#“I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees

[soureggs]

my experience in playing dereks rout.

i was told i was not the only only one......

[molly-pocket]

i wish i could dream forever

[zooone]

bye summer good riddance so glad it was cold today

[ultravionna]

"I hate summer, I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees. I hate her.” is dallas coded bc he’s in denial abt his feelings for y/n

hi, angel!

omg- i actually 100% agree w this. so here are some headcannons + tiny cute fics between each to tickle your fancy.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston first notices you when you’re hanging out with two-bit’s sister.

you’re sitting on the couch, laughing at something on television, and dallas leans against the doorway, arms crossed. the sound of your laughter catches him off guard—he’s never really paid attention to two-bit’s sister’s friends before. as he watches you, he can’t help but smirk, but he quickly brushes it off, thinking, It’s just a laugh, man. get a grip.

“hey, you two,” he says, trying to sound casual as he steps into the room, “what’s so funny?”

you glance over at him, still smiling, and your girl friend chimes in, “just this dumb show we’re watching, dal.”

“yeah, right,” dallas replies, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than he intended. he turns away, heading for the kitchen, but he can’t shake the sound of your laugh from his head.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston doesn’t realize it at first, but he starts looking forward to the times you come over.

one afternoon, he’s lounging in the kitchen, pretending to be uninterested as sodapop mentions you’re coming by with two-bit and his sister.

“when’s she gettin’ here?” he asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t care.

“why? you plannin’ to be somewhere else?” ponyboy teases.

“yeah, yeah, maybe,” dallas mutters, but he doesn’t go anywhere. instead, he hangs around, leaning against the counter with an apple in hand. when you finally walk through the door, his mood shifts instantly.

“hey, doll face,” he greets, his eyes flicking to you as you step into the room.

you give him a playful smile. “hey, dal.”

he watches as you join the curtis’s in the living room, telling himself he’s just sticking around to annoy the gang. but deep down, he knows it’s because he likes having you around, even if he won’t admit it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston finds himself thinking about you at random times.

he’s sitting in the curtis’s backyard, a cigarette dangling from his lips, when your face suddenly pops into his mind. he frowns, flicking the ash away, trying to focus on the conversation between ponyboy and johnny, but your image stays with him.

“damn it, man,” he mutters under his breath, annoyed with himself.

johnny glances over, concerned. “somethin’ wrong, dal?”

“nah, ‘s nothin’,” dallas grumbles, taking a long drag from his cigarette. but no matter how much he tries to shake it, he can’t get you out of his head—the way you looked the last time he saw you, the way you smiled at him like you knew something he didn’t.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston gets annoyed with himself for how much you’re on his mind.

it’s late at night, and he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. he’s never been one to get all worked up over a girl, and he sure as hell doesn’t like the idea of starting now.

he punches his pillow in frustration. “get outta my head, man,” he mutters to himself. but even as he says it, he knows it’s pointless. the more he tries to push you out of his mind, the more you linger—your smile, your laugh, the way you look at him when you think he’s not paying attention.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston starts to notice the little things about you.

sitting across from him at the curtis’s dinner table, you twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you talk about a book you’ve been reading. dallas pretends to be disinterested, but he’s secretly watching every movement, every expression on your face.

he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, smirking. “that book really that good, doll face?”

you glance up, meeting his gaze. “what, surprised I can read, dal?”

“nah, just surprised you’d waste time on somethin’ that ain’t real,” he teases, but his eyes stay on you, noticing the way your lips curl into a smile.

he tells himself it’s just because he’s observant, that he notices things other guys don’t. but deep down, he knows it’s more than that—he just doesn’t want to admit it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston tries to act indifferent around you.

you’re in the living room with everyone else, and dallas is leaning against the wall, watching you from a distance. when you glance his way, he smirks and gives you a little nod, acting like he’s too cool to care.

