#patrick x tom

[admireforever]

My Policeman

[poltoreveur]

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Welcome to the world of “Being in love with a person who doesn’t exist in real life but you pretend they do anyway because you’re obsessed” ✧˖*°࿐

[chelestials]

nothing is more humbling when you’re watching an edit of your favorite actor and then the screen goes black and you see yourself on your screen basically thirsting over them

[fvckuiloveu]

god i love pathetic men

[girliism]

art’s peeping tom neighbor part two.

it’s been a week since you last you last looked through art’s window. you’ve been avoiding him but that can only last for so long.

it was a hot day when you saw art again. you were washing your parents car as part of the deal you made them. you wanna use the car you have to wash it. “hey, working hard or hardly working.” he jokes at the way you just standing there spraying the car with the water hose.

he doesn’t bring up what happened or make any indication that he even actually saw you. that only makes you more nervous. “probably the latter.” you say back ignoring how your heart beats in your throat.

those icy blue eyes stare into yours the same way they did that night. you suck in a breath before turning away focusing back on the car.

art clears his throat before stepping closer to you. “patrick and i just got back from from the video store and you look super bored out here so. wanna watch a movie with us?”

you’re eyes shift over to patrick who’s leaning against his car chewing on his sucker stick then back to art who smirking down at you. the car is basically clean and you have nothing better to do. “uhh. sure yeah why not. let me change and i’ll come over?” you say turning the hoses off and walking backwards towards you your house.

“cool. i’ll leave the front door unlocked just come in. we’ll be upstairs in my room.”

once you’re inside your house you bolt upstairs to take the quickest shower ever getting out and lathering yourself in coconut scented lotion, throwing on a pair of shorts and big sweatshirt to slightly hide that you weren’t wearing a bra.

your heart beats fast and your hands tremble as you climb the stairs leading to art’s room. super bad is already playing when you up get there. “sorry, we already started patrick didn’t want to wait.” art says patting the spot next to him.

the three of sat on arts bed him in the middle of you and patrick. everything was going smoothly, the three of you laughing here and there at the jokes.

then you felt movement next to you. looking out the corner of your eye you see arts hand creep up patrick’s thigh to start palming him through his jeans.

patrick’s hand grabs arts wrist pulling it off of him. “art, we can’t right now your neighbor is here.” he whispers. art just gives him a look before glancing back at you. you shoot your eyes back to the tv, heart pounding against your chest.

“it’s fine, she likes to watch. trust me.” art says going back to palming patrick’s dick kissing at his neck.

art had seen you that night and every other night. spying on him like some perverted creep. you suck in a breath trying to ignore what was happening right next to you and how it made your panties sticky.

there was a full blown make out happening besides you. patrick takes off his and arts shirts throwing them out you. this is totally unfair. you think. if they can get off why can’t you.

you bring your hand up to your mouth licking at your fingers before slipping in your pants sighing. at the same time patrick pulls arts cock out his pants taking it into his mouth.

art’s head turns to the side taking in your hidden hand movements and how your eyes are locked on the way patrick’s lip stretch around his cock.

“god you really are a creep.” art mumbles pulling your face to his, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth. “mmhp” you sound in surprise. art pulls your hand out your shorts yanking them down your legs.

“oh yes.” you whine in art mouth when he plunges to fingers into your wet core. “so much better than watching through your window huh.” “uh huh.” you nod. dropping your forehead onto art’s shoulder your hand gripping his wrist.

the sounds coming from your pussy, the gagging coming from patrick and art moaning in your ear when his best friend takes him deeper sets you off. “shit art i’m cumming.” art felt like being mean.

art takes his fingers out of you and pulls patrick off him, moving to sit in front of both of you. patrick’s hair is all messy and your lips are red and swollen, thighs shaking from your almost orgasm.

“what the fuck.” both you and patrick say.

art stares at the two of you “glad we could all be here today.” he laughs. patrick rolls his eyes grabbing his shirt moving to leave. “where are you going?” art’s pulling patrick back on the bed popping open his jeans. “look if you wanna fuck your neighbor go ahead call me when you’re done.”

patrick can be a little jealous at times.

