#i hope it makes you guys laugh

[chryblossomjjk]

guys thank you so much for sticking around with me despite my lack of content… ive missed writing and talking to you all and responding to reviews so much. going to start working my way through responding to the reviews on the weekend and answering asks. ive finally started writing again the past two weeks, and today is the first day ive felt that excitement that i used to feel while writing. makes me realize how much i love this community. thank you for being here.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dog Meshi.

[lilybug-02]

New friend acquired!

Bug Fact: Colombian Lesserblack Tarantulas have pet frogs! The frog protects the spider's eggs from ants and in return, the frog is kept safe by the spider.

First || Prev // Next

Masterpost

[revvethasmythh]

tbh, one of the things I can't wait to be over with this campaign is the idea that any real person's engagement with feminism is somehow tethered to whether or not/how much they like imogen and laudna (and additionally, having the concept of lesbophobia attached to whether you enjoy the ship between them). i feel like every single time there's been a word of criticism about their behavior or development, it's immediately been met with a cry (in certain circles) that anyone being critical isn't feminist and doesn't support sapphic relationships, which has been a WILD experience on my end as a stan blog for a female character who has notable sapphic ships. but none of that has mattered in the wake of these two SPECIFIC characters. like they're the linchpins of feminism and all sapphics around the world, and to dislike or even just be mildly critical of them proves you have disavowed your rights to be a feminist. or queer yourself. if i am eager for ANYTHING to be over, it is that

[delicioustarong]

"BECAUSE SINGING KILLED MY GRANDMA OKAY!"

[jontaro-kun]

That one time a pose study (looking at art of pretty women and telling myself I was being productive) turned into Portia

[butteredfrogs]

meme's gate a recolour by buttertrait

that's right im back on my stupid antics once again! i’ve been seeing a ton of these bg3 shirts and so i decided to make them in the sims, because let’s be honest who doesn’t want a shirt that says oak daddy on it? anyway i hope you guys enjoy and please tag me if you do use them!

requires mesh by @okruee !

9 swatches (note: some of the swatches may be slightly warped esp on fem frame im sorry)

teen to elder, both frames

custom thumbnail

download (free ofc): sfs | (alt) mediafire

(also tysm for 900 followers ahhhh!!)

[ratatatastic]

Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕��? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive. 

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food. 

Which he fed all to Raph by the way. 

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'. 

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring. 

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell. 

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth. 

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning. 

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time! 

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here���that was basically all of his tendencies. 

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow. 

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right. 

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation. 

…The situation he created in the first place. 

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy. 

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did. 

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!” 

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.” 

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…” 

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired. 

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!” 

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook. 

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged. 

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.” 

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?” 

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled. 

“And…why are those bad things?” 

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant. 

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.” 

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?” 

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?” 

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…” 

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin. 

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline. 

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.  

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?” 

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...” 

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?” 

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.” 

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.” 

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” 

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.” 

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful. 

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.  

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly. 

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled. 

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck. 

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed. 

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!” 

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.” 

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!” 

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed. 

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!” 

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?” 

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...” 

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?” 

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.” 

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.” 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[mashbrainrot]

there is someone out there who insists on putting horrible comments on fics, in people's tumblr inboxes, anywhere they can get their grubby little paws. often just the usual fare for pathetic trolls - rape threats, suicide bait, the odd racial slur... occasionally, they branch out and try their hand at slightly more insidious attempts to sow discord between people.

they mostly don't make an impact, however, not only because they are so transparent, but also because anyone who has ever come into contact with this person knows full well who they are, and knowing that sort of makes the whole thing vaguely laughable.

however, now and again they sort of... widen their scope a bit, and just on the off chance that they might send their little attacks to anyone vulnerable, or unknowing, I just wanted to let you all know that they really are just the work of one very sad individual who has nothing better to do with their time. they're not a real threat to anyone, except maybe themselves. please please don't take anything they say to heart. just block, report, turn off anon comments, anything you need or want to do.

