*

[text]

[ladycandyapple]

FNAF X TMR CROSSOVER AU

Au created by @tlockish !

Look at these silly goobers. I hope nothing tragic happens to them!

[tlockish]

This is so cute😭😭 I love

[ladycandyapple]

EEEEEE im glad you liked it :>> they’re all very fun to draw

[ladycandyapple]

FNAF X TMR CROSSOVER AU

Au created by @tlockish !

Look at these silly goobers. I hope nothing tragic happens to them!

[ladycandyapple]

some stuff I made for my tmr au besides my writing

[ladycandyapple]

Chapter Two ~ Rundown Castaways

Summary: After Alby wakes up in an abandoned train, he realizes he is no longer in the falsely proclaimed ‘safe haven’ with Newt and hears screaming in the next compartment. tw: mentions of blood, minor hostage situation, bad language/violent threats

A/n: I think Alby, Minho, and Brenda would have a great dynamic together

previous chapter / next chapter! This story is currently on hiatus

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

I awoke to a rundown train. I lifted myself from the cold metal floor. My feet wobbled below me. I grabbed at seats to keep my balance. My eyes shook violently before finally focusing. I shifted to fall atop of cushioned seats. Confusion ate at my brain. Spikes of pain prodded at it. 

     Tears prickled the edges of my eyes. My vision spun when I realized where I was. The train's green walls were peeling away. Vines were covering almost every corner. The seats were graying in color and covered in claw marks left by something small. The most notable part of all was the smell. A familiar reek wavered in the air. 

    When it hit me, I turned my head in every directions trying to find the source. It better not be another glader. Please don't be a glader. I raised my hands to my forehead, only to feel a wet patch. I withdrew my crimson stained fingers, it slowly became crystal clear. 

I was bleeding. 

    A sigh escaped me like second nature. Relief filled my lungs. Nobody was hurt. . . My vision slightly wavered. When it steadied, I tried giving my feet another go. I put one step in front the other, little by little, while grabbing any wall or rail for support. The motion of walking felt foreign like it.

      The throbbing of my eyes, brain, and both bloodied knees ain't exactly make walking all peachy.    

Right when I was getting hang of waddling, a teenage boy's scream pierced the silence. 

       Agony spread throughout my body when my first thought—no action, was to run towards the sound. Without any weapon or common sense, my hands yanked at the door to the next train compartment. The jammed doors heaved open with a loud thud that echoed. Inside, Minho and his screams were suppressed by someone else. The jet-black haired idiot clawed at his captor's arm 'til his eyes dawned at the knife now pressed his throat. "Woah woah hold it," I held my gaze with the captor. 

         A girl, with long brown hair and hazelnut eyes stared daggers back. She looked like Teresa but no; this girl was no Teresa. The torn skin peeling off her, showed that. Her ripped jeans and rosy red, falling-at-the-seams, shirt gave the impression she recently got mauled by a bear. But her swollen lips and unnaturally, mad shakin' eyes, showed it all. The flare, it was so visible on her; she looked more like a corpse than a human. 

     Yet, her threats and language spewed out like venom so smoothly it felt so utterly human. "I'll rip his neck out if you move any closer! Stay back!" Blood dripped from Minho's throat. "I'll shred you too! You hear me, CRANK?!" Crank? It's fitting but this gal doesn't know that. "We don't have anything you want. We just wanna make it home." 

      Home? It rung in my head for a moment. Why did it flow so perfectly? "Home?" The girl repeated, perplexed. It was as if the word was ancient or an otherworldly thing. I glanced through the broken window and saw the outside world utterly scorched and rotten. Maybe it is. She gave a huff of air. "Actually, you do have what I need. Well, someone I need." Everyone wants that darn shank. She shoved Minho towards me making him fumble about. "I'm looking for your leader."

"Well you're looking at him." She instantly squinted at me, uncertain what to make of that moment before whispering.

"Thomas?"

       It's always about Thomas. Tommy. Tom. It's always been that buggin'—"No. My name's Alby," I grumbled out.

     "I can lead you to that shank." I spat out. "But if you lay a finger on Tomboy or any glader for that matter," My hands fisted to my side, eyes narrowed. "You're dead meat. You hear me?" 

        Minho gathered himself upright. Smirking. The girl nodded while putting away her knife. Minho stared at my head wound. "Got a bandaid, doll?" Minho warily spoke. Almost instantly a roll of bandage wrap was chucked at his head. "The name's Brenda. Call me doll again and I'll throw a knife instead." Brenda spat out. Minho nodded dazedly still smirking like the idiot he was. From the girl or the impact—I couldn't tell. 

