#match my nasty

[vikvikvim]

Is someone gonna match my freak?

[dancesingay]

[palmettios]

at the end of the day, andrew and neil were just two people who matched each other’s freak and i think that’s beautiful

[cowboymarcs]

rough

joel miller x fem!reader

summary: jackson had made joel soft, and while you delighted in the domesticity of it all, some small, shameful part of you missed how hard he fucked you when the world was ending.

warnings: smut, piv, rough (but consensual) sex, choking, face slapping, daddy kink, dom!joel, name calling, unedited (i'm sorry), you are responsible for the media that you consume.

word count: 1.4k

joel miller’s rough, calloused hands only softened as he spent more time in jackson. his shoulders began to relax, losing the tension of years spent on the road. habits of checking his six and his hand hovering over the strap of his rifle had been broken. joel miller, for better or worse, had become soft, and you loved it.

you loved the way he stroked your face gently while gazing at you. his brows no longer furrowed and angry, only easy. your heart warmed when he came home tired and achy from patrol, but not exhausted from trying to survive. you loved this part of him, you truly did… but some small, shameful part of you missed his roughness. 

the rough, fast fucks that the two of you had to squeeze in here and there, his hard demeaner and hoarse voice. you missed the way he would fiercely bite hickies into your neck. you missed the way he ‘used you’; longed for it even. but it felt wrong to miss it, to take for granted the happiness that jackson brought you. 

you watched joel now, sipping on his drink across the bar, chatting with one of tommy’s friends. his eyes met yours, asking a silent question. want me to take you home? you downed the rest of your drink in answer, striding across the bar and looping an arm through his, fingers resting on his strong bicep. 

“gonna take the lady home,” joel excused himself, “nice talking to you.” the man nodded and raised his glass. you waved before turning towards your man. 

“you enjoying yourself, darlin’?”

“never been better,” you replied honestly, laying your head against his shoulder, and hugging his arm tighter. 

the walk home felt too long, your blood thrumming with need the closer you got to the house. your mind began to wonder, daydreaming of thoughts of joel fucking you rough from behind, smushing your face down into the mattress and whispering nasty words into your ear. 

“you alright, sweet thing?”

“huh? oh, yes i’m good.” his words had brought you out of your daze, making you realize you stood in front of the door to your home. he opened the door for you, following you in. as the two of you got ready for bed, doing your respective nightly routines, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to your fantasies. 

fantasies of his thick hands around your throat, hips snapping against yours. your panties seemed to dampen. you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to find the confidence to ask joel to fulfill those particular fantasies. you tiptoed into the bedroom, finding joel lying on his back, arm draped lazily over his eyes. he wore only his boxers, showing off his broad shoulders and hair that trailed down his tummy. 

“joel?” you whispered, standing awkwardly in the doorway. he sat up, sensing your apprehension. 

“what’s wrong, darlin’?” you opened your mouth and closed it a few times, not sure how to say that yes, you loved the sex you were having now, but you missed how hard he fucked you when the world was ending. “c’mon, spit it out.”

“i miss having rough sex with you, joel.” a weight lifted off your chest at the confession. 

“that’s all? well you could’ve just said that, sweetheart. no use in gettin’ all worked up over nothin’.” he motioned for you to join him on the bed and raised a frisky eyebrow. “i’d fuck you into next week if you wanted me to.”

you chuckled at his playfulness before looking at him again, earnestness in your eyes. “that’s not all i want, joel… i-i want you to hit me.” 

he cleared his throat and leaned back an inch. he was taken by surprise, and rightfully so. while the two of you had dabbled in choking and spanking, the thought of hitting you - hurting you had never crossed his mind. 

“oh,” was all he muttered. 

“i understand if you don't want to,” you began to babble before he shushed you. 

“it’s not that i don’t want to… i just want you to be completely sure that this is what you want. i would never want to hurt you, darlin’.” he brushed a stray hair from your face before kissing you tenderly. you welcomed the kiss by grabbing his curls and pulling him as close as he could possibly get. 

“you could never hurt me, joel.” he groaned at your words before laying you down and caging you in with his arms. you could feel him harden against your core. his kisses became feverish, tongue diving into your mouth to taste your wet heat. you pulled away, looking into his soft, brown eyes. “i want this, joel, more than anything. i want you to use me.”

joel’s eyes immediately darkened, reminded of the ways he used to fuck you when you two were on the run. the way you used to scream his name and beg for his mercy in bed. he looked at you now, ready to take him fully, eyes wide and pussy wet. 