I'm not sure if they'll get bored – they haven't yet, and frankly I don't think they have much else to sustain them besides perhaps deleting and remaking endless tumblr blogs – but ignoring them wholeheartedly is genuinely what is best for you, and that is what is important.

so, look after yourselves. they're just a troll.

[misspoetree]

KinnPorsche + Text Posts: Ghostly Edition 👻 (this was funnier in my head)

[Themed Editions: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | ?]

[Character Editions: Pete Part I & II & III | Vegas Part I & II & III | Tay Part I & II | Tankhun - Part I & II | Big Part I & II | Porsche Part I & II & III | Kim | Porchay | Chan | Kinn Part I & II | Macau | Pol]

[Episode Editions & Rewatch Editions]

[aquared]

my bad

[toxintouch]

how do you think the lis would respond if mc sheepishly asked if they could fondle their tiddies? (even mhin, even though i KNOW they'd shank a bitch.)

Here ya go, Anon!! :3 They pronouns & non-specific language/MC used. Suggestive, but no other warnings.

AIS:

Pretends he doesn’t hear them.

“Hmm?”  He holds a hand to his ear, a toothy little smirk on his face, his scarred eyebrow raised.  The way he’s making direct eye contact is an unmistakable challenge.

“You wanna what now, Sparrow?” 

He knows exactly what MC said and they can tell.  He just wants to see if they'll say it again.  They didn’t sound so sure about whatever that request was just now…

His smirk grows when– (if?? But c’mon he’s so clearly saying yes, please) –

His smirk grows when they don’t back down.  He spreads his arms out in invitation, haori splaying open.

He’s patient for as long as he can stand once they get their hands on him but it isn’t long before he finds himself grabbing them by the wrists, pulling them closer.  Pressing his palms against the back of their hands to encourage them to make full, firm contact.  Haven’t they been warned?  He’s awfully greedy.

(And: if he purposely presses their touch against his heart for a moment, no one needs to know but him.)

VERE:

He gives them a blank look– a look unsettlingly similar to his hungry, flat eyed stare.  Though, it’s gone in an instant–so quick they might even be able to convince themself that they imagined it.  One blink and his entire expression is different, his tail swishing elegantly and with a flourish that can only be described as pleased.

“Well,” he purrs, “aren’t you just adorable?  I did tell you to ask next time you wanted to touch…  Very well then.  I’ll reward your ability to follow simple instructions.”  He relaxes luxuriously into the cushions of the divan that he’s resting on.  “Come along, then.  Fondle to your heart's content.  Don’t leave me waiting.”  He beckons to them with a crooked finger, tempting them closer, a haunting echo of their first meeting. 

Survival instincts be damned…he did give them permission…

He breathes a chuckle out as they touch him, his mouth hot against their ear as he buries a grin into their neck.

In the space of another breath, he’s flipped the two of them, leaving them pinned against the divan.

“You didn't think you were getting a single thing for free from me anymore, did you?  Tut tut.  After you treated my generosity so callously before?  From now on, I’ll be expecting payment in kind.  Quid pro quo, darling.”

KURAS:

He looks at them, eyes crinkled with amusement.  “Am I to take it that your interest is academic?  Studying anatomy, perhaps?  I do have a few select texts I could offer you which you might find quite beneficial.”

The embarrassed look on their face seems to amuse him further, the corners of his lips tugging up as he takes in their expression.

“Of course, the benefits of a more hands-on method of scholarship should not be overlooked.”  He takes pity on them, beckoning them over as he takes a seat on the doctor’s stool, right next to the cot where they first met him.  He neatly removes his coat, folding it and laying it to rest beside him.  Despite their fears, he doesn’t start listing out the anatomical names for things as they lay their hands on him.  His eyes slip shut as they rest their hands on his  shoulders–he’s still so tall, even sitting on the low stool–sliding their hands down, admiring the sturdy form and shape of him.

His own hands come up, clutching around their waist with surprising strength.  His eyes are bright and intense as he looks up at them.  They expect him to say something but he merely squeezes them–Possessively?–

Like he might be able to trap them in this moment with him forever, through will alone.

