#DID YALL MISS ME???

[bishopsmacaroni]

Yelena: I may be short but that doesn't mean I'm not tough! *aggressively tries to open a Caprisun* Kate: Kate: Would you like me to open it for you? Yelena: *voice crack* Yes please.

[spkyart]

Specialist

[sonlc]

destroy the world , destroy the self alongside it

alt version 👍

[sideblogdotjpeg]

post battle, one last short rest

[vinegar-rights]

Im not gonna finish this lol

[anastacialy]

tracked down this clip just because of this post! have jokes from skizz and scar

[ricky-mortis]

Portrait practice with Miss Holloway :)

[tuttifrooti]

in the studiooo 🐺

[babysitterpng]

sketchdump

[starshinesim]

sparkle in your ˖ ࣪⭑eyes˖ ࣪⭑

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

It's thirty til midnight 'n the house is crowded with the hot press of bodies. Someone's shoutin'. Actually, most of 'em are shoutin'. The living room stinks like the spilled beer Two's ground down into the carpet. The TV's playin'. Some New Year's special that Pony's glued to. The record players skippin' its way through a Christmas album. The tree's still up 'cause none of them would let Darry take it down 'til after New Year's.

Darry checks his watch once, runs his thumb absently over the face, compares it to the little glowin' clock above the stove, stands up 'n shifts past the card game Johnny has been creamin' Dallas at for the last half hour. Darry wasn't sure how he had any money to his name left. He steps over the coffee table 'n catches the hand of pure shit Dallas grins 'n ups the bet on. Good lord Johnny was gonna have the shirt off his back before the night was over.

Soda's bouncin' back 'n forth between the holiday special 'n the card game, offerin' commentary only Johnny seems to enjoy. Steve's got a huge bowl of popcorn Darry had fixed balanced on his lap, pitchin' kernels at Two's mouth as he dives for 'em.

Darry sighs, snatches one out of the air 'n pops it into his own mouth, steppin' out of the way so Two falls unceremoniously onto his knees with a grin.

"Hey! I was gonna catch that one!" Darry rolls his eyes, absently grabs Pony from where he had his nose three inches from the tube 'n hauls him back, much to Pony's indignation.

"Sure you were. Just like you were gonna catch the other thirty or so that I'm gonna have to vacuum outta the carpet." But he doesn't really mean it. The mood's high 'n Darry's just pleased to have 'em all together. Outta trouble 'n safe.

"Hey it ain't my fault Steve can't throw straight! He ain't exactly got your arm, Dar." Two wraps both hands around Darry's bicep 'n Darry hauls him up, danglin' like a monkey with his knees all bent.

"Hey!" Steve takes his opportunity 'n dives off the couch, nearly dumpin' the entirety of the bowl onto Dallas' head. Dally yowls, drops his cards onto the table 'n snatches for Steve's ankles to drag him back across the floor. Johnny leans over, tips the cards up, 'n grins to himself, then promptly sprawls to the side to avoid Darry shakin' Two off him 'n onto the floor.

Soda, never to be left out, throws himself into the mess of limbs until they're all a tangled mass of carpet burn 'n sharp-toothed peels of laughter. Darry disentangles himself, hovers in the doorway 'n watches them for a moment. Then he checks his watch again, adjusts the worn leather strap, peers at the clock on the stove glowin' softly through the darkness of the kitchen, 'n slips out the back door.

He knows his time is numbered 'cause Pony 'n Soda have always been herders. Had to know where everyone was at all times. But Pony's sleepy 'n zoned in on the TV like a lifeline 'n Soda's had two shots (both hastily over the kitchen sink 'cause Pony still thought Soda was drunk on the plain idea of bein' alive 'n they all liked to let him think it) so he had maybe just a few more minutes than usual.

It's fridged outside. The kinda cold that burns along his bare arms 'n makes his breath hang in low clouds around his face.

He can't really explain it. He's never been real good about the holidays. They're just... heavy. Even before, well, everythin'.

He crosses the porch, sinks down on the stair 'n blinks down the empty street. There's a light or two on. One house or the other still holdin' out for midnight. Most are quiet 'n dark 'n Darry's heart does an odd little flip in his chest.

He doesn't know why he thinks about the winter he was twelve 'n had been the best of friends with the boy that lived on the corner. Or why his stomach sinks when he thinks about how hard he'd cried when they had moved out. Inconsolable even when their mama had pulled him up into her lap (though he was too big for that. Too big for needin' his mama.) (that last bit was never true. He still needed his mama. Maybe more than he ever had before.) 'n had just cried 'n cried 'til Soda 'n Pony had come home from wherever they'd been 'n that had been that. 'Cause he shouldn't cry in front of his brothers. He should be strong for them.

