#And then there's a bunch of other shit that annoys me

[hxrsheykisses]

Plsplspls gimme the eltingville club members with a rlly trashy punk reader. Like 2000s trashy but just so happens to like pink and junk plsplsplspls I think it'd honestly be so funny 🙏🙏

-🦇

JEEZ! PETE THOUGHT YOU WERE A BADDIE! He was the first one to spot you out walking on the sidewalk, looking all sexy and shit and he knew he had to take a shot. This didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of his crew, and they understood why Pete went all cornball when they saw you.

You were the stuff—you ARE the stuff! It’s crazy how they never seen you before around her, and what were you doing in a neighborhood like this anyway? What really pieced you together was your style, you just stuck out in the most alluring way possible and they couldn’t take their eyes off of you.

It took them a LONG time to get the courage to talk to you. Pete? He tried numerous times to get you to slide your number but Bill, Josh, and Jerry held him back from doing so because they didn’t need him scaring you off. It was an awkward moment…weird. They haven’t ever seen a girl like you before just prancing around. It was new for them!

Turns out, you’re a pretty cool gal! You had that vibe to you where it just had that confident punch to it. You weren’t overly bitchy, you weren’t loud and obnoxious—and you weren’t a “stupid femoid” either. You had class!

Your outfits were both cool and…weird combos but hey! You wore them out anyway despite the contrast and how some of the patterns on the clothes didn’t come together—you made it come together! It was how you held yourself that kept them going—it was pleasing to see and kinda hot too.

All this confidence would make them kinda intimidated by you because again, they never had a girl around them before and they are all useless. When you first started hanging with them, they thought that eventually you’d just turn up to be a stuck up bitch who just kept them around because you had nothing better to do or you wanted to pull a joke off them. So it was a tough couple of weeks for all of you because of that distrust and wariness.

Mall shopping was like…a 24/7 thing. You were constantly upgrading your closet with the jumbo amount of clothes you’d buy and made them follow behind you while carrying all of your bags. Of course they didn’t say anything (Bill may have but not for long) cause I mean…you’re a baddie. And who knows when they’ll get lucky like this again?!

Other people in the neighborhood would be confused…like HELLA confused! What’s a girl like YOU hanging out with boys like THEM? It didn’t add up right! There was like mini controversy about this cause how did they bag the baddie of the neighborhood??? Don’t get me STARTED on Joe’s ass either cause he was making faces and shit wondering why you waltzed up in his shop with his most annoying ass regulars? AND comes to find out that you hanging around them? Yeah, he definitely pulled the guys aside and told them that you were probably gonna dump them on the side of the road—he was the one that egged on that toxic thoughts of distrust in the beginning.

You guys are just weird. You’re a weird bunch.A VERY contrast bunch. You’ll have to get the boys in check sometimes because they can be a little TOO weird and creepy and you wouldn’t stand alongside some nasty little boys who have jack off rituals. You can’t STAND it when they argue either cause it’s always some petty shit and they are WAY too grown to be acting out like that and their parents aren’t doing shit hardly so you gotta step in! Put them in their place GIRL!

Also, anybody who is in that 2000s style, you are lowkey a BADDIE. Idc. All the outfits eat every single time.

[chippedshake]

My gift for @an-akward-ace as part of the gift exchange :))

@outsiders-gift-exchanges

“Mama?” Darry asks as he creeps out of the hallway and into the living room. Mama’s on the couch, feet tucked underneath her, book in her hands. She looks up and worry crawls onto her face. 

“Darry? What’s wrong?”

He walks up to the couch tentatively and sits down next to her. “Am I a bad person?”

“What?” Mama closes her book and puts it on the couch armrest. “Why would you think that?”

“Sometimes— sometimes I think I don’t…” He looks at her guiltily for a moment before looking away. “Sometimes I think Ponyboy doesn’t love me.”

“Honey,” Mama murmurs, putting her hand on Darry’s shoulder, “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t—” Darry looks down again. “I don’t know. When I told him to go away because I wanted to play with Mark and Andrew he started crying and wouldn’t talk to me for a week. An’ he gets way more mad at me than at Soda but I’m a lot less annoying than Soda.”