He closes his eyes again; his grip loosens. His self-control back is back in its necessary place, and he finds himself repentant.

“Forgive me.  You are quite endearing.  I simply find you…difficult to resist.”  He admits.

MHIN:

You are so correct anon.  Shanked immediately.  But MC bonks their head into Mhin’s chest on their way to the ground, so…  Achievement Unlocked? Or, for MC’s sake, I’ll assume that they have earned a level of trust/intimacy with Mhin that makes Mhin a lil' less likely to get stabby.

Mhin’s eyebrows furrow as Mhin crosses their arms, physically creating distance between MC and their…

Mhin’s cheeks go a little red as they realize how obvious their body language is, their pale eyes darting to the side as they worry about what other things they’ve accidentally telegraphed to MC. How many of Mhin's true thoughts and feelings are they privy to...?  Shaking themself mentally, they quickly snap out of it, pinning MC with a pointed glare.

“If you value your life at all, you’ll never ask me that again.”  Mhin marches away.  “Staying at the Wet Wick–around Leander–has ruined your brain.  You need to get out of that place while you still have some grey matter left.”

. . .

Later, escorting MC back to said Wet Wick, ducking through the lesser known and narrower streets after a long day of following dead ends together, Mhin finds the thought ruining their own brain.  It must be the heat of MC pressed against them in the alleyway, the comforting, all-consuming scent of them, the memory of MC’s flushed face while they were asking Mhin’s permission...  MC’s much braver than them, Mhin thinks bitterly, so much more willing to let themself have what they want, despite their cursed hands.  Mhin sighs, stopping abruptly.  Turning.  Pinching the bridge of their nose.

“Look–you can–”

Mhin feels themself blushing all the way down to their chest.  They open their mouth and close it a couple of times, attempting to articulate what they want.  They make a noise of aggravated frustration.  Carefully–very carefully, and very slowly, so that MC knows exactly what they are doing, they reach for the bandaged hands at MC’s side.  They rest MC’s hands lightly on their chest, shivering as they feel the brush of fingers against their clothed ribs, thumbs pressing into their sternum.  They bite down a noise that would surely make them perish where they stand.  Stars above, how long since–

“...Does your heart always beat this fast, Mhin?”

“Quiet.”  They snap.

Wow Mhin.  Right there in the alleyway huh?  Well ok then. I see what ur about.

LEANDER:

The two of them are alone in the room at the Wet Wick, just sitting together innocently on the bed when MC asks.

Well–they try to ask.

He hears them start the question and his coat and shirt (and tiddie belt) are coming off before they can even finish.  He gives them a quiet chuckle, blushing as his shirt(s) get caught at his shoulders. 

Though the perfect way it frames his boobs might convince them he did it on purpose…

“You meant skin to skin, right?”  He laughs again, leaning back on his hands and looking entirely too appetizing–is he arching his back a little more than necessary? 

“I don’t mind at all! Though, if you could help me with…”  His eyes crinkle as he smiles at them, head tilted like a puppy, waiting expectantly.

They get up from the bed to help him discard his remaining topmost layers of clothing, standing above him in order to better assist.  His eyes are pinned to theirs the moment the fabric barrier is fully cast aside.  “I…can’t say this is a bad view,” he admits, eyes roving along their form, tongue darting out to wet his lips.  Then, more sincerely: “I’m glad that you asked me for this.  Don’t be afraid to touch, all right?  Nothing bad will happen to me, promise. Remember: whatever you want.”

They find themself feeling along the edges of his scar, tracing the line of it across his pectoral…  His breath catching when they accidentally scratch him a little with their nails (MC is just a little clumsy–that was completely unintentionally, really) is dangerously addictive.

“Ah... Anywhere else you’d like to touch?  It would be a shame to waste this opportunity…”

If they're feeling shy, he could offer a few suggestions.  He really, really wants to help in any way he can. :)

BONUS!ELYON:   “You can, but I will have to charge.”