Somethin' shatters to the ground inside 'n jerks Darry outta his memory.

"Sorry!" Someone hollers 'n Darry chuckles to himself. Man, maybe he shouldn't have had that last beer. He must be in too good of a mood 'cause he doesn't even think about goin' in to reem out whoever was breakin' shit. But he knows that's not true 'n it ain't the beer to blame.

He runs his hands up 'n down his arms, stands up 'n crosses the lawn, dead 'n dry in winter, leans against the fence 'n hisses when the metal bites into his arms. He sighs, kicks at the hole ripped in the bottom, smiles absently to himself.

Soda 'n Two had put that there. Had run one of those push petal cars so hard into it they'd both flown off 'n scraped knees 'n elbows 'n come crawlin' up the steps with, not two, but three missin' teeth between the two of them.

God, they must have been in middle school then. When had they grown up so much?

"Agh put me down you sonofabitch!" Somethin' else hits the ground but this time Darry's mostly sure it's a person. No one wails so he figures he's still safe. 'N he ain't ready to go back in yet.

He checks his watch, fiddles with the knob on the side, a nervous habit he's had since he was eighteen. Fifteen minutes to go. Plenty of time.

A breeze kicks up, swings the gate open 'n closed so it lets out a low, mournful squeal. It hadn't hung right since the summer Darry was ten. They'd always just jumped the fence, givin' each other the boosts they refused to ask for, gigglin' when their mama had called them coyotes, takin' runnin' starts 'n laughin' off when they misjudged it 'n came down hard on their knees. Their daddy had sworn he was gonna fix it every summer since.

He never got to.

Last month they'd had a real bad wind storm that pushed that old gate forlornly back 'n forth for hours, wailin' 'n moanin' until Darry had scowled 'n muttered he was gonna fix that goddamn thing if it was the last thing he ever did. 'N then he'd looked over at Pony 'n they both suddenly felt sick to their stomachs.

He never did get around to it.

The wind howls 'n Darry flexes his fingers, realizes suddenly its the only sound he can hear. He checks his watch again. Five minutes to go. He should go back inside.

But then he's runnin' his fingers around the face 'n thinkin' about the people not waitin' for him back in that hot 'n crowded living room. Thinkin' about how it ain't really his watch.

It had been his daddy's. His pride 'n joy. Thick leather strap 'n gold platin' around the face 'n it had been his granddaddy's before him. God, Darry had coveted it. Could remember bein' thirteen, runnin' fingers around 'n around it til it shone. Fifteen 'n askin' his daddy if he'd pass it down to him one day. Eighteen when he had put it in his hands on his graduation day.

You gotta watch out for it. The time flies, kiddo. Be careful how you spend it.

Darry doesn't hear the screen door slam, or the patterin' footsteps across the lawn, or the creak of the fence as someone leans against it til Soda's there, head restin' down on Darry's shoulder. Darry jumps, scrubs the back of his hand against the tears so hot against his flushed cheeks they burn. 'Cause he shouldn't cry in front of his brothers. He had to be strong.

"I figured I'd find you out here." Soda wraps a blanket, stolen from the couch, around Darry's arms 'n he suddenly realizes just how cold he is. He sighs, pulls Soda in 'n tucks him under his elbow.

"C'mon, Soda. You shouldn't be out here." 'N he shouldn't. 'Cause he shouldn't ruin everyone else's good time with his stupid achin'. "Let's get you back inside."

Soda tilts his head back 'n blinks up at Darry. Or, no he doesn't. He doesn't need to. Hasn't needed to look up to Darry in a long time, long since hit that final growth spurt that had their mama lettin' out all his jean hems 'n hopin' they stopped below his ankle. "You shouldn't be out here alone, Dar."

"I'm fine-"

"Oh, I know. You're fine. You're good. You're peachy." Soda sighs, drops his chin back down to Darry's shoulder. "You thinkin' about them?"

'N he is. But not really. He's thinkin' about all of them. About breakin' promises 'n not bein' careful enough. About turnin' around one day 'n Pony's not six years old 'n followin' Darry around 'cause he was still young enough to think Darry was the coolest person alive. That Soda's not ten years old 'n missin' his front tooth 'n a permanent bandaid on his knees 'n bringin' home one kid after another until their house was always full. That Johnny 'n Two 'n Dallas 'n Steve ain't just his brother's friends or strangers hangin' around his living room or even just good buddies.

"I'm thinkin' about my resolution." He pulls Soda in closer 'n somewhere down the street someone bangs pans together. A lone firework bangs off into the sky, lightin' his brother's face in a way that makes him look like he was a kid again, pressed against the window 'n tryin' so hard to stay awake.