        Brenda shuffled away to sit on the beat-up rustic floor. Minho guided me down on the floor with him. His hands were gentle when patching me up silently. Sometimes, the bandage would cover my eyes, I'd grunt and then Minho would reposition it again, then accidentally do it again. He's no Jeff, but I know I won't meeting any grim reaper anytime soon. 

"What do you want with Thomas?" I barked out.                     Brenda spun around from her awkward sitting position. Her weight shifted and face soured, "You'll see once we're in the city." Her voice rung in breathy annoyance. "The hell's that supposed to mean?" 

       Minho tied the bandage up, muffling a snickering. "And what're you laughing at?" I boomed as he flushed in uncontrollable, childlike giggles. Brenda let out a light chuckle. I rolled my eyes when I caught eye of a glass shard on the ground. 

        Leaning over, my reflection in that glass piece showed me tightly wrapped up, with a small petite bow to hold it all up. I groaned, and yanked Minho up on his feet by the back rim of his shirt. His hair shifted, just barely visible was dried ink on the back of his neck. My fingers glided Minho's hair to the side after he gathered himself on his feet.

       "Hey dude, what's wrong?" Minho stopped laughing. There it was, A7–The Leader, was tattooed on the back of Minho's neck.  "Alby?" Minho turned to face me. I furrowed my brows absolutely astonished by what the shuck I just read.

"And you said you were the leader," The girl cracked her knuckles. 

      She strolled behind me, "But your tag, it says otherwise," I could feel her glare burning at the back of my neck. I spin around to face her, my breath raw and heavy. The staring nor burning stopped, only the person staring did. 

      My nails clawed at the back at my aggressively boiling neck. Paranoia consumed me with so many possibilities of what those creeps could have written. Flared. Incompetent. Sacrifice. Failed attempt. Infected.

       "A6-High Priest!" The Keeper of Runners beamed out. I processed the title over and over again until they weren't words anymore. "Wha. . .What." I spoke. Minho nudged my shoulder making me wince in pain.

"As if! You couldn't pray at gunpoint, slinthead!"  ★・・・・・・★・・・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Author's Notes: The trail starts soon!

previous chapter / next chapter! This story is currently on hiatus

[ladycandyapple]

False Security - Chapter one

 Summary: After the Gladers escape, they’re put into a dormitory in the ‘safe haven’. Newt and Alby share a bed together to comfort each other. Newt meanwhile, is deeply upset about Alby’s attempt in the Maze. + “What did you want to be when you were small? . . . I wanted to be a ballerina.” -audio, this is technically chapter one since the last chapter was a prologue

Trigger warning/tags: mild mentions of starvation, suicidal attempt(s), minor angst and minor fluff, alby has the flare, semi-proofread, obviously spoilers,

Be aware of what you read and enjoy what you can :3

└──                                ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆                      ──┘

        "What did you want to be when you were small?" The bunk beds filled the place top to bottom. The bunks suffocated the room head to toe. There was enough room for everyone but here I was sharing a bed. Gray was the common color of this place. It felt more like a prison than a safe haven. "Hm?" I hummed into Newt's blonde clean hair. His sweetly peach scented shampoo hair. Safe. 

   "You didn't want to be this." Newt let his fingers wander to my ribs. Feeling delicately how awfully detailed they became since the changing. "I'm sure of that." My legs ached to untangle themselves with Newt's. My body ached to run. To get out, it screamed. Just Get. Out. GET! I don’t want to hurt you—!

"No child wants to be something like us." I traced the scars on Newt's legs. I hesitated when they neared his heel. . . "I wanted to be a ballerina."

   "Pft. A ballerina?" I numbly laughed. "Yes, they retire young. Ballerinas." Newt caressed the cheeks under my terribly tired eyes. "You'd be a great ballerina." 

"You bloody bet I would've been." 

    Would have? Sure, the limp would be a problem but it's not impossible, is it? "I could practically see you up on stage. Bright red curtains being pulled back." I tucked his hair behind his ear. "Glorious lighting illuminating your pretty, uptown suit. Probably dressed in the role of the nutcracker or some solider toy." 

      If anything that leg would pull it off better. "Pretty? Me?" Newt huffed out. I shuffled to fit better in the crook of his neck. "You really think so?" He whispered, words muffled in my sleeve while he softened his grip. I groaned out at the heat of our prolonged hug. 

Every stir and attempt to escape this cuddle of sweet nothings would only squeezed it tougher like a knot being pulled by the wrong string. "A poet." I grumbled out. "What?"

"I wanted to be a poet ever since I came up that box." I mumbled out

"Well you almost got what you wanted, didn't ya shank?"