Mama runs her hand through Darry’s hair and he curls up against her, just young enough to not be embarrassed. “Oh, Darry, that don’t mean he don’t love you. It just means he gets cranky sometimes. Maybe y’all mess up sometimes, but that don’t mean nothin’. Everyone does.” 

She pauses for a moment. 

“You ever notice that sometimes we’re all real quiet at dinner and Pa an’ me won’t look at each other?” Darry nods slowly. “Love ain’t perfect, and it ain’t about wantin’ to be with someone all the time, or never gettin’ mad. Only place you’ll see that is in the movies.”

Darry nods again, but doesn’t answer. 

“Say— weren’t you reading Ponyboy a story before he went to sleep?”

Darry looks up at her and nods. “We’ve read it a bunch before but he never wants ta read anything else.”

“Does anyone else ever read it to him?”

“The story?” Mama nods. “No. Says he only likes how I read it. But it’s just ‘cause I do more voices than you.”

“How ‘bout walking home from school? Pa could go pick him up in the car, wouldn’t that be faster?”

“Yeah…” Darry’s not quite sure where this is going. “But that way he knows what the city’s like and doesn’t get lost when he’s older and stuff.”

“Right. What about how Ponyboy asked for a football for his birthday even though he’d been talking about that colouring book for months? What about how he won’t go to sleep without a ‘Darry hug’ because he says it’s better than other hugs?”

Darry doesn’t know what to say so he looks down at his hands. 

“Love ain’t perfect, honey. You don’t always wanna be with someone and sometimes you’re gonna get mad and, Dar,—” He looks up at her “ — that’s fine. Love’s in the little things that add up, and yeah, sometimes something’s gonna subtract some, but that don’t take away from all of what you’ve built.” 

…

Darry steps into the house with a loud sigh. 

No one’s around to hear it. 

He can’t be bothered to take his boots off, no matter how much he dreads having to clean the house afterwards, because it’s just grabbing the grocery list and taking off again. 

Just grabbing the gro— oh, shit. Where is it? 

A groan starts poking its way out of Darry’s chest. 

Why him? Why now? Why at the end of the work day, when the only thing keeping him standing is the thought of a bath once he gets back? 

He looks around the same place again, hoping the bright yellow sticky note somehow flew under his radar. 

It didn’t. 

In a couple cabinets, on the floor, inside drawers— by the time Darry’s looked through the whole kitchen, he’s shuffled around so much the floor’s covered with dirt. Because his shoes are still on. Because it was supposed to be quick. Because the list was supposed to be right there and it’s actually a tiny thing and he can probably remember everything anyways but the list needed to be there and he doesn’t have the stupid list and he just want to sleep but he need to make dinner and where the fuck is that list—

“Oh, hey, Darry!” Soda walks in and holds the door for Steve, who comes in behind him. Both their arms are full of groceries. 

Everything that was on the list. 

“Thought we’d get ahead on groceries since your shift’s longer’n normal today.”

Steve doesn’t add anything, but grunts in Darry’s general direction, so he gathers it’s a form of greeting.

“Oh,” Darry says, trying to keep his voice calm and hide the fact that he was about to break down because of something as stupid as not finding a sticky note. “How much was it?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Steve says, setting his bag down at the kitchen table. “Old man kicked me out again last week. S’on him.”

…

“Hey, Darry?” Darry stops and turns around from where he was heading towards the kitchen. 

“Yeah, Pone?” 

“Can you stand there for a second and put your hands behind your back?”

Darry stares at him, confused, before doing as he asks. 

“And tilt your head a bit to the right— wait, no, my right, your left.”

A couple moments go by. Ponyboy’s scribbling something in his notebook, looking up at Darry and back down quickly.  

“Can I move now?”

“Just one more second…” He erases something, draws it again, and holds his notebook up next to Darry. “Okay, thanks.”

Darry heads towards him. “Can I see it?”

Ponyboy covers his notebook hurriedly. “When it’s finished.”

“Okay, okay.” Darry holds his hands up in mock innocence.

…

Darry tries not to worry too much about Ponyboy. Their parents were never very controlling, and generally any of them could leave for hours without facing too much questioning. 