"Well, don't leave me hangin'." Soda yawns, presses his face into Darry's chest to shield it from the wind.

Darry smiles softly to himself, runs a hand through Soda's hair, the lamp light bouncin' off the watch face when he lifts his wrist.

"I'm gonna keep some old promises."

I ain't gonna let time slip me by. The back door bangs open 'n when Darry turns he can see the shinin' grin on Two's face, his arm draped around Steve's shoulders. Pony leanin' hard on Dallas though Darry knows he'll claim he ain't tired. Johnny shiverin' in his too-big jacket.

"Come on, Dar! You're gonna miss it!" 'N Darry knows he means the ball drop or the announcer on TV or the end of the special but Darry can only smile ruefully, shift Soda closer to him 'n sweep him right off his feet to carry him inside.

You're right. You gotta be careful or you will. You'll miss it all.

tags 'cause y'all were so sweet in my other post I was like well I simply gotta finish this right now😭@trekkiehood @strxwberry-julius @marmaladedcroissant @wildestdreamcatcher @sarcasticallyexplicit11 @scalls @greasernamedbug

[bluejay-makes]

Slowly turning their leg into an aquarium

[fauchart]

Open Mic Night at Café Kafka

@claraknight's Claryce might be a big fan of literature and poetry, the same cannot be said of Ann-Doreen, who'd rather read trashy people magazines,,,

[cyxnidx]

SICK DAY !

character: kazuha

synopsis: kazuha taking care of you during a fever. fluff. nicknames “honey”, & “darling” are used for the reader.

a/n: its been two months since i genuinely wrote something, wtf? missed yall.

you wake up to your throat hurting, and an irritating cough that sounds like an old man has been holding in since he was conceived.

turning over, you notice an absence in the sheets beside you, long gone cold. kazuha’s up and about, and judging from the lack of body heat, he as been for a while.

you were ready to hop out of bed and begin your day before hearing a bunch of “ah ah”’s put together with the clanging of glasses behind you.

“glad to see you’re awake,” kazuha begins, setting a tray down on the bedside table. “however, you seem to have caught a fever.”

you cock your head in confusion. disregarding that annoyingly dry cough, you felt fine. also disregarding the suffocating stuffy nose and headache. also, were you always this light headed before you got up?

ignoring the obvious signs your body attempted to give you, you shake your head and shrug. “thank you, kazuha, but i’m fine.”

“but you’re not?” he disagreed.

“if im not, i can assure you i will be fine.” you say confidently, letting out a choked cough. a smug smirk appeared on kazuhas face. you roll your eyes. “okay, but that doesn’t mean anything. i just need something to drink.”

he hums dismissively. “you can deny it all you want, darling. but, you’re sick. let me take care of you.” he insists, gentle hands pushing your shoulders to guide you back to sit on the bed. “i’m not gonna stop bothering you until you do.”

you huff, nose scrunched. “im not sick.”

“would you like me to check your temperature?” he asked, making his way to the bathroom for the thermometer.

“i don’t need a caretaker!” you deny.

“so you admit your sick?” he asks, poking his head from the corner of the door frame.

“no! im not sick, nor do i need a caretaker.”

he sniffs the air, pinching his nose playfully. “honey, i don’t know about you, but i smell bullshit and hyper independence?” he says, turning the thermometer on as he walked toward you. “open your mouth reaalll wide for me.”

you roll your eyes at his shenanigans, opening your mouth and lifting your tongue for the thermometer, expression getting slightly more worried when his smug expression begins to turn a bit worried. “what is it?”

“honey, your temperature is at 190. you need to rest.”

“190?!”

“190.” he assures.

you bite your inner cheek, upset at your bodies betrayal. you never really happened to get sick, and at the first sign of sickness, you practically buried yourself in vitamins and nutrients to demolish it the moment it showed itself. so how come you didn’t see this coming?

“now, will you please let your loving, doting and caring lover take care of you?” he asks, moving your body to go back under the sheets despite your spiking temperature, and placing the tray of food onto your lap. “besides, i made your favorite. i’m sure you’d hate to see such a delicious meal go to waste?”

you look down at the tray below you, which had a bowl of fruit, orange juice, assuming herbal tea, and your favorite breakfast. two gummies and two pills sat on the side of the tray in a small circle. presumably, its probably medication.

“fine. only this once though.” you agree reluctantly, picking up an utensil to begin eating. “im starving, anyway.”

he hums, sitting at the edge of the bed. “whatever you say honey. should i put on a show?”

[hercarisntyours]

we are SO BACK

[usertoxicyaoi]

"Good job."

TAIKAN YOHOU (2023). Episode 3.