“hey,” he says when you catch his eye, keeping his voice casual.

you smile back. “hey, dal.”

he shrugs, trying to act like it’s no big deal, but inside, he’s kicking himself for being so obvious. he wants to step closer, to talk to you, but instead, he keeps his distance, reminding himself not to let his guard down.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston feels a surge of jealousy when he sees you laughing with other guys.

you’re at the drive-in with the gang, and you’re chatting with two-bit, laughing at one of his jokes. dallas leans against the wall nearby, arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight.

“piece uh’ shit,” he mutters under his breath, scowling.

two-but catches his eye, smirking. “what’s eatin’ you, dal?”

“nothin’,” dallas snaps, pushing himself off the wall with his foot and walking away. but it’s not nothing. it bothers him more than he’d like to admit, seeing you with someone else, even if it’s just two-bit being his usual clownish self.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston convinces himself that you’re just a passing interest.

he’s at buck’s place, downing a drink and trying to forget how much you’ve been on his mind. He’s been with plenty of girls before—girls who were easy to forget once the thrill was gone.

“why should you be any different?” he mutters to himself, taking another swig. but even as he says it, he knows he’s lying. there’s something about you that’s stuck with him, something that won’t go away no matter how much he tries to drown it out.

“damn it, man,” he grumbles, slamming the empty bottle on the counter. he knows he’s in deeper than he wants to be, but he’s not ready to face it yet.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston starts to notice how much he enjoys the sound of your voice.

you’re talking to his sister in the kitchen, your voice drifting through the house. dallas, who’s in the other room, stops what he’s doing just to listen.

“hey, man,” he calls out, stepping into the kitchen, “you guys talkin’ ‘bout somethin’ interestin’?”

you look up at him, smiling. “just catching up, dal.”

he leans against the doorway, crossing his arms. “yeah? keep talkin’, then.”

you raise an eyebrow, but continue your conversation, unaware that dallas is only half-listening to the words. It’s your voice that keeps him there, that makes him want to stay longer than he intended. it’s just a voice, he tells himself, but coming from you, it feels like something more.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston finds excuses to be around you more often.

you’re at the park with two-bit’s sister, and dallas just happens to show up, claiming he was in the neighborhood. he spots you sitting on a bench, and without missing a beat, he walks over, hands shoved in his pockets.

“hey, toots,” he greets, giving you a lopsided grin. “you mind if i join?”

you roll your eyes, but smile. “sure, dal.”

he plops down beside you, making some sarcastic comment about the weather just to get a reaction out of you. when you laugh, he feels a strange satisfaction, knowing he made you smile. it’s not much, but it’s enough to keep him coming back, finding reasons to be near you whenever he can.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston struggles with the idea of admitting he likes you.

he’s sitting on the hood of his car, staring out at the darkened streets of tulsa, thinking about you. the idea of being vulnerable, of letting someone in, makes him uncomfortable.

“jesus, man,” he mutters to himself, rubbing the back of his neck, “you’re just complicatin’ things.”

but the more he thinks about you, the harder it becomes to deny that he cares. it’s not just some passing crush—there’s something real there, something he’s not used to feeling. he takes a deep breath, trying to push it down, but it’s like trying to hold back a tide.

“damn it,” he sighs, knowing he’s in trouble.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston tries to convince himself that he’s just protective of you, not that he actually likes you.

whenever you’re out with the gang, he finds himself keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re safe. he tells himself it’s just because you’re his friend’s sister’s friend, and he doesn’t want anything to happen to you on his watch.

one night, you’re walking home with him, and one of those loser socs gives you a look that dallas doesn’t like. he steps in front of you, his expression darkening.

“you got a problem, man?” he growls at the guy, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

the soc backs off, and you glance at dallas, a bit surprised by his reaction. “thanks, dal, but i could’ve handled that.”

“yeah, right,” he mutters, still glaring at the soc as he walked off. he tries to shrug it off, telling himself he’s just being protective, that it’s not because he actually cares about you. but as you walk beside him, he can’t help but feel that his protective instinct comes from something deeper—something he’s not ready to admit yet.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston tells himself that he’s only spending time with you because you’re always around, not because he actually wants to.

he’ll find excuses to hang out with you, telling himself it’s just convenient or that he’s bored, but deep down, he knows it’s more than that.

one afternoon, he shows up at your place unannounced, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “hey, swee’heart, you busy?”

you answer in a heartbeat, surprised to see him. “not really. what’s up?”