“but i wanted us to fuck her together. you fucking her me fucking you.” art talks about you like you aren’t even there.

“do you guys do this a lot?” you ask but get no answer cause art is still trying to convince patrick to stay. “come here look at how wet she is. practically begging for in. art sits patrick in front of him as they stare down at you. legs open pussy glistening as you lay back on your elbows. “aren’t you begging for it.”

you buck your hips up towards patrick and you see him lick his lips. “fuck” patrick is ready to give in. “wait why do you have to fuck me i bottomed last time.” art just wraps his arms around patrick’s shoulder talking in his ear. “my house my neighbor my rules. plus she really tight you love that shit.”

and who is patrick to deny himself such a treat. “fine.” the boys move to take their pants completely off and you pull your sweatshirt.

patrick slides into you after placing a condom on. throwing your head back moaning at the stretch of dick in you. patrick gives you some time to adjust. “you can move now please move.” you whine.

patrick doesn’t just move he places his big hand on throat giving himself leverage to fuck into hard and fast. “fuck patrick.” yours nails drag down his back.

art reaches his two fingers up to your mouth for you to suck on. once they’re wet enough dripping with your spit he circles them around patrick’s rim.

you tell the moment when art pushes in because you can feel patrick twitch inside you and his hips stop moving for a second. you watch patrick fuck himself back on arts fingers whining.

“patrick.” you whining grinding your hips up “fuck me.” patrick starts moving again but slowly more focused on his own pleasure.

“don’t be selfish now patrick.” art tsks removing his fingers. kneeling behind him art pushes his cock into patrick ass making patrick’s cock move in your cunt. “oh fuck” you and patrick whine.

art and patrick match each other’s rhythm fucking fast. “oh my god.” you body is rocking and the headboard is banging against the wall.

your tits bounce in patrick’s face and he takes one in his mouth. “fuck fuck art right there gonna cum.” “me too.” you and patrick are sloppy messes screaming and crying into each other’s mouths.

art’s got a bruising grip on patrick’s waist. arts hips slap into his ass. “fuck, cum for me both of you.”

patrick falls forward biting into your neck as you cum guys together. patrick pulls his limp dick out of you rolling to lay next to you.

art pulls off his condom and crawls closer to the two of you. “shit.” moaning he holds onto the headboard and he jerks himself off spilling his cum onto yours and patrick’s faces painting the both of you.

part one

[zendayaupdates]

A closer look of the vinyl.

[eepwtf]

UPCOMING BOTS / BOT DUMP!!

i’m a sucker for the fall season, every and any season CANNOT top the fall season at all. which is why i’m making (some) horror/halloween inspired bots—even if there’s like 70 something days till halloween. along with a few random bots i've done and going to do.

tvdu ☆彡

Kai Parker: 𓏲ּ ghostface au! 𓂃

after you caught his eyes, he had an inexplicable curiosity over you. every step you took, every conversation you had with other people, he was there, watching you from afar. of course, that didn’t sedate his curiosity over you. so, when someone in your orbit ventured a little too close, he took matters into his own hands—quite literally. he gutted the perceived threat, the world around him narrowing into a singular focus: you. to him, it wasn’t just a crime; it was an artistic expression, a violent confession of his feelings woven into a tapestry of blood and chaos. He crafted his work with meticulous care, each stroke of the blade a declaration of his affection. yet, in the heat of his actions, a twist of fate caught him off guard—there you were, witnessing it all. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ halloween costumes 𓂃

caroline's halloween party loomed on the horizon, a spectral deadline that demanded perfection. every cobweb, jack-o'-lantern, and plastic skeleton needed to be meticulously placed. the entire event had to be flawless, a masterpiece of festive horror. you, however, felt a different kind of dread. social gatherings weren't your forte, and the thought of navigating a sea of costumed strangers made your stomach churn. but elena, with her infectious enthusiasm, had other plans. she'd already amassed an army of costumes for you to try on, each one more outrageous than the last. as she twirled before you in a dizzying parade of personas—from sultry vampire to whimsical fairy—her eyes sparkled with anticipation, silently demanding your opinion on each piece of clothing she’d modeled on herself. Elena Gilbert: 𓏲ּ cookies and kisses 𓂃