He tries not to, but the problem is that Ponyboy never thinks, no matter how much Darry tries to get him to. He’d mouth off to a Soc because he just didn’t notice they had a knife, or walk home all alone at night without realising he was holding a neon sign that said “jump me”. Honestly, even being run over because he didn’t bother to look both ways is an option at this point. 

“We didn’t get into any trouble,” Johnny says. Darry blinks at him. Pony and Johnny have just come back from the drive-in — they went alone this week — and Ponyboy’s gone to his room to get something to show Johnny, who’s wandered into the kitchen to talk to Darry. 

The last time the two of them talked alone must be at least a year ago. 

“Weren’t even any Socs nearby. All in their cars.”

And without another word, Johnny walks out of the kitchen as Ponyboy comes storming back into the living room.

…

“Kicked out again?”

“Got mad at me for bein’ away too much and decided to kick me out.”

“Huh.”

“I saw y’all didn't have any tomatoes so I picked some up on the way. Got a discount, too.”

“Yeah?”

Steve wiggles his fingers. “Five finger discount.”

…

Darrel Shaynne Curtis is defying all the laws of physics and biology because he is utterly dead inside and yet somehow still walking. If he has to take another step his joints will fall apart like rusty gears on an old clock. 

And for some reason his house has to be full of fucking people. 

People he loves, but people nonetheless. 

Annoying people. Loud people. People who apparently do not know the definition of shutting the fuck up. 

No amount of affection for the gang can stop Darry from crossing the line into homicidal if one more person screams across the room for something completely unnecessary. 

“Hey, Superman.” Dally says with a light smirk as he sinks into the couch next to Darry. 

Darry looks up and nods. 

“How ya doin’?” Now here’s the part where Darry’s supposed to say “meh” or “as good as I can be, I guess” or something along those lines. Or he should at least shrug. 

All of that requires energy, though, energy that Darry does not have, so he just hums. 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

Dally stays next to him, quiet and thoughtful for a moment. 

“Hey, y’all wanna go to the drag races?” 

Dally’s question is met with a chorus of whoops that make Darry’s head throb, and in a matter of minutes, the whole gang’s out the door.  

Dallas walks out the door, then strays back in just before the door closes. He turns the lights off and Darry sighs in relief, the pressure finally gone from his eyes. 

He stops again just before stepping out the door and turns back towards Darry.  

“There’s still some cake left in the freezer, I saved ya a couple slices of bread, and Two-Bit left a bit of peanut butter in the jar.”

Darry musters a soft “thanks”, and Dally nods. 

The door closes with a soft click.

…

“Darry!” Darry raises his eyebrows. He’s just closed the door behind him, work boots still on, and Ponyboy’s running towards him with a grin on his face. 

“Why’re you so happy to see me?”

“I finished it!” Darry blinks at him once. Twice.

“What’d you finish?”

“The drawing!”

Ponyboy holds out his notebook, and right there, in the middle of the page, is Darry. He’s made the kitchen doorway vaguely in the background, but it’s in black and white while Darry is in colour. 

And it’s— well, it’s impressive to say the least. Darry knew that Ponyboy liked to draw — always had his notebook out when he got bored of talking to people, sketching something he wouldn’t let anyone see —, but he didn’t know he could draw well. He always assumed it was like when he used to draw as a kid, only he didn’t want to show them anymore.

“This is…” Darry can’t seem to finish the sentence. He looks up and meets Pony’s eyes. “You made it?” Ponyboy nods, excited. “I— Can you show me whenever you draw stuff? In the future?”

Ponyboy’s eyes seem to almost glow. “Yeah, sure.” 

…

“Ponyboy’s gonna tell you he fell down the stairs today, but Justin Lawson pushed him.” Johnny hesitates for a second. “Second one in the phone book, the first one’s a priest.”

“Right. Thanks.” 

…

“How’d ya know I wanted to be alone?”

Dallas cocks an eyebrow. “You ain’t the first.”

…

“Hey, Superman,” Two-Bit says with a grin as he pointedly closes the door behind him. 

“Hey, Two.” The smile that comes with the greeting is second nature, but Darry’s not entirely sure whether that’s from genuine happiness or getting used to pretending he’s okay. 

“How’s it goin’?” He pulls out a chair and sits down in it backwards, arms resting on the backrest. 