“nothin’. just figured we could hang out or somethin’,” he says casually, as if he hasn’t been thinking about it all day.

you smile and invite him in, and as he plops down on your couch, he tries to ignore the flutter in his chest. it’s just hangin’ out, he tells himself, nothin’ special. but the way he keeps sneaking glances at you when you’re not looking says otherwise.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston can’t stand the idea of anyone else getting close to you, but he won’t admit that it’s because he’s jealous.

he’ll tease you about your other friends, making offhand comments about them, but it’s only because the thought of you with someone else drives him crazy.

one day, he catches you laughing with another guy, and something inside him snaps. “what’s so funny, huh?” he asks, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

you look at him, confused. “oh, just somethin’ funny he said.”

dallas narrows his eyes, trying to act like he doesn’t care. “yeah, well, he ain’t that funny.”

you raise an eyebrow, catching the edge in his voice. “what’s it to you?”

“nothin’,” he mutters, looking away. ‘it ain’t jus’ nothin’, he thinks, clenching his fists, it’s everything. but he won’t say it out loud, not even to himself.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston tries to convince himself that you’re just like everyone else, but every time he sees you, he can’t help but feel like you’re different.

he’ll catch himself thinking about you at the most random times and then quickly push the thoughts away, refusing to acknowledge what they mean.

one night, after a long day, he’s lying in bed at buck’s, staring at the ceiling. he’s tired, but he can’t sleep. your face keeps popping into his head, and he groans, turning over. ‘why the hell do i keep thinkin’ about her?’ he wonders, frustrated.

he tries to distract himself, thinking about other things, other girls even, but nothing works. eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair. damn it, he mutters to himself. i don’t like her, i don’t. but even as he says it, he knows it’s a lie.

thanks for this send in!

hope you like it <3

[jackshomoeroticthoughts]

I hate Marla. I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees. I hate her cockroach-shaped splotch on her neck. I hate the way she smacks her lips before she talks. And I hate the way she sounds when she laughs.

[geronimos-depression]

I hate Petunia. I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees. I hate her cockroach-shaped splotch on her neck. I hate the way she smacks her lips before she talks. I hate the way she sounds when she laughs. I hate her.

[all-maroon]

Day 154:

“I don’t know, man. I think it’s official. I’m in love with Summer. I love her smile. I love her hair. I love her knees. I love this heart-shaped birthmark she has on her neck. I love the way she sometimes licks her lips before she talks. I love the sound of her laugh. I love the way she looks when she’s sleeping. ["She’s Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze plays.] I love how I hear this song and every time I think of her. I love how she makes me feel, like anything’s possible. Like, I don’t know… like life is worth it.”

Day 332:

“I hate Summer. I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees. I hate her cockroach-shaped splotch on her neck. I hate the way she smacks her lips before she talks. I hate the way she sounds when she laughs. ["She’s Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze plays.] I HATE THIS SONG!!!!”

[mrsnancywheeler]

Forced to do chemistry, decided to listen to Mitski now I’m genuinely heart broken because “I bet on loosing dogs” came on and I thought about Conway and that one thing I wrote about how Conway is literally I bet on loosing dogs

-🌾anon

ew I'm a chemistry hater, but mitski would save me too 😭

conway, I was literally watching (500) days of summer today and thinking about conway. he's so sad and angsty and I've been thinking about him recently. the tragedy of conway delmare fr.

not to talk more about the movie but when he goes from the I love summer and all the things he loves, to the I hate summer and hating all the same things he loved it really did make me think of conway getting disillusioned with sweet girl. and the confusion he must have had when she never picked him but so quickly jumped into a soul consuming relationship with finnick that absorbed her.

"I love her smile. I love her hair. I love her knees. I love how she licks her lips before she talks. I love her heart-shaped birthmark on her neck. I love it when she sleeps."