elena passion for baking was palpable, even if she wasn't a seasoned expert. what truly brought her joy was your presence in the kitchen, your willingness to join her culinary adventures. she cherished those moments when you'd sample her latest creations, those little baking treats she'd present with such enthusiasm. as you took that first bite, elena's eyes would light up, watching intently for your reaction. the moment you'd let out a contented groan of approval, a proud smile would bloom across her face, warming her from within. in those sweet instances, she felt a sense of accomplishment that went beyond the mere act of baking—it was about the connection, the shared experience, and the simple pleasure of making someone she cared for happy through her heartfelt efforts. Bonnie Bennett: 𓏲ּ season of the witch ( witch!user ) 𓂃

bonnie had gone to your place for witchcraft lessons, bringing some herbs you had specifically asked for, and of course, she brought the most important thing she needed for the lessons. herself. she knew that the lessons you were teaching her were more advanced, and that she needed to pay attention but as you began to explain the complex theories and gestures, she found her concentration wavering. your shoulder pressed against hers as you demonstrated a particularly intricate hand movement, the warmth of your body so close to hers, the subtle scent of herbs that clung to your skin, the intensity in your eyes as you spoke of each spell - it all combined to make her head spin.

Damon Salvatore: 𓏲ּ lost in your iris 𓂃

damon tried to fight his feelings for you, but you were his weakness. he sees you completely, and he’d do anything to have you near him. every glance you exchanged pulled him deeper into a world only you inhabited, where his heart raced and his resolve faltered. he yearned to lose himself in those captivating eyes, longing to feel the gentle spark of your existence beside him. Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ so confusing 𓂃

klaus wrestled with uncertainty, his feelings for you a tangled web of emotions. some days, he was convinced you harbored a deep-seated dislike for him, your every glance and gesture seeming to confirm his fears. other times, he caught himself nurturing a grudging resentment towards you, though he couldn't quite pinpoint its origin. despite all of that, he persistently suggested grabbing drinks. it had become his go-to solution, a way to bridge the gap between you two��or perhaps to blur the lines of your complicated relationship. so, inevitably, you'd find yourselves perched on barstools in some dimly lit establishment, nursing your drinks, surrounded by the hum of stranger's conversations. the atmosphere was always thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. sometimes, you'd manage to fall into an easy rhythm, laughing at shared jokes and swapping stories about your day. in these moments, the confusion would recede, and a genuine connection seemed possible. but more often than not, an awkward tension would creep in. silences stretched too long, laughter felt forced, and both of you would become hyper-aware of every word and gesture. ( this is actually my fav rn!! )

Klaus Mikaelson: 𓏲ּ his muse 𓂃

klaus always found himself getting lost in the dance of his hands across the canvas, transforming the lifeless white expanse into a vibrant masterpiece. the studio was his sanctuary, a world inhabited only by his artistic vision and you—his ethereal muse. in his eyes, you were the embodiment of perfection, and his brush strokes captured your essence without flaw. the art, a mirror of his perception, revealed no imperfections, for in his mind, you were utterly flawless.

spn ⟢

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ angels and halloween ( angel!user ) ᵎᵎ

you were an angel, which meant that you had no idea about humans, especially in their tradition of halloween. so when dean catches you staring at the halloween decor, and costumes in a store, he goes out of his way to make this a memorable halloween for the angel. he planned an elaborate evening, starting with pumpkin carving. your first attempt at pumpkin carving was... unique. the face you created had a lopsided grin and mismatched eyes, one comically larger than the other. next came costume selection, where the two of you went to the nearest halloween, a warehouse-sized space filled with endless racks of costumes and accessories. you browsed through countless options: superheroes, movie characters, mythical creatures. dean suggested a sexy devil costume with a mischievous grin, but you firmly declined, not finding the humor in it. ( i think this is my top 2 fav! )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ insatiable ( vamp!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean’s fangs throbbed with an insatiable hunger, a primal urge he struggled to contain. every pulse of blood rushing through nearby veins called to him like a siren's song. the warmth radiating from human bodies sent shockwaves of desire coursing through his undead form. but resistance only seemed to intensify the craving. his heightened senses picked up on every nuance—the slight sheen of sweat on exposed skin, the rhythmic thump of hearts, the tantalizing scent of life itself. through it all, you observed him drinking in his struggle like a fine wine, with a knowing smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. your eyes sparkled with amusement, fully aware of the internal battle raging inside dean. you knew exactly what he craved—what he needed. and yet here you stood, taunting him, daring him to give in to his darkest impulses.

