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Now playing “Getaway Car” by Alex Warren

Ramble under cut

Idc what people say Dally has awful wanderlust. Boy woulda left Tulsa in an instant if it weren’t for the gang. He would go crazy if he had to stay inside for days.

I hc that when he ran away from nyc, he trainhopped around for like nine months (this is kinda canon in the musical) until he finally came back to Tulsa “just to stop by” and was forced to remember the gang and how much he missed it.

He hates that Tulsa dragged him back, hates that he’s chained down by caring about his friends.

Sometimes it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t. Sometimes it’s easier to dream about skipping town, carving DW into another freight train and traveling the country.

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I haven't read Homestuck (:() but I have a gamzee in my head and she keeps on looking at fanary of tabrros and drawing her and tavros and is not currently letting me do what I have to and

STOP LICKING YOUR F/O PLEASE/silly

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Gamtav comics

Second comic

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Shapes and colors the likes of which I've never seen!!!

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darry regularly. in a completely flat voice. n with the upmost sincerity. will bump into somethin or drop somethin. n dead pan. 'oopise daisies.'

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Do y'all ever think about how Gamzee really spent most of his time being brainwashed? Whether it be by Lil Cal, Lord English, or Aranea. Most of Gamzee's evil attitudes are a direct consequence of someone else's interference. Heck, even his horribly toxic kismesissitude with Terezi is implied to be due to Aranea. The only time we get to really see Gamzee's true personality when he's not under some kind of horrible influence is when he's high on sopor slime before the events of murderstuck. It's actually kind of sad when you think about it. This poor kid who really just wants to make the people he considers his friends smile is constantly mocked, insulted, brainwashed, and used for someone else's horrible goals, all because he's destined to be something he really doesn't want to be. I've always really loved Gamzee, and I feel like the tragedy of his character often goes overlooked.

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Ponyboy Curtis had always loved the sky.

The rusty red color of the car he saw Curly Shepard driving two falls ago.

The soft pink that dusted his cheeks whenever Curly walked by in the hallway, the lingering glance where he could’ve sworn the color was on the other boys cheeks as well.

The pale blue of the chipped siding on the Shepard house, the house he had been to more times than he could count. The house where he watched his first horror movie, the place where he had his first kiss.

The inky black of Curly’s jacket, the smell of cigarettes and smoke. He’d been wearing it for weeks now, Curly’s gone more often than not. Usually locked up or in reform, no matter how many times it happens, Pony still finds himself sobbing into the rough material.

The deep purple of the bruise around Curly’s eye, he keeps coming home like this. Drunk out of his mind and fresh out of his latest, perfectly avoidable fight. A new emotion bubbles underneath his skin, anger. And for the first time ever, it’s directed at Curly.

The pristine white of the hospital room Pony is currently crying in, the byproduct of a bar brawl gone wrong. A fight that didn’t need to be started, “‘Ya gotta quit doin’ this to me Curls.” He says as he storms out of the room, his heart a mess of emotions so complicated even he can’t find the words for them.

The orange petals of the flowers he just bought, boarding the bus, bouquet in one hand, leather jacket in the other. Guilt heavy in his chest.

The cold gray of the gravestone, positioned in the back of the cemetery. With the letters “Curly Shepard: 1951 - 1968” written on it. If only he hadn’t been so stupid, if only he hadn’t fought with Curly. He’d been meaning to make up, really, he had. But now he never could, it was too late. Pony draped the jacket over the stone, leaving the flowers beneath it.

Ponyboy didn’t look at the sky anymore. Every color did nothing but remind him of his boyfriend. Yet another thing he’d lost, Curly was gone, and it was like he’d taken the beauty of the sky along with him.

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Friend is getting into homestuck and one of their initial impressions was "why do I feel like I have a higher chance of being doxxed in this fandom"

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darry doesn’t cave under pressure. never has — not when his high school buddies shove a cigarette in his hand, not when cops try twisting his arm for information, and sure as hell not when bill collectors knock on the door, promising to strip the place clean. darry never caves. he holds the line.

but then there’s sodapop. soda doesn’t twist his arm or raise his voice. he doesn’t have to. all it takes is one look — that wide, open kind of look that only soda can pull off, like the world hasn’t knocked the happiness out of him yet — and darry is toast.

he sees it coming and still lets it happen. the hopeful tilt of soda’s head, the stupid little grin, the way he says “dar?” like the word itself is made of sunshine and trouble. and darry sighs, crosses his arms, maybe scowls a little just for show — but the ending is always the same. soda asks, and darry gives in.