      A poetic death. I tried escaping him arms like how I tried to in the maze, so the Grievers would kill only me. . . Tears, not of my own, quickly stained my sleeve. My hands turned to jelly. Newt's strength to do anything gave out at last, including his cries. I didn't try to leave him anymore. Newt fell asleep.

     All my strength went to keeping my eyes alert, they were still locked on door after all. The snores of the gladers, the darkness of the outside world behind the curtains, it all seemed to be beckoning sleep. But, it was so wrong. Everything was too perfect. A happy ending couldn't be for kids like us. If we found an actual safe place, where we couldn't infect no one just for a moment, we'd be able to feel to be people again. Hopeful thinking, go me through the passing hours.

      When the door opened, when researchers with long white coats and brown clipboards sneaked in with madness in their eyes—I couldn't be surprised. They checked the pulse of everyone then stamped them like the property they thought we were. My eyes were covered with the strands of Newt's flimsy hair, though I shut them anyway when the "rescuers" came around just in case. Lo and behold, they lifted Newt's hair. 

      Checked his pulse. Stamped his neck. Then moved to me. Maybe they knew I was awake or thought the flare would eat me soon enough to where it didn't matter. Maybe they thought I was already dead. They cared just enough to stamp me like cattle and not enough to check my pulse.

      Am I alive? I'm aware of every vein and organ it sinks itself into. Every calorie it takes. Every bite out of this klunk of a brain. Pain has become my neutral state. Even if I am no longer myself, I cannot die now. A door slam echoed. I peered into the darkness to see the mark on my second in command's neck. Just barely I saw it.   

A5. 

    My hands twitched violently. Newt wasn't a number. Newt wasn't a letter. Newt was a person who had been given a bad deck of cards in this game of life. Newt shouldn't be here, I wanted to scream. I needed to scream.

      Suddenly, one of the Creators practically ran to me and stabbed me with a thick needle. Her smile was so sweet as she pumped hell itself into my veins. The world melted around me in seconds, I became violently aware of my organs burning. I couldn't scream when I needed to most.

    A high pitched sound pierced me deaf. My body went limp before seemingly shutting down.

Then the world went dark. 

Pitch dark.

For the poet’s eyes.

└──                              ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆                      ──┘

Author's note: Support your fandom through hearting or leaving a comment!! (Grammar mistakes may happen becuz im not great with English)

previous prologue / next chapter

[sm-baby]

📝COMMISSION ME HERE!

I'm gonna keep it vague as to avoid spoilers, BUT THIS IS SO CUTE!! THANK YOU FOR THE COMMISSION!!

[ladycandyapple]

.. i offer my maze runner playlist as tribute to the fandom :> !! (first book spoiler below)

Chapter One - False Security

A Scorch trail rewrite where Alby survives and is one of the multiple POVS in the fic! I hope you enjoy and remember to comment or heart if you do!

Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your

[ladycandyapple]

A moodboard for my tmr fanfic where Alby is the main character for my scorch trail rewrite/au

thought it would be helpful and cool to make

[lost-st4rs]

“It’s filthy, disgusting, so ugly, I’m sure. So ugly, disgusting and filthy, for sure.”

[anas-fromgaza]

⚠️‼️ DON’T IGNORE THIS – A FAMILY NEEDS YOU NOW ‼️⚠️

We have collected $19,137 raised of $30,000 !🇵🇸

You can donate through of the following link:

gofundme 👈👈👈

ANAS family from Gaza , Help Us Rebuild What the War Destroyed

Hello everyone,

This was our home… now it’s gone

🇵🇸 save family lost their home ,dreams and everything in Gaza 🇵🇸

This is my home before the war and after the war how it became💔💔💔

Before: After:

💔 I never thought I’d write something like this… But we’ve truly lost everything.

We had a simple home — nothing fancy — but it was ours. Filled with laughter, memories, and years of hard work. Then, in one moment, it was all gone. Our home was bombed. Reduced to rubble.

Since then, we’ve been moving from place to place. No stability. No privacy. No safety. Just trying to survive each day.

We also lost our jobs. Our source of income. Our sense of normal life. We’re not living — we’re barely getting by.

This isn’t easy to share. But we’re asking, with all humility, for your help.

We are asking you with all shame to support and stand by us in these difficult circumstances that everyone knows because we lost our home, our work and any stable source of income. Thank you all.

Even $10 will make a big difference and save us!