Darry sighs with a sarcastic smile, gesturing at the pile of bills in front of him. 

“It that time again?”

“Was that time last week.”

Two-Bit whistles low. “You got enough?”

“Hope so.”

“Well, if you ain’t… I don’t got money I can give you. Sure someone’s got some, though.” He starts looking around, as if he would find someone to jump for money inside the Curtises' house.

“It’s fine, Two. Don’t worry about it.” Maybe Darry’s smile is wearing a bit thin or the exhaustion is clear on his face, because Two-Bit drops it. 

“Alright.” He looks down, dejected, before lighting up again and looking at Darry, all excited again. “Guess what I found at the store today?”

Darry just raises his eyebrows — a form of rebellion, at this point, considering how the whole gang’s started copying Two-Bit and raising just the one — and tilts his head. 

Two-Bit pulls a plastic bag out from behind his chair — how it got there, don’t ask Darry — and grins at Darry. “Lookit what I got.”

It’s a bag of Lay’s, something Darry and Two-Bit had worked together to swipe dozens of times to fuel Darry’s unhealthy obsession, only —

“They make ‘em in barbecue now. Figured we might as well try ‘em out.”

“Yeah?” Darry grins, and this time it’s genuine. 

Before he can get another word out, Two-Bit’s fist comes flying down onto the bag and makes a sound so loud that if he weren’t watching it happen, Darry’d think a gun had fired.  

At least five chips have gone flying, slamming against the wall, and Darry just knows it’s going to be an absolute pain to clean up. 

Then he makes eye contact with Two-Bit and they burst into uncontrollable, stupid laughter. It’s only once they sober up after a couple minutes that Darry realises just how long it’s been since he’s laughed like that. 

…

“What’re you drawing?”

Ponyboy moves aside to show him it. 

“Oh.”

“Don’t wanna forget him.”

…

“I was talkin’ ta Susie the other day an’ she told me there’s this girl in her class that’ll draw ya stuff if ya pay her, and she cost me extra ‘cause she was scared of her mama findin’ out, but tell me this ain’t worth every penny!”

…

“I hate you!” Ponyboy screams as he storms off into his room. Darry just stares after him, frozen in place.

He doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it—

But what if he does?

Love’s in the little things, the little things that add up—

But this feels too big, it’s too much to be just a little setback. Because the little things add up but they also subtract and if you put enough of them together—

There’s a soft knock on the door. Darry sits up from where he’d been in starfish position.

“Yeah?”

The door slowly creaks open. A small figure stands behind it.

“Darry?” Ponyboy stands in the doorway, grabbing onto the frame and avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” 

Darry crosses his legs and sits up straighter, fully waking up. “Yeah, sure, baby.”

Ponyboy walks in and sits on the edge of Darry’s bed, looking down at the sheets instead of at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, tugging at the ends of his hair. It’s getting too long, but he refuses to cut the bleach out of it and Darry doesn’t have it in him to force him to. 

“It’s fine,” Darry says on instinct.

“No, it— it really ain’t. We’re not supposed to fight anymore. We’re not supposed to holler at each other and go to sleep mad. But we do it anyway, and it’s like nothing’s changed since—” He can’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t really need to. 

“Ponyboy…” Darry trails off. What is there to say? Mama would know what to do, she would know what to say so Ponyboy knew that there was a part of Darry’s soul intrinsically tied to his, following him around no matter how far he wandered. 

But Darry doesn’t know how to talk; he hardly knows how to feel. 

Ponyboy looks away from him and stays quiet for a couple moments, playing with the loose strings on Darry’s sheets. 

“Darry?” He looks up.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Darry frowns. “‘Course.”

“And you promise you won’t be mad?” 

“Yeah.”

Ponyboy looks up to catch sight of Darry before his eyes dart away again. 

“Sometimes I— Sometimes I’m scared you don’t love me.” He lets the sentence hang for a couple seconds, lets it fester in the air and seep through Darry’s skin. “I ain’t sayin’ you don’t wanna keep me or that ya don’t care, but I just— I don’t know. Are ya doin’ it all ‘cause you think you should?”

He looks up again — furtive, small, scared — and looks back down at the sheets.  