[spicyvampire]

THE SIGN (2023) EP. 2 // EP. 5 // EP. 6

[skimpilydressedwithanaxe]

I made this mainly for fun because I like a lot of colors but it turned out somewhat ok

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Petition for more dally and soda antics pls 😆

OFC! SO sorry it took so long for me to get to this but I love these boy 'n I am HAPPY to provide!! fic under the cut!!

also HUGE shoutout to my LOVELY mutal @thedeitywhoplayedwithbricks for not only being right 100% of the time but also giving me the inspo to be able to write this ILY😭

"Woah, Soda where the hell did you get these?" Soda leans forward on the couch, jarrin' Pony as he rests his head on Soda's knees. Dallas appears in the doorway, brandishin' a pair of cowboys so new they ain't even creased. Pony lets out a wordless whine 'n Soda pats him on the ribs, absently runnin' a hand through his hair as he sits back so Pony can readjust.

"Just bought 'em." Soda grins ear to ear. "I've been fixin' to get 'em for like three paychecks now. Sweet, yeah?" Dallas turns them over in his hand, lets out a low whistle of appreciation. He flips them so he can see the sole, runnin' a finger over the tread.

"Wait, Soda, we're the same size, huh?" Dallas grins, his silver tooth glowin' mischievously in the low living room light. Soda wags a finger at him in a way oddly reminiscent of Darry.

"Oh, nuh-uh. I worked my ass off you are not stealin' my boots, Dallas Winston." Dally drops them back at the door, puts his hand up in mock surrender.

"Woah, woah, woah. No need to get your panties in a twist. A man can't even admire a nice pair a shoes anymore." Dallas plops down on the couch, liftin' Pony's legs from where he's sprawled out 'n droppin' them into his lap.

"Not when that man is a hood like you." Pony tears his eyes away from the TV to smirk at Dallas who promptly pushes the kid off his lap so he falls straight onto the floor. Pony wails indignantly 'n Soda snorts.

"You kinda asked for that one, Pone." Pony's mouth drops open in betrayal 'n he clambers off the floor into Darry's armchair, scowlin' at Dallas 'n Soda in turn.

"Did not. Soda you should be on my side here, Dally uses your closet like a goddamn consignment shop!" Dallas beams a throw pillow at his head 'n Pony yelps 'n dives behind the arm.

"Wait a minute, Pony's got a point."

"Nuh-uh! I do not. I don't have shit of yours but I'll tell you right now those are my jeans." Dallas kicks Soda in the shin 'n Soda squeaks 'n slides further down the couch. He lifts a knee 'n studies them, frownin'. After a moment he pulls his nose down 'n sniffs, coughin' 'n makin' a face.

"I wondered why they smelled like menthols." He sticks out his tongue 'n kicks his feet onto Dally's lap. Dallas rolls his eyes but lets him, grabbin' him by the ankles 'n slidin' him down a little further.

"See, now who's the clothes stealer?" The front door swings open 'n Darry drops his tool belt onto the table, glancin' into the living room to see who was over.

"Hey, boys-" He stops, double takes. "Dallas, is that my shirt?"

...

Soda wakes up the next mornin' 'n Dallas has already managed to worm out of bed. He always was the early riser of the bunch but most days he couldn't pry Soda off of him so he'd just stay until Soda woke up.

He drops his feet to the floor with a yawn 'n listens for the sounds of his brother's in the kitchen. Pony's still snorin' softly in his bed on the opposite side of the room 'n Soda pulls the blanket up a little higher as he passes by.

The TVs on real quiet 'n Steve's layin' back on the couch, eyes mostly closed 'n hair floppin' into his eyes. Soda pauses beside him just long enough to see what's on 'n Steve absently puts a hand up 'n taps Soda in the chest without takin' his eyes off the screen. Neither of them were particularly mornin' people.

"G'mornin', Dar." He flops down at the table 'n Darry slides him a plate of eggs Soda immediately tucks into.

"Mornin' lil buddy." Darry pulls out the chair next to him, flippin' off the stove 'n pickin' up the newspaper. "You've got perfect timin', I was just about to drag you outta bed by your feet."

"It's a skill. Knowin' when the hell to get outta dodge that is." Soda quips around a mouthful of eggs 'n Darry snorts a laugh.