🔗 🔗 Gofundme link for donations 👇👇👇👇🔗 🔗

Donate to ANAS family from Gaza,Help Us Rebuild What the War Destroyed, organized by ANAS MOHESEN

Hello everyone, We are the Anas family, a fam… ANAS MOHESEN needs your support for ANAS family from Gaza,Help Us Rebuild Wha

We have been through many wars before, but this war was not like the ones before it. Our lives were turned upside down. We became displaced from one place to another. We are the Anas family, residents of northern Gaza, specifically in the Shujaiya area. In the first week of the war, we fled our home because everyone considered our home to be in a dangerous area. We moved to the Rimal area, specifically in the middle of Gaza. There, we received the news that our home, which contained all our beautiful memories, was bombed. Suddenly, it was gone!!! Just thinking that your home, which you worked hard on and built from scratch and took a lot of your life, was gone in less than a second ! After a while, we left the sands to the Al-Zawaida area because of the heavy shelling. We stayed there for about two weeks, and then the terrorist army asked us to go to Rafah. We actually fled for the fourth time to Rafah and stayed there for two months, some of the most difficult days of our lives, as there was no way or means to live a normal life. 😔😔

You can also donate through this link:

Please, we are in dire need of you and your support. If you cannot donate, you can share☹️❤️🥹

Even $10 will make a big difference and save us!

Verified by : @nabulsi

You can donate through any of the following links:

1-gofundme

2-chuffed.org

[lost-st4rs]

Can We Still Be Friends…?

midnight doodle 🤍

[la-gotica-fantasma]

What I think Maze Runner characters would be arrested for -

(except it's extremely specific)

Thomas - Sexual harassment because he pantsed Minho on a public subway. Newt - Picking up a hitchhiker (and then inevitably getting really pissed at said hitchhiker because they kept asking for stuff he didn't have). Minho - Public indecency on a subway because Thomas pantsed him. Winston - Confessing to a murder he didn’t commit because he couldn’t decide how to explain how he didn’t commit any murder. Alby - Arson. Zart - Accidentally selling weed. Not accidental because he didn't know it was weed, but accidental because he didn't mean to sell it. Frypan - Turning the house he's renting into a restuarant without asking his landlord. Jeff - Bringing Bark into "no pets allowed" zones and then lying that Bark was a service animal. Clint - Stealing a shopping cart from a Walmart. Ben - Chasing children on all fours and growling and barking at them. Aris - Accidentally firing a gun in a public setting because he thought the bullet in it wasn't real. Chuck - Going behind an Italian ice stand while the server is gone and taking a spoon and eating a bunch of the Italian ice. Gally - Bringing a knife to school (for "safety reasons") Jorge - Beating up a pedophile on the middle of the beach. Janson - Buying a human cancer tumor off of the dark web to try and give his enemies cancer. Teresa - Trying to bypass Afghanistan laws against women receiving healthcare. Brenda - Purposefully creating and running a gunrunning-ring, but only letting women buy the weapons she sells. Sonya - Public indecency because, to prove a point that the female body isn't inherently sexual, she went on strike at work with her shirt off after a disagreement with her boss on what was appropriate to wear at work. Harriet - Getting and auctioning the guns for Brenda's arms trafficking. Rachel - Using brass knuckles in a fight with a waitress who looked at her boyfriend "weirdly". Beth - Stalking and planning to ruin the life of the girl who used to call her "Brace-face" in the 6th grade/year 6. (The girl also had braces) Ava - Kidnapping. Dr. Crawford - Texting a groupchat about something extremely illegal that she saw without calling the police. Her excuse in court was "I thought you'd find out yourself". Mary - Buying governmental secrets for personal enjoyment, rarely ever doing anything with the information.

[lost-st4rs]

guys i’m gonna be honest i can’t do it anymore uhgghhhh

[lost-st4rs]

PLEASEEE!!! NOT THE WATER GUN!!!! IT'S JUST A PUNNnnnn!!! (•_•III)🔫

as the mayor of this town i prosecute anon to the DEATH PENALTY

everyone grab ur water guns RAAHHHH 🌊🌊🌊🔫

[ponstermenis-writing]

✩I'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS✩

Ponyboy Curtis & Everyone Darbit, Johnnyboy

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

Pony considers himself to be pretty independent.

He doesn’t need the gang to get by—but god does he want them.

He had been surrounded by people his whole life—the sad, lonely days of college were really starting to burn a hole in his chest.

He was sure that when he decided to become an author, he’d meet people like him. But everyone here are rich, better-than-thou folks who think that he’s just some little Tulsian hood rat.

It doesn’t help that he’s already written an incredibly successful book—he doesn’t want to say it’s a jealousy thing, but he’s certainly received a few comments from his fellow peers about it being the only reason he got in.

