#i hope winston tells them to get fucked

[the-other-jugs]

Heard the news this afternoon and I got a bit emotional, we still have a hope that we won't be shafted by a right wing govt.

[icarusredwings]

Was asked what Wade thinks about his skin after his powers and cancer are taken away. If he would cover up still even when it's hot. And I would like to say yes. He automatically does it as muscle memory.

Logan: Why are you covered up? Its july

Wade: babe you know how people think about me. I dont wanna scare the kids

Logan: .... Wade you are quite literally the third hottest guy in our apartment complex..

Wade wont let logan place himself lower then him EVER so he always has to say hes at least the second, but also, this one guy down the hall is a body builder husband and both logan and wade flirt with him sometimes. Its insane.

"LOGAN!! Mr. Plesetski is taking out the trash again!!"

"Really? Again?.. damn..."

*both of them AND puppins at the window*

Al: yall are some freaks..

Harold and Sheryl Plesetski are their neighbors down the hall. Real nice people.

Honestly this is the only man that wade is allowed to flirt with freely without his face getting beat in.

He just kinda rolls his eyes amused because its nice to see wade happy and giddy. Besides. Mr. Plesetski is one of the only people that makes wade feel good about how he looks, he means it as a innocent compliment but wade takes it as flirting.

Wade, in the hall: *pretends to struggle carrying in groceries*

Logan: ? What are you-

Wade: SHH- Oh Mr. Plesetski! Could you please help me? I did chemo today so..

Mr. Plesetski: Hm? Oh yes of course! Your appartments 204 right?

Wade: Yes it is! Thank you so much! Soooo... what are you doing this weekend?

Mr. Plesetski: Oh, no, thank you for asking. Im taking Sheryl mini golfing and then to the lobster shack. You?

Wade: *drooling*

Logan: *nudges him* Hes gonna be sleeping. A lot.

Mr. Plesetski: From the chemo? Im so sorry. You know- Sheryl could knit you a hat if youd like. I know you probably get cold easily. My mother did when she had her breast cancer.

Wade: Uh huh *his ass is not litsening*

Logan: *rolls his eyes smirking and shaking his head* wow

Sometimes Wade still gets jealous if Logan is a bit too interested, tho because Wade thinks compared to Harold. He's like a 0, and he's a 100

Logan: *lingering after 'bumping' into him* Hey so.. Do you know any good gyms around here? Cause.. obviously, you weren't born like that

Mr. Plesetski: *laughs* I actually go to the one over on the corner of 6th. You're free to join me sometime. I know how hard it can be to find a good routine at this age.

Logan: hah.. yeaah... this age.. you're like. What? 35?

Mr. Plesetski: Ha! Close! Im 53.

Logan: damn-

Mr. Plesetski: Excuse me?

Logan: I-i mean.. Im *panics* 62

Mr. Plesetski: *pats his back* Well id say you look pretty good for 62. Alright. Suppose I should get back. It's meatloaf night.

Logan, blushing: H-heh... yeah..

Logan, later: Hey wade? Have you seen my shorts?

Wade, crossing his arms on the couch: Why dont you ask Mr. Plesetski!?

Logan: Oh come on! It's not a big deal!

And then.. you have Carla Boothe...

"Hey Howlie have you- DAMN, Well let me put on my glasses to have a look at ya. God your gorgeous! Winston come look at this ass! It's bigger then yours!"

And unironically, this makes Mr. Plesetski a little uncomfortable but respects her enough not to shoo her away as she pinches his cheek and tells him how cute he is. "Uhhh.. thanks? I-i think Sher is calling.."

"Mh mh mmh. Althea dear you have no clue what youre missing." She tells her partner, who rolls her eyes. "Yall are some sick fucking teases. I hope you know that..."

Hell. Even Puppins likes him, always trying to mark him as hers by peeing on his foot. Or maybe it's because she dislikes her papa flirting with him and not logan. Who knows. Shes a weird dog.

"Whats Mr. Plesetski look like?" You may be asking.

Imagine Hugh jackman had a baby, and the baby daddy is between Pedro Pascal and Oscar Issac.

That is Mr. Plesetski.

[winstonsns]

i read your cuteness aggression for the curtis!reader and i’m in love! can you maybe do preferences with a curtis!reader who’s a year younger than pony? thank you and have a wonderful day/afternoon/night! ☺️

the gang and 13 year old curtis!reader (request)

pairings: ponyboy x reader, johnny x reader, soda x reader, darry x reader, dally x reader, two-bit x reader, steve x reader

warnings: cussing

authors note: this is strictly platonic guys!! i feel like i’ve been falling off lately LMAO. i hope u guys enjoy though 💗

word count: 1.0k

PONYBOY CURTIS

the two of you are the closest in the gang, being the closest in age and him being a protective older brother to you

he doesn’t always feel the closest to his siblings because him and darry are always arguing, soda’s in the middle and doesn’t interfere anymore

but you’re always one to comfort pony after he gets into a heated argument with his oldest brother

he helps you with homework a lot since you’re not far behind him, he helps you study and get super high grades so darry isn’t on your ass for shitty grades

pony also reads you books when you’re stressed, it’s also just something he enjoys doing in your presence

quality time means a lot to him because his brothers are never home, he’ll read a magazine or do homework in a room with you, it gives him a sense of safety

JOHNNY CADE

the two of you aren’t exactly the closest in age but you talk to each other about everything

you and johnny hang out at the lot and sometimes fall asleep there, when you wake up, you direct him to your house so he can sleep there too

sometimes he’ll give you little gifts for fun, remembers a lot of things you tell him

if you talk about a book or item you want once, he’ll get it as soon as he can

he really appreciates your friendship and will do anything to keep it and strengthen it

probably let’s you borrow his switchblade even though he always has it on him, has backups too

SODAPOP CURTIS

he’s the most annoying but loving brother to you, always asking you if you have a partner yet and teasing you if you do

“ooooh.. who were you hangin’ out with today, y/n? you like them?”

“soda, i’ve been friends with them for years!”

“yeah, but do you like them?”

he’s the embodiment of the trend ‘i know love is real because (name) is real and they are full of it’

soda makes sure you have a lot of attention and love, doesn’t necessarily try to replace your parents but is somewhat nurturing to you

he doesn’t rant to you often because he knows it can be overwhelming, you’re just a kid, as he puts it and shouldn’t be dealing with others problems

sometimes he’ll take you to the DX after school so you can gossip and you can learn about working

DARRY CURTIS

darry’s your eldest brother and is extremely protective of you, always checks up on you and asking about your day

he has the same expectations for you and ponyboy, he checks over your homework but is calmer with you

he wants you to be with some sort of guardian wherever you go, even if you’re walking down the street for fun

he knows it’s not the safest for you to be alone, especially at night

because he doesn’t have the best relationship with his brothers, he makes cake with you more often than he does with the others

he does not let you participate in rumbles, he says it’s way too dangerous for you to fight

DALLAS WINSTON

he fucking hates kids so it’s a surprise he enjoys your presence

you remind him a bit of himself, you’re a bit of an ‘outcast in the outcasts’ because you’re the youngest and told you can’t do anything

so dally teaches you how to live in case you ever get put on the streets, teaches you what to do in the worst case scenarios

he’s hard on you though, it’s tough love and he can get really frustrated if you get hurt or in trouble because he’s taught you how to protect yourself

steals random stuff for you, most of the time it’s candy or random sweets like popcorn from the drive in, sometimes it’s a drink

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

you remind him of his younger sister, he feels obligated to protect you in some way

most of the time, soda and darry are working so they aren’t home most of the time, pony’s hanging out with johnny so keith watches over you

sometimes he calls himself your babysitter because he thinks it’s funny, it’s even better that he knows you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself

he’ll tell you super inappropriate jokes and when darry’s there, he’ll smack him on the back of the head

“two, knock it off. she doesn’t needa hear that stuff!”

“i didn’t even do anything, super—“

he steals stuff for you too, whether it’s something related to your studies or a random item you want for some reason

STEVE RANDLE

originally didn’t want to be around you, he doesn’t want to be around ponyboy and you’re with him all the time

but eventually, steve warms up to you and lets you hang out with him and the gang sometimes

he’s actually pretty smart and not many people expect that from him, he helps you with homework even though he can get frustrated at times if you don’t understand

if you’re into cars, expect him to teach you all about them and for him to invite you to the DX

maybe he lets you help him fix some of the cars, of course you won’t get paid money, instead snacks he gives you for free

soda will come up to you in the morning as you’re barely awake, talking to you

“steve said to come to the DX after school, gonna teach you some stuff about cars.”

[ellewinstonn]

hi!! Could you do the gang (separately ofc) x reader with a younger sibling (around 7). Like how they'd interact and stuff. Hopefully that makes sense. Thank you!!!

