenger boys in my place.”

That was a year ago. Things were so simple then. Secret dinners. Secret mornings. Secret dalliances and outings around town. And when the family came to town, you placed that mask back on. Sweet, innocent, and docile Shelby girl. Ready at the beck and call of her family. And when they left, you ran right into the arms of Alfie. Because where it all started as something to feel disobedient, it grew into something deeper and more ancient. You felt your soul intertwine with his, as if it was always searching for him. In the evenings when he whispered his love for you and kept you close, you had never felt safer. Never felt more alive.

But dreams are not forever. Sooner or later the bubble must pop.

“You’ll need to come back to Birmingham dearest.”

“For how long?”

Everyone looked up at Tommy. Tommy didn’t even look up from his dinner plate, “Permanently. I’ve got a husband for you.”

Your fork dropped. Your heart stopped beating.

You faintly hear Aunt Polly call your name.

“Husband?” You whispered.

Tommy sighed, “That is what I said. High time you married, you’re old enough. Mr. Gorman has multiple factories both here and in the states, and his son is set to inherit them all. It’s a good match, it’ll be very beneficial to the company.”

“Tommy I don’t even know him.”

“You have your entire life to get to know him. Now finish your dinner.”

“So you just decided is that it? You just decided to that I’d belong to some man? Tell me Tommy… how much did you sell me off for? How much is my womb worth?”

“Watch your mouth!” Polly hissed, with Arthur wincing at the cutting words.

“I’m not going.” You stood from your chair. Preparing for battle.

“It’s not up for discussion.”

“I’m not going! You cannot make me!”

Tommy rose from his seat, John putting his head in his hands with Arthur knocking back a drink. Low. Deadly. Tommy always could command a room with his voice. Cold finger pointing at you like a deadly weapon. “You will do as you’re told. This is not about you. This is about the family. In a week, I will come fetch you. I will drag you back to Birmingham if I have to. And you will marry the young Mr. Gorman, and you will have as many of his fucking babies as he chooses. You will be rich. You will be safe. And you will be set. I am not about to argue with a child.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes. Sorrow. Mourning. Hatred. “I hate you Thomas Shelby. I hate you.”

“You will get over it.”

You ran to your room. Weeping the rest of the night.

Because how can your body and name be given to a man, when your heart and soul belonged to another?

They left the next morning. Arthur knocking on your door to announce the departure, and trying to convince you, “He’s a good lad darling. Trust Tommy alright? Wouldn’t let nothing bad happen to ya, even though it seems like right shit. Don’t be too angry at us. We’ll all still be close. And anyway… it’s what’s good for the family.”

You didn’t look at him. Not even a hum of acknowledgment when he kissed your hair tenderly. A regretful sigh leaves his body as Arthur walked away, taking one last look at your quivering body on your maiden bed. Arthur always had a soft spot for you. Always defensive for you unlike your other siblings. He had tried in vain to get Tommy to rethink the arrangement. You didn't need to get married. The company didn't need such an alliance. They'd get by as they always have. But Tommy's sights were set much higher. He wanted that name of honor. And to get it, he was willing to play by the rules of old money. Tommy had convinced Arthur enough. Enough that you'd eventually forgive them all.

The orange sky illuminated your bedroom in a bloody hue. Your throat dry and head hot and pounding. The creaking and settling of the house had become a steady ring in your ears, you didn't even hear the bedroom door open.

"Treacle. What are you doing? Eden said you haven't left since last night. You ill?"

Maids hear everything, you think bitterly. But you couldn't be too cross with Eden. Not really.

"He's done it Alfie."

Alfie toed off his boots after the hat and coat. Sinking into the too ornate duvet. "Who treacle? What happened?"

You faced him, deep creases of the duvet threads divide your hot wet cheeks. Lashes clumped together and soaked. "Tommy... he... he finally did it. He's married me off. In a weeks time I'm to belong to some... Mr. Gorman. His father owns factories, and I suppose that's enough for my bride price."

You feel your body being gently tugged up and into Alfie’s embrace. Despite any protest from you about how it may affect his back, he shushes you instantly, “Now now my little dove. Nah you ain’t going back to Birmingham. You ain’t getting married to some prick. Nah you’re staying here with ol’ Alfie.”

You force your face under his chin, letting his unkempt beard absorb your sobs, “No Alfie it’s true! Tommy told me yesterday at dinner! He… he’s taking me away Alfie! I hate him. I hate him so much. I don’t want to marry some man I don’t even know!”

“I already told you darling, you’re not going to! It’s not happening.”

You push his shoulder, “You’re not listening to me! Tommy said-“

“I don’t give a shit what Tommy said! You’re not marrying the shit because you’re marrying me!”

Like an unpracticed magician, he pulled out a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring. Its glimmer and fractals made it look as endless as the night sky. You felt the breath in your lungs catch, anger and fear simmering down and cooling. You dared not touch something to precious, “Alfie Solomons…”

“Was my mother’s. Gave it to me when I came back from the war. On her death bed. Made me swear that I wouldn’t give it up for any pretty girl on the street. Had to give it to the one.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, “And I-“

“The one treacle. If you’ll have me.”

He shifted you in his lap, fully facing him, “Now… I had a whole event planned out. Garden stroll. Drinks. Music playing. And I know I’m a sorry old monster and you have loads of suitor-“

“Alfie-“

“But I swear on my life treacle, you’ll never want for anything. You will have freedom to do whatever you would hope to do. We’ll go anywhere. I’ll love you till the stars go out-“

“Alfie! Yes! Yes yes yes! I’ll marry you! You silly old man!”

You pushed him back and kissed him fiercely. With all the passion you had been hiding from your family for years. Until the acidic burn of reality came down, “But what about Tommy? Alfie you hate each other, he’ll never let me go.”

Rough hands running up and down your thighs, gazing in awe at the fiery halo surrounding you. “I was willing to go in and threaten blessing or death.”

“I won’t have you put in danger for love. This isn’t Shakespeare.”

With a laugh and kiss to your fingertips he whispers, “You got any ideas? I’m all ears.”

You try to think, but kept coming across a wall. Any option you thought of ended in bloodshed. You fell into the bed next to Alfie, curling into his chest, “I wish we could just run away.”

His arms tighten around you, “What if we did?”

It would happen three days before Tommy would come to fetch you. You dismissed Eden with an oath to secrecy, and for four days you played the part of excited bride to be. Purchasing things for a new marital home, a wedding dress and new wardrobe. Who cares if the detail of the lucky husband was slightly off?

Whenever your family called, you lied happily through your smiling teeth. At first you felt a twinge of guilt. But in the end, they stood by as your brothers sold you off. They lost the right to the truth. They hated Alfie, said as much any time they came to the house. They would never understand. They would never allow it. But this was your life. And you would be damned before you were cleaved from your beloved.

The men from the distillery made regular visits to the house in the middle of the night, picking up your things to take to Margate, dropping off love letters and updates from Alfie. With each passing day, your heart became lighter. The binds lessening. Freedom was right on your tongue.