"If that were true, I wouldn't spend most of my afternoons chasin' your ass around." Soda scraps the last bite off the plate, he always inhales his food like it was runnin' away from him, 'n pushes himself up.

"Hey, be fair. You spend most of your afternoons chasin' Pony. Or Dallas." Soda ducks into the laundry room 'n shucks off his sleep shirt, replacin' it with a white tee 'n his DX button-up. "Speak of the devil, where is ol' Dally?" Most mornin's like clockwork Darry 'n Dallas were up at the ass crack of dawn just putsin' around the kitchen.

"He beat it out of here real early. I think Buck has him doin' prep for a race tonight." Soda pops back into the room, grabs a piece of toast off the counter 'n stuffs the whole thing in his mouth.

"Ready Stevie?" Soda sticks his head into the living room 'n Steve drags himself off the couch, reluctantly. "You drivin' Dar?" Darry leans forward over his paper, hurriedly tracin' an article at his fingertips before foldin' it 'n droppin' it on the table.

"Yeah, I'll give you boys a lift." Soda 'n Steve's beater was lovin'ly busted. Again.

"Alrighty." Steve pulls on a pair of sneakers that may have once been Darry's but had since passed through Two-Bit down to Steve. Soda lets him steady himself on his shoulder, reaches for his boots twice 'n misses them before he actually looks down.

They're not there. Soda blinks at the space he left them last night. Pokes back into the living room. Hell, he slides down the hall in his socks 'n checks his 'n Pony's room. "Soda, buddy, y'all are gonna be late."

"Do you know where my cowboys are, Dar?" Soda shouts, forgettin' Pony's still curled up asleep. He stirs 'n Soda cringes.

"You left 'em by the door, honey," Darry calls back. Soda sprints back down to the kitchen, slippin' a bit. The pile of shoes is notably missin' Soda's, still.

Oh. Wait a goddamn minute. "Dallas!"

...

"Hey Dar, what's for dinner I'm starvin'-" Before Dallas even makes it all the way into the house he's flat on his back. Soda streakin' from the living room to throw his entire weight on Dallas' chest. All the air leaves Dallas in a whoosh 'n he hits the kitchen tile hard. Soda pins him down with his knees pressin' into Dally's upturned palms.

"You asshole you took my goddamn boots!" Dallas grins up at him, brings a knee up 'n shoves into Soda's chest, easily pushin' him off. Soda scrambles for him again 'n Dallas grabs him by the shoulders, wrestlin' 'n rollin' around on the floor.

Soda manages to sit down hard on Dally's chest 'n start to wrestle his boots off Dallas' feet. Dally thrashes around 'n when Soda doesn't get up he grabs a handful of Soda's wild blonde hair 'n yanks just hard enough to pull him off balance. Soda yowls 'n apparently that was too much in poor form for Darry.

He sighs 'n lowers the simmer on the stove, reachin' over 'n easily pullin' the two apart, givin' them both a firm shake before droppin' 'em again.

Soda shoots him a glare 'n Dallas grins wide 'n snorts a laugh. Soda manages to hold onto his scowl for a moment more before he hoots a laugh 'n suddenly they're rollin' around again, laughin'.

"Take my goddamn shoes off you little thief!" Soda grabs Dallas by the ankle 'n pulls the boot off in one swift motion. Dallas doesn't fight him but he sure as hell doesn't help him.

"Who're you callin' theif? If anythin' I'm a victim brutally attacked in my own home!" Dallas flops back on the tile 'n Soda hits him in the stomach with the heel of the boot.

"My house 'n my shoes, asshole." Soda snickers 'n clambers off the floor, offerin' Dallas a hand 'n haulin' him up.

"For now." Dallas wiggles his eyebrows 'n Soda knocks him in the side.

"Oh, you're on." Darry lets out an almighty sigh. Those three words never bode well for his sanity.

...

The cowboys have made the rounds about eight times back 'n forth when the hat gets involved. Dallas swears he got it by legal means 'n no one really believes him. 'N the problem really should have worked it out here, tradin' one for the other. But it's never that simple.