The Gang x Older Sibling Reader

-`♡´- A/N: Hihi lovelies!! This is my first bit of writing- if you have any advice/notice any errors please don’t be afraid to reach out. I hope y’all enjoy!

Ponyboy Curtis

As a youngest sibling, he’s never understood what it’s like to have kids drastically younger than him around.

Definitely looks up to you a bit. He knows how hard Darry works, and while the situations aren’t the same, he still admires how much work you put towards caring for your sibling.

He absolutely reads to your sibling.

On that note, once you caught him reading your sibling “To Kill A Mockingbird.”

“THE KID’S SEVEN.”

“ITS A GOOD BOOK!!!”

“…THEYRE SEVEN.”

He doesn’t talk to your sibling a lot, but when he does he’s always very sweet.

Definitely helps you watch over the sibling, especially when school starts up every year.

While he doesn’t interact with your sibling a ton, he’s still really welcoming towards them.

Sodapop Curtis

Absolutely adores your sibling.

Like, every chance he gets he’s talking to the kid.

Asks you about them all the time

“How y/s/n? Are they okay? Did they pass that math test? What about-“

“Soda you saw them yesterday. They’re fine.”

It’s ok though because your siblings always asking about him!

He’s your siblings favorite greaser.

And it’s SO painfully obvious

Your sibling looks up to Soda- whether that’s good or bad is up to you.

Soda treats your sibling like they’re his own.

Darry Curtis

Darry is the most helpful.

He used to help his parents when Pony and Soda were the kids age, so he knows helpful tips.

He’s so nice with the kid!!!

^^^ In general, I could see him loving kids.

You guys definitely have late night talks talking about your younger siblings.

You both (+ Two-Bit) have an unspoken agreement to look out for each other’s siblings.

Once he tried to help your sibling with homework…

He had to call over Ponyboy. Never in his life had he been that angry over verbs and nouns

Darry tries his best to be as helpful as possible with your sibling, and he just wants the best for them.

Johnny Cade

Johnny isn’t near your sibling a lot.

When he is though, he’s really soft spoken with them.

He listens every time your sibling tells a story.

He thinks your sibling has a wild imagination, but he also thinks that what makes them unique.

Once your sibling saw Johnny after a rumble, bruises up more than normal.

Your sibling immediately tried to clean up some of his cuts and bruises.

He thought it was cute.

Even though your sibling didn’t do much to help, Johnny still smiled at them and thanked them.

All in all, he’s really sweet with your little sibling, and he will listen to them whenever he has a chance.

Dallas Winston

Dallas hates little kids. Always has, and always will.

Except for your sibling.

Dallas acts all tough and stuff, but in reality he loves your little sibling.

Definitely tries to teach the kid how to fight.

Once he heard about your sibling getting bullied and the greasers all had to convince him to not beat up the kid.

“You can’t jump a seven year old!”

“I’m Dallas fucking Winston, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

If for whatever god awful reason Dallas is with your sibling and you are not there, he’s taking the kid out and teaching them how to steal.

You were pissed when you found out.

Nonetheless, he’s always looking out for your little sibling.

Two-Bit Matthews

He’s always making jokes with your sibling.

Schedules little play dates for your little sibling and his little sister.

It’s actually really cute!

Your little siblings are absolutely friends, argue with the wall.

Calls your sibling “mini greaser” all. the. time.

He’s always put on baby-sitter duty.

Because of that he also knows literally everything about your sibling.

Your little sibling over shares a lot, and Two always takes mental notes of the important or funny parts.

He watches mickey with your little sibling.

That just becomes their thing.

He always jokes that he’s passing his legacy down to your sibling.

Steve Randle

He’s always inviting the kid down to the DX

He thinks they’re good company.

Canonically, he’s really smart. SO! If Pony doesn’t beat him to it, Steve will constantly help your sibling with their homework.

Calls your sibling his mini toolbox because whenever he’s working on cars, your sibling will pass him whatever tool he needs from his toolbox.

Lets your sibling take any snacks or candy they want from the DX.

He tries to convince your sibling that Pony is “The meanest bully ever”

(It never works.)

He just likes being near the kid

Will consider your sibling a greaser before he ever considers Ponyboy a greaser.

————————————————————————-

-`♡´- A/N: Thank you to the person who requested this! It was so much fun to write, and I apologize it took so long. Also, if this wasn’t what you meant, please feel free to reach out! I’m happy to rewrite it properly <3 Love y’all!!!

[ruskaroma]

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name. 

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present. 

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow. 

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows. 

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again. 

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her. 

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him. 

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him. 

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her. 

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!” 

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it. 

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women. 

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep. 

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls. 

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off. 

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Okay it's time for me to go a bit crouching retard hidden genius here, take off the clown nose and put my thinking cap on. Cause unlike many, many people who reference Nineteen Eighty-Four I've actually read it. Several times. And not as a school mandate.

What does "He loved Big Brother" tell you about media literacy?

Like what even is that point, Lorch? What does just knowing the final sentence of the book tell you about someone's media literacy? What do YOU even think that line means? Cause I'd love to hear it and I doubt you've ever actually read the fucking book.

There are many take-aways you can have from Nineteen Eighty-Four regarding the control of the populace through deception, fear, propaganda, regulation, indoctrination of the young, the dumbing down of language, and sheer hypocrisy. I'd be more interested in someone's take on passages like this to gauge their media literacy:

'It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take "good", for instance. If you have a word like "good", what need is there for a word like "bad"? "Ungood" will do just as well -- better, because it's an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of "good", what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like "excellent" and "splendid" and all the rest of them? "Plusgood" covers the meaning, or "doubleplusgood" if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already. but in the final version of Newspeak there'll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words -- in reality, only one word. Don't you see the beauty of that, Winston? It was B.B.'s idea originally, of course,' he added as an afterthought. A sort of vapid eagerness flitted across Winston's face at the mention of Big Brother. Nevertheless Syme immediately detected a certain lack of enthusiasm. 'You haven't a real appreciation of Newspeak, Winston,' he said almost sadly. 'Even when you write it you're still thinking in Oldspeak. I've read some of those pieces that you write in The Times occasionally. They're good enough, but they're translations. In your heart you'd prefer to stick to Oldspeak, with all its vagueness and its useless shades of meaning. You don't grasp the beauty of the destruction of words. Do you know that Newspeak is the only language in the world whose vocabulary gets smaller every year?' Winston did know that, of course. He smiled, sympathetically he hoped, not trusting himself to speak. Syme bit off another fragment of the dark-coloured bread, chewed it briefly, and went on: 'Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we're not far from that point. But the process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller. Even now, of course, there's no reason or excuse for committing thoughtcrime. It's merely a question of self-discipline, reality-control. But in the end there won't be any need even for that. The Revolution will be complete when the language is perfect. Newspeak is Ingsoc and Ingsoc is Newspeak,' he added with a sort of mystical satisfaction. 'Has it ever occurred to you, Winston, that by the year 2050, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?'

The speech had been proceeding for perhaps twenty minutes when a messenger hurried on to the platform and a scrap of paper was slipped into the speaker's hand. He unrolled and read it without pausing in his speech. Nothing altered in his voice or manner, or in the content of what he was saying, but suddenly the names were different. Without words said, a wave of understanding rippled through the crowd. Oceania was at war with Eastasia! The next moment there was a tremendous commotion. The banners and posters with which the square was decorated were all wrong! Quite half of them had the wrong faces on them. It was sabotage! The agents of Goldstein had been at work! There was a riotous interlude while posters were ripped from the walls, banners torn to shreds and trampled underfoot. The Spies performed prodigies of activity in clambering over the rooftops and cutting the streamers that fluttered from the chimneys. But within two or three minutes it was all over. The orator, still gripping the neck of the microphone, his shoulders hunched forward, his free hand clawing at the air, had gone straight on with his speech. One minute more, and the feral roars of rage were again bursting from the crowd. The Hate continued exactly as before, except that the target had been changed. The thing that impressed Winston in looking back was that the speaker had switched from one line to the other actually in midsentence, not only without a pause, but without even breaking the syntax. But at the moment he had other things to preoccupy him. It was during the moment of disorder while the posters were being torn down that a man whose face he did not see had tapped him on the shoulder and said, 'Excuse me, I think you've dropped your brief-case.' He took the brief-case abstractedly, without speaking. He knew that it would be days before he had an opportunity to look inside it. The instant that the demonstration was over he went straight to the Ministry of Truth, though the time was now nearly twenty-three hours. The entire staff of the Ministry had done likewise. The orders already issuing from the telescreen, recalling them to their posts, were hardly necessary. Oceania was at war with Eastasia: Oceania had always been at war with Eastasia. A large part of the political literature of five years was now completely obsolete. Reports and records of all kinds, newspapers, books, pamphlets, films, sound-tracks, photographs -- all had to be rectified at lightning speed. Although no directive was ever issued, it was known that the chiefs of the Department intended that within one week no reference to the war with Eurasia, or the alliance with Eastasia, should remain in existence anywhere. The work was overwhelming, all the more so because the processes that it involved could not be called by their true names.