"I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees. I hate her cockroach-shaped splotch on her neck. I hate the way she smacks her lips before she talks. I hate the way she sounds when she laughs."

also joseph gordon levitt in the era make a good conway lmao

[zen-senn]

Heard this audio on my fyp and I can't help but think of Guy and Honey :,)

(Some headcanons of mine are mentioned)

Like pre-confession, Guy and Honey are alone at the apartment since Kayla went out and the two were talking about random things.

And the conversation was just Guy talking about random shit he was fascinated in and Honey just mindlessly listening to him.

Honey feeling their heart squeeze as they saw Guys smile as he rambled, the way his hair would bounce from time to time, the way his hands moved animatedly, and they way he laughed.

They hated the feeling, they hated how their heart would skip a beat near him

God, They hated it, they hated Guy

they hated his tooth gap

his 1970s haircut

they hated his knobby knees

They hate him..

(I'm a bad writer so forgive me for this formatting and how messy it is)

(I hate Summer

I hate her crooked teeth

Her 1960s haircut

I hate her knobby knees

I hate her..)

[princelytype]

i've been working on this for a while, just because i heard a tiktok audio, had an idea, and then had to draw it... it's been a pain to get done, but it's finally finished! it was inspired by the tiktok audio that goes: “i hate summer, i hate her crooked teeth, i hate her 1960s haircut, i hate her knobby knees, i hate her.” i love the ship zanerance (zane x laurance), and thought that this was a perfect excuse to draw something related to them! anyway, please enjoy this little mini-comic thing! <3

[catboyzilla]

I hate Summer.

I hate her crooked teeth.

I hate her 1960s haircut.

I hate her knobby knees.

And I hate her cockroach-shaped splotch on her neck.

I hate the way she smacks her lips before she talks.

And I hate the way she sounds when she laughs.

[ao3feed-johnnylawrence]

“I Hate Her”

by ShimmeryCobbler

Short prompt inspired by a quote from the movie “(500) Days Of Summer”.

“I hate Summer, I hate her crooked teeth, I hate her 1960s haircut, I hate her knobby knees, I hate her.”

(Flipped into a lesbian love story, Johnny is now Johanna and Daniel is now Daniela. This is set after highschool. Might make a series if people like this enough.)

Words: 759, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Karate Kid (Movies), Cobra Kai (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Daniel LaRusso, Johnny Lawrence

Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso & Johnny Lawrence

Additional Tags: Female!Daniel LaRusso, Female!Johnny Lawrence, Lesbian Sex, POV Lesbian Character, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Oral Sex, Bottom Daniel LaRusso, Top Johnny Lawrence, Angst with a Happy Ending, 80s lesbians, Fluff and Smut

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/42049971

[scwheeler]

🏹🩰 ˖ ࣪⊹ — i hate love her

pairing: loser!mike wheeler x popular!fem!reader 😉😉

summary: influenced by ‘i hate summer’ monologue from ‘500 days of summer’ // mike wheeler clenched his teeth and mutters he hates you but as much as he tries, he can barely get the words out

warnings: description with crooked teeth, 1960’s haircut, knobby knees, mention of scars and bruises (these are just vague descriptions that fit the monologue & i also look different from this description but it’s just according to the film so please don’t take it personally thank you 🙏🙏)

age of pairing: 14-15

i hate y/n.

mike stared at her from across the classroom, crossed legs and tapping your number two pencil on the wooden desk repeatedly. it bothered him so much, only adding to the mental list of things he hated about you. rather than staring now he was glaring but he sat behind you and a couple rows over which meant you didn’t even notice. continuing to annoy him without a single thought.

he pressed down his pencil into his notebook until the lead snapped, making him also snap out of this trance. he looked down at his empty paper with a dark lead circle in the middle. he ripped out the sheet and crumpled it up, debating whether to throw it at your head or into the trash can. he probably had a better chance shooting it at your head than landing it in the trash can according to his sports record but he refrained because your hair looked nice.

he wasn’t sympathetic especially when the situation included you but he wasn’t an asshole. it must’ve taken you all morning to do that hairstyle and agree that you liked it. he just didn’t want to throw all your hard work away so he kept the crumpled paper and shoved it in his backpack, agreeing he’d either throw it to your head another day or throwing it away at the end of class.