“God, Pony,” Darry says softly, “‘Course I love ya. Just ‘cause we fight don’t mean nothing.” Ponyboy still won’t meet his eyes. With every second that goes by, the crack in Darry’s heart grows a bit wider. “C’mere.” He pats the spot beside him. 

Ponyboy looks up in surprise. He gets up tentatively and walks over to the other side of the bed, where Darry’s sitting. The moment he’s sat down, Darry wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls Ponyboy towards him. Ponyboy tenses, and for a moment Darry’s sure he’s made a mistake, that this wasn’t what he needed, before he slowly relaxes, his face burrows into Darry’s shoulder — Jesus he’s tall now, he used to barely reach his chest — and he hugs Darry back like he needs it for the first time in… far too long. 

“Love ain’t always pretty, Pony,” Darry whispers into his hair, “It ain’t always perfect and happy and nice, but it’s there. S’why there’s always Pepsi in the fridge and why I always ask where you’re goin’ when you start runnin’ out the door and why Soda and me listen to you talk about your books.” Ponyboy laughs softly, muffled by Darry’s shoulder, and Darry smiles — proud, fond, relieved. “Love ain’t in some big moment, it’s in the little things, so sometimes it can be easy to miss. But it’s there, I promise.” Darry forces himself to pull Ponyboy away from him and take him by the shoulders so they can meet eyes. “It’ll always be there, alright?”

Did I get it right, Mama?

[waerloge]

I swear to fucking god, if they don't hire some new employees soon, and if that one coworker doesn't come back to help out already, I will lose my fucking mind.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 352

“Mother, I crave violence,” a small child interrupts the video call, practically clambering up into Nightingale’s chair. They look around five or so, with white hair and red eyes. Albino perhaps? 

“Ah, apologies, let me take care of this real quick,” Nightingale turns the microphone off when he gets a few acknowledging noises, picking the small child up and moving them from the room. 

“Cute kid,” Barry acknowledged from behind his coworker’s head, having been helping move things. Actually, the kid looked kind of familiar, though from where, who knew. Hard to remember everything with how fast his thoughts usually went. “I didn’t know Nightingale was a father…” 

Then again the specialist was notoriously private, and set most meetings online thanks to some sort of medical conditions. So he supposed it would make it easier to be a stay at home dad if he was there already…

[celtrist]

Why does Vassago already have merch, we haven't even met him yet

[sereniv]

Well i think we ALL should be threatening not to vote for Harris if she doesnt call for an arms embargo. Id say ceasfire but lets be real

I think we ALL should be putting our effort into applying pressure on ending a genocide, rather than pressuring people to vote for someone who not only seems to be going back on policies she said she stood for, but is also not proving she will actually do anything on the situation in Palestine

The voting hasnt happened. You can't get mad at people for AT LEAST threatening to not vote for her. Threatening. As in, no one has voted yet. So it's all talk right now.

If people dont end up vote for Harris it will be her own fault. Thats just how it works. What she says, but more importantly what she does, is what makes people vote for her just like any other candidate

we arent even asking that much. At the VERY least, is to stop sending weapons. 1 thing she and biden are capable of doing but have shown having no plans on even considering it.

Now, I dont know what im doing when it comes to voting bc theres a lot that can happen until then. im not thinking of what im going to do, im focused on helping to apply pressure. Ive sent emails and called. But even just talking about it can help.

Yes, if Trump wins it IS worse, beyond Palestine. For the planet, and everyone.

But the fact is that some people will not vote for her. That is a fact.

Another Fact is some people will vote for her only if they feel confident she will actually do something about the genocide.

These are facts. You don't even need a source for that

Why are you wasting your time on people who wont vote, instead of convincing the Hold Voters to vote for Kamala by making Kamala someone they will want to vote for?

WE arent dividing the vote. SHE is.

Worry about the blame game for after the election.

For now, help us get her to agree that the United states will stop sending weapons to Israel and/or keep the halt (of weapons), if by some miracle biden gets something done.

[sillyscientists]

Just gonna say that mocking people for voicing their disappointment over the stream (spongebobscreamingwithflyingicecreamtruck.png “IN A CIVIL AND POLITE MANNER”) just makes you like. An asshole lmao. People are gonna be disappointed when they’re told they’re getting one thing and getting another no matter what, even if what they get instead is really good/funny.