Also please read Nineteen Eighty-Four everyone. It's a very good book, it's not very long, and it's still scarily relevant to today.

[2knightt]

「 you the cutest jailbird i ever did see!」

IN WHICH—you’re literally mickey milkovich!♡ ໋֢ 👒✧

🍵ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 👒 notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅ this is platonic. and if you haven’t seen shameless just imagine a modern, stinky dallas. also MARRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!!!

you met them while running from the cops. sure—it was completely your fault and you do deserve to be thrown into the cooler. but you just got out! can’t a person want just a few more minutes of peace?

as soon as you heard those sirens, you jumped off the guys you and your cousins were jumping and just started running. those two idiots already got caught, you just kept on running.

you heard that the curtis house doesn’t ever lock their door—stupid. you’d never do that, not when people like you run around this city!

the sirens got closer, and without thinking, you jumped their fence. as your feet touched the ground, you hoped to god that they weren’t home. or that dallas winston wasn’t there.

you rushed to the door, swinging in open before hiding beside their couch that sat in front of the window. peeking your head up, you watched as the cop car slowed down before speeding back off.

a grin grew on your face as you watched the cops go in the other direction.

“fuckin’ idiots.”

“wow, y/n getting chased by the cops. what is it, the 30th time this week?”

you’ve had unfortunate run-ins with dallas. but you thought his voice was more annoying now than when you and your cousins jumped him for trying to hit on your sister.

you’d recognize that disgusting new york accent from anywhere. you sighed, turning your head to face him as he stood above you, hands in his jean pockets.

dallas had a stupid grin on his face as who, you think is soda, comes rushing beside him. his eyes showed worry, but his grin made him look interested in you.

“shoot, what happened to you?”

“soda—this is y/n. what ain’t they done is a better question.”

you rolled your eyes, holding back from socking him in the jaw. you turned your head to face soda, standing up from your position. rubbing your neck, you hung your head low.

“tough shit, man. bunch of assholes—you know.”

suddenly, someone with cake smeared all over his fingers and who smelled like oil popped up out of nowhere. ‘steve’ was written on the chest of his ripped up work uniform.

“that can mean a lotta things. what kinda tough shit?”

‘jesus, the curtis group asks a lot of questions.’ you thought to yourself, a lip raised. dallas kicked the leg of the couch beside you, causing you to whip your head up after avoiding eye contact. sodapop smacked dallas’ shoulder, telling him off.

“answer ‘em, y/n.”

dallas demanded, saying your name is a singing tone.

“…me and my cousin’s has jumped a guy. it ain’t nothin’ bad like stabbing a kid with a blade.”

you mumbled, dusting yourself off, you heard snickers leave steve and soda’s throats. soda grinned, ear to ear as he ushered you to sit down at a table. as he did so—he kept on asking you a bunch of jumbled questions due to how fast he’s talking.

four boys sat there, staring at the situation that had just unfolded. they both looked younger than everyone else did, the two older ones standing out like sore thumbs. one was finishing his plate, the other one downing a bottle of beer.

soda sat you down, steve rushing behind the both of you. either of them sat beside you, smiles on their face.

“what’d the guy do?”

“did you beat ‘em black and blue?”

“what’d you use?”

with that, you found yourself hanging around the two of them more. sodapop and steve found your company fun. sure, you were like dallas, but different in so many ways.

you were so comforting to be around, yet you always had a scowl. they loved having you around, causing the gang to hang out with you too.

you honestly became a reoccurring person in the gang—to the point where people would ask where you were if you weren’t around them.

you’d just walk into the curtis house and make yourself comfortable. your house wasn’t exactly the definition of ‘ideal.’ the old man wasn’t the kindest to you, your sister—or anyone for that matter.

he’d frequently take his anger out on you and smack you ‘til you’re every colour under the sun after he heard you’d been foolin’ around with some chum around the block. it wasn’t even true—but your cries always fell to deaf ears when it came to that alcoholic.

it’s not like it was a secret either. every person on the east side could hear the arguing from your house—even the front door slam shut. that’s when the people would know you’d be huddled up on the curtis’ couch.

“y/n—breakfast.”

soda’d nudge you gently—talking in a hushed voice. the smell of bacon filled your nostrils, a sigh leaving your lips as it hit you that he was the one cooking. you aren’t exactly the biggest fan of his rather odd choices of how he makes his food.

but goddamnit you can fake it for him. if you can lie to the cops, you can lie to one of your greatest friends.

just like how you can lie to the investigators trying to find dallas winston.

“you know this kid?”

“never seen ‘em in my life. lay off now, assholes.”

you’d mumble, walking past them, making sure you hit their shoulders as hard as you could. you always got a kick out of hurting those pigs as you’d call ‘em.

which is what caused dallas winston goin’ MIA. you had seen dallas winston getting knocked down by the police after a long chase.

even though you can’t stand that new yorkian—you do love fighting. you tried to walk as quietly as you could up to them before making yourself known.

“hey, man!”

you shouted, causing their heads to turn. when they saw you—their eyes immediately flashed a look of hatred. they obviously knew who you were, and if they didn’t know, they’d know after you socked one in the jaw.

all attention on dallas turned to you—all of them going after you. until dallas also landed a clean hit on one. with the impact of the officer falling on the ground—your feet started moving on your own.

you cackled, hearing dallas laugh along with you, running beside you. the rush that washed over you two was indescribable—the adrenaline was great.

this isn’t the first time you’ve been on the run, and it’s not like you haven’t been caught. one time you got caught—your bail was low. but too high for you. you were offered one call and the first person that came to mind would surely rip off your head.

‘worth a shot,’ you thought to yourself, dialling the numbers with the phone to your ear, a cop hovering over you.

“hello?”

“darrel? it’s y/n.”

“goddammit, y/n. what the hell did you do this time?”

“nothin’! i-i just need you to come and bail me. it’s only 50 cents, darry.”

“you’re never gonna hear the end of it, you damned jail bird. i’ll be there soon.”

with that—you heard a click on the end of the line. you wanted to defend yourself, but hearing him call you a jail bird gave you more pride than you’ve felt in a long time.

of course, when he did bail you out, any feeling you had of pride evaporated. as soon as you entered the backseat, you could feel the rage from darry.

“what the hell did you do? it’s 11PM. ponyboy and soda’s in bed—and i was getting ready! 11PM, y/n!”

“holy fuck, darry! stop acting like i killed a guy! it was just a grab n’ run!”

“y/n—is it too hard to ask that you try to stay safe? just once, that’s all i ask!”

“oh my god, darry! you aren’t my fucking father!”

“guess what’s happening. you’re coming to my house and spending the nights there. the second i hear that you’re runnin’ from the cops i’m contesting against you in court!”

the rest of the ride was in silence, it being broken up by the occasional blinker. when he pulled onto the side of the road, parking his truck in front of the house, you sat there.

stubborn is what people thought of you—and you sure as hell were. darry got out, expecting you to follow. he stood in front of the gate, arms crossed as you stared off into space.

the door opened—darry quickly grabbing you. he carried you like a baby, against your very loud protests.

soda opened the door, snickering as he sees the situation you’re in. ponyboy was sitting on darrys chair, playing with the tab of a pepsi can. once he seen darry step in, you in arms, he shot up from where he sat.

“where were you? what happened?”

“yeah, jail bird. what happened?”

you heard the two younger brothers ask, one sounding more mocking than the other. darry placed you on the couch, swiftly throwing a blanket over you.

you’d been in this situation before, the memories flooding back to you as you felt yourself drift off into sleep.

expect you weren’t the one being carried. you had carried johnny from the lot, put him on your back. it was a few days after he’d been jumped real bad.

you were out of the loop when it came to who jumped who. you seen johnny asleep in the lot. dried blood on his jacket and face. bruises were everywhere on his body. you felt bad.

you always liked johnnycakes. he understood you in a way. as you carried him on your back—you could only thing of the similarities between you two.

you both had rough home lives, you both always found yourself trying to keep everything together. he used to be so tough but turned quiet—you had always been tough and never expected to change.

lost in your thoughts—you got to the curtis house faster than expected. you quietly walked up the stairs, opening the door, avoiding the creaky floorboards.

you placed johnny on the couch, taking a silent vow to beat whoever did this to him even worse.

and you always kept your word.

robert sheldon was the guy you and your cousins had tracked down, bats and other weapons in hand. if he can use those thick gold rings—you can use your bat. fair game, right?

you caught him, drunk on the streets, and stupidly alone. your cousins beat up ford slowed down beside him—making it a repeat of what he’d do to others.

he took notice—stumbling as he turned his head. your own small gang took notice to this, stopping the car before jumping out.

you guys had beaten him to the point where he looked just like johnny. you kept your word, and you wouldn’t let anyone ever touch johnny like that.

you always hated soc’s. you’d do anything to do annoy ‘em. even if it meant stealing their mustangs, you always liked them anyhow.

steve always talked about how he’d do anything to drive a tuff car like that. everytime he seen one, that’s all he talked about.