"Dally, lemme see your hat." It's one of those brown suedes with the fancy stitchin' around where the brim meets. One of those real expensive ones.

"You can see it just fine from there." Soda's been in possession of the boots for three days by means of sleepin' with 'em. Not on. Wrapped up in his arms like a goddamn baby. So it was safe to say any generosity has gone straight out of Dallas.

Two appears behind him, snatchin' it off his head 'n tossin' it across the room to Soda. Dallas socks him a good one in the ribs 'n dives across Pony to grab it back. Johnny's at Pony's feet 'n he flattens himself against Pony's calves 'n duckin' as Dallas climbs onto the sofa.

Soda holds it above his head, reachin' as far as he can. He's sittin' on his boots like he's takin' to doin' since Darry won't let them wear shoes in the house 'n Soda refuses to let them out of his line of sight for even a second. Dallas goes for the boots 'n Soda makes the snap decision to drop his arm to bat Dallas away. Dally grins smugly 'n takes the chance to snatch the hat back.

"Oh, no way. You're not sharin' 'n neither am I." He plunks the hat down again 'n wedges himself on the opposite side of Pony who was still whinin' at bein' climbed over.

"Glory, no brotherly love from that one." Soda howls 'n Dallas flips him off.

"You first." Soda sticks his tongue out 'n Dallas makes a face.

"Well, you gotta go to sleep sometime." Soda settles back down, slings around Pony. Just his eyes are visible above Pony's mop of hair, shinin' mischievously.

"I'd like to see you try."

...

Turns out a hat is significantly harder to sleep in. 'N far easier to steal.

...

Soda wakes up on a Saturday mornin' 'n immediately knows somethin' is wrong. He realizes three things at the same time. One, the boots he fell asleep with are no longer on his feet. Two, the hat he had pressed to his chest is likewise gone. Three, the screen door is bang-in' shut 'n Dallas' laugh is peelin' down the street.

"Asshole!" Soda doesn't bother to put on his shoes or nothin', just rips outside after Dallas. Dally's got one hand pressin' the hat down as he sprints 'n the other clutchin' at least two of Soda's shirts. One guess what the ass has got on his feet.

His blonde hair is blowin' away from his neck 'n he's howlin' laughter into the early mornin' chill.

Soda catches up with him easily, the boots slowin' him down. He throws himself onto Dallas, both of them rollin' into the grass head over heels.

"C'mere you bitch!" Soda wrestles him to the ground 'n Dallas grabs him by his shoulder, grins, 'n easily tosses him head-first over him so Soda lands on his back.

"Gotta be faster than that, huh man?" Dallas clambers to his feet, scramblin' around for the hat that fell off in the scuffle. Soda howls 'n sits up.

"Oh, I'll show you faster!" Soda kicks him in the back of the knee 'n Dallas goes down again. "Hood, stop takin' my shit!" Soda grabs Dally by the hair 'n pulls 'n Dallas wails, reels around, 'n kicks Soda in the front of the thigh.

"Who're you callin' hood you hog!" Soda yelps 'n dives on Dallas again.

"It's not hoggin' if I bought it!" Dallas slaps a zinger to Soda's bare upper arm 'n Soda yips 'n rubs at it like Dallas shot him. "Oh you asked for it now." He hollers a laugh 'n lunges for Dallas.

Niether of them are sure how long they're wrestlin' around in the dew before Darry shows, manhandlin' 'em apart, chests heavin', mouths bleedin', pantin' hard, 'n grinnin' around split lips. "Glory God almighty what the hell is wrong with you two?"

"Well?"

Dallas' got one boot on, Soda's shirt is half ripped off, both are covered in grass stains, hair mussed, the hat is somewhere lost in the high grass, the second boot with it, Soda's got a bite mark on his finger (but that was his fault for puttin' it over Dally's mouth) 'n Dallas is missin' a handful of hair. Both their ribs ache as much from laughter as from the ill placed punch.

Both Soda 'n Dallas point fingers at each other. "He started it!"