“stop me if it hurts.” it was all he said before he tore your panties off. he scrambled to push his boxers down, fiending for a release. he grabbed his cock, sliding his head through your wetness, spreading your juices all over his cock. 

“you don’t even need any prep, huh? all wet and ready for daddy?” you nodded fiercely, praying that joel would push into you any second. you whined as he kept playing with your pussy. “so needy, huh sweetheart? daddy’s not gonna go any quicker unless you ask nicely.”

the head of his thick cock brushed swiftly over your aching clit, making you jump. you threw your head back, relishing in the anticipation, the tension, the buzzing need to have joel’s cock inside of you and his coarse hands controlling you. 

“please joel, please,” you panted, hands running down his chest, fingers scratching him slightly, “i need you to fuck me, baby.”

“well since you’re bein’ such a good girl for me i suppose we can make that happen.” he pushed into you in one fell swoop, his thick, hard girth pressing into your wet cunt. your moan that was released from you was obscene and absurdly loud. joel set a fast pace, giving your body no time to adjust to his size. the burn of him stretching you out mixed with the pleasure of his head hitting your g-spot filled your vision with stars. 

your moans invigorated him, his hands grabbing at your full tits and squeezing them before leaning down and nipping at them. his mouth sucked at the skin of your tits, biting and marking them as his own. his hands left the warm skin of your tits, making you mewl at the loss of contact, only for joel’s hands to find your calves, and folding you in half. your legs resting on his shoulders, his cock plunging deeper inside of you. your whines and joel’s respective grunts filled the room along with the intense, lewd slapping of his balls against your backside. 

“j-joel!” you sputtered out. his eyes darkened and you knew it was coming - your pussy clenched at the thought.

joel raised his hand over the two of you and brought it down, slapping you across your face. the sting reverberated through your bones and the pleasure traveled all the way to your cunt that was squelching around his cock. his hand, now wrapping around your throat, brought you close to his face. your lips were ghosting his, his breath dancing upon yours. there were tears of pleasure in your eyes. 

“that’s not my fuckin’ name,” he gritted out, still fucking you at his rapid pace. you realized what game he was playing.

“i’m sorry, daddy. i’ll be good, i promise,” you pleaded. a small smirk found joel’s face; he was satisfied with your reply. he pounded into you, chasing his release. you could focus on nothing but the delicious feel of his cock thrusting into you, and the crazed look in his eyes that you missed so fondly. he began to thrust rapidly, desperate to fill you up with his seed. 

“yeah thats right, baby, clenching around daddy’s cock like the whore you are,” he spat. you let out an involuntary moan at his harsh words, pussy gushing. 

his hips stuttered, releasing his hot cum into you. he grunted in relief, hand that was squeezed around your neck releasing and petting your face gently. his softness had returned. you felt his cock pull out of you, causing a groan to leave your mouth. 

“is that what you wanted, darlin’?”

“that was perfect, joel, thank you.”

joel smiled, lifting off of you to fetch you a glass of water and a new pair of panties for bed. 

[reveluvjay]

Just seen Gladiator 2 and the theater damn near became a swimming pool 🫷🥴🫸

I wanna lick everyone. Everywhere. Including the extras. My tongue is giving bath towel rn. I'm in my "oui oui baget" era, I'm bouta go to Paris.

(I'm so sorry my inner freak won)

[niccolites]

able to track when i start ovulating bc that's when i start being able to vividly picture soaps fingers digging into my molars

[mellosakicc]

life's a bitch hair

an anon a while ago suggested making maxis match recreations of alpha hair, so here is another one. this is based on s-club's "life's a beach" hair.

it's not an exact replica, but i like how it looks! no hat chops :(

base game compatible

m&f - teen thru elder

enabled for random

custom cas thumbnail

download (simfileshare) | download (patreon - free)

[ricobutaddn]

a good lil massage never hurt nobody~ (wip)

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"Well someone's home early." Darry ruffles Pony's hair as he tries to slip past him 'n into the hall. Pony ducks under his hand, makes a small noise in hello. Darry immediately straightens up, notes the lack of work shirt he left with this mornin'. "Ponyboy Michael back it up 'n bring it here."