Three days before Tommy, Arthur, and John are to pick you up, the horrific news explodes through Birmingham. The Shelby home in London: set ablaze. No survivors. The beautiful bride, burned alongside her wedding dress hanging in the window. The youngest Shelby girl, an angel amongst demons, taken too soon from the earth from a horrific accident. The fire so destructive, not even a body is there for a proper burial. Just ash and a memory of that sweet face. The funeral is horrible. Wailing and weeping from all of Birmingham. Aunt Polly could barely keep it together, blaming Tommy for it all. Even business acquaintances from London and beyond come to pay their respects. The most shocking visitor, was Mr. Solomons, who paid for the funeral itself, “I’m sorry Tommy for your loss. I really am. She was a sweet girl. But… she’s in a better place I’m sure.”

And what a better place that is. White washed home right on the beach, windows open at all times, with the sea breeze billowing pristine gossamer curtains in the wind. You spend your days reading and writing to your heart’s content, strolling the beach, playing with Cyril like a child. As Alfie settles affairs in Camden during the week, he visits during the weekend, serving and worshipping you like a goddess. He never gave you information about the family. You didn’t want it. That was your old life. A you that you couldn’t recognize. Here, in this life, you were free. Free to speak. Free to argue and give your mind.

After a month, Alfie permanently moves to Margate. Home. Retired from the gangster life with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life, with more than enough to comfort when he’s gone.

And the years pass blissfully. Just how it was in the beginning. Kisses and dancing and laughter and arguing and love and joy. 3 years of absolute heaven, you had nearly forgotten how it all was almost taken from you.

But the past does have a way of rearing its ugly head doesn’t it?

It’s the dawn of summer. The final kisses of spring bringing crisp clean air through your marital home. Alfie had never felt better. The pain in his body had long left him, only flaring during the coldest evenings. The dark circles under his eyes have dissolved. His face and body, fuller, firmer with the glowing health of a man at peace who works for life not death. You were upstairs, searching for the a particular spool of thread you had been working with for a blanket you had spent days on. But it needed to be done soon. Alfie shifted through the records you both had been collecting. Symphonies had become his special interest in the recent months, and he was looking for a particular composition that he felt would make your heart sing.

The heavy knock on the door sent the hair on his neck stand at attention.

Only one demon knocked like that.

His eyes shifted to the stairs. He could still hear you moving things around. Searching tirelessly for that spool. You’d be missing for a couple minutes. Enough to rebuke the vile creature from the door without your discovery.

With a deep breath, Alfie tries to remember the armor of his past. The Mad Baker. Just as another round of knocks was about to come, Alfie opened roughly, “Tommy! What are you doing here? Gates of hell need their master don’t they?”

He looked thinner than normal. It’s been years since the men had seen each other, but the difference was still shocking. Those icey blue eyes even more haunting than they were at the funeral. Gaunt cheeks and pale skin made him look like a living corpse. A flicker of a flame winked behind those eyes. Hope for another fight. Something to set him aflame. “Hello Alfie. Enjoying retirement?”

“Yeah actually I am so whatever you have up your sleeve I want no part in it so if you’ll just fuck off.”

Before Alfie could slam the door, Tommy stuck his foot in the door, “Not that simple Alfie. Worlds gone to shit and it needs Solomons to set it to right.”

“Your world not mine. Now get out.”

“I’m not going to leave until you let me in Alfie.”

Your angelic voice danced on the breeze down to the front door, “I found it! Alfie you would not believe where it was! I swear I’m losing my mind.”

Tommy’s face some how went paler. As if he heard Satan’s whisper of condemnation. Alfie tried to push the door closed, but with the strength of a mad man Tommy pushed past the threshold.

Tommy almost fainted.

This must be hell.

He must have died.

It’s the only rational idea.

God chose to lock him in the home of his biggest agitation, with the ghost of his dead baby sister.

But this couldn’t be your ghost. Your swollen belly proves this.

“Holy shit.” You drop the tea cup in your hands when you see Tommy. Tommy who wasn’t supposed to be here. Tommy who saw you buried and dead.

Alfie rushes in, pulling you behind his broad frame. Through his linen shirt, you feel the ragged breath and hammering heart of your husband. You feel faint. “Tommy… you need to leave right now.”

“You paid for the funeral.”

“Tommy we can do this later but you need to get out right now. I’m asking nicely.”

“You knew she was alive… you knew.”

“She is very delicate right now she does not need any excitement.”

“You fucking made her delicate! You compromised her you fucking bastard!”

You cried out as Tommy lunged for your husband, “Stop it Tommy! Enough! Get out of my house!”

Tommy stumbled, pointing at you, “You… you’re fucking sick. You’re demented! You caused Polly a near heart attack. You are disgusting!”

You push past Alfie, who is left watching, “I’m disgusting! You sold me off to some man. And for what? To get people to see you as a big man? Guess what Tommy, you will NEVER be good enough for them! They’ll always see people like us as trash! But you don’t care. Anything to get ahead right?! You’ll stoop as low as you need to ahead.”

Tommy laughed bitterly, holding back the urge to spit, “And what about you yeah? So spoiled that you throw the biggest tantrum of the century. Whore yourself out to the Mad Baker, and get knocked up with his bastard.”

“I’d stop talking if I were you Tommy.”, Alfie snarled darkly. Fists curling in. Like a wolf ready to devour.

“I’d rather be his whore than be a part of any family of yours. You can’t leave well enough alone. Murdering and slaughtering for some honor so quick to tarnish and fade away. You tried to lock me away, never taking a care to what I wanted or thought. But you can’t do that to me anymore. I’m a Solomons, and I carry his child. You can’t touch me.”

Tommy settled, steel washed over his face. “They have a right to know.”

“You all have a right to nothing. I’ll see the family when I’m good and ready.”

His eyes shift to Alfie, “You are evil incarnate. You are cursed.”

No sign of mirth reaches Alfie’s eyes when he smirks, “Careful Tommy. You know what they say about curses. Especially when you curse family.”

Without another word, Tommy storms out. As soon as the door slams, shaking the lamps, you let out the breath in your heavy lungs, “Holy Shit”.

Your knees give out from under you, and cold shakes roll through your body. Alfie grabbed your body, helping you into a chair. “Settle my love it’s alright he’s gone. What do you need? Baby ok?”

“No I’m ok thank you my love. I just… I need air. I can’t believe he came here. He knows. They all know.”

“Hush darling, breathe for me, settle your nerves, you don’t need to worry. They know but they can’t touch you. You’re my wife and they can’t get to you. You are your own woman. You are safe.”

“But what are we going to do. What if they come?”

“Then we’ll deal with them. I’ll have some boys come in, set up a watch. We won’t be caught off guard ever again.”

You nodded. Trusting the words of your husband. You felt an affirming kick in your ribs. The rushing of your heart. You had paradise for three years. You couldn’t run forever, no matter how far you got. The bell had finally tolled, and it was time to face it.

[bloodlustngore]

Safe space - Vanessa Shelly

Another Vanessa fic? I’m hyper-fixating atm so it’s to be expected.

In the middle of writing a Vanessa x fem!reader smut so for now you can all have another fluff one (with a tiny bit of suggestiveness). Kinda want to get these all out before my hyper-fixation on Vanessa stops but it’s probs not gonna for a while as I’m also replaying Security Breach rn.

Also sorry if this one is shit lol or doesn’t make sense half of these I write sleep deprived.

Summary: Vanessa comes home, stressed. She just wants comfort from Y/n.

This is a Vanessa x fem!reader one-shot :)

God, this might shift and patrol was stressful. Vanessa found out that her father employed another security guard...she was worried and she also had to go meet him, and check up on how he was doing.

