#i love yall 💕💕💕💕💕

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[prince-raisins-art]

been thinkin about those endearingly tacky 90s picture frames lately

[yeonjune]

(240203) comfy jjunie live streaming from his room ✙ weverse live

[lununnunna]

this one isnt as good as the cover but have some more pro hero magazine shouto

@andypantsx3 && @beezhives

[cornflowersandspoons]

Not to start a rumour, but I have a feeling that the manager is letting him win on purpose...😶🧐

Closeups⬇️😊

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Hey it's tuesday again by the way! And this time I am not sorry for bugging you unless you already did it and I just didn't find the post

YOU THREE. I adore you. I gotta be honest I was in SUCH a slump I was NOT feelin tidbit Tuesday today. but yall are so sweet for wantin to read my nonsense I pulled my ass up by my boot straps n cranked out a lil micro fic for yall. absolutely love yall 💕🧡

The porch door slams closed hard enough to make Darry jump. Though maybe that ain't sayin' much. His nerves worn down 'n shot through. Nowadays, the echoin' note of Two's unexpected laugh is enough to make him flinch. Or the absence of things he's used to. (The laundry basket is lighter now. He's never gonna get used to that feelin'.)

Pony stalks in, shoulders already drawn up 'round his ears. It doesn't take a second look for Darry to guess the way the night'll go. He kicks off his boots haphazardly in the middle of the kitchen, doesn't bother to push them against the wall.

His eyes slide up 'n over Darry once. Just enough to know it passes over his nerves, presses lightly against 'em. The kid is askin' for somethin'. A fight. An argument. To be told off. God knows. Much less Darry. He's too tired for that. He always is. Since. Well.

"Hi Pony." Soda calls through the doorway, glancin' off the TV playin' some rerun movie. He's got his knees all pulled up into his chest, head laid down on 'em. Soda's quieter. Since.

"Hiya, Soda." He's not lettin' it get to him. He ain't. The kids in a foul mood. He's obliged to 'em now 'n then. It's fine. He wants to pretend Darry ain't there? That's fine.

"You get your test grade back, Pone?" He hopes the nickname will settle the kid's hackles. Soften the question. He doesn't want a fight. He doesn't have the energy.

Pony turns hard on his heel. Narrows his eyes hard, feelin' out for an attack. He scowls, dives a hand down into his bag 'n all but throws the test on the table.

A D. Minus. The aggravation pricks hard against Darry's skin. He needs to try harder. Or at all. He should have passed this. Easy. He knew the answers.

"Pony. Why-"

"What? What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? I ain't. I failed. I don't care." Darry should have expected it. He really should have. But the sudden lash of words catches him hard off guard. The familiar anger rises quickly. Like an old wound.

"You just never seem to use your fuckin'-" Darry cuts himself off. Glances through the open doorway to Soda. He's got his back all drawn up ramrod straight, pulled taut like a puppet on a string, head swiveled just enough that they can pretend he's actually payin' attention to the beach flick 'n not every careful word of the gearin' up argument in the kitchen.

"What?" Pony snaps his jaw once, impatiently. He's ready for a fight. Has been all afternoon. Patiently pushin' 'n pluckin' on Darry's last nerve 'til he snaps.

No. He isn't doin' it on purpose. He isn't. He's fourteen. 'N he's upset. Darry heaves in a deep breath through his nose. Pushes it back out slowly. Soda nods. Doesn't tear his eyes away from the tube. Tries to encourage him without steppin' in. 'Cause nothin' will make Pony snap like thinkin' Soda ain't on his side.

Pony opens his mouth again, snaps it shut. He picked that up from Dallas. Tumbles through his brain in a rush 'n he feels suddenly sick to his stomach.

"C'mon Darry. You wanna tell me somethin'? That I don't use my head? I never use my head enough for you. Nothin' I do makes you happy."

"Pony." Soda whips his head around, snaps. For a moment Pony backs down, looks past Darry 'n into the pleadin' eyes of his older brother. They weren't s'pposed to fight no more. For Soda. For all of 'em. 'Cause they had so little left.

"But-"

"Ponyboy." It falls out of his mouth harsher than he means it to. 'Cause Darry was always rough without meanin' to be. But he's sick of the kid wheedlin'.