“mike! i asked you a question mr. wheeler, what’s the answer to the question on the board?” the teacher asked in a stern tone, hands on his hips and trying to get mike’s attention. mike looked up and away from you, hoping you didn’t see his eyes hurrying to avoid your eye contact. you turned around from your seat to look at him as did the rest of the class.

mike was out of it. he was thinking about something else, you. he forgot to write down all the notes on the board which contributed to what the answer could be to the question the teach was asking. before he could apologize, a hand rose up in front of him. it was yours. your arm popped up and attracted the teachers attention. “yes, ms. y/n?” he asked now taking his burning eyes away from mike and to you.

“if mike can’t answer it, i’d gladly do it myself,” you replied and not in a sarcastic or rude manner. it was like you wanted to help him. “sure that would be great, go ahead,” the teacher proceeded and let you come up to the board. you took your notebook with you, it was covered in bright stickers and shiny gems matching your appearance. mike watched as you sat up from your desk and almost skipped to the board.

you picked up the small white chalk and wrote down your answer, copying your equation from your notebook. the class watched but mike observed. he thought about how you saved his ass from getting yelled at the teacher. why? after finishing the equation, you turned and returned to your seat, winking and smiling at mike before doing so. he shook his head, whatever. he hated you.

i hate her crooked teeth.

if he hates you so much, why was he up at three in the morning still thinking about your stupid smile. your pearl white teeth almost blinding him in the middle of math class. his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes pierced through the ceiling of his bedroom. what was your problem? you didn’t do this to any other person in the school? let alone the entirety of hawkins! so why did you chose him? was this a punishment?

mike groaned and turned off his bedside table lamp, looking at the alarm clock reading 4:27 now. he spent almost four hours just thinking about you and it infuriated him. he liked girls before, girls in his class, girls on the tv, girls in his favorite movies. but he never stayed up thinking about him until this late hour. so what made you so different?

was it your smile? it wasn’t even that nice! he’s seen better smiles in the newspaper and even his mom may have had a better one. yet you were the only thing on his mind and mike couldn’t stand the feeling.

he turned to sides left and right, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep but it was no help. by the time, his eyelids were finally about to shut, they were disturbed by the bright light of the sun coming up. he hated you so much.

i hate her 1960’s haircut.

the next day at school, mike slung his backpack over his shoulder and got to his locker. he agreed to meet dustin before the hellfire club meeting afterschool and was in a hurry. the most unfortunate thing about going to his locker was that yours was right next to it.

he always avoided you everyday, trying to find a time that would be good for him to approach his locker without you being there. however unlucky for him, you were there most of the day. either taking with your friends, unloading your heavy textbooks, or just leaning against it waiting for the bell to ring.

this forced mike to hide behind the corner, peering over time to time like a creep to wait for you to leave. he was even late once or twice just going to his locker at you finally left when the bell rang. when his teacher asked why his eyes slowly trailed to you, who stared back at him innocently. unknown that you were the reason why he was late and got detention.

he could only shut up and take the yellow slip from his teacher. sliding into his desk in the back and staring out into the window in annoyance. why did he need to avoid you? why wasn’t it the other way around?

today was worse. worse than mike could ever imagine. he headed for his locker, after watching you walk down the hall to your cheer practice as you always did afterschool. it was weird how much mike knew about you. he hurried to his locker and put in his code. opening it quickly and grabbing his books and shoving them into his backpack for homework later.

as soon as mike closed his locker door, he almost had a heart attack. you were standing right there, facing away from him and looking into a small mirror attached to the door of your locker. you were applying another layer of strawberry chapstick, the one you carried everywhere and put on during first period, third period, and right after lunch by your locker.