[lunar-wandering]

head hurty

[danielnelsen]

things aren’t going well with peach. while i think my dad’s very right to be concerned that she hasn’t eaten anything in nearly 60 hours (obviously i am too), im becoming increasingly concerned that she hasn’t slept at all in around 36 hours and prior to that she was under anaesthetic, which isn’t exactly restful, so it’s closer to 48 hrs

like dad took her back to the vet today and we’ve got injections for her painkillers now because she’s not eating, and also injections for fluids (because she doesn’t drink; she only gets water from her food), so the not eating is Bad but also kinda under management, but if she doesn’t sleep soon i’m extremely worried. dad was like ‘if she doesn’t eat by tomorrow afternoon we’ll take her back because the injections will run out’ but like. if she doesn’t sleep tonight we have GOT to take her back first thing in the morning so they can sedate her or something

[over-fen-and-field]

Screaming nauseously into the void

So, for the past ten months I've had a Mystery Problem Syndrome (MPS) -- unpredictable hours to months of nausea, headaches, dizziness, brain fog, weird muscle things, a dangerous amount of weight loss, all that fun stuff. The working hypothesis from my GI is that it's an autoimmune thing triggered by a viral infection in my intestines that may or may not be temporary on the scale of a year or two, but we haven't been able to totally confirm that's what it is or whether it's going to be a year-long thing or a many-years thing or a forever thing. It's not always clear what's triggering the big flare-ups, but stress is a contributing factor. This is a problem firstly because I'm a PhD student who has always run a little anxious in the way that some ovens run a little hot and secondly because my body cannot tell the difference between stress and excitement.

In practical terms, this means that I've zombied my way through work for about five total months since January, have barely left my town all year even for just little day trips, paused a lot of my big plans like getting more intensive therapy to deal with my driving anxiety, and have had lots of little "fun" moments like barely being able to present my work at a big conference, running out of my roommate's big opera performance to throw up in a trash can in the hall, and spending about two months being unable to even take consistent notes during D&D and not really being able to enjoy it or any of my other hobbies. This was all no good, obviously, but to really add insult to injury, I might have triggered a full-on flare-up by... (drumroll, please)...

Buying groceries for my Halloween party!

Not even throwing the party. Not even drinking too much or eating forbidden foods at the party.

Buying groceries for the party. At the same grocery store I always buy groceries at.

I got too excited while passively noodling about desserts and decorations and how I wanted to arrange the cheeseboard and whether blackberries would be good in sangria.

And have been unable to keep food down since.

I hope I'm miraculously cured by the party itself because I'm going to have a hard time convincing anyone to eat my food (I'm definitely not contagious anymore! I cleared the actual infection in January!) if I'm this noticeably sick during it.

Also I was looking forward to it a lot and a good dozen of my friends are gonna be there and :(

Apparently, I can't look forward to things anymore! I should just sit in a quiet room and contemplate the grass as it grows, careful to maintain complete emotional neutrality.

[magstorrn]

every few years im reminded that the war of the worlds stage show exists which is never good because i always find something new to hate about it

[skitskatdacat63]

Can someone assure me it's okay that I haven't finished any drawings in over a week 😭😭

[alaskan-wallflower]

one of the only things that annoys me more than character hate in the character tag is spam tagging posts that have nothing to do with certain characters. like if i wanna go through my blorbo’s tag and i see a bunch of shit that had nothing to even do with them that just makes me pissed off at the person spamming the tags with said character. if that makes sense. i wish there was a button to report that shit because it’s annoying ssf like it doesn’t make me wanna click your content it makes me wanna block your ass. like don’t tag a post with a character or fandom when that post has absolutely nothing to do with said character or fandom. maybe i’m petty. idc tho.

[ravenwolfie97]

sees this and realizes i'm contributing to the purple pool :<

[chisungie]

always been a big fan of tiny little shimejis but desktop mate has elysia.. how could i not give it a try🥺

[misspickman]

My unpopular bg3 opinion is they tried way too hard to make some of these characters mean and flippant which is meant to make the player more interested in them and clearly this has worked on many (good for you !) but personally i could not care less. If 80% of what a character has to say to me is bitchy i will simply leave them at camp for most of the game