"What? You wanna holler at me? What is it this time? Walkin' home alone? Not gettin' perfect grades?" He rounds on Darry with anger so sudden 'n sharp Darry could put a hand out 'n touch it. When had his little brother gotten so fuckin' angry? Did he do that?

"Pony." Soda half rises, a warnin' note low in his voice. But it falls on deaf ears. Pony's fists curl up 'n he takes a half step toward Darry, drawin' himself up on every inch he has.

"What? Tell me what to do to make you happy, Darry. Oh. I know. Get over it. Buck up. Just pretend nothin' happened like you?"

"Pony." The name comes out half strangled in Darry's mouth. 'Cause he did do that. He upset his baby brother. He always upset him.

"I bet you wish it had been me. Huh. I bet you wish it had been me instead of Dal or Johnny. I bet you sit up prayin it had been me." 'N the second the words are out of his mouth Pony's teeth clash back together, hands risin' to his lips like he could pull them from the air 'n shove them back down his throat.

Soda's shot from the couch at some point, hovers in the doorway, minute tremors that runs from his shoulders down his arms, rattle down his wrists. "Ponyboy."

But his name is swallowed up 'n swallowed down 'cause Darry don't holler. Don't shout. Takes a single step back 'n crashes straight down to the tile. There's a scuff by his knee. Dallas' too big boots. The scar in the grout from the chair Johnny used to occupy. The sound of Pony's voice in waves wish it'd been me, wish it'd been me, wish it'd been me.

"Darry?" Pony sinks down to his knees, Soda straight alongside him. There are hands on Darry's shoulders but he don't notice them, too busy pressin' palms to his eyes 'til stars explode across his vision. He can't cry. He fuckin' can't. Pony needs him to be strong. Pony needs him-

He doesn't. The force of it strangles off his breath. Chokes 'til he gasps for air 'n forgiveness 'n the power to change it all.

"Darry please." Soda's wrapped all around him. He can't do this to Soda. Pony might not need him but God Soda didn't deserve for him to fall to fuckin' pieces like this.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do anymore. I can't just- I don't-"

"Shhh, Darry. Shh. C'mon. Desperate hands runnin' up 'n down his spine but when he looks up he knows his eyes are red rimmed 'n wild.

Pony. His fingers diggin' vainly, scrabblin' against the linoliem. Stock still like a doe. His brows knit together, his lips move but don't say nothin'. A faint noise. Somewhere strangled deep in his throat. He sounds so, god. So young. Where had the time gone? Could he go back? What can he give? To go back?

"I love you. God kid I love you. I don't know what to do." 'N then he's rockin' back with the force of Pony hittin' his chest, curlin' into his arms 'n the memory of that kid that begged Darry to read him to sleep 'n who buried his head in Darry's neck when he skinned his knee is still there. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"No." His fingers knot in Darry's shirt 'n he presses his face so hard into Darry's neck Darry can feel his eyes as they flutter, the tears hot down his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"I know." 'N then he's got Soda scooped up in his arms too, both his kid brothers pressed close 'n it hurts. God. Maybe it never stops hurtin'. Maybe they'll have the same argument a thousand times. Maybe tomorrow or next week or next month they will snipe at each other again. There will always be some failed test. Some shoe left in the doorway.

Maybe Darry 'n Pony will always be a lil' too alike to not fight. But he holds them close tonight. 'N makes sure they know.

"I love you. Both. I'm sorry."

[xalonelydreamerx]

Snowbaird Week 2024

↳ Day 1: Academia

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Here's your mutually assigned sona

I drew it as a warm-up? sorta. here you go

based off @awa-the-skeleton design of course

[kikiy0oo]

haven’t drawn much utapri in a while bdjdvbsq 😭😭 i really want to tho!! my ocs have been my main obsession lately (maybe i’ll post them here hmmm idk lol) anyways here’s like some recent ish art :))

[kaq3yma]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 [togame jo]

⸻ a brief mention of bully + shaming, very slightly angst, slight violence if you squint, hurt to comfort.