so he was definitely surprised to see you standing right in front of him, puckering your lips and looking into the mirror. completely oblivious of mike standing behind you with a shocked expression saying ‘what the fuck!’ you didn’t even notice him staring at you for a full on five minutes. mike would never admit it but you weren’t such an eye sore as he tried to convince himself all last night.

you were actually nice to look at. really pretty and your hair was right in front of his face, the scent of strawberry and peach shampoo and conditioner filling up his senses. without him even knowing, mike’s frown became a small smile.

your high ponytail with a white bow made you look like a character from a 60’s cartoon. it was moving side to side putting mike into a trance but he snapped out of it as you put the cap back on of your chapstick, signaling mike to go back into hiding and run away before you freak out and sic the entire basketball team on him for being a creep.

he turned around and rushed down the hall, not looking back and just praying that you didn’t notice his existence like you did for the last ten minutes. how he hated you so much.

i hate her knobby knees.

dustin informed mike that everyone was required to watch the final hawkins basketball game tonight, making the hellfire club meeting postponed which eddie would be furious about but he didn’t want his parents being on his back about getting another detention this month. at least lucas would be glad which made going to the game worth it for him and dustin.

“what if we just slipped out during halftime?” mike suggested to dustin who was climbing up the bleachers to look for an empty seat. “if we get caught our asses are toast and my mom will take away my satellite meani—” dustin was explaining but mike had heard this a hundred times to repeat it, “—meaning no suzie, i know i know,” he grumbled and sat onto the wooden seats.

before the game even started, a girl walked to the middle of the gym and stayed singing the national anthem. or at least what sounded like it kind of. she sounded like a muppet, he and dustin agreed on. after that, a bunch of green uniforms filled up the center stage.

it was the hawkins cheerleaders, including you. his eyes immediately fell upon you, disregarding the other twenty girls and guys wearing the same outfit. you were the only one that caught his eye and he couldn’t tell why. was it cause of the weird interaction earlier today?

you were skipping in with a smile plastered on your face, those stupid pearly whites blinding mike once again. you had pom pom in your hands, waving your arms around and waving to the crowd. you didn’t spare mike a glance even once but he didn’t mind. at least it meant he could stare at you the entire time the cheerleaders introduction was happening.

what surprised mike was that you walked to the center, as everyone got into formation, you were center stage. your smile was warm and could light up an entire room, as it was doing now. you danced in the front with a bunch of other girls, doing a routine you guys probably practiced a million times before. mike could see the nervousness in your face, hiding behind that smile you held so proudly.

he noticed your knees, they were kind of crooked. you also had bruises on them, cuts too. skin tone band-aids trying to cover the scars on your knees. people might’ve thought they were ugly but mike found them nice. not like he was a sadist or anything about scars and bruises but it made you look more real. like you weren’t just another carbon copy of these popular cheerleaders who had perfect lives and appearances like the girls surrounding you.

you were different. something about you gave mike a hint that you wouldn’t make fun of him or laugh at his face if he made a mistake. maybe it was because you helped him yesterday morning or smiled at him a moment after.

either way, he found himself clapping for you after you finished your dance, enjoying your performance and rather disappointed to find it so short. dustin was confused, wasn’t mike just giving suggestions on how to sneak out of here five minutes ago? now he was smiling and clapping like his girlfriend was out there dancing in front of the crowd?

why did you make him feel this weird? this good feeling he had whenever he saw you? he had to force himself to hate you to avoid his true feelings from spilling out. he hated how you made him feel.

i hate her.

i hate love her so much.

[l-vie]

i hate summer. i hate her crooked teeth. i hate her 1960s haircut. i hate her knobby knees. i hate her cockroach-shaped splotch on her neck. i hate the way she smacks her lips before she talks. i hate the way she sounds when she laughs. i hate her.

[soufflerat]

you know that one audio trending right now where it's like "i hate summer, i hate her crooked teeth, i hate her 1960s haircut, i hate her knobby knees, i hate her," that but ari and dante from aaddtsotu

[fandoms-spamdom]

“I hate Summer. I hate her crooked teeth- and I hate her 1960’s haircut. I hate her knobby knees… I hate her”