“imagine drivin’ a car like that. could you imagine how fast i could go?”

you’d learn how to hot wire at a young age, rarely ever did it though. but when you seen a wine coloured mustang left unattended—you knew you had an opportunity.

it wasn’t hard to get it going, and it wasn’t hard to drive it to the DX without getting caught. steve was working in the hood of an old car outside until he heard a honk.

a grin grew on his face as he seen you in the drivers sear of the car, a smug look on your face. steve practically skipped as he rushed towards the vehicle, tapping the hood as he took a closer look.

as he was nothing less than mesmerized—you hopped out of the car. steve looked up at you from his crouched position before you threw the keys at him, walking towards the passenger seat.

steve immediately put two and two together, jumping into the car without a second thought.

you swore you ain’t never seen steve so happy when he was speeding down the road in this mustang. he never asked where you got it—and you never told him.

you and ponyboy were alright. he didn’t like being around you for long periods of time. on the other hand—you absolutely loved it.

you could tease him until the sun went down for everything and anything.

“what the hell are you wearin’, pony?”

“a shirt?”

“sure as hell don’t look like one.”

you’d ruffle his greased up hair, going against his complains. you’d mock his books and movies, mimicking what they just said in a higher voice. ponyboy always disliked this. he didn’t hate it however. a small part of him knew that’s how you showed affection.

but he never knew you could be so gentle when you felt like it—that he really, really liked. one day, when school was out and everyone was doing their own thing, ponyboy sat at home.

he was reading a book with the tv as background noise. until you barged through the door, beelining for the fridge. you got a beer, closing the door. you took a sear in darry’s chair, watching TV.

ponyboy wondered if you noticed he was even home. when he seen you enter—he felt insecure. you were the definition of a greaser—he was…just some guy that so happened to have grease in his hair.

you realized he stopped reading, his eyes everywhere but his book. sighing, you got up and sat beside him on the couch. you took one more swig of the beer before you told him to read out loud.

“read to me.”

“wh-huh?”

“the TV’s borin’. read.”

with that, he did. the longer ponyboy read, the more relaxed he became. of course—you looked like you wanted to rip your own head off—but ponyboy did like the fact you immersed yourself into the story.

“she fucking what?”

“yeah! crazy, right?”

“crazy’s an understatement, man.”

‘crazy’ is what people would call you and two-bit. people would’ve never willingly put the two of you in a room, but you two got along swimmingly.

he was loud, sometimes clingy, and always joking around. you really needed someone like him in your life. a breath of fresh air—until the two of you would compete.

“let’s see who can steal the most stuff without gettin’ caught.”

was a sentence often said between the two of you. a little fun never hurt nobody, right? two-bit seemed like the expert at stealing, and you just liked to break the law.

the longest it went on was for a week. you tot caught first and you have yet to live it down.

“so god fuckin’ help me—i will gauge your eyeballs out with this fucking fork!”

“yeah but, i’ll die knowin’ that i was able to steal without gettin’ BANNED!”

two-bit later had a bruise on his ribs.

you’ve never been one to stay in a group of people. but staying with these people—it was different in so many ways.

you knew they wanted you here, they knew you loved them and that you knew that they loved you too. and unfamiliar feeling sure—but a welcomed feeling.

you argued, fought, and even fist fought each other. but goddamnit, you all moved past it. and that’s all you could ask for in this little life. even if your life is mostly you sitting in a prison.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hiiiii I hope ur doing good but can I request the greaser gang with fem!black reader :33 (this is very much self indulgent heheehe)

Summary: The Outsiders x Black!Reader

Warnings: none Author's Note: sorry if I got somethings wrong againnn

PONYBOY CURTIS

Thinks you're so pretty and have the prettiest eyes

Stares at them, Def gets “lost in them”

buys you cds of all your fav music so you can listen to them with him

Will ALWAYS be with you. He thinks he can intimidate the socs away

JOHNNY CADE

Very insecure abt yalls relationship because he doesnt think hes cute enough to be with you

Stands in the pharmacy to read about your pop culture in magazines

Thinks your hair is so attractive, loves running his hands (gently) through it

he'll get literally red faced, screaming, attacking anything if you get insulted or jumped, he's gonna be your ride or die.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Obsessed with your facial harmony

When your doing your hair he'll help you separate the curls for you

Loves seeing you in his DX shirt because of your perfect figure

If you like a certain artist, he'll definitely try and sneak you into the concert

STEVE RANDLE

His love language is food, so hell cook whatever your mom gives him recipes for

If you don't like it, he's making that same thing everyday until it's perfect for you

Loves your fashion sense, he tells you that its like dating a model

Tries his absolute hardest to get you the right color jewelry, like he has a note of either gold or silver 

TWO BIT MATHEWS

Perhaps a little insensitive and rude without trying to be, like hes trying to crack jokes but some of those dont land

IMMEDIATELY respects the boundaries you put down, backs off quickly.

Likes doing your “girly” stuff with you, but he mostly tells you to do it on his sister so you two can bond

Turns out her hair hold a really pretty curl and she asks you to do her hair everytime you come over, hes literally so in love with the fact that you two get along 

DARRY CURTIS

Tries his best to not be rude, its like hes always walking on eggshells.

He has you explain everything to him so now he has 100 mental notes about everything you do, like, eat etc.

Tries to treat you like a queen and saves up so much money for fancy dates and stuff.

No one fucks with you because hes on semi good terms with socs and good terms with greasers. So ur just in the middle ground

DALLAS WINSTON

Once again (say it with me guys!) DALLAS IS A WHITE BITCH

doesn't understand anything, will lowkey judge you for many things

Literally tried to bag you as a challenge, but kinda fell for your charm

Hes not head over heels but he's falling, just will never admit it.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

PLEASE write more mini fics about ponyboy and curly i love them together

Hi anon! This is the first of the PaperCut asks I'm cooking up, so I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long!

****************

Curly Shepard knows he’s the hottest person alive, which is good, because he needs this to go well. 

He’s got a pair of Tim’s jeans on- they’re a bit long, but unlike his own they don’t have any stains- and he might pay for that later but right now it doesn’t matter. His muscle shirt might’ve belonged to Tim at one point or another too, but right now the important thing is that it shows off his arms. Gotta show off his gains if he’s gonna get a date for the rodeo this weekend. 

He really needs a date for the rodeo this weekend. Angela had bet him three dollars and a pack of kools he couldn’t find one and he was determined to prove her wrong. Also, he doesn’t have the scratch to spare if he loses- he’s trying to save up for a nail gun. Dally Winston told him a week ago about a guy in New York who used a modified nail gun as a weapon, and Curly wants to try it.

So, the date. He’d considered asking Catalina Perez- she’s been making eyes at him for weeks, and despite what Angela thinks he isn’t completely clueless- but he doesn’t really want to take a girl out. Girls are fine, but he’s gotta be like…nice and gentlemanly and shit and it's so boring. Besides, Angela just said he had to find a date. She didn’t say it had to be with a girl. 

There’s only one person he actually wants to ask out. Of course, Ponyboy will probably tell him to fuck off, but he tells Curly to fuck off a lot and only means it like a third of the time, so it’ll probably be fine. 

Curly flexes once more in front of the mirror (for confidence) and sticks his switchblade in his pocket. Momentarily he considers grabbing a jacket, but he didn’t spend the last three months beefing up his arms just to cover them with sleeves. Besides, it’s not that cold yet.

Angela’s in the living room with Sylvia, and he promptly decides he does not want to hear them rip him to shreds for his very cool outfit, so he climbs out his bedroom window instead. It’s good practice for gang stuff, he tells himself, because saying he doesn’t want to feel the sting of Angel’s judgemental gaze feels a lot like cowardice.

Once he’s outside he runs into a problem: he’s finally psyched himself up enough to ask Ponyboy out, but unfortunately he doesn’t have any idea where to find him.

Ok, that’s not completely true. Truth is, the guy is pretty predictable on account of his grumpy ass older brother keeping him on a leash shorter than Angel’s temper. Tim didn’t keep half so close an eye on him, and he’d done things Ponyboy probably hadn’t even dreamed of.