Pony lets out a long groan but turns 'n trudges back. Darry rakes his eyes over him. Pony stares at the ground. "Why are you back so early?"

"'Cause I got fired ok! Jesus!" Pony throws his arms up, stomps the ground, 'n whips his head to look back at his older brother.

"You what?" Pony lets out a huff 'n quick smart Darry's hand flies up to cuff him around the ear. "Pony this is the fourth time what the hell happened? And let me tell you it better be a damn good reason."

Pony can only match Darry's glare for a moment before he drops back down to starin' at the carpet. "I kinda called a customer a bitch."

"You huh?"

"Look, Darry, you weren't there so lay off, ok! She was talkin' to me like a was trash, alright? I dunno. She was actin' like I was stupid 'n she called me a son of a bitch 'n I told her I wasn't her damn son last I checked." Pony hitches his shoulder 'n Darry is suddenly glad Pony's scowlin' down at the carpet by the way his lips twitch. It wasn't funny.

"Ponyboy Michael since when has it ever been ok in this house to call a woman that?"

"Since she deserved it real bad." Pony mutters 'n Darry's fingers catch his temple. "Ow."

"I outta skin you just for that."

"Aw, Dar, look. I'm sorry, ok? I ain't discriminatin' or nothin'. If she'd have been a guy he would have been actin' like a bitch too." Pony scuffs his toe on the floor 'n Darry shakes his head in bewilderment.

Glory, sometimes Pony would say somethin' 'n it would make Darry feel like he was twenty 'n Pony was fourteen again 'n Pony's moods were enough to make him want to put the kid's head through a wall. 'N then he'd blink 'n they were sixteen 'n ten 'n he actually would. But that one hurts a bit 'cause then they had someone to holler 'n make them make up.

"Pony, how old are you?" Pony rolls his eyes, already knows Darry's line.

"Too old?" Pony glances up 'n Darry arranges his features into a passable impression of their ma's does it look like I'm laughin', mister? glare.

"Too damn old." Darry nods firmly. "You're sixteen now, Pone. You need to get a hold of that mouth. How many times are we gonna have to have this conversation?"

"Too damn many times- yeouch!" Darry's palm clips the back of his head 'n Pony's hair falls into his eyes.

"Don't you go gettin' fresh with me lil' boy." Pony's dry humor suddenly falls away 'n he's spittin' mad.

"Darry, you wouldn't get it, alright? I'm sick of workin' for a bunch of assholes who treat me like shit 'n takin' bull all day from people who look at me like I was born to spit shine their shoes. You just don't get it." Darry sighs, rubs a hand over his eyes.

"Pony, c'mere." This has become their routine. Back 'n forth, stern, sarcastic, angry, tired. Pony seethes but allows Darry to push him to drop down into one of their kitchen chairs. "I wouldn't understand, kid? I've been bustin' my back since you were twelve on the roofs of people who think greasers were born to bag their groceries 'n clean their floors. If anyone gets it, Pone, I do."

Some of the tension drops out of Pony's shoulders 'n he worries at his lip.

"You think Soda likes havin' to work on the cars or people who treated him like a failure 'n a dead-end dropout when he quit school?" Pony winces but Darry is damn tired of havin' to chase the kid around his own self-righteousness so he drives the lesson home with, "Do you think Dad liked patchin' up shingles from dawn til dusk? Or ma washin' the clothes of the women she used to meet after school who married up 'n moved west 'n forgot all it took was a bit of bad luck to end up right back on the East side? Sometimes the world ain't fair, Pone. Don't mean you get to lose your temper every time someone gets your goat."

The angers dropped right out of Pony 'n Darry sighs, pulls his chair so the kid can lean against his chest. He does without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, Dar. Sometimes... I dunno. It ain't fair. You're ten times the person those assholes in their fancy houses will ever be. Soda don't deserve to be treated like he's stupid. I just... I dunno. How do you deal with it?" Pony pulls his head back, blinks up at him with those green eyes that look like the sea after a storm's rolled through.

"Y'know... back when I first started workin' with Dad, a thousand years ago," Pony snorts, "I was mad about that all the time. God, I couldn't stand the way they looked at him. The way they talked about us. I didn't know how the hell he did it." Darry strokes his hand absent-mindedly through Pony's hair 'n he presses closer to him.

"It was just too much for me one day. We were behind schedule 'n behind on men 'n the guy who had hired us was hollerin' his head off 'n I turned right around 'n socked him right in his nose." Pony sits back suddenly, eyes round in surprise.