Vanessa just wanted to sleep, which was unusual for the blonde, because she rarely could...mostly she just wanted to be at home with her girlfriend, her safe space. She was relieved when she could come home, it was four in the morning and she knew her girlfriend would be asleep.

It had been pouring it down with rain tonight and luckily Y/n convinced Vanessa to wear her long water proof coat. But that still didn't stop her much from getting her hair wet a bit, since she forgot to put the hood up.

Locking the door behind her and getting in her routine habit of checking all the rooms downstairs at home, everything was locked. Vanessa did this because she was scared that something could happen to Y/n...considering Vanessa' father is William Afton, after all. Vanessa knew he could easily use her girlfriend against her. And that's why she was scared to get too close to someone but it was too late now, it had been since she first met Y/n two years ago.

Her father hadn't threatened her with Y/n yet...but it was still a possibility if she didn't do as he asked, anymore.

Vanessa headed upstairs after putting her coat away and took off her shoes, if she didn't Y/n would have her head. Leaving her bag down stairs but she still took her gun with her, in case. Y/n had one to...because she knew what she'd gotten herself into getting close to Vanessa.

The blonde stripped off her cop uniform, and threw in an old t-shirt with lounge shorts. Taking her hair out of the pony tail and into a messy bun instead. She glanced over at Y/n who was fast asleep, as she turned the lamp on at her side of the bed.

Crawling into bed, Vanessa turned off the lamp, cuddling up to her girlfriend and wrapping an arm around her stomach, protectively. Suddenly Y/n stirred awake, turning over to face Vanessa. "Nessa, you're home" she smiled tiredly, her eyes slowly opened.

"I'm glad you're back. I missed you." Y/n' voice was a bit groggily from the fact she's still tired and just woke up. "I missed you too baby, it's been a hell of a night. But we can talk about it in the morning." Vanessa paused as she kissed the tip of Y/n' nose.

"Okay. C'mere" Y/n chuckled, tiredly. Vanessa was already so close to her as it is, until the blonde understood what Y/n was after, she closed the gap between their faces and kissed Y/n' lips. The kiss was soft and full of passion, then Y/n kissed back making it sloppy due to her tiredness.

Vanessa was so tempted to get on top of Y/n but she stayed at the side, kissing her. Knowing that if they started this now, there would be no sleep for either of them for a while. Their kiss continued, breathing heavy, Vanessa made Y/n moan into the kiss slightly when her hand squeezed her inner thigh, prompting the blonde to deepen the kiss with her tongue.

Vanessa pulled away eventually, both women's chests heaving, a strand of saliva connected until they broke apart. "As much as I'd like to continue Y/n, we need to get some rest."

Y/n chuckled "yeah you're right." Pausing to check her phone "fuck me it's four a.m."

Vanessa smirked at her girlfriend "tempting..."

Y/n rolled her eyes "cheeky. But you need rest, babe."

"Fine. Goodnight Y/n. I love you."

"I love you too Nessa" she kissed her softly, wrapping her arms around Y/n once again, feeling happy that she's in the company of her girlfriend, and that she gets to cuddle with her for the rest of the night...or early morning.

[allmyocsarebritish]

Confessions

Pairing: Velvette X reader

Warnings(?): a bit rushed, i had a dream about Vel and this is what came of it, my share pony is called Velvet so this was a little odd ngl

Your close friendship with Velvette allowed you to see a side of her contrasting the way she presented herself to the rest of hell. It was nice, to see her acting sweet and soft, doting on her best friend.

Almost loving.

Although that was most likely your imagination, right? Of course: you slept in the same bed at sleepovers every night; shared a ridiculously oversized wardrobe; were eachother's first kiss; and spent all day practically glued at the hip, but that was just friendship. Right? You weren't stupid: you knew of your feelings for the young overlord. But the thought of them being reciprocated felt so inconceivable that you pushed down any hope of something more than friendship.

You sat cross-legged on Vel's queen-sized bed, the immaculate fuchsia sheets crisp and cool beneath you. On the other side of her luxurious room, Velvette sat at her dresser, mindlessly scrolling on her phone whilst waiting for her straighteners to heat enough to use.

"You know," you began, catching her attention as she turned her head to look at you. "I don't know why you insist on using those every day. I like your hair the way it is naturally."

"Are you questioning my sense of style, Y/N?" She asked, though her wide grin betrayed her attempt to seem offended. "Anyone but you would be dead for that, babe."

You tried not to show the way heat flushed your cheeks at the nickname. However, Vel being Vel noticed immediately.

"Aww, what's the matter? Flustered?" She taunted you, hopping off her chair and waltzing over. Your thoughts began to whirr at her words, were you so obvious? Did she know how you felt about her? You felt a tiny dip in the bed as Velvette sat next to you.

"Who, me? Pfft, no!" You decided to play into it, joining her in the banter. "It's just warm in here."

"It's cause I'm here." You scoffed at her 'joke', rolling your eyes. In a way that couldn't be any less subtle if you tried, you decided to stand up at that moment, mumbling something about checking her straighteners weren't overheating. As luck would have it, they were just about ready to use.

"They're done, Vel." You told her, turning around and making eye contact. Her face was mostly neutral, though there was a just noticeable hint of confusion and racing thoughts behind her expression. You felt the nerves sieze you at the prospect of her catching onto you, but you suppressed them, not wanting to draw out the awkwardness of the conversation. Vel slowly pushed herself off the bed and made her way over to you, uncharacteristically reserved.

Velvette sat down on the chair at her dresser, facing away so that you had complete access to her hair, but you stepped in front of her.

"What's on your mind?" You gently poked her forehead, hoping you hadn't made her uncomfortable with your barely concealed feelings. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, pinching her nose bridge, and you could swear your racing heartbeat was audible. The silence was drawn out and you began to panic.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong if you don't want to, V." You decided to give her space, pivoting so you once again stood behind her.

You gently gathered her hair and began to get to work on styling it, exceptionally careful not to pull or snag, and gently running your fingers through her soft curls.

Velvette was always observant, able to pick up on signs of how others were feeling. She did it at the overlord's meeting with Carmilla, she did it when communicating a business pitch, she did it when around Vox and Val - their moods were the most unpredictable. But you confused her, and it was incredibly frustrating for the young overlord. She couldn't interpret the inconsistent signals you emitted, and she was too scared of losing you to assume. Her pride refused to allow her to admit this however, so she continued to question in silence for as long as possible. Her need for attention led to attempts at dropping hints herself, but you were either oblivious or dismissive, and she was reaching the end of her tether.

"How do you feel about me?" Her question caught you off guard and you stopped in your tracks, frozen like a deer in headlights. (aLaStOr MenTiOnEd?!?!) Oh, now you were certain she was onto you. You swallowed thickly, aware that there was no going back from this. However, you still continued your vain attempt to play cool.

"I think that I'm honoured to have you as my best friend, you're smart, successful-"

"That's not answering the question."

Shit.

"Vel, I-" you took a deep breath. Now or never.

"I really like your stupid face and I couldn't live without it."

The drawn out silence lead you to question if maybe you said the wrong thing. Until it was broken by Vel's light-hearted laugh, one reserved for only you.

"I love you, you daft sod."

"I love you too." You grinned, smiling at her as she turned around in her chair. Velvette opened her arms and you slot in them, embracing her tightly and allowing relief to wash over you.