He didn’t fly down last year. He couldn’t.

Money wasn’t even an issue anymore, ‘The Outsiders’ made him enough money to never have to work again. But with all the new schoolwork, he seriously couldn’t make it happen. School had been easy for him when he was younger, he’s not used to struggling in his favorite subject.

And, as much as he hates to admit it, he misses his friends so much it hurts. They all poked fun at him that he wouldn’t be able to handle being alone for the first time in his life. At first it was great—he finally got the silence he so craved. But then it got too silent.

He missed coming home to see Soda and Steve wrestling on the floor, Darry cooking something mouthwatering for dinner, Dallas and Two-Bit poking fun at each other until that eventually devolved into a wrestling match as well, Johnny quietly talking to him while the TV plays football games in the background.

He missed seeing Darry’s work boots by the door, Soda’s clothes strung up around the room, Two-Bits spill stains on the couch, Steve’s cards all over the floor.

He still stayed in close contact with them.

He and Johnny called almost every night—Johnny could never go to college. Partly because of money—he made sure to give Johnny a decent sum from the book sales—and the fact that school was never easy on him. It helps that he needs someone to help push him around in a wheelchair when his crutches become too much.

So he liked to hear about it, always asking Pony what he’d done that day.

He called the gang as a whole every Saturday, pretending he didn’t feel lonely the second they hung up.

He didn’t plan on coming back this year either. He wanted to, he really really did—but he didn’t like when the gang treated him like a baby. He wants to prove that he doesn’t need them to have a good time.

The idea wasn’t put into his head until Darry called him late on a Wednesday night, December 19th.

“Darry? Is everything alright?” He asks, sitting up. “Yeah, everything’s alright.” Darry says—Ponyboy can hear the sad smile in his voice.

“I was just, uh, wondering—“ Darry begins. Ponyboy can’t help but think he sounds nervous. “Are you coming home for the holidays this year? We’ve all been missing you.”

Ponyboy sucks in a sharp breath. “I…” he mutters, leaning back against his headboard. “Look Darry, I’d love to. I’m just—“

“Too busy?” Darry interrupts. He can hear the sadness in his voice—the way his throat catches at the end of his sentences, even if he phrases it like a tease. God , he already felt horrible about staying in New York—this certainly isn’t helping.

“I’m really sorry Darry.”

“It’s alright, Baby, I get it.” Darry tries desperately to hide his own sadness. “ Shit —you aren’t a baby anymore, huh?” A pause “How’s it up there? Lots of parties?”

Darry never got to go to college. Ponyboy almost felt bad telling him that he got in—he thought Darry would be upset—Jealous, maybe.

But he wasn’t.

He was so happy he cried for hours, telling him how proud he was and hugging him til’ he couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah Dar, Lots of parties.” Ponyboy smiles to himself. He knows he’s lying—but he knows how badly the gang wants him to have the time of his life. He’d hate to disappoint them.

“The guys really miss you.” Darry whispers when they get too silent. Ponyboy feels his eyes get wet—wondering if they feel betrayed that he’s leaving them. Johnny had refused to talk to him for a month after last year because he was scared Pony didn’t want to see him. “I do too, obviously. It's been real different without you here.”

“I know Darry.”

“Johnny, Dal, and Two-Bit got an apartment together, y’know? Soda’s been saving up to move out too.” He keeps going. Pony bets he’s not even trying to make him feel bad—he just wants to stay on the phone with him. “They were gonna try and fly up to you, but they won’t let Johnny on a plane for another year or two. They’re scared the pressure will break him, or somethin’.”

“Impossible.” Ponyboy lets out a wet laugh, trying to hide his own tears.

He never wanted to upset any of them—but what if it’s all different now? What if he comes back and everyone’s got used to him being gone? What if… what if the home he aches for isn’t there anymore?

“I won’t keep you too long, I was just curious.” Darry says finally.

Something about that breaks him. Darrel, his older brother that he used to follow around like a lost duckling, is worried about annoying him.

Their father used to say that one day they’d all be annoyed by him, that he wouldn't be cool anymore and they’d all grow up without him.

Is that how Darry feels?

“Well, uh, what I meant to say earlier before you interrupted me,” Ponyboy says, remembering Darry’s earlier comment about being too busy. “Is that I was just having a bit of trouble finding plane tickets. Y’know with all the snow.”

“You’re joking.” Darry says—he can hear the hope in his voice. “You’re coming this year?”

“Of course I am! Last year was just a fluke—I can’t have you all spending Christmas without me, can I?” Ponyboy can't help but smile when he hears Darry’s hearty chuckle. Darry had always been pretty stoic—he had to be, being the oldest—but now he was happy it was leaking through the receiver.