"You?" Darry chuckles, brushes Pony's bangs off his face.

"Yeah, kid, I don't know why you're so shocked. We've had enough fights to last a lifetime." Pony rolls his eyes, shifts around in his chair.

"I guess, I dunno. You always have it so locked down."

"Yeah, well, I do now. But it took a lot of time. Glory, maybe you were too young to remember properly but I swear sometimes I turn around 'n it's like dealin' with a younger me." Darry snorts at a memory 'n Pony raises an eyebrow. "I remember one time ma had gotten so sick of me 'n she told me she hoped one day I had a kid just like how I was to give me the same grief. Glory, I think she'd be laughin' now."

Pony's smile is a little wet but it's there 'n Darry won't mention it as long as Pony doesn't point out Darry wipin' at his eyes with the back of his sleeves. "What did Dad do? When you punched that guy?"

"Well, he was plenty mad. He sat me down 'n I told him it was unfair that we had to take whatever kinda treatment they decided to give us. 'N he grabbed me by the shoulders 'n looked at me like he always did when he was real serious 'n he said Darrel you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar."

Pony's face twists up in confusion 'n Darry laughs. God, he could look straight back through the years 'n picture himself starin' up at their dad the same way. "What does that have to do with anythin'?"

"I'll tell ya, kid. He dragged me back in the next day 'n made me apologize 'n then he shook the man's hand 'n left him with this sticky sweet smile 'n promise that he was real sorry for me 'n my behavior. Then he hauled me up a ladder 'n showed me how he would repair the man's roof so it would hold for another six months. Exactly. 'N when we left he shook hands 'n left him his card with the offer to come back if anythin' else ever went wrong. 'N you know what? The man was so impressed with his attitude 'n his work when that roof went up again in six months he called dad right back."

Darry chuckles 'n refocuses on Pony whose jaw is damn near on the floor. "That true?"

"Now, don't go makin' a liar out of me. Every word."

"Shit. You know? That sounds just like Dad."

"And he was right. Look, it sucks kid. It does. People are never gonna look at you like they should. There are always gonna be assholes who think they're better than you. You keep your damn head up 'n it doesn't matter at all. You fix the roof. 'N if it leaks you make sure you make yourself a lastin' impression."

Pony bites his lip, plays with the bottom of his shirt. It takes another minute but he nods, shoots Darry a lil' grin. "You know, I'm sure I left an impression."

"Yeah, like the type of impression I'm about to leave on your ass, kid." Pony yowls indignantly 'n dives off his chair to get away from Darry's snatch. Darry doesn't go for him again, settlin' for rollin' his eyes 'n not meanin' it at all.

"Hey, Dar?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I'm gonna go back to the store tomorrow 'n ask for my job back. D'you mind... vouchin' for me?" Darry studies him for a moment. Pony's heart always was too big. The unfairness would always hurt. But the kid would figure out how to muddle by. Darry had.

"Sure, Pone. Just this time? Don't go ruinin' my reputation by callin' no one a bitch." Pony grins 'n opens his mouth. Darry cuts him off with a pointed finger 'n a raised brow. "Even if they deserve it real bad."

[lovesoakedd]

(cw: lots of teasing, unnegotiated kinks of somnophilia and spanking, reader's body is referred to with the terms "pussy," "clit" and "cunt," and is called "pretty girl")

♡♥︎♡♥︎

thinking about having a bratty femme for a friend who's just insanely wound up.

you keep mouthing off about how you haven't been fucked right lately, and are constantly trying to get under my skin to have me do something about it.

we go out, and you come hopping over to me, tits nearly spilling out of your top, whining about how no one is giving you attention, and how you need your sensitive nipples sucked so bad. or when showing me pictures of some place you went to, you keep "accidentally" swiping over to pictures of you in the sluttiest lingerie, biting your lip and eyeing me. or when our mutual friends are over, despite all the space there is, you insist on sitting on my lap, your ass right on my crotch.

and it's not your fault, you poor, aching baby. you're just sexually frustrated, right? needing, aching and slobbering for someone to fuck you right, huh? but, it just doesn't seem like a good idea considering how close we are, and the fact that i don't want us to cross a threshold we can't step back to.