"But call my face stupid again and I'll drop you off in cannibal town."

[outsidersheadcanons]

Gang hugging headcanons? Like the kinda they give and how they would react to a hug?? They deserve to be happy :(

Okayyy :D

Darry

He gives bear hugs. big, crushing hugs. Extra pts if he lifts u up or smth. Darry hugging someone is pretty rare (and he's usually emotional when he does). He's a little awkward when he receives one but he appreciates it <3

Soda

Soda gives the best hugs (he sometimes jokes he's an expert, but he's not wrong). Bro LOVES hugs too. If u hugged him you're instantly a green flag to him (which can be good but also astronomically bad. bro's sometimes a red flag magnet).

Ponyboy

Ponyboy isn't much of a hugger compared to Soda, but he'll give you a side hug (he's not a fan of hugs from people that aren't the gang or his brothers, so he'd probably. freeze up if someone tried to hug him).

Johnny

He's not used to hugs at all :( the first person who ever hugged him was Mrs. Curtis when he was around eight (poor Johnny). The only people he'll hug are Ponyboy and Dally, and he gives pretty good hugs. But if someone else tried to hug him he'd probably flinch

Steve

He wasn't hugged much as a child I mean look at him 💀 but he doesn't mind hugs from the gang that much. (esp from Soda. he loves when Soda's affectionate towards him). But anyone else? Hell no. One time his grandma tried to hug him and he literally slithered away 🐍

Two-bit

He gives pretty similar hugs to Darry (bro WILL crush your lungs) but it's a lot more frequent and he does it mostly to mess w/ the others in the gang. Sometimes he'll just. lift up Steve or Pony for the hell of it

Dally

Dally HATES affection (he's kinda like a cat) and he WILL use violence towards anyone that comes into his personal space w/o permission. The only times he really hugs is when he's trying to comfort Johnny (esp after his parents kicked him out or hit him too hard). Mrs. Curtis hugged him a lot when she was alive :(

[gooppoo]

love love love your work. could i request a jealous jake in his rut with the spitting and degradation kink and just him being a dickhead 🤭 thank you so much love 🥰

i hope you don't mind lovely anon, but im gonna continue on the dilf Jake train with this one ;)

what good is jealousy?

Requests Closed!!

mdni.

warnings: spitting, degradation, jealousy, Jake being mean (cums and dies), sloppy toppy (Jake receiving), swearing

Okay but let's talk about how much meaner dilf Jake can be.

How much more jealous he can be.

You weren't even trying to provoke him, when you did it was usually very obvious in your flirty body language and foxy glances. But here, you had made Tonowari a soup that had many different healing and nutrient dense ingredients, seeing as he had been recovering from a nasty cold. You had shyly laughed at one of his simple jokes, and left him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Not in a million years would it cross your mind that your husband standing behind you would erupt in a jealous fury. It was immature of him to react this way - insecure at best - but if you kissed Tonowari, then who else were you kissing?

This simple, almost mindless event had Jake leaping into action. He gripped your arm and yanked you back to your shared space, closing the exits frantically. Before you could address his unprompted madness, he had your jaw forcefully in his hand.

"What the hell was that? Hm?" There was a furious flame flickering in his narrowing pupils.

When you didn't answer, he demanded, "Open your mouth. Now," your tongue was presented to him, and he spat distastefully into your mouth, "Would you let Tonowari do that? I bet you would, disgusting bitch." He scoffed at himself, at you, "Gonna fuck him right out of that pretty little, dumb head of yours. On your knees."

This was your punishment. You should've known you were Jake's and Jake's alone. Once on your knees, there was a flood of flashbacks of many lustful nights where Jake had outdone himself in proving that he could only reign over you. The nights where you came so many times you instantly fell asleep afterward. Times where he slammed his insanely big cock into you so fucking good you literally saw stars. Truthfully, you should've saw this coming, but you weren't going to make an effort to avoid Jake displaying his power over you.

Still in that genteel way, Jake delicately combed the hair from your face and pulled into a neat pony tail in his abnormal hand.

"Don't fucking look at me like that. You did this to yourself. You made your bed, lay in it." He tsked.

Nodding pitifully, you shifted aside his loincloth and took hold of the one responsible for the most unforgettable nights of your life. He was only half hard, so your workload was nearly doubled. But with his growing age, he was easier to arouse, and quicker to finish.

The first, pathetic kitten lick to his tip had his abdomen tightening to reveal a shadow of what used to be his stiff abs. Often he complained of this, but truthfully, you enjoyed the fluffier look. More for you to enjoy!

After shamefully hissing at the sensation, he took his embarrassment out on you, "Really? You think that's all it takes? Use your fucking head, whore."

After tugging at your pony tail, you took his awful words into consideration and stroked your hand along his inches to promote blood flow. And when he started to stiffen to his full length, you experimented with swirling your tongue around his tip. Hearing him lowly groan and watching his thighs flex was a sight that never disappointed to excite you.

Jake sighed, "Stop it with the teasing, when I said use your head-" he pushed half of his length past your lips "-I meant it." A longer, guttural sigh emitted from his throat.

His tip reached the reactive part of your throat that made you gag, "Yeah, that's it, that's what I like to hear."

Jake didn't give you many chances to do the work he had you set to do. He wasn't afraid to take the reigns and roll his hips in and out of your hollowed cheeks, feeling your tongue caress and slither on the underside of his cock. Droplets of pre-cum were welcomed on your tastebuds and mixed with the remains of his spit in your mouth. The mouth that clearly belonged to Jake.

After while, the effort became collaborative, and you were working your mouth as much as he was his rolling hips. More ragged breathing and the tiniest of moans reached your ears.

Jake struggled to form a sentence through his groaning, "Holy shit - ngh- where the hell did you learn to do this so good? Fuck, yeah, do that again - oh-"

What was once pure humiliation spewing from him, was now stumbling phrases of surprise. But this could only last for so long.

As much as he wanted to rut into your mouth, the combining ministrations had Jake whining more than acting, "Fuck baby I'm close. C'mon, show me what you got."

You focused your attention on his tip and the movement of your tongue, pumping the remaining inches with your slippery palm. Knowing all of this was caused by you brought about a spurt of confidence. It also had you squirming on your heels to ease some of the painfully uncomfortable want below your own loincloth.

Sooner than you expected, Jake's waist became stationary, and his abdomen flexed and relaxed with his labored breathing. Against your palm and tongue you felt a faint twitch and pulse, one that was more telling than you thought.

"Fucking slut - shit I'm cumming -!"

He had failed to mention that as half of his load was already dripping down your sore throat. But you let him finish, pulling every bit from him by flicking your wrist. Jake's head had rolled back, his choked moans reverberating off the walls.

"Goddamnit..." his features scrunched up when the last few drops of his cum coated your tongue.

Tired, his eyes fell forward to you, and purred for you to swallow what he had given to you. His free hand gently cradled your cheek and the end of his tail tickled your shoulder affectionately. You parted your lips again to show him your clean tongue.

His thumb caressed your cheekbone sweetly, "Yeah, looks good baby," he helped you to your feet and met your gaze, "Now...don't do that shit again. As much as I love fuckin' your face, I don't want to do it because you can't behave. Yeah? C'mere."

A tender kiss and warm embrace was exactly what you needed to learn your lesson.