“Oh, the boys will be so happy.” Darry says, smiling so wide that it can be heard in his voice. “We’ll do everything we used to, yeah? It’s supposed to snow on Christmas Eve.”

“Sounds great, Darry.” Ponyboy says, smiling so wide that it hurts his face. “This is gonna be great , I promise. I—I gotta tell them, I’ll talk to you later.”

“See you.” A pause. “I love you Darry, I’m excited to see you all again.”

“Love you too, Baby.” Darry smiles.

Ponyboy’s smile doesn’t fade even after they hang up. He fully intends on keeping his promise—so much so that he immediately pulls out his laptop and checks for tickets.

Because it’s so close to Christmas, there aren’t many left. Not cheap ones, anyway. He finds a 4-hour no-stop flight to an airport an hour away from Tulsa. He gets a seat before he can even think, taking a photo and sending it to the group chat he has with the gang.

Johnny calls him a minute later. Ponyboy can’t help but laugh, grabbing his phone from his bed and answering.

“Are you serious? You’re coming!? This isn’t an April fools thing, right?” Johnny asks the moment he answers, so excited that he’s sure the boy would be kicking his feet if they weren’t so hard to move.

“Yes, Johnnycakes, I’m coming home.” Ponyboy says, smiling. “I assume you’re excited?”

“Are you kidding? I’m fucking thrilled!” I can hear Two-Bit tease Johnny about watching his mouth from another room. “You gotta see our new apartment, its tuff.”

“Of course, John.”

“Anyway, I’ll leave you alone. I just had to make sure you weren't messing with us.”

Ponyboy frowns. “You think I’d do that?” He can hear Johnny falter, make an odd sound. “Well, I mean, not really—cut me some slack! I went from seeing you everyday to not seeing you ever .”

“Yeah?” Ponyboy laughs. “I’m gonna spend so much time with you while I’m down there, you’ll be begging me to leave.” He hangs up before Johnny can retort, laughing at the frantic texts Johnny sends after claiming it’s not possible and how dare he suggest such a thing.

꙳ ❅⋆⁺₊❆⋆ ❆ ͙͛ ˚₊꙳

The day of his flight, the 21st, he couldn’t help but feel giddy. He’d be in town until January 1st—giving him a great big amount of time to catch up with the gang. He steeled himself for the four hour long flights—he brought gifts and candy along with him, he ended up eating 90% of the chocolate.

He made sure to update the guys of where he was. They had all gotten up at 7 in the morning to call him. Luckily Oklahoma is only an hour behind New York—so he won’t have to struggle with jet lag.

He sat down—sadly he had booked a middle seat, but the person next to him didn’t end up showing and they couldn’t find anyone to replace them. An old man sat next in the window seat, he read silent for most of the flight.

“Are you visiting anyone?” He asks, lifting his head from his book. “Uh—Me?” Ponyboy askes, glancing around. The man chuckles. “Yes, you.”

“I’m uh… I’m visiting my brothers and friends.” Ponyboy replies. “What about you?”

“My son.” The older man smiles, closing his book to look at him. Ponyboy suddenly realizes that he’s missing an eye—two of his fingers amputated too. “It’s good to see young kids like you still care about their families.”

If only he knew.

“Y-Yeah, are you uh… excited to see your son?” Ponyboy askes, not wanting to linger on the comment for too long. “Very.” The older man smiles, looking hopeful. “He’s got a family now, I can’t wait to meet them.”

God… is he seriously going to cry over some old man he doesn’t know?

“I hope it goes well.” Ponyboy smiles, glancing awkwardly at him. The man smiles, holding out his hand—the one with all of his fingers intact—too shaken. “Marty.” He says. “Ponyboy.” Pony answers.

The man’s eyes widened just a bit. “Ponyboy Curtis?” He asks. Ponyboy nods. “Have you ever written a book, by chance?“ the man askes. “Uh—Yeah, I have. Why do you ask?”

“My granddaughters just love your book” the man says, pulling a gift bag out of his carry-on and pulling two copies of The Outsiders from it. “They love it so much that they’re to collect every cover.”

Ponyboy can’t help but smile. He’d never even see this cover of his book—sometimes he forgets just how many people love it. “I can sign them, if you’d like.” He says—he doubts he’s famous enough for it, but he has a feeling the man wouldn’t ask even if he wants him too.

“My—that would be lovely!” The man beams, pulling a pen from his bag. “You don’t understand how much this’ll mean to them, I’ll be the cool grandpa for the rest of my life.”