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ dark magic ( witch!user ) ᵎᵎ

dean wasn’t that awfully nice when it came down to witches or anything surrounding the supernatural. everything he stood suddenly disappeared when it came to you, logic fled and instinct reigned. your very existence seemed to weave an enchantment around him, bending his iron will as easily as a whisper bends a candle flame. in your orbit, he became a different man—softer, more open, as if you alone held the key to unlocking a hidden part of his soul. but your influence was not without cost. your magic, steeped in shadow, left a trail of upheaval in their wake. chaos bloomed wherever you tread, a dark garden of your own making. ( not sure i might stick with this plot, but am so hhhng im lazy )

Dean Winchester: ๑ ︵ might say somethin stupid ᵎᵎ

after a long, exhausting hunt, dean heads to a nearby bar to unwind. weighed down by the night's events, he orders a drink and surveys the room. his attention is quickly drawn to a stunning individual sitting a few stools away. intrigued, dean moves closer, captivated by their effortless beauty and presence. deciding to engage, he buys them a drink and leans in, confidently flirting with a playful question about their relationship status, hoping to shift the mood and distract himself from the tension of the hunt.

Sam Winchester: ๑ ︵ bloody date ᵎᵎ

it was catastrophic. sam knew, deep in his bones, what you truly were. he might have chastised himself for harboring feelings for you, convinced he was teetering on the edge of insanity as his heart clenched painfully within his chest at the mere thought of your presence. but fuck, you were worth it right? this date, however, shattered any remaining illusions. it was meant to be an intimate affair—small, meaningful, a cherished memory in the making. well, you sure as hell made it memorable for him to ever forget it. there you stood, fangs sunk deep into your helpless victim, crimson rivulets painting the edges of your mouth like some macabre artwork.

slashers ☆彡

Brahms Heelshire: ୭ ∿ i'll be good ∿

you had reluctantly accepted the nanny position, despite the suspiciously high salary. the isolated manor and eccentric heelshire family raised red flags, but desperation silenced your misgivings. nothing, however, could have prepared you for the absurdity of your charge – a porcelain doll named brahms. initially, you played along with the charade, following the strict rules set by the heelshires. but as days turned to weeks, an unsettling truth emerged. the real brahms was no doll, but a grown man, which in hindsight would be something to be freaked out about but for you it was fine, however the fact that the brahms could be a little too clingy was the problem. simple errands became ordeals. attempts to leave the property triggered tantrums, brahms clinging to you not wanting you to leave him.

Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ touch starved ∿

patrick never considered himself a touch-starved person. in fact, he often thrived in the artificial perfection of his meticulously curated life. he relished the combination of power suits and high-stakes finance, his existence orchestrated with a calculated precision that left no room for vulnerability. but from the moment you entered his life, everything changed. he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame, craving your touch in a way that defied his logical mind. in the upscale restaurants you frequented—places with starched tablecloths, crystal stemware, and prices that made most people wince—patrick's behavior shifted noticeably. while he once sat rigidly across from his dining companions, maintaining a respectable distance, with you he couldn't bear even that small separation. he'd guide you to the plush booth seating, sliding in close enough that your thighs touched beneath the table. as you perused the menu, his arm would find its way around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your skin. during the meal, he'd lean in unnecessarily close to murmur observations about the food or other patrons, his breath warm against your ear. as the evenings wore on, patrick found increasingly creative ways to maintain contact. he'd reach across the table to