[punkitt-is-here]

This has been in my head for a year and sometimes it keeps me up at night. At 2023 EFNW, we were hanging out at the bottom of the escalators outside the vendor hall. A guy in a green 4chan shirt came up to our group and said how much he admired your comics, and gave you a Lyra "numget" sticker. I didn't manage to catch the name tag on the person, but there's 3 people I think who it could have been. Two of which spent June of 2020 making shitloads of extremely racist pony artwork of George Floyd, and the third just hangs out with the other two in online spaces. Nowadays the group just kinda does crypto-fashy stuff. Anyways I was really awkward at the time and I wanted to say something after the fact to you but I didn't really think it was my place. Ever since then I've _really_ wondered how that guy sees you as a person now. I hope they've gone on to become a better person. Keep being awesome

oh my god i still have that sticker i think. what da hell.

[ntls-24722]

"what if i turned my mutuals' sonas into bolur creatures"

so i did turn my mutuals' sonas into bolur creatures. and.... im sorry in advance.

@wakebymoonsleepbysun

The creature the most related to the homo mousike: the waeki, the zebraelf equivalent to an old world monkey, and looking quite the part. Sorry, I King Julien'd you, it was the only way. The digits on the hand aren't as flexible as they are in zebraelves and the limbs are more evenly spaced - no hexapodality, but very stable chameleon-like walking across trees and land coral. The waeki is one of the oldest members of their order, the trendsetters of velvet worm-style Goop Shooters and the flexible shoulders and wrists. The mane, though, is a waeki special.

@artastic-friend

Portmanteau of March and babirusa, inspired by how that horn grows! Instead of horns, instead of antlers, that head protrusion are two teeth that grew up and out of the top of the mouth into a giant, 2-pronged tusk instead of a normal tooth. Because, yknow, who wants a regular old tooth like that? Everyone's done that already. The hooves make them a part of the same order as Debu, though the mountain cows are a bit more removed. Instead of just a long pupil, the whole eye is long, too.

@thebookowal

Sorry, it gets weird from here on out. The task was making a skeleton be a fully fledged critter, and the normal route I would've gone was making your sona into a bug since bugs have external skeletons. But for some reason, I could not tell you why, I had the compulsion to make you be able to roll up or compact yourself. To do it horizontally though, bah, armadillos, isopods, millipedes, they already do that. I wanted vertical compaction.

So, those are not ribs sicking out the sides - those are the claws of the 2nd limb of this hexapod. When threatened, the buk'wal flips over and on its back with its belly exposed. If a predator makes the foolish mistake of trying to take advantage of its exposed belly (either by trying to pet it or eat it), the buk'wall snaps its claws together in a bear-trap fashion, nabbing whatever poor fool tried to touch it.

@lyman-garfiel

This is more like a revamping of a pre-existing idea, but Scarab The God Auditor from Fionna and Cake is new.

There was supposed to be more bugs in here, so I guess i'm just hitting double with these two. The lionfleas and omen work together the same way wolves and corvids do: the omen are expert spotters but lionfleas are expert hunters, as they are the only predator of Debu. Omen lead the lionfleas to lone debu (which is how they got their name), and the lionfleas pounce on, holding on with their two raptorial claws and raking the bare flesh with their legs. Debu don't actually have very thick skin at all, and lionfleas are more than capable to inflict lots of damage extremely quickly.

this is literally just scarab. Scarab is just very easy to bolur-ize, i guess.

Bonus: The original bolur creature concept for wakey.

Okay. I can't turn your sona into "the freaky blood pony that people think is going to hell and everyone wants to eat" and expect a good reaction. That's not how this works. This one was literally too weird but the lore fascinated me to the point this might just stay as an unaffiliated creature. It got weird because I tried to make the bun into a flower in the back of the head, i wondered what to make the nectar... I ruined it.

The hellion is named for both the blood constantly dripping down its head and the bloodwasps it brings - Debu believe that there is no afterlife for the animal as its' head seems to be compromised, and the sting of the bloodwasps it harbors is excruciatingly painful, with stories of its attacks on predators sending them to jump off cliffs from the pain. The hellion lives in symbiosis with the bloodwasps - its blood is exceptionally high in sugar and the bloodwasps lap it up from an non-painful opening in the back of its head in exchange for protecting their host. They live in the long hairs of its backmost limbs and when threatened, the hellion shakes its back limbs to spur them into action, which is often desperately needed.

I cannot stress that the hellion is delicious. The high blood sugar makes it the sweetest meat you could taste. Even in bolur's modern era, the meat is insanely expensive because it's also extremely hard to harvest. Handling hellion is, however, hell. The bloodwasps are not able to be removed from the equation, their saliva keeps the hellion alive by making it able to withstand the hardening of its blood vessels. The best that has been able to be done is socializing the hellion and its bloodwasp bodyguards around homo mousike, who offer sugar water in return for harvesting some of its blood.

Anyways, if I didn't draw you, don't fret, I'll probably do it sometime later :>

[lullabyes22-blog]

[Farnsworth voice] Good news everyone! The Zaun crew has been invited to a week-long excursion to a Demacian farm for [unintelligible] reasons! How will these city slickers fare in a rural environment? The rolling fields, the wide open sky, the stench of manure, the straw hats, the vaguely Arthurian Camelot backdrop! Hell yeah, random Farm Episode!

How did this happen? Who was responsible for the invitations? How did the Zaunites agree to this???

Whatever the case, there they are in the rolling Demacan plains.

The first thing everyone does is complain - vociferously - about the lack of smog, the wide open spaces and the beautiful, bright sunshine.

They all agree, as a whole, that country living is a horrid bore and they should return home immediately.

Dustin heads to the nearest tavern to see whether the hooch is any good. Said excursion ends in a bloody bar-brawl, after Dustin meets the bright-eyed daughter of the local blacksmith, and takes great delight in debauching her thoroughly in the alleyside - before her brothers stumble upon the scene and dispense their own brand of justice. He gets thrown into the pokey, where his cellmates are none too pleased by his abrasive Zaunite attitude and his willingness to engage in casual shit-talk with the rats. He gets roughed up pretty bad before his teammates come to bail him out.

All in all though, he rates the experience 10/10. Highly recommend.

Lock is intrigued by the local cuisine. He samples the fried chicken, and declares it 'okayish', though he thinks there's not enough pepper. He is intrigued by the cornbread, but has difficulty eating it without cutting it into squares. He's not a fan of the apple pie, because he's never tasted an apple in his life. He does, however, like the local hooch.

Filling up a flaskful, he finds the closest portion of quiet woodland, then reclines under a shady tree for a nap. He wakes up hours later to the melody of singing birds - a soundtrack he finds at first alien, then downright unsettling.

He hurries back to camp to demand that someone do something about the creepy racket.

Ran stalks off to the nearest pasture and watches the ponies graze. They're very pretty, and Ran decides they want one. They attempt to bargain a price with the ranch owner, only to be shut down. Ran shrugs, walks off, then waits until sundown when the owner's gone to bed. They creep back to the stables and steal the prize filly. The rest of the crew demand to know how the beast will acclimate to life in the Sump. Ran suggests setting up a stable in the Promenade, spray-painting the pony black with neon streaks, then unleashing it periodically into the streets to terrorize the chem-barons whenever they step out of line.

The others are intrigued, if not completely sold on the idea. They all agree it's a pretty piece of horseflesh, though.

