“The Kind Of Nasal Congestion Ponyboy Gets.” - @vickypersch

phone that I actually want

Like no I don’t want the new iPhone

He’s such a hater

darry was always overprotective of his baby brothers in school. he’d play with them at recess all the time and would tell everyone to go a bit easier on pony because he was littler than everyone else (and in my headcanon was born prematurely and had muscle issues and problems walking as a kid), he’d sit down with soda at lunch and help him with his homework so they could play when they got home. the both of them were really upset when he went to high school cause they were stuck in middle/elementary school but he’d still walk with them to school, even if it made him late for class.

big brother darry we love you

i feel like it’s very important to mention that we don’t see johnny before he was jumped. like we don’t see how he was before, we just see the aftermath.

i see lots of ppl saying that pony describing his as ‘the gangs pet’ and ‘a kicked puppy’ is pony’s unreliable narration and maybe it is! but also. that might be who he is now in the aftermath of that brutal jumping. we don’t see him before that jumping that violence that traumatizing change

Ponyboy trying to act tough while also needing his big brother to cuddle him to sleep is so silly and I love him so much

status: thinking about michael corleone’s loverboy era before he turned into a fucking gremlin… ‹𝟹

like how she looks that good

ok but what if pony and randy trauma dumped and became besties

everyone follow this amazing tumblr user NEOW

Danganronpa Life Series Au [proud]

Screenshots bc I do NAWT wanna type ts

Ponyboy didn’t cry at Johnny’s funeral. He wanted to, he really did, but he couldn’t make the tears come. He couldn’t feel anything, so he just looked at the grave in silence. He didn’t cry when he got home either. He just sat down in front of the shitty TV and watched whatever cartoon was on. He wanted to feel so badly. He wanted to be mad. He wanted to scream or sob but nothing would come. He was numb.

He went on like that for two weeks. He went on like that until Darrel pushed too hard and then he yelled. He yelled but he still barely felt. He didn’t truly feel until Johnny’s clothes were in his arms. He didn’t feel until he could still smell the smoke and grease and dirt that was so distinctly Johnny still clinging to the fabric. And the minute he felt, he wished it would go away. Because the grief and despair came over him like a tidal wave. He thought he couldn’t possibly still feel his heart break after his parents died, but smelling Johnny and holding his rough jacket, his heart shattered. Suddenly he was burying his face in Johnny’s stuff and gasping for air as sobs wracked his entire body.

It got a little better when he read Johnny’s letter. It got a little better when he started opening up to his brothers. It started getting better when he started feeling a little more ok. But then the one year anniversary came around and suddenly he was plunged back into his pure and unfiltered grief.

He spent the entire morning sitting on his couch, the rest of the gang, or what was left of it, there too. He thought he’d be ok, maybe he’d visit Johnny’s grave and talk to him, or read the letter again. But when he read the letter, the blood drained from his face as he realized that he no longer perfectly remembered Johnny’s voice. He sucked in air when he realized before immediately curling into Darrel and clasping a hand over his mouth to stop the loud sob from escaping. He spent the rest of the day like that, held by his brothers, Soda rubbing his back and Darrel quietly whispering out “I know, baby, I’m so sorry”. He could barely feel Soda’s touch or hear Darrel’s comfort over the ringing in his ears as he kept his eyes squeezed shut, trying to remember every mark on Johnny’s body and the way his laugh sounded and the way his hand felt, his cries getting more intense whenever he couldn’t recall the details. Because his best friend was fading away and there was nothing he could do to stop it.