Ponyboy feels his heart swell with warmth. The man kind of reminds him of Darry—so stoic but so loving. He puts both of their names on each one before handing them back, smiling gleefully. “I hope they like it, sir.”

“They’ll love it,” the man smiles, tucking them carefully back into the gift bag. “We need more young kids like you out there, so kind.”

Ponyboy can’t help but smile, nodding. “I’ve been surrounded by good people my whole life, I think that helps.”

He and the man talk the rest of the flight—Pony’s not a big fan of flying, so it actually helps. Marty seems to be very well-versed on the topic of The Outsiders. He asks about Johnny, Dallas, Darry, Soda—he asks about small details, tells Ponyboy stuff his niece wondered about.

Ponyboy finds himself opening up, he tells the man the answers to everything. Apparently, Marty used to be a general. He’d lost his fingers and eye when his own gun backfired on him, only the hope of seeing his son again kept him alive.

By the time the plane landed, Ponyboy considered himself to have a new friend. Marty was let off before he was, he’s in a wheelchair too. Marty wishes him a Merry Christmas, Ponyboy tells him to say hi to his granddaughters for him.

The second that he was gone, Pony immediately tore his phone from his pocket. He texted the guys that he’d get off soon. Darry immediately responded that they were waiting for him at the gate.

Anxiety started to set in. He’d hadn’t seen them in person for over a year—what if he didn’t recognize them? Ponyboy knows his appearance has changed—his hair is back to its old length, his hair is brown all the way through again. He’s taller now too—he might have Darry tied (finally).

He takes a deep breath before stepping off of the plane, slowly walking out. He’s halfway through searching when he sees someone running at him. It takes him only a second to recognize Johnny—he’s got his crutches, practically toppling on top of him when he goes in for a hug.

“Ponyboy!” He cries, pulling him in tight. He’s certainly gotten stronger—a bit taller too, not enough to beat anyone in that gang, but enough to at least be noticeable. Ponyboy drops his things and hugs him tight—he makes sure to lift Johnny slightly off of the ground so he doesn’t have to use his legs.

“Hey, Johnnycakes!” Ponyboy smiles, burying his face in the boy’s hair. “It’s good to see you, man.”

“Jesus, Johnny—let him breathe a little!” A deep voice calls. Ponyboy glances up.

“Dallas!” He smiles, seeing the blonde walk towards them. He hasn’t changed much—he’s a little bulkier and definitely got a bit taller too. The ends of his ultra-blonde hair is dyed red and his brown leather jacket is swapped out for a deep purple sweater.

“Hey, kid.” He smiles, picking Johnny’s crutches up from the floor. “I’m twenty-two, Dallas—I’m no kid.” Ponyboy groans, letting Johnny out his arms reluctantly. Dallas helps Johnny get his crutches under his armpits, just chuckling at him.

“If I gotta be a kid forever, so do you.” Johnny says, pushing himself to stand. “Shit, the gang’s gonna cry when they see ya’. You’re growing up on us.”

Ponyboy can’t help but laugh. It’s a miracle to him that Johnny’s twenty three, going on twenty four. Dallas himself just turned 25–a fact that he is very proud of. Johnny doesn’t look much different—the burns going up his neck have mostly healed, and all the internal things stunted his growth quite a bit.

“Wish I could say the same about you two.” Pony laughs, picking his bags up from the ground. Neither of them have really aged much—All Dallas has is deeper frown lines and eye bags, but he’s always had those.

“Ha-fucking-ha.” Dallas bites, rolling his eyes. “Just because you’re grown now doesn’t mean I can’t clock you.”

“Down doggy.” Johnny chuckles, leaning on him. “He just got here.” Johnny got a little more talkative after the fire—he’s less scared of everything too, he pokes fun at the guys just as much as Two-Bit does now.

“Yeah, I just got here.” Pony repeats, giving Dallas a soft punch on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. Glad you came back, man.” Dallas can’t help but smile. “Two-Bit is trying—and failing—to find a parking spot, we better get out there before he has an aneurysm.”

“Oh, god. Why would you do that to him?” Ponyboy can’t help but laugh, following the other two around the airport. “He deserves it. I’m not driving that piece of junk around this place.” Dallas shrugs, letting Johnny hop up onto his back and carrying him the rest of the way through.

They find Two-Bit just outside of the parking garage, his rust-bucket truck sitting beside him. He runs up and hugs Pony hard enough to lift him into the air. He’s grown a lot, actually—he used to be the third shortest, after Ponyboy and Johnny, but now he’s well on his way to being the same height as Steve was. Some of his old chub has turned into muscle—he helps out at the fire station when he needs extra cash. But he’s still the freckly redhead Pony remembers.