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I love just how vague Dally & Johnny’s relationship is in the novel.

They’re clearly so much closer than Pony knows, and even when he sees more of them interacting, he can’t quite describe their bond. With Soda and Steve, he easily calls them best friends—- yet he never says the same about Dally and Johnny, despite us seeing how close they are. Like, the best he can describe it is that Johnny looks up to Dally, but he literally doesn’t know why Dally likes Johnny so much 😭

This honestly goes for the rest of the gang as well. I always interpreted “almost as close as brothers” in the way that you love your siblings and hang out with them, even if you don’t have much in common, y’know?

They’re childhood friends in that way—- they just always knew each other, and even if they do have other friends (like pony’s school friends) they always go back to the gang as their main group. And the way that they don’t really fight among themselves, otherwise their friendships wouldn’t work.

Pony hardly describes Dally as a friend, but still hangs out with him without a second thought.

In the novel, Pony and Johnny aren’t that close until Windrixville, yet Pony still sleeps on Johnny’s legs with no hesitation. Even if they aren’t best friends, they’re so comfortable with the other.

The fact that Pony knows the gang would protect him with no hesitation, even though he believes some of them hate him.

The way he knows any of them would walk him to the movies, that any of them would let Johnny crash at their place.

Don’t get me wrong, I fucking adore the musical, I love me some non-related characters who call each other brothers—-

but it’s the way that Pony can’t define the gangs relationship with each other in the novel. They’re all just so used to and comfortable each other, there just isn’t a label for it.

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Tim showin up with his lil siblings on the Curtis' doorstep. bruised n bleedin n curly n angela all mussed up n half awake, clingin tight to each other like they haven't since they were small. Darry doesn’t ask questions. just opens the door n fixes them the leftovers. makes up the couch. Tim won't stay. don't let Darry dress up the cuts or get too close. he runs a hand over each of his lil siblings hair n is gone. when he returns hours later they're both asleep. the whole house is. quiet n settled like the Shepards never was. except darry. waitin up for him. n not askin any questions at all.

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What's on my mind? Oh, nothing. Just 20-year-old Darry staring down at a gravestone that says "Darrel Curtis." Not his grave, but his namesake's.

But when the realization hits that he'll never go to college, that he'll work like an old man for the rest of his life, that he'll never get out of this town... the grave starts to look an awful lot like his.

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finished that jay art from like 2 years ago hey guys

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Enzo and Teo 🩸

"Take it easy, man" he said, jumping out of bed. "Come on, wash your face"

"Want a smoke? It's on me"

He came with me to the bathroom, and while I soaked my nose and mouth with cold water to dissolve the dried blood, he pulled up a tile from the floor with his hands. From there, he took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I was surprised he'd been smart enough to hide the tobacco there. Sometimes he could be a really sharp kid.

"Oh yeah. I'm desperate" I forgot to mention I smoked like a chimney.

I dried my face with a towel and stared at the cigarette he offered like I was about to devour it.

He lit it, and soon the bathroom filled with a grayish haze that dimmed our faces. He put the tile back in place.

"What's your name?" he asked, nodding at me. He did that a lot. Nodding.

"Lorenzo Rivera"

"I'll call you Enzo if you don't mind. Lorenzo's too long" he blew out a cloud of smoke. "I'm Teo Márquez. Let's go outside. If they catch us smoking we're screwed"

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Rewatched The Chip On My Shoulder and hrrfffavjsgd

Watching it with context is so much more painful.

Chip can’t comprehend that he’s not being punished, and that Gillion doesn’t want to kill him. He’s so used to Price’s way of things.

Mistakes = punishment. Punishment = death.

He’s defending himself by pointing out how he had Gillion’s back, thinking loyalty is all that matters, not ready to understand that doing good matters more to Gillion than that.

the way he pulls Gill’s sword to his throat, just ready to fucking die, daring Gillion to do it just to prove a point.

AUUUUGHHHH

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Doxxing the sys group chat/silly

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Dar should front more often if I get to be capable of making BANGERS like this when he's around

But also how much am I gonna draw this position like