It wasn’t like Pony was any sort of goody two shoes. No, Curly didn’t like teacher’s pets and he liked Pony something awful. Pony just…wasn’t as dumb as him, that was all. And he had more to lose, with the state breathing down his neck and all. Curly could respect that.

He’d try the movie house first, he decided. Shit Ponkid liked movies, and anytime he went with him Ponyboy would get all pissy if he said anything about Paul Newman. (What did Pony like so much about that guy anyway? He wasn’t even that tuff looking and he talked like a soc.)

When he shows up, the movie house is empty except for a pair of socs getting handsy in the back row, so he makes his way to the library instead, hoping the old lady behind the desk has forgiven him for time he spilled Pepsi over half the books in the history section (it's not his fault ok? He got distracted.)

This time, his detective skills are as flawless as his face, and he spots a familiar head of reddish hair in the back corner near the biology section, Pony’s shoulders curled in his familiar slouch. The sight of it makes a familiar warm feeling start in his chest, like how good whiskey goes down, a feeling Angela had explained to him two days ago was ‘what a crush feels like, dumbass’ with an eye roll and a not so gentle swat on the head. Much as he hates to admit it, it’s a fairly common occurrence. He’s good at describing feelings but not naming them. Angela feels nothing, but knows what things are supposed to feel like. It works for them, even though Tim calls them weird for it. 

“Hey Ponykid!” His voice is too loud for the library and he knows it, but what’s the old bitch behind the desk gonna do? Kick him out? He could kick her ass.

Ponyboy scowls. “Shut up!” 

“You goin’ to the rodeo this weekend?” Shit. Curly had meant to build up to that, honestly he did, but Ponyboy Curtis has a way of getting him to act like a prize idiot instead of his usual cool, suave self. He hates what this crush is doing to him, and also never wants it to stop.

“No.” 

He goes back to his book. 

Rude.

“Why not?” Curly presses, leaning on the table in a way that makes his arms flex just the way he practiced. The moment is wasted though, because Pony doesn’t even glance up.

“Because.”

“Because why?” He should’ve known better than to come to the library. The only time Pony ever gets proper mad at him is this godforsaken hellhole.

“Because Angela told me you were gonna ask me out,” Pony shuts his book, a shit eating grin crossing his face, and fuck this was not part of the plan. Curly can feel his cheeks flushing and he’s not for the first time he’s glad his skin is dark enough it won’t be obvious. If Pony- or anyone else for that matter- had any idea how much he made Curly blush he’d never hear the end of it, “and she paid me a pack of kools not to say yes unless you ask again after this weekend.”

“She- she what?”

That had to be cheating. Even Tim would have to agree that was cheating, or racketeering or- or something. She was rigging their bet against him. Worse than that she’d told Ponyboy he was gonna ask him out, and now Ponyboy was prepared with his smirk and that face and whatever cologne he’s wearing which smelled so good it should probably be illegal.

“Sorry,” Ponyboy grins, not sounding sorry at all. He climbs to his feet, and Curly is suddenly acutely aware of how close they are, almost chest to chest. Pony’s maybe three inches taller, and Curly finds himself having to look up a bit into his eyes, “guess you’re gonna have to try again next week.”

Then he leans in and kisses Curly on the cheek. 

Curly’s brain melts. 

Pony must see it, because despite the slight flush on his pale cheeks, he manages to look completely smug as he turns away.

“Now fuck off, would ya Curls? I’m tryin’ to read.”

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

ok we got more the gang dealing with their each f!greaser crush. Like they all like different girls- but how tf are they with them/about them

Pookie sorry for the wait I was at school!!!

❤️🖤❤️

Ponyboy Curtis

-ok so bro is sooo awkward, most out of the greasers

-he literally doesn’t know how to talk to you

-needs a pep talk and lesson from dally and johnny

-he would be down so bad tho

-struggling in classes? Free tutor!

-he would do little nice things for you though like always keeping a spare sharp pencil in hopes you’ll forget/lose yours to ask him

-memorized your schedule to “randomly” bump into you

-daydreams 24/7

-tells you all about his books and talks about characters that remind him of you

-I feel like when he finally confesses he’d just do it thoughtlessly

-“You know how much I like you?”

-literally out of the blue and then instantly regret it until you grin

-“Ponyboy, you’re so smart. Yet so stupid. I like you too.”

Johnny Cade

-soooocute

-he’s also a daydreamer

-well, more like night dreamer?

-before going to sleep in the lot he thinks about you holding him or just you in general

-so cute tbh

-absolutely a secret keeper no one knows but him

-he blushes whenever you talk to him

-he gets really flustered trying to talk to you

-I feel like he’s the type to do secret admirer

-when he finally gets the guts to ask you out he would 10/10 pass a note

-“I really, really like ya y/n. Do you like me? Y or N (circle one)”

-biggest grin on his face when you pass him back the note circled “Y” with a heart ❤️

Sodapop Curtis

-totally a flirt

-gives you discounts on gas station stuff

-whenever you come to the gas station charm goes up 10000%

-he’s the type to go home and at dinner be like

-“GUYS today she asked me for the TIME!”

-“no way”

-“WAY”

-he’s literally that one audio

-he asks you out straight up and gives you a sweet smile when you say yes

-passes you his number on your receipt/piece of paper to make plans

Darry Curtis

-wouldn’t want his brother around you until it was official

-finds them embarrassing in front of you 💀

-one time you complimented his cologne and he hasn’t stopped wearing it since

-he always tries to look nice for you, I feel like he takes extra care of his appearance

-I feel like he would try to come off cool

-I feel like it would fail so hard lmao

-I feel like after he failed you’d give him a little kiss on the cheek like Darry you big dork

-and he’d grab your hand and look you in the eyes

-“You know, I like you, Y/n. Really like you.”

Dallas Winston

-ok we’ve seen this shit

-cocky bastard 10/10

-he flirts upfront

-hits on you everytime

-also casually so fucking vulgar

“If you ever wanna sit that fine ass on my-“

“DALLY!”

-catcall vibes 💀💀😭

-literally the most obvious guy ever

-I feel like you’d play hard to get

-yk keep his ego checked

-but I feel like you’d need to make it clear you were looking for committed

-and at first, he wouldn’t be into it, but over time realize… he really doesn’t want to break your heart

-when you finally go on a date you end up making out first date 💀👍❤️

Two Bit Mathews

-he does stupid shit to impress you fr

-whatever he thinks you’ll like him to do hes alr on it

-shoplifts stuff for you that he thinks you’ll like

-cracks jokes fr

-he tries to woo you with humor so hard

-it does work

-I feel like he would actually try to tell you he likes you through a joke

-and actually get kinda flustered in anticipation

-“what has two thumbs and likes a cute girl named

y/n? *says quietly* This guy…”

-you giggle and kiss his cheek

-“Me too, dummy. I like you too, two.”

Steve Randle

-he’s definitely more flirty

-he flirts with you fsfs

-I feel like it’s not quite as charming as Soda, not quite as vulgar as Dally

-smack dab in the middle

-fixes your car for you and is always suggesting you come there for free repairs

-TOTALLY not so he can just talk to you and be around you in general

-he would whistle to you tho “lookin good there baby”

-when he finally confesses I feel like he would be a bit nervous and tries to hide it so much he tells you completely stone faced 💀

-“I-Uh… I like you.”

-such a serious voice 💀😭👍

-but he gives you a smile (rare for him) whenever you say that you like him back

-I can’t stress this enough… FREE HANDYMAN!

[eviesqueezie]

curly stumbles across the road, cigarette caught between his lips with his lighter gripped tight in his fingers.

he’s less than sober, tipsy at most and his shoelaces are undone. it’s autumn at this point, so there’s a low drizzle slowly soaking his jacket and making him hide his spare hand in his pocket.

he’s a bit lost, if he’s being honest. sure, he’s lived around tulsa most of his life but when it’s dark, and rainy, it becomes a bit harder to navigate.

“oi!” curly turns his head sharply, raising an eyebrow. the voice grows closer, the person coming into view. or people, if you’re counting the five or so boys behind him.

curly nods, cigarette dropping from his lips onto the wet ground. he stamps it out and fully spins to face them, pushing his fingers into his belt loops.

“what’re ya doin’ over here?” one of the boys asks, voice hoarse.

curly gulps slightly before answering, discreetly checking his pockets for his switchblade.

“just walkin’. ain’t want no trouble.” his voice thick with the familiar oklahoman drawl. the group move closer, silver jewellery and blades reflecting in the moonlight and glinting off the drops of rain.

“well you’re walkin’ pretty far from yer territory, ain’t ya?”

curly takes a step back, hand resting on the handle of his switch through his jean pocket.

“man, i don’t want trouble. i’m goin’ anyway.”

the group move towards him, like a swarm of bees or a pack of wolves.

pony would probably know how to describe them, how to depict their fangs for teeth probably chipped just like curly’s. how to envelop their childlike features outshined by their all grown words and nature.

“back the fuck up-“ curly shakes, with anger or fear- it’s hard to tell.

there’s a boy, on the far right, with a black eye and blood dripping from his nose. it reminds him of johnny cade, which is stupid because in just a moment they would beat him black and blue.

the group remind him a bit too much of himself, if he thinks about it hard enough through his hazed brain.

one of the boys laughs humourlessly before lunging forward and tackling curly to the ground like a rabid animal, holding his arms to the ground so he can’t reach for his pocket. his lighter tumbled to the hard concrete with a smash.

curly kicks his legs up, ramming them into the boy’s gut, making him jump up and backwards. curly shuffles away, pulling out his switch and flicking the blade open.

the action is mirrored by the group, blades open and roaring- some painted with dried blood in a way which could have been poetic, if curly was poetic enough himself to notice it.

somebody grabs him, hauling him up by his collar and swiftly landing a punch to his jaw that leaves him reeling.

after a few more punches, a bit more blood, the fight within him drains. it wouldn’t be long before it was over, anyway. he could crawl home to tim, or make his way to the curtis house to be patched up.

but when one of the boys leans forward, plunging a thick and jagged blade into his stomach, he can feel his sense of hope diminishing quickly.

maybe- maybe he wouldn’t get home. angie would cry, probably, but he wouldn’t be around to comfort her and- and tim. oh god tim, he’s been through enough. he wouldn’t take it, going out and dying in a blaze of glory just like dallas winston. ponyboy would fall, just like before, curly had seen it- the way sodapop and darry had to pull him up and outta bed just to eat. that would be because of him this time, all curly’s fault because he was an idiot who should’ve known not to go wandering out when he was drunk, all alone.

his blood seeps out of him, spreading out on the concrete just like in some kinda shitty movie ponyboy wouldve made him watch. beads of sweat gather on his forehead, dripping down his cheeks.

the boys laugh, empty of remorse, and vanish back into the night.

all, all except one.

the boy from before, with the black eye and the bruised nose. curly could imagine he looked similar, if not worse. he reaches in, snatching his wallet straight outta his pocket and flicking through- taking the few dollars he had and pocketing it.

the boy clasped his hands together in some sort of prayer before pulling the switchblade out of his stomach and flicking it back into itself, shoving it into his pocket.

curly screams, earnest and violent.

the boy falters, chewing his lip and flinching when the cut on it begins to bleed harsh red.

“i’m-“ he pauses, taking a step back and clasping his hands together again. “i’m sorry, grease.”

then, he spins back around and without a single look back, he takes off. busted up converse splashing through puddles as the wind picks up.

curly came to the realisation that, he was gonna die here.

he was going to die harsh and violent, just like everyone estimated. he was going to bleed out in this dirty alleyway, rings still on his fingers and a kiss on his cheek from ponyboy still leaving him breathless.

curly- curly was terrified. not just for him, but for the aftermath. for the funeral, and the wake. for the phone calls tim would eventually make. for the people who would cry- for the people who wouldn’t.

he didn’t even say goodbye, god dammit.

he was going to die alone, just like his pa.

he let out a sob, mixed with a scream in the hopes somebody- anybody would come to save him. it was unlikely, growing more and more so as the moon filled the night sky.

he could finally see the stars, glowing and lighting up the world in a kind of brightness curly himself could never achieve. he distantly hoped the stars would take pity on him, in some kind of dying wish or prayer made through his confused mind as the pain began to take over.

yes, yes maybe the stars would take him. carrying his body up with them for a life of peace, burning hot and painful but in the way he was used to. in the way that gave him a kind of sick comfort, mocking him like his mother on the couch- drunk and high out of her mind.

as his vision faded to black, and his breathing began to slow- he prayed to anyone that could hear. praying that they would take him away and out of tulsa oklahoma and far far away from everyone and everything he knew.

he prayed for a brand new start, among the stars and the trees- just like the myths and stories his grandmother would tell him and warn him about as he fell asleep when he was younger. maybe it was her voice he could hear now, wishing him luck. maybe it was his father- or tim, angie or ponyboy. somebody he had loved in his last moments, and would for the rest of them.

the next morning, when his body is discovered and tim gets the haunting call that his baby brother was dead- curly will be miles away. gone within the wind and the sea, flying through the sky and crawling beneath the earth.

finally free.

[yamst3rdamctrl]

When Sexual Desires Clash Y/N Story

Chapter 2

The figure walked up and reached out his hand and said, "Lupita, this must be who you were telling me about.. Hi YN, it's so nice to meet you. Lu has told me so much about you. My name is Michael B. Jordan".....

YN reached out to Michael and said, "Oh my god.. It's so nice to meet you. I am a big fan every since you were young on All My Children." YN extended her hand to meet Michaels. When they touched it, it felt like electricity hit each other. YN did not know how to react. Michael felt lust and had it all over his face. As he looked over her 5'6 "height, and her brown chocolate complexion, to her thick thighs and body. Michael didn't know how much her sex appeal was, but he loved every minute looking at it. The way the fire ignited and burned between them, you would think they were moving in slow motion, but they weren't. Lupita was loving the view because she knew that YN had been single for a good while, and she knew exactly how she loved sex but couldn't find somebody who was worthy of her time. She also knew that since Lori left Michael he hasn't fucked anyone. Everyone there had somebody that they were dating except YN and Michael. Lu made it her priority for them to hit it off.

After they shook hands, Lu said, "Let this sexy weekend begin! So YN and Michael, you guys are the only ones single, so therefore, yall are teamed up for the weekend, okay?" YN and Michael agreed, and they parted ways to make a drink. YN thought to herself that she knew how fine Michael was, but in her head, she just left the situation alone. YN stood there talking to her girls while Michael went to make a drink. Michael stalked YN with her eyes while she would smile and giggle. Michael knew that she was different from the women he usually went for, but the way she looked made his dick hard. Winston walked up and made Michael slap out his thoughts.

"Whats on your mind, Michael? I can see you in deep thought, and by the way you are looking at YN, I'm sure it has something to do with her." He chuckled.

"Do you know much about her?" Michael asked Winston.

"So YN is a music choreographer. She also conducts music videos with aritist. She is known all over for the work she does, but she is never in the main light. She does model here and there, but her passion is the music industry. She has a lot of videos on her youtube and instagram. We all met YN when you weren't on set when she helped construct the beginning dance seen and movements on black panther. She only met with the people they had her work with. YN is very cool, that's why I call her my little sister since I'm dating her best friend Shai. I see the way you're looking at her like you're a lion, and she is definitely your prey." Winston started to laugh, but he has seen Michael in action before.

"Now im not going to lie she is fine as hell. Everything about her is different, but she could get the dick without a question.. Is she single?" Michael knew what he wanted in the exact moment, and she was what he wanted. He hasn't felt this way since him and Lori split.

"She is and has been for a while now. The dude cheated on her, and she bossed up. She is very different from regular females. I will say that. She is a wild one in the house. In the streets, she's a lady. Shai told me she's wild. Hope you can tame her." Winston knew that Michael was wild, and he knew YN was too. He knew that they were a match in heaven, so he's going to sit back and watch the fireworks.

YN looked back at Michael and smiled. Michael winked at her and made her blush. Michael then told Winston, "Don't worry, she not going to know what hit her when I'm done." Michael drinked his drink and began to plot on his every move... this is about to get interesting.

Yal ready for this ride I'm going to take yal on??? I hope soo!!!

[lenaperseveranceoxton]

We finally got a wave of new interactions for Tracer!... and they still don't have an interaction with Soldier: 76. Pain.

It kills me that when Jack got a wave of new interactions so many seasons ago, he got an interaction with Illari about her bringing her baggage onto the field, and now, Lena gets an interaction where we are once again reminded that Illari is sad. I don't hate Illari! I think she's a very interesting character, and there's especially a lot to expand on with her apparent ties with Talon, but most of her interactions are all the same! As a side note, I feel like the Illari interaction is just a duplicate of the one Lena has with Ashe. Yes, Lena tries to look on the bright side of life, we get it. They couldn't somehow show that Lena has faced a LOT of trauma and is absolutely a wreck beneath their cheerful exterior this time around?

Illari aside, I like the interactions Lena has with Juno. I love the mental picture of Lena and Winston canonically walking around Mexico and talking to the locals like "Excuse me, have you seen a purple-haired girl with a fishbowl on her head around here lately?"

Then, there's an interaction Lena got with Moira where they say "Overwatch is here to stay, and we're coming for you next."