“All my babies are growing up on me!” Two-Bit cries in mock sadness, pinching all of their cheeks. “I’m a year younger than you, asshole.” Dallas groans, letting Johnny off of his back.

“I’m hearin’ a lot of goo-goo-ga-ga coming from this direction,” Two-Bit teases, pointing his finger at Dallas—he definitely tries to bite it, barely missing. “Respect your elders!”

Ponyboy can’t help but laugh, throwing his things in the trunk. “You guys haven’t changed a bit.”

Two-Bit flexes his arm, smirking. “Oh, yes I have , my boy.” He says proudly. “Wait till you see Darry, he’s like… a whole different person. He smiles now.” Two-Bit jokes, saying it like Darry smiling is some sort of legend.

That reminds him. Two-Bit and Darry started dating some time after Pony moved out. It was a shock to all of us—especially with how much Darry talked about settling down with a girl and having kids of his own. Steve was the first to make a joke about Two already looking pregnant.

“Bet you love that.” Ponyboy teases, poking Two lightly. The redhead smiles dreamily, pretending to swoon. “So very much.” He says, leaning back against his car. Someone honks at him and it’s clear that they’re in peoples' way. They stop immediately upon seeing Johnny’s crutches, giving them enough time to throw themselves inside and start it up.

Two-Bit and Dallas sit in the front while Johnny and Pony reside in the backseat. Johnny immediately wraps his arms around him the second he’s sitting—Ponyboy has to buckle the boy’s seatbelt before he forgets.

“Safe to say I was missed, huh?” Ponyboy laughs, hugging Johnny back. The two of them had always been extra close—now that he was back he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to leave again. “Very much.” Two-Bit chuckles, glancing back in the rear view while Johnny peppers kisses on Pony’s cheek.

꙳ ❅⋆⁺₊❆⋆ ❆ ͙͛ ˚₊꙳

The drive back was spent catching up—Pony was happy to know that things had been going well for them too.

Dallas got a full time job at Bucks—he no longer had to risk getting hurt at the rodeo, though he still went sometimes. Johnny works as a tattoo artist now—he’s aware of that already, but he didn’t know that he actually specializes in tattooing over scars and incorporating them. When he doesn’t have a client, sometimes he’ll help out at Buck’s for extra cash. Two-Bit started at a dinner just outside of their building—but most of his time was spent helping out at the fire station (who all love Johnny very much, apparently).

Getting home was the most nerve-wracking part. Steve is out of town for the day to visit his mom—But Darry and Soda stayed home to set up the house for him. They hadn’t touched his room since he moved out, but they wanted to go all out with the decorations because they both know he loves it.

Pony is halfway through getting his things from the truck as he’s tackled to the ground. Thank god there’s snow, or he’d have a damn concussion!

“Ponyboy!” Soda screams, loud enough to hurt his ears. “Oh my god, look at you! You look so grown, little man!” He says, pulling Pony’s cheeks and smiling down at him. “Hey Sodapop.” Ponyboy chuckles, reaching up to hug him.

Soda’s changed quite a bit. He was in the military for a long while—he quit after a close encounter with death. It left a pretty deep scar going from his chin to his temple on the other side. He doesn’t let it get to him—claims he gets even more girls cus’ he’s all mysterious now. He’s bulked up a little and his muscles are fading—but he still looks handsome as ever. His hair is just as blonde as it always was.

“Jesus, get off before you suffocate him.” Dallas chuckles, toeing Soda’s side with his boot. Soda rolls off, pulling himself to his feet. “Sorry, Pone. ‘M just so happy to see you!” Soda smiles, helping him grab his things. “I’m happy to see you all too.” Ponyboy can’t help but smile his wide, toothy grin.

When he glances up, he sees Darry leaning in the doorway.

Darry doesn’t look too different—he looks older, bigger… but aside from a bit of salt and pepper in his hair—which definitely came early from shitty genes and the constant worrying—he's still Darry.

Ponyboy gives him the tightest hug he can manage–he's only been home for a minute and they’re both already holding back tears.

As he walks back into the house—his house–and into the living room he remembers, sitting down on the old leather couch he used to do his homework… he wonders why he ever worried about coming home.

[cardboardclownery]

[ FOLIE A BBQ ]

bobo stop making random crossovers/aus with interests that dont really make a lot of sense challenge (impossible)

[ladycandyapple]

@eights-world (early) HAPPY BIRTHDAY BING BONG!! (Idk if traditional art is allowed but we ball) ((this was super duper fun to draw :3 btw!!))