but, it's hard to think logically when you're taking it out on me. bending over in front of me, insisting it's okay for us to change in front of each other because we're both girls, flashing me a full-on sight of your nipples. curling your manicured hands in my hair and tugging hard when i'm not doing as you say. rubbing my knee when i drive you somewhere, giving me lingering kisses so close to my mouth as a "thank you."

and i'm only human, right? so, it really shouldn't shock you at all when you sleep over and i wake you up eating your pretty little cunt. you just looked so needy, whimpering in your sleep, your pretty shorts riding up your thighs and just barely showing the edge of your panties. and c'mon, after all that teasing, what else could you have expected?

plus, in spite of your surprised little gasp, the way your hand shoots down to my hair, fingers curling in and tugging, i know you like this. like, look at this pussy. it's practically weeping, your juices slithering over your folds and lips, coating you in the prettiest sheen. and your clit, god, so pretty -- it's all pink and throbbing, swelling up to become the cutest little bud, just aching for my tongue to stroke flat, long stripes across it, right? and i will, pretty girl, my eyes fluttering shut in concentration as the tip of my tongue flicks up and down the soft, fleshy curve of it.

"what are you--"

a smack to your thigh seems to be good enough to keep your mouth shut, your words dissolving into a tumble of moans and whines. and after weeks of your merciless teasing, hearing nothing but some pathetic noises from you is the only thing i want right now. plus, it's hard to take any curious questions you'd pose seriously when you're pushing my face deeper into your pussy as it leaks onto my bedsheets.

"you better not fucking complain again after this," i mumble, my words a harsh rasp, lips making wet squelches from how your juices create thick strings in my mouth.

"i-i won't," you whine, hips bucking as you practically hump by face.

at least that gives me something to ease the frustration over. something to smile about as i prod my tongue lower and deeper into you.

[spro-o]

CW SUGGESTIVE (& freaky) ‼️ HEED THE WARNING

mostly crops for now, sorry yall 💔

these are from some indulgent drawings of house and the ducklings

thank you @itooaminthisepisode for your absolute amazing fic (‘look at those puppy dog eyes’) for the reference for these ❤️

and thank you @wilson-is-a-slut for the wonderful “lick leg” post which inspired this one :3

[paperpuzzles]

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

Okay, cod musical thoughts (not musical au, but an actual mw2 ‘22 musical lmao)

I remember seeing/reading a quote about musical theater one time where it said something to the effect “characters on stage sing when the emotion gets too much to just speak” and just. The themes you can work with just from that alone.

The first time the audience is introduced to ghost, it’s everyone else talking/singing about him. Rumors flying, wildly exaggerated stories, the works. There’s almost this wild, frenetic energy in the characters as they stage-whisper like he’s going to appear out of nowhere.

But as soon as he does show up on stage, all music cuts. No singing. No instruments. Dead silence.

Until Soap appears. Then it’s all brash, upbeat tempo and overwhelming music. Which clearly is at odds with ghost’s whole thing.

And the no music/no singing rule extends through most of the numbers. Ghost never engages with the music, diagetically or non diagetically. He’s entirely separate from that entire world. He’s keeping himself emotionally distant from that entire world.

At least, up until the act 1 finale and the graves betrayal.

Act 2 starts with just soap, not even singing. Until ghost makes contact and they start their banter. And the audience doesnt really notice until partway through that there’s another voice. It’s quiet, and almost impossible to hear, but it’s there. Ghost is singing harmony. He’s reaching out for the very first time.

It culminates in their meeting at the church where the two of them sing a duet (and, in my head, singing each other’s leitmotifs because I’m a ghoap girlie first and a human second).

Ghost’s only solo is that moment on top of the building in Chicago. Time stops, and it’s just him and the audience. And he bares his fucking *soul* to them. The walls are gone. Emotion is overflowing.

He takes the shot and the music cuts. Silence.

“Perfect shot, lt.”

It swells back.

“You called it sergeant.”

[ygamiraito]

"likes being known as a gadfly or curmudgeon" can somebody match his freak already

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Y'ALL I'M SO SORRY I MISSED TIDBIT TUESDAY!!! SOMEONE SUE ME WAGHHH to make up for it please accept tidbit THURSDAY (a lil longer than usual 'cause I'm real sorry AGH)

"Oh fuck." Dallas skidded to a halt, heaved in the fridged night air in gasps that burned down his throat 'n panted out his nose in hot bursts. Johnny froze beside him, wrapped hands around his biceps 'n dug his nails in.