Sevika has no patience for pastoral pursuits. She hits up the nearest saloon, and demands to know if there's a good underground fighting pit around here. The locals are wary, but she wields a very persuasive glower and a more compelling left hook, so they point her towards the barn at the edge of town. Inside, there's a huge circle of hay bales, and a chalkboard for wagering. The local champions are a pair of milk-fed farm boys who think their biceps make them kings of the ring. Sevika is more than happy to knock their blocks off in five minutes flat.

She walks away with a cool six hundred, and the satisfaction of a job well done. The rest of her days are spent fleecing the locals in card games and racking up a small fortune in winnings.

Silco is mildly amused by the jaunt. Then mildly bored. The fresh air and reposeful quiet have their charms. But the lack of industrial din has a stultifying effect on his mind, which hinges on the constant stimuli of schemes and machinations and intrigues. He spends the first few days catching up on his reading and taking leisurely strolls with Jinx through the countryside. But soon, the restlessness sets in, and he begins to long for the familiar embrace of his city, its dark alleys and back-door deals, and the siren call of danger around every turn. He's got a nation to liberate, goddammit, and the vast openness of the fields makes him feel small and insignificant.

His ambitions are bigger than this. And the alcohol is way weaker than what he's accustomed to.

So, as is his habit, he entrenches himself in the county hall and quietly sets to work learning all about the local politics. The sheriff, the mayor, the aldermen, the land-owners - everyone is observed closely. By the week's end, he's got a map of their families and associates, the skeletons in their closets, and a handful of names he can use to blackmail them at his leisure.

After a fortnight, he's extorted all the cash from the mayor's coffers and funneled it back to Zaun, where it'll be put to better use than funding the upkeep of some faux-medieval village. He's also convinced the aldermen to rezone a section of farmland into a commercial district. This, he points out, would bring much needed income to the local economy, as well as alleviate the current housing shortage. He even convinces a couple of the locals to strike out and try their luck in Zaun, where the payoff is better, the beer is stronger, and the company is far more exciting.

The feather in his cap is bedding the mayor's wife - and sweet-talking her into convincing her husband to retire early.

By the end of the excursion, Silco has the township in his pocket, and the farm has a brand new mayor, with a brand new set of loyalties.

Long live Zaun.

Jinx is in heaven. There's plenty of wide open space, no shortage of wild critters, and no one's likely to arrest her for roughhousing a bear or a putting bow-ties on a deer. Also: have you seen the size of the shotguns they're packing in this joint?

Boy, oh boy, she's gonna have a ball.

She sets up a shooting range with a dozen tin cans, and proceeds to blow them to hell with a sawed-off double barrel. The unwieldy thing's not as clean a shot as Puff-Puff, but the sheer concussive force of the blast is an intoxicating rush.

She's got her eye on a prize: the cracked bronze bell in the clock tower. If she can shoot it right off the top, the reverberation of the ringing sound will be enough to drive the townspeople insane, and the cacophony will summon every spook, spirit and spectre in the local vicinity. It will also temporarily deafen the bank tellers and the local clergy, leaving the door wide open for her to raid the safe and steal a bunch of gold bars to give to Silco, 'cause it's his birthday next month, and Silly deserves to spoil himself.

And spoil her, too.

She wants a brand-new set of glow-paints.

The only real obstacle to her plan is the town's one and only sheriff. She's not intimidated, because the sheriff's a portly, balding man with a lazy eye. But he's got a pretty nasty dog. It's a huge, vicious-looking Rottweiler, and reminds her the tiniest bit of Vi, which makes her sad and irritates her in equal measure, because why can't Vi stop following her around and just let her destroy public property in peace?

In any case, it's no biggie, because she has a trick up her sleeve: a sackful of raw ground meat, a rubber ball and a length of fishing twine.

She waits until sundown, when the streets are clear, then ties the ball to the twine and lobs it into the sheriff's backyard. The bait is too good to resist, and the dog comes bounding down after the bouncing ball. When it stumbles upon the ground-meat, it digs in like a pig in muck, and doesn't even notice when Jinx shoots a tranquilizer dart into its flank.

With the hound subdued, she slips into the house, and ties up the sleeping sheriff. She then steals a bunch of pricey family heirlooms, and takes a bunch of silver candlesticks for good measure. She also helps herself to a few bottles of wine and the keys to the sheriff's truck. Then she hops behind the wheel, drives into town, and parks outside the belltower.

It takes a while to hoist herself up to the perfect vantagepoint, but when she's done, she can see all the way down to the main street.

She sets her sights on the bronze bell and lets her shotgun rip.

The ensuing clang is deafening, and the reverberations ring all the way to the outskirts of town. She cackles madly, as the townsfolk begin to pour out of their homes: screaming and clutching their heads. The whole scene is straight out of one of those cheesy old-timey movies Silco likes so much. She takes a moment to admire the chaos.

Then she slips down and into the emptied bank, and makes a quick score of gold bars, before slipping away.

She's feeling generous, so she drops by the town bakery and buys fifteen cake-pops, twelve cupcakes and three dozen doughnuts. She also snags a a cherry strudel for Silco, because she knows it's his favourite.

Happy birthday, Silly.

And now for her next trick.

She's gonna make the pigs in the barn fly.

(Jinx succeeds in the endeavour. None of the pigs survive the ordeal, though, and eye-witnesses are traumatized. The local authorities are baffled, and are unable to pin the crime on anyone. The entire incident is blamed on 'The Cursed Bell' - which had rung of its own accord, and caused untold damage to the local psyche and economy.)

(Not to mention compelled the sheriff to quit his post, and move across the country to seek professional help.)

[offt0wonderland]

The Runaways Fanfiction

The Outsiders x fem OC

word count 3.6k

Quick summary: A young Soc finds herself thrown into a loop once she befriends Pony and his family.

I continued to keep my distance, pausing each time Pony stopped to look at himself in the mirror. I’d twirl around, finding a small hidden space while I observed the comb running over his greased-up hair for the tenth time. Frankly, it was kind of funny how much he cared for his appearance – but it was also annoying; all I wanted to do was to drop off the journal and make my way back to my own part of town. The place that didn’t give me the creeps. Yet it seemed as if Pony was enjoying his casual stroll, not a care in the world with how quickly he’d appear in his home.

It took about ten minutes before he finally turned his last corner, trudging past a rusted gate and up the steps of a dilapidated home: The outer walls were painted eggshell white, chips and nails protruded from the corners of the architecture, and each step had a five-inch crack imbedded within. Honestly, the house was even worse than I had imagined it to be. There was no way in hell my brain could decipher how someone could live there for years on end – I mean, it appeared as if it was bound to collapse on itself within a few months.

The insides of my cheeks puffed out, a hesitation on my end halting me from following the path Pony effortlessly laid out for me. It was like all the muscles of my legs had stationed themselves firmly on the ground beneath, fear coursing my veins once more. I wasn’t sure if I was even going to be able to do it; I’d have walked this whole way, skipped an important lecture, and still ended up not finishing the one mission I set out to do. “Ugh, don’t be such a darn chicken …”

But I was. I couldn’t do it – I wouldn’t do it. I turned on my heels, preparing to find my way back to a comfort zone until a low voice spoke up from behind. “Are you lost?” I whipped my head around, eyeing the older man that had his arms crossed sharply across his chest. He seemed to be somewhere in his twenties, or at least looked like it. His brows pointed inwards, the rounds of his eyes dragging down to my outfit; a sense of confusion as to why a Social had somehow found herself eyeing his home.