qeena's brief note: a very short drabble from me to make it up for (?) idk what (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ if you guys somehow notice it from how i wrote this, im still having a bit hard times characterising togame (all winbre chacs actually (｡•́︿•̀｡) ) im having a hard time rn so very sorry if this is shit but im learning so bare with me TT TT thank u so much sayangsss and happy reading xoxo

As the day draws to a close, the sun gradually sink beneath the horizon creating hues of gold and crimson. You settle on the swing, your feet bring you back and forth as the metal creaks and dip at the slight force. You had a pack of ice on your cheek, a futile attempt to soothe the swollen bump before he came. Without notice, the swing beside you creaks causes you to tilt your head. The prominent yellow colored jacket makes your eyes lit and brighten up.

Togame has two bottles of ramune in his hands. He pops both marbles inside the bottle with frizz spewing out and give you one "What's with all that ice? He chuckles, taking a quick sip of his drink. You shake your head, his chuckle mixing in with your faint laughter "My teacher slapped me because I hurt my classmate." His brows quirk in a surprised manner "...Yeah," You look down, fiddling with the marble inside your carbonated drink.

You look up to stare at him because he said nothing but his face, you can tell by his expression, he's pleading you to begin again. A wry laugh escaped past your lips "He was talking shit about me, calling me ugly. I was so pissed off... I think I broke his nose." That earns you a laugh from Togame. You look at him, offended that he find times to laugh when you're being serious and swollen. His laughter trails off and he stare at you "You should've gauge his eyes out, that can make sure he's really blind." You scoff, laughing at his reckless and playful demeanor "I'm serious, you dork. Why are you being so violent?" You huff, drinking half of your ramune in frustration.

Suddenly, he gets up and push his hands inside his trouser jeans "Let's go." He walks off and you look at him, baffled "Where are you going, idiot? I was just getting comfortable." Sighing, you pick your stuff and run after him.

The two of you walk alongside each other, finding spots to take a breather "You..." His raspy voice caught you in trance and you look up, one brow furrowed upwards "Huh?" He shake his head, picking his glass up from the bridge of his nose to adjusted it "You are actually really pretty, Y/n." You grin, nodding your head at him as a confirmation to his tender words. Togame hold, no, grasp your hand firmly and put them in the pocket of his jacket.

You look at him from the side, and because of his round glass, you couldn't make out his green irises. The Shishitoren second-in-command look down at you, tightening his hold on you. However, when he look down, your reflection flashes into your eyes, ables you to look at your face, your pretty face.

The next day, you woke up and get ready for school. You look at yourself in the mirror, feeling all giddy and confident about today. You pack your stuff inside your bag and hurry out to school. You didn't check your phone when it buzzes but it's a text, from Togame and it says; "Have a nice day at school."

When you arrives, you notice a particular seat is empty. It was that guy's. You look at one of your classmates, asking them for his whereabouts since it's unusual for him to be absent but they mindless shrug you off, saying they had no idea. Unbeknownst to you though...

"What can I do? It's your fault for picking up on my girlfriend, anyway~" A swift blow erupt from the narrow alleyway and this time, Togame knows, the guy's nose is broke, for real.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 is open. all rights reserved goes to @kaq3yma on tumblr.

[turnipoddity]

HITCHIN’ A RIDE ON COACHELLA????? OH MY GODDDDDD

[boiling-potato]

The arts are beautiful!! But the creator??

Is much more beautifulLEer 🫰😔

I swear these people are going to be the death of me-

But I'll still love you guys for it cause you all are SOO FREAKING SWEET~!!!! (⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠) 🫶💕💕💕 Whenever I receive these kinds of asks, I'll literally start blushing and smiling on my phone,, so much so that my folks would wonder if I'm hiding something (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

[letters-to-gene-roe]

Hi! I am so excited for y'all to meet Corrie Brewster, my Band of Brothers OC, and entry in this year's @blind-dates-fest 🩷

Snip, snip, snip.