They were cornered. Fuck. How had Dallas let that happen? But he knew how. 'Cause at some point c'mon just high tail it this way 'n they'll get sick of chasin' 'n bail had become duckin' alleys 'n leapin' fences 'n the sound of sirens comin' ever closer.

Johnny's eyes are sharp 'n dark 'n watchin' Dallas close, his back to the tall fence that bordered the lot. Jesus Christ. Dallas should have been more careful. Ain't no way both of them are gettin' over that. He bites his lip. Hard.

Well. Nothin' to be done about it.

He tears his jacket off his shoulders, slips it off his arms 'n shoves it into Johnny's hands. Johnny hesitates then lets out a low noise, shakes his head, tries to force the worn leather back into Dallas' arms. "Dal, no, c'mon."

"Stop wastin' time, Johnny." His voice comes out a little harsher than he means it to, scrapin' against his chest as his heart bangs away under the veins in his wrists. In one smooth, practiced, 'n worn movement done a hundred times til it was rounded at the edges, he slides his St. Christopher over his head, his ring from his finger, droppin' them both into Johnny's already waitin', upturned palm.

The sirens reach a crescendoin' pitch, wailin' 'n yowlin', the lights cuttin' long, low shadows across the lot. They were out of time.

"Dal-"

"C'mon, kid." Dallas doesn't wait for him to comply, just grabs for his ankle 'n hoists him unceremoniously over the rustin' fence. Like he was already expectin' it, Johnny twists, manages to land on his feet. The sleeves of Dally's jacket hang low over his hands 'n for a moment they both just stand there, lookin' at each other through the braided metal. 'Til Johnny can't stand it anymore, tears his eyes away 'cause lookin' at Dallas like that reminds him of Dally on the other side of chains that can't be cleared as easily as a boost 'n a well-placed leap.

Cops are crossin' the lot now 'n Dallas glances over his shoulder, haloed 'n silhouetted in the red 'n blue. "C'mon Johnny Cakes. You gotta beat it." 'N his voice is low 'n urgent 'n he wants to sound cool 'n tuff but it cracks just a lil' on the edges. But he's gotta get the kid outta here 'cause Johnny had a chance. 'N Dallas wasn't gonna let him go down for somethin' he could throw himself in the way of.

"Dal, please-"

"Johnny please." 'N then he's runnin'. 'Cause Johnny was never as brave as Dallas Winston. 'N he never would be.

Dallas watches his shadow slip away 'n sighs, bares his teeth 'n grins 'n throws his hands mockin'ly into the air. Johnny can hear his gunfire laugh crack crack crack-in' as he ducks into an alley 'n disappears.

...

Johnny clears the Curtis steps in one long leap, bangs the door open harder than he means to 'n flinches. Four heads whip around, Soda 'n Darry already risin' to their feet.

"Johnny? What's-?" Darry freezes, takes a good look at the jacket slidin' from Johnny's slight shoulders, the pendent bit between his teeth, the ring he's gotta keep his fingers bent so it doesn't slide off, 'n sighs. He abandons the plate of dinner he's inevitably just sat down for 'n snaps his keys from the counter.

"Johnny, you ok?" Soda shoves his chair back so it scraps against the tile 'n Darry winces.

"'M fine." He drops the St. Christopher from his mouth, hoists the jacket up. "It's-"

"Dallas." Darry toes his shoes on, grabs a sweatshirt discarded beside the door. "If the station calls, let 'em know I'm already on the way." He sighs again. Johnny sways on his feet, the adrenaline rushin' straight out of him 'cause Darry's got it now. Got him now.

"Johnny, you ok kid?" Soda's got his hands on his biceps now, lookin' him close in the eye.

"Yeah," Johnny heaves in a breath, runs a hand under his nose 'n winces when dry blood flakes off under his fingers, "S'ok."

Soda glances over his head 'n Darry pauses, gives him a look that levels him to his core. He was real good at those. But whatever he sees convinces him Johnny ain't lyin'. He hovers in the door a moment longer, watchin' Johnny with those ice-green eyes before he shakes his head, leans over, 'n brushes the last of the dried blood from Johnny's face.

"Y'know, kid? You look just like him in that." 'N none of them are sure that's a good thing. But Johnny just grins, crooked in the way he learned from Dallas.

"Y'know? There are worse people to be like."