(Whoa, like how Jack says "Tell Doomfist I'm coming for him," when he eliminates Talon members! Irrefutable proof that he is LITERALLY Lena's adoptive father! /j)

I love when the writers bring out Lena's angry side, like when they say "How dare you come back here!" upon eliminating Widowmaker in King's Row, and I also miss their interaction with Sombra where they say "It wouldn't be a problem if you just disappeared forever!"

However, they also got two interactions with Ramattra. I sense the director didn't tell Cara Theobold one was for PvP rather than PvE because of how little energy it has, but in the other one, they say "That's enough out of you." I get Ramattra has affected countless omnic lives, especially those back in London after the backlash of his uprising, and I know Lena is very naive and tends to think in black and white, but I just find it weird that they get that nasty of an interaction with Ramattra before they do with many of Talon's members.

With Talon, they say "Manners maketh the man!" when eliminating its male members, "I've been waiting for that!" when eliminating any of its members, "Au revoir!" or "Splat went the spider!" when eliminating Widowmaker, and "Hack your way out of that!" when eliminating Sombra. These are all fine, but my problem lies with them not getting any sort of nasty interaction with Doomfist. They only say "Not catching me this time!" upon eliminating him while he's using Seismic Slam. Where's your anger, Lena? Where's your fucking rage? RISE! RISE! RISE!

Lastly, in light of Reaper getting an interaction with Sojourn where he hints that he does have a soft spot for his old friends in Overwatch, I hoped he would get an interaction with Lena in this update. I still believe that he envied Lena because of how Jack treated them and found them unworthy of being an Overwatch agent, and I think it would've been interesting to have a sort of interaction where he's like "Back to trying to be the hero with Overwatch, huh? Because your first three years as an agent went so well..." and they respond like "At least I'm not a terrorist, Gabe! I mean, um. Commander Reyes, sir..."

TL;DR: Give Tracer an interaction with Soldier: 76 and let them get angry and have frivolous beef with the baddies more often. Please and thank you.

[cyanidedrinkers]

Wade is very sick

As someone whos had many people go through Cancer treatments or who've had known people that have chosen not to go through treatments it really fucks up your body and what you can eat because most of the time if you do eat you can't keep it down. TW:// Mentions of Cancer, Cancers long term effects, and brief mention of suicide/suicide attempts Give me Wade whos constantly cold Give me Wade who eats a ton then throws it up later because his body rejects it Give me Wade who, When he gets in depressive episodes get very weak and skinny because his body cant keep food Give me Wade who loves smoothies because his body accepts it better but is scared to make them or ask for them out of fear of people asking or it looking to 'girly' (I know Wade doesnt care about that stuff but he does care about how people see him even if he wont admit it) Give me Wade who thrives off of protein shakes Give me Wade whos always drinking water and adding electrolytes to it Give me Wade who is always shaking slightly because his body wants to give up but he wont let it Give me Wade who gets so tired of it all that he shoots himself in the head repeatedly. Always in the woods, Alone. Because he doesnt think he deserves to die with others around him. To let them see how weak he is Give me Wade who doesnt speak about his cancer or how it effects him a lot because he doesnt want to be a burden Give me Wade who eats whatever Logan or anyone else gives him then sobs as his body rejects it later on Give me Wade who becomes anemic because of this Give me Wade who takes pills as a substitute for whatever nutrients he isnt getting Give me Wade whos anemia makes his head dizzy because while his cells regenerate and all he still needs to eat to keep it healthy and functioning properly because his healing factor regenerates his cells not his vitamins or proteins or anything vital to his body Give me Wade who has to grip onto the couch or door whenever he stands up to fast because so he doesnt he passed out Give me Wade who senses a bad episode and hides away to go pass out because his body is failing him Give me Wade who cries at night because he's not the soldier he used to be, He's not the mercenary he used to be, He's not the man he used to be and it hurts him because fuck he used to be everything and now he feels like he's nothing Give me Wade who works himself to the bone when no ones looking and passes out or faints more then he likes to tell people because damn it he's Wade Fucking Winston He's Deadpool He's the merc with the mouth NOT the merc that faints NOT Wade anemic Winston NOT Deadbody Give me Wade. That despite everything, Despite what he can do, Is in pain. In more ways than his skin hurting, Show me the aftermath. Show me the brutal long term effects of cancer because he cant heal those. He cant heal everything and he kicks himself for it every day Acknowledge the side of Cancer that's not talked about much Give me Wade who has his dog tags but keeps them hidden with lung, liver, prostate, and brain cancer charms added onto them. Talk about the long lasting effects of Cancer in Wade. They're very much present and can happen to him. Break this man down and show the nasty gruesome side thats not acknowledged. Wade is a Cancer patient that has allowed many kids to have hope. Allow them to see their symptoms in him too. Show them that they're normal and okay. And by all means, If you know anyone with cancer or that has beaten it check in on them. Because their may be affects they wont tell anyone, And if you have a history of cancer please get screened at some point. Cancer is a deadly thing in any form and my heart goes out to those who have it and those who've beaten it. I love ya'll <3 Stay updated on your health.

[sherri-val]

A fight broke out at the diner one summer day, it was a few greasers against these socs who were on their side of town. Nobody really knew each other, it was just a common reaction to team up against the socs. They didn't belong there, they couldn't have all the stops and then come on over to the east side just for kicks.

The fuzz got called before anyone had time to make a break for it. Most of the kids got off with a phone call home or a warning. All except for two boys, both greasers. They were always on the cop's radar, they were going to be taken in for anything they did. Everyone just wanted them off the streets.

"Dallas Winston and Tim Shepard in the same holding cell?" The guards would all chuckle as they walked passed the two of them. Dallas and Tim didn't know much about each other, just what they've heard from others. And that was that they were exactly alike.

"Where ya from?" Tim asked Dally. Born and raised in Tulsa, Tim didn't recognize that accent. It's kind of hard to get out of Tulsa once you're in it.

"New York City, man. Where the real gangs are," Dally smirked. He'd heard about the Shepard gang, and to him it didn't seem like they were tough. He was used to the robberies, the killings, the drugs; all the things that had turned him so cold.

"Sure don't seem like it. How's the Curtis outfit representin' you?" Tim scoffed. The Shepard gang was exactly that, a gang. They were tougher and meaner than the boys Dallas hung around. They were much more of a brotherhood, something Dally wasn't used to. Maybe in a way Tim made him miss New York City, but he'd never say.

"Fuck off," Dallas rolled his eyes, not wanting to be confused as someone soft. The two ignored each other, standing on either side of the wall. They hated each other, but they constantly were striving to one up the other. Tim was the leader of his gang, and part of Dallas wished he could be.

"Shut up!" The two yelled at the same time. A young kid in the cell next to them wouldn't quit crying. First timer, it was obvious. Dallas and Tim had each had their fair share of prison life, it was just another weekend to them. Dallas and Tim knew they'd be seeing one another again.

Tim Shepard was tough, but not passed feeling anything. He wasn't like Dallas, not quite as mean. He surely wasn't like anyone else in the Curtis outfit, though. He was his own person, he often wondered if he was anything like his father, he hoped not.

No one really knows what happened to Mr. Shepard, anyone who does doesn't say anything about him. He wasn't worth mentioning according to Tim, not that his step-dad was any better. In the beginning it was fine, family dinners weren't too unbearable, the guy wasn't so bad. As time passed, Tim's mother and step-dad grew apart, they were constantly fighting. The fights started to get worse, objects were flung at each other. At times the three Shepard children would join in just to get them to stop, or purely out of anger.

"Don't know why you don't just divorce him already," Tim would mumble as he helped his mother clean up a shattered picture frame. He knew she couldn't though, his job was the only reason they could afford a three bedroom house, no matter how run-down it was.

His gang was his escape. He stopped hanging around the house and started hanging around the streets. He found that the tougher he was, the meaner he was, the more of a following he got. It was obvious that Tim would be the leader, he was organized and all business.

"I don't know how many goddamn times I have to tell you to keep your side of the fuckin' room clean," Tim had said to his younger brother, Curly on numerous occasions. If it were Curly's choice, he'd be perfectly content with living in a barn. Tim would just give in eventually and clean it for him, Curly knew this and used it to his advantage. His sister, Angela would stand in the doorway watching him with a huge smirk, she and Curly loved to get to Tim. Tim would just throw something at her and slam the door.

Curly Shepard was just like Tim, with the same catlike features and smooth talking charm. Curly always wanted to be like Tim, and he strived for his acceptance. When he was at an adequate age, Tim started to bring him around the gang and let him take care of some small "business matters". Tim was smart, since he was a greaser many doubted this fact but he knew far more than he let on. Prior to falling in with the wrong crowd Tim actually did pay attention in class. Curly didn't have half a brain most of the time, so it was up to Tim to not let him get taken advantage of. If it were up to the rest of the gang they'd be making Curly do all the dirty work, keep themselves out of trouble. Tim was his protector, though, and he wouldn't let that happen.

Angela was Tim's little sister, and boy was she ever beautiful. She had long dark hair that had all the boys her age, and older, swooning. Tim made a strict rule to everyone in the gang that Angela was off limits. Anyone that disobeyed this rule would personally get their ass kicked by Tim and Curly. Angela wished her brothers wouldn't get hauled off to jail so often because she did miss them, but it only boosted her street cred. She liked having tough brothers, and in turn it made her tough. She could handle her own unlike most girls she hung around with. Tim was always keeping Angela in check, though, it was okay if Curly got hauled off but definitely not her.

"You're not going out tonight, Angel," Tim said as he and Curly were shrugging on their jackets to go out on the town. Tensions had been high lately and it wasn't safe for the greaser girls to go out late without a man, even if they were in a group.

"Two dollars says I am," Angela rolled her eyes and went down the hallway to fetch her shoes. She was a spit fire, and even the big bad Tim Shepard couldn't boss her around that easily.

"You're staying home," Tim yelled at her, right on her heels. "It's fucking dangerous and you're not going, that's it."

"Fine," Angela flopped on her bed. "Didn't want to go out anyway, I was just trying to get a rise out of you. Looks like I did a pretty good job." Angela would never let Tim know that he'd beat her, she'd never give him the satisfaction. She knew that he was just trying to protect her, but she resented how he was always on her tail about something. She sided more with Curly because of that.

Dallas followed Tim home one night to find out where he lived, it was all a part of his newest scheme. When the two were on decent terms of their on-again-off-again relationship Dallas would sometimes stop by to annoy Tim. In that aspect his relationship with Tim was much like his relationship with Sylvia.

Curly hated Dallas, in more ways than one. Curly was constantly wanting to please Tim and earn his respect, he hated that Dally had won it so easily. Dally thought of Curly as a tag along, much like how Steve thought of Ponyboy. They tolerated each other, though.

Dally had seen Angela one time at the diner, it not even occurring to him that this was Tim's sister. All he saw was a beautiful girl, one that he was hoping he could get lucky with. That's where most girls went wrong. They thought Dallas loved women, but in reality he just loved using women for whatever he needed them for.

"Hey, baby," Dallas cooed in Angela's ear, then dropping a dirty line that he'd often used. He expected her to blush or something that his other interests did, but she simply just whirled around.

"I'm Tim's sister, dumbass," she spat. She only knew of Dallas from what her brothers said, which was mostly to stay away from him. A few of her friends had hooked up with him, and she remembers putting an arm around her teary-eyed friends, telling them to "screw him".

"He doesn't have to know," Dallas leaned in, twirling a piece of her dark hair around his finger. He loved his girls fiery.

"We'll see about that," Angela pushed her chair back, purposely bumping shoulders with him as she exited the diner. She went straight home and told Tim about the encounter. On any other day Tim wouldn't have cared, he knew Angela wouldn't go for Dallas anyway. She didn't want to date any of her brothers' friends, she didn't want them in her business. Tim had just got stood up, though, and he needed to blow off some steam.

Tim drove right over to Buck's, banging impatiently on the door. He got a nice hook to Dally's jaw when he opened the door, much to Dally's surprise. He quickly recovered and the two had it out on Buck's porch.

"Are you two crazy?" Buck came outside, pulling the two off of each other. "I don't need the cops poking their heads around here, ya dig? I don't care if y'all fight, but you're not doing it here." With that the two parted ways, they were no longer angry at each other. Dally knew he had what was coming to him, so he wasn't mad. They fought and that was it, they'd have each other's back if they needed it the next day.

Dally and Angela actually got along pretty well after that, they developed a sort of brother/sister relationship. They were constantly bickering, but it was all in good nature. Tim wasn't too fond of it, but as long as Dally didn't try anything he didn't mind too much. One time Angela and her boyfriend got into a fight and he said some real nasty things to her, maybe even put his hands on her. She wouldn't say. It was the first time Dally ever saw her cry, and it was the first time in a long time her brothers had seen her. It was enough to make them all see red. Dally, Curly, and Tim all went on over to where he last was. He was no match, they broke his arm and left a cut running from his ear to his chin. He never spoke a word to or about Angela again.

Angela was really outgoing, she had friends from all different walks of life. Sometimes she'd hang out with the makeup clad, cussing greaser girls. Then, sometimes she'd hang out with the softer spoken middle class girls. It all depended on her mood and who she felt like keeping company with.

Dally had some beef to settle with Tim, and much to his dismay, he couldn't find him anywhere. He'd checked the drive-in, the diner, even his house. No sign of him. He was just about to give up when he caught sight of a familiar person.

"Hey, Angel!" Dally shouted, jogging up the sidewalk to catch up with her. "Have you seen-" Angela and the girl she had been walking with turned around, Dallas meeting eyes with the other girl.

She was quite the looker, but in an innocent kind of way. She had little kitten heels on with some red nail polish. He'd never seen her before. She had blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders in little ringlets. The way she looked down, a blush covering her cheeks, when he looked her over got him going. He wanted her, and Dallas Winston always got what he wanted.

[merlucide]

gonna have a convo with my dad tmr (rant about dad tingz)

I’m gonna do it 🗣️ and he’s gonna have to listen

I invited him to take me to lunch (LMAO)

I’m gonna tell him how I feel and hope for the best, he’s going to get defensive and deflect it but I’m ready fr 💪 He’s prob gonna gaslight a tad too lol

He’s not a bad dad, just not the best yk? He’s not mentally/physically abusive thank God but he’s like…. special.

He makes me so upset— I mean he’s really hurt me and there has been moments were he has physically hurt me. That was a while again but those were impactful moments for me, and bitch I don’t remember an apology?! then I get after bro for doing what he did to me to my sister and like I was angry crying and getting off at him bc you don’t fucking hurt people and not apologize?!? THATS NOT FUCKING DISCIPLINE?! ITS ABUSIVE. And bc you are so fucking prideful and don’t want to face the fact that you hurt me, you hurt her, you are going to deny and say ‘well that’s what happens in life’. Shes 7. SEVEN. Who is on the spectrum and has ADHD. She doesn’t fucking understand you asshole. NO SEVEN YEAR OLD IS GOING TO TAKE AWAY ‘I shouldn’t have done that’ WHEN YOU FUCKING DO THAT. She’s going to remember how YOU hurt her, and how YOU didn’t apologize, how YOUR wife held her and deescalated the situation. You cannot blame a child for acting like that, yeah she was acting absolutely insane and frustrating, but you as a fucking grown adult cannot hurt your child like that. AND THEN COMPARE YOU TO ME?!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?.

And he doesn’t even care about her, it’s sad. I mean this whole situation is fucked up man, I get it. My siblings quite literally ruined my life tbh.

How do you think I felt when my dad stopped caring about me? Stopped playing with me— and started yelling. How do you think I felt when you turned grey and I was the only one helping momma with the kids. I was little too. I didn’t know it would get so crazy after we adopted them?! No one did?!? So stop blaming this shit in my mom you signed those fucking papers too. She’s still your daughter you asshole. Care about her too. You don’t get to make efforts with me once a month then discard her. AND fucking act like you don’t have a son anymore, just because he is out of the house doesn’t mean you have no connection to him. If he was a normal fucking kid he’d wonder why his dad is the only one that doesn’t call. But since he’s also fucked in the head he doesn’t, it’s better that way. I hate and love my siblings. Well, I love my sister, I’d kill for her. I love my brother too, but I hate him, yes it sounds ridiculous considering the overwhelming age difference between us but he hurt me significantly. I’m glad he’s gone, he’s doing better anyways. I wish things were different. I wish he could’ve been normal. Lmao I remember thinking ‘I just wish he was never born’ lol. It’s not his fault their parents sucked.

Anywho wow getting sidetracked here—

My dad is a crazy Winston Churchill ‘follower’ of you would. Constantly quoting him and wtv sooooo I have a couple quotes ready to fire at him when he gets defensive… heheh

I feel so prepared lmao

I’ve also talked about him so much with my mom so I’m like extra ready lol

I just need to get it out yk.

Also if anyone is reading this (which I doubt) my dad is NOT abusive or wtv— i am not in danger or wtv 😭🙏 im not in denial I’m quite aware of how my life looks so know it’s ok. And again, my dad isn’t a bad dad, there’s just a lot of pain in our relationship 🫠 He tries, just it’s never what I need yk. He loves me and our family, he just has issues of his own (Not excusing in the slightest- in fact I think it’s a shitty excuse but yk) I love my dad, he’s just rlly hurt me yk