Corrie closed her eyes and let Momma cut her hair, bit by bit, into a soldier's close crop, not wanting to watch the long hanks of shiny brown hair float to the kitchen floor. She had to do this, sure, her plan would never work without it, but it still hurt her heart to see years of memories hit the ground, destined for the trash. Instead, she forced herself to listen - to her mother's shallow breathing and the wind chimes faintly ringing on the back porch, to the dog snoring in the other room and the kettle bubbling just behind her, to Johnny Mack and Russ whispering upstairs and to her own heartbeat, thumping away behind her ribs.

Snip, snip, snip.

“I used to despair over those broad shoulders of yours, but now it seems they will be your saving grace. Nothing to do about that jawline of yours, though. It's positively girlish.”

“If you're trying to discourage me, it's not working. I'm sure there will be other privates with equally ‘girlish’ jawlines, as you say.”

Snip, snip, snip.

“Yes, but none of them are named Corina Judee Brewster, are they?”

Corrie stayed silent at that, and her mother did not speak again. Eventually, she finished her daughter's hair, and while she swept, Corrie reached into the cabinet and grabbed the tin of loose tea, measuring out enough for two cups (they may live in Texas, but Elsa Brewster is a born and bred Michigander, and as such, took her tea hot with milk and sugar).

“Are you going to say goodbye to your brothers?”

She wasn't planning on it. “You know I can't do that.” Please don't make this harder on me, she thought.

“It wasn't a question.” Momma was suddenly so much heavier, her blonde hair greyer, her furrows deeper. It hit Corrie, in a lightning strike sort of way, that she did this - made her mother so old before she should have been. She's only forty-three, but tonight has put ten years on her face in a way that losing two husbands and the Depression didn't. “When we're done here, you're going to go upstairs and tell them goodbye. You're gonna get up there and tell them exactly where you're going, too.”

“Can't I-”

“No, you can't just tell them you're off with the WAC. You can lie to everyone else, lie to the government, I don't care - but you can't lie to me and you can't lie to your brothers. Especially not Johnny Mack.”

Corrie smiled. “He'd see right through me anyway.”

“Always could.” Momma did not smile, but her lips lifted a little, and her crow's feet tightened up around her grey eyes. “When you're done with them, I've got something for you.” She patted the table and got up, signaling to Corrie that it was time to get going, now that the tea was drunk. Corrie lingered in her chair, though, dreading all the possibilities of what might happen after she opened that bedroom door.

Russ will almost certainly cry. He was gentle like that, and she was glad he was too young to fight this war, at least for the moment. His eyes - grey, like their mother’s, but wide and still full of boyish wonder - will well up with hot, salty tears, and he won't fight the urge to let them flow freely like an older, tougher boy might. Johnny Mack, though, will act mad. His face, already naturally rosy in the cheeks, will flush a dark red. He'll demand she give up, and when that doesn't work (because it won't work, not in a million years), he'll demand to come with. But that's just it - it's an act. He knows there's nothing he can do about this and he hates it. He'll act mad when all he is is hurt.

After one last sip, Corrie stood. The steps creaked in a familiar cadence that almost stopped her in her tracks, but she pushed forward anyway, stopping to gather her thoughts just a moment before she, inevitably, tore their relationships apart.

She opened the door. They were both stifling laughter as she came in, but when they saw her serious expression, their faces fell. Breathe, she told herself, just… breathe. Closing the door behind her, Corrie's feet felt like lead weights, and she stayed where she was as she delivered the news before it could choke her. Between sobs, Russ begged to know why. Every answer she gave set off a new rush of tears, and so she stopped trying to explain and pulled him into her side, like they were kids again and this was all just a bad dream she could soothe away.

“Johnny Mack?” She looked over to her oddly silent brother. This was not what she had expected at all.

“I can't ask you to be safe, but I can ask you not to be stupid. Don't forget to write, Judee.” There is not a single ounce of anger in his voice, not even a drop of hurt or a dash of surprise, but there is a glint in his eye that says he - somehow! - knew she was going to do this. You can't lie to Johnny Mack, her mother had said. He'd see right through me. “Gonna tell momma?”

“She cut my hair.” Johnny Mack nodded and in an act of brotherly affection, ruffled her hair, the short, slightly damp strands going every which way. It got Russ’ attention and made him chuckle wetly.

“Yeah,” her youngest brother said, “I wanna hear all about it.”

When she leaves the room, she's calm, calmer than she was before she told her mother, even. Now, everyone who needs to know - everyone who matters - knows. Corrie feels a bit boneless now; she kind of doesn't want to go back downstairs to where her mother has settled in the living room. She's spilled herself out to her family, and it's left her feeling like a wrung-out towel left hanging on the clothesline. That's just how it goes, sometimes, she thinks. The man she needs to be cannot exist alongside the woman she already is, and so Corina must be poured out to make way for Private Brewster.

Momma was sitting in her chair, eyes fixed on a point far in the distance when Corrie made her way back to the living room. She stirred as Corrie settled on the couch. “I was thinking,” she began, “when the war's over, and when you've come back-’

“If-”

“When.” Momma’s voice was firm, final. “When you've come home, will you come back to me as my daughter or… or would you like to be my son from now on?”

Corrie thinks on it for a moment. It's a hard question to give a simple yes or no to, even if the possibility had crossed her mind before, which it hadn't. “I think- I think you'll have to ask me again when the time comes.” She can't quite make herself say when I come home.

Her mother nods. “And what name should I call you in the meantime, darlin’?”

“James. James Conrad Brewster.”

“Well, then. Goodnight.” Corrie can hear the creaks of her mother's bones as she stands to kiss her on the forehead, her shaking hands caressing gently her now-dry hair. “Goodnight, Jamie. Write soon.”

—☆—

Louella insisted on walking with her down to the station. Despite the early hour, she was dressed up in her second best set of clothes - stockings, makeup, and all. The streets were busy, but not bustling, and Lou had her arm threaded through Corrie's as they slowly made their way from Lou's family home to the train station.

“You didn't have to get all dolled up just for me, ‘specially since I know you'll have to go right back home to change for work.”

“It was worth it to give you a good and proper send off,” Lou purred.

“Know what would make it even better?”

“What?”

A giddy grin tugged at Corrie's mouth. “A kiissss,” she sing-songed, and dove for Lou's lips. Pink Champagne, her mind supplied. She had bought the tube while they were out running errands together, and Corrie had a matching one in Red Raspberry. Bet most GIs don't have that in their bedside drawers, Corrie thought.

“Oh!” She ducked, putting a hand on Corrie's chest to keep her away. “You are not getting on a troop train covered in my makeup!”

“Aww, why not? It'll make all the other fellas jealous.” She still said no, but compromised on letting Corrie kiss her on the cheek. Her face powder was sweetly bitter on her lips, and she savored the uniquely ‘Lou’ scent of garden dirt, cooking oil, and a spritz of rosy perfume - not an ideal smell, but a human one, and it made Corrie feel stronger at heart. She lingered there, not letting a single second be wasted. “Can I expect a letter or two?”

“Of course not.” Corrie pauses, her heart in her throat. “You can expect a great many letters, every week if I can manage it. Can't let you forget me in favor of some Georgia peach, can I?”

“Good God, woman, don't scare me like that!”

The station clock ticked nearer to her departure time. Neither of them wanted this to become a tearful goodbye, but they were beginning to feel their remaining time together slip away. Her heart raced as she pulled out of Lou's embrace, half-inch by half-inch. She wants - needs! - to impress every detail into her mind before she goes, but it seems they have wasted their chance, they've only got a minute or so, no time at all. “Goodb-”

“This is not goodbye. I will not tolerate such finality.” There was not a single tear escaping her eyes, but her voice was thick with the strain of keeping it that way.

Corrie shook her head. “Please, let me say it. For myself.”

“Go ahead, then.”

“Goodbye, Lou.”

Lou's soft blonde curls trembled as she replied, “Goodbye, Corrie,” and yanked her down onto her lips. “Goodbye.”

Toccoa, Georgia - here she comes.

[srasdoesthings]

*＊✿❀Day 7: Girl's Night Out❀✿＊*

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

And that's a wrap! Working on this week was fun^^ Ending this with a cute HiiAiKoha ft. Rinne piece cause they're very near and dear to my heart 💕💕 a small silly extra thing under cut!!

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

[moldspicy]

some silly guys i made a while back and thought i would share 🤲🌸✨

[raindrvq]

me after dallas gives me his jacket at the park