I swiftly shook my head, taking a tiny gulp before speaking. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but is Ponyboy there?” Of course he was there, I just saw him walk in – such an idiot.

The man took a second, contemplating if he should grab the young boy in his home, but he soon obliged. “Pony!”

“What?!” I could hear Pony’s voice ring out in the background.

“Come here.”

“Uh-oh, someone’s getting their butt whooped for skipping class.” A more accented voice spoke up, which soon earned him a couple of yelps as slapping sounds echoed off the inside walls.

“Shut up Two-Bit, at least I know what obtuse means.” Pony sauntered towards the front, his shoulder leaning against the door frame as his eyes fixated on the man. “Darry, what’s – ” It wasn’t long before his voice trailed off, his eyes scanning over towards me outside of his gate. And just like Darry’s his brows sunk inwards.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” Darry backed away from the crowded front, slamming the door shut behind him in an effort to give us some privacy.

The two of us reveled in the silence for a few seconds, unsure of what words to say given that we’d never acknowledged each other in class. But then it hit me, all I had to do was show him the journal and he’d know. I cleared my throat, placing my bag on the floor as I rummaged through it to grab the same brown leather booklet he left in class. “You forgot this.”

Pony was swift to move towards me, grabbing the book from my hands and flipping through each page to observe the state of it. A sigh of relief was quick to escape his lips once he realized it was still in-tact. “Damn, I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, that’s why … I grabbed it.” Once again, we were engulfed in the quietude, no new words able to be mustered between us. It was all the more reason for me to get the hell out of there, pretend that none of this had ever happened. “Well, goodbye.”

A loud abrupt slam forced me to avert my attention, a sense of distraction that kept me from turning on the balls of my feet. “You gonna invite her in Pony?!” I narrowed my eyes, observing a younger boy pressed against the film of the window. His blue collared shirt was fully unbuttoned, exposing the streak of dirt and gas that covered his chest.

“Oh man, I love bird-watching.” The same thick voice that spoke up earlier was heard right after, only he didn’t have a work shirt on. It appeared as though he was fonder of cartoons, wearing a Mickey Mouse cut off that showed the muscles he acquired overtime.

I lightly tilted my head, confused at the random comment the boy, who I now gathered as Two-Bit, had made about bird watching. But Pony was quick to speak back up, taking me away from peering up at the sky for any Cardinals. “How do you know where I live?”

“I don’t – well, I didn’t … I followed you.” He seemed taken aback by that comment, unsure if that was meant as a compliment or a threat. So, I rambled back on again, making the situation even more awkward than it already was. “I mean, I don’t normally follow you – or anyone for that matter … I just wanted to give it to you today, in case you needed it to finish your essay over the weekend.”

He nodded slowly in understanding, a hint of disbelief still resonating off of him. “Yeah … Well, I already finished the essay.”

“But, you said that you didn’t,” Now it was my turn to be confused. “I don’t understand, why lie?”

“Didn’t need a good for nothing Soc on my case, wasn’t in the mood for it today.” He shoved the journal into the back of his pants, his eyes now fixated on the area behind me.

“Dennis – he … yeah, no there’s actually no redeeming qualities about him,” Pony chuckled along with me, finding humor that I also couldn’t fathom the idea of the horrid Soc boy we shared a class with. “Well, if it’s any constellation I’m cranked to hear what you wrote.”

Pony nodded at my compliment, taking a bit of courage from that statement; but it was soon overshadowed once a dark cloud hovered over me. I scrunched the tip of my nose, confused as to why his posture had switched so suddenly.

Did I have lipstick on my teeth?

Yet my questions were shortly answered once a pair of hands covered my eyes, encasing me in a darkness. “You got to be more careful out in these areas sweetheart, might find yourself kidnapped.”

Read the whole chapter here: The Runaways | Quotev

[dallasgallant]

Another detail I absolutely adore that the movie captures perfectly is just how real the relationships are. I made a post a while ago and I’ll say it again, how despite all they go through the gang is just a bunch of teen boys. They eat a lot, they have too much energy, too much emotion, they roughhouse and make fun of each other but are a shoulder to cry on etc.

I love the chaos of it all. Amplified by the cast and how they make a space feel lived in, I can see the Curtis home invaded and hung out in all the time etc. This scene is everything. Soda sitting on the couch naked then running around getting changed, Steve knowing where to get breakfast and eating it on the couch. Darry and Pony having a convo ignoring everyone else— hell, two bit literally goes to take a piss in the middle of the scene and it only adds to the— I keep saying it but the realism. Not shying away from that and maybe playing into the “guys are gross” thing because he did not close that door lmao

[sinning-23]

My Latest crush is an alien car from space Pt.3

Yall is eating this UPPP (rise of the mirage simps lmao) and I appreciate that so so much! Thank you all for the 300+ followers that's insane! Also, the taglist got bigger too! I got yall don't even worry about it lol. Anywho, there's a fuck ton of tension in this one and in the final part, I think yall know what's going diz-ownnnnn (alexa play pony by genuine) Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

(Heres the link to pt.2 luv)

(Heres the FINALE)

Without further ado, ENJOY! (this one is a little short but pt.4 will be kinda lengthy)

Pt.3 

Gimmie one margarita imma…

He was far taller than Mirage, robotic features more stressed-looking than anything. And before either you Noah or Mirage could protest, he pick you up by your shirt, your hands reaching to flatten your skirt. There was about a 99% chance you’d just flashed both Noah and Mirage. 

The larger bot who you assumed was named Prime scans you, and soon his voice sends shivers down your spine. 

“Who are you?” 

The question is simple really but knowing you and the fact that he just picked you up with no kind of manners makes you slightly more irritable in your answer. Maybe you were a little butt hurt Mirage didn’t volunteer this information about there being other to you but know him he’d probably just say ‘You never asked!’ With that stupid, pretty, dumb, adorable look on his faceplates.

“I’m not answering anything because you just picked me up and expected me to give you answers. That’s rude first of all. Mirage, come get him-” You huff, seeing the larger bot raise a brow in response and look at the silver and blue-clad Autobot.

Mirage only chuckles nervously, removing you from Prime’s grasp, and putting his hands up in defense. You’d been only a tinnny bit aggressive when you’d met a couple days ago so why he expected you to be all peaches and cream with Optimus somewhat interrogating you, he had no idea. 

“Listen, had another tiny setback. I promise this one isn’t always so…fussy. She’s cool. Cross my spark.” He explains nervously, seeing Prime's optics narrow. This mf just called you fussy? Like a damn infant??? 

You go to speak out, but the depth sounding in Prime’s vocalizer makes you freeze. 

“You seem to have no concept of that undercover means. How you’ve landed in this predicament twice still baffles me” Prime sighs, looking back down at you. 

You’d managed to take refuge behind Mirage, still embarrassed by the fact that you were almost 100% sure he got a glimpse of your panties. Despite the garage being empty yesterday, it obviously had some other tenants who hadn’t a clue in the world you existed until now. This was way outta your league. Robots and 3 more of them at that, were far too overwhelming and you’d be damned if you wound up in the middle of some cyber bullshit.

Sure you liked Mirage, his personality and kind of play boyish looks made you swoon MAYBE a little bit….but from the looks of it, there were already girls like that back where he lived, hell one of them was just standing behind Prime while he chewed out Mirage…..AND WHY WAS SHE KINDA CAKED UP? That was beside the point though, they already had one human (Noah), and Prime wasn't looking for any extras (you) from what it looked like. 

Taking your chance to escape, you grab your purse and slide out of the garage quietly. The others were going from somewhat scolding Mirage to discussing a plan for something you didn’t quite care about at the moment. The best option was to disengage and maybe things could go back to normal! You could pack up for your apartment. Go back to work, maybe you’d do something with mechanics after this instead of nursing all day? You pop your AirPods in and press shuffle. 

It was getting late but there was just enough sun to find you a spot to wait for an Uber home. You’d talk with Mirage later, it looked like he had other priorities. Speaking of which, what was that whole interaction??? You shake the thought away, that moan replaying in your mind. This was so wrong.

Your heart beats faster at the thought of how he seemed to melt under you, his servos hovering over your hips, wanting to touch but being so unsure. The way his otic seemed to be hazy and the way his fan picked up in speed. You run your hands down your face and sigh, definitely feeling like a drink would be the best option….speaking of which, you never did get your night out.

_______________

It didn’t take long before Mirage realized you weren’t behind him. You’d obviously hightailed it during Optimus’s scolding and slipped past him like a thief in the night. Part of him knows you’re capable of handling yourself but the other half knows it’s not safe, especially now that you both have been formally introduced. And with what Arcee had reported, Brooklyn wasn’t getting any safer.

Apparently, a few more terrorcons had made their way back and we’re trying to do a bit of avenging considering Optimus ended Scourge rather brutally. In all, Mirage wasn’t one for the violence but when it came to helping his friends and the ones he loved, he’d set that aside for the best. 

Anyway, he didn't want you going anywhere without him, a sense of more or less responsibility for you washing over him. It was more of a protective feeling than anything, wanting to be the one to save you and keep you safe no matter what. The thought of you thanking him as your hero makes him weak. You knew what you were doing, touching him like that. He still couldn't get over the fact that you claimed it was for science….bullshit. The feeling was quickly becoming addictive and the longer you spent together the more he wanted you…fat chance. 

________ 

Remixed renditions of Kesha songs blast through the clubs' speakers as you and your girls dance the night away. You each took about 3 shots to get your blood pumping and your closest friend was about to make it 4. Your body moves on its own, bass filling your chest as you catch any and all ass your friends decide to throw. You took pictures and posted them on your story and everything seemed good!...sorta. The last of your worries should be some cyber alien crush that isn't even here right now…you can't help but let your mind drift.

A wave of…what was that guilt? Washes over you as you take a break from the dance circle, alerting your girls that you be ‘going to the bathroom’ a lie of course. Maybe this wasn't a good idea? Part of you felt kinda committed to Mirage. Before you could make it down the hall past all the commotion, a pair of hands are warm against your hips. Whoever it is… they're tall. The faint smell of motor oil fills your senses and you whip around to see a pretty good-looking stranger with eyes blue as the damn sky smirking at you. 

“Where you going, mamas?” He questions, moving his hips side to side playfully with the rhythm of the music.

You can't help but giggle. Something about him was so.. comfortable and fun and familiar, and so so so damn charming! He's smiling right back at you freckles somewhat adorning his face as his curly black hair falls over his eyes. He looks mixed, more so Hispanic or Latino and black. Blue eyes were odd though, but it didn't matter because, at the end of the day, this man looked like he'd won the genetic lottery.

Soon enough, you're back on the floor the cheers of your homegirls reaching your ears and you shake your head. This was just some spontaneous dude that just HAPPENED to catch you before you made it to the bathroom, not like you really needed to go anyway. He sways you, pulling a few cheesy dance moves here and there but it is enough to make you giggle. The previous song soon is chopped and screwed and transitioned to what sounded like a reverbed version of ‘Streets’.

Either way, the air had changed while people, couples or otherwise began finding space on the floor to dance up on one another. He didn't say much, spinning you slowly just before pulling your body to his gently. You may talk a lot of game, but you'd never danced with someone like this, let alone be so close. The feeling of his front pressed to your back makes you weak, the feeling sinking lower and lower as he holds each of your hips.

“Cálmate mama’s. You know I got you right?” He hums, your body relaxing a bit as you find the rhythm again, rolling your body with his to test the waters

That voice was so familiar….you ignore it, thinking it must the alcohol. There was no way he could…could he?

You didn't care, letting your head roll back and rest against his shoulder, your bodies synching with each other, his touch never feeling forced or aggressive. It's soft, kind, and almost loving...like he just wants to be able to feel your warmth, know the way you move. You work up the courage to speak, voice small, almost nervous. 

“I didn't catch your name stranger.”You state, hoping his response would answer your question.

If this was really him, then there was no reason to feel bad about how up close and personal this was getting. 

“You know my name, pretty girl. Kinda rude of you to walk out on me don't you think? You're lucky Noah was able to see where you were at based on your story.” He reveals, making you smile. 

So it was him but how? Some kind of alien car tech you didn't know about? You didn't care, he was here and you were ACTUALLY holding him somehow. 

“I'm sorry, looked like that meeting was important.” You explain, pressing against him more now, his grip tightening when you did, a hiss escaping his lips. 

“It was but when I noticed you’d left I panicked a little. Noah told me where to find you and I knew I couldn't just waltz in. I'm parked outback, this is just a holoform.” He explains, flashing that stupid smile. 

“So that's what this is, you look good 'Rag. Not the first time you've done this I'm assuming. You're far too good of a dancer.” You joke hearing gasp in faux hurt. 

“Wowww it's like that lil mama? You're breakin' my spark.” He chuckles, pressing into you, making a gasp escape your throat.

You felt it…holy shit it was right against you, the miniskirt not helping at ALL, in fact, any more friction and he'd be right against your panties. The grip on your hips is only making you hot and his voice so close to your ear isn't helping. He smirks against the skin of your neck and takes the risk of kissing there. Another gasp, only this time it was more or less a whine. 

“I'm not doing anything else until you tell me I got the green light. We both know this tension can only build for so long ‘til one of us breaks and I'm for damn sure about to fall apart if I can't taste you soon.” He admits, his voice trembling slightly when he speaks.

He was right though. The last 2 days had been filled with nothing but flirting, touching, and teasing and before you were so rudely interrupted in the garage earlier you were sure you were closer and closer to giving head. The music is still playing and most of your girls had given the two of you space to ‘dance’ a couple texting you to let you know where they were in case you needed them. It was definitely time to leave because any longer in this dark little corner of the club and you'd be trying to peel your clothes off. 

He can practically feel your begging to lose any sense of morals, a few drink making your brain only a little foggy. That’d ware off by time you made it back home if you played your cards right. Turning to face him you cant help but let your eyes drift to his lips. 

“You gonna let me ride?” You hum, lips pressed to his neck.

___________________________________________________________

Aweeee shit the perfect set up for pt.4 cause in the words of miss Megan thee stallion... we finna ride that dik like a stolen car HAHAAAA

No-so-mini-Taglist: @gniteruirui @veggiepizzababy @panty-h03 @justmare @merpmederp @rainbowpr1sm @mad-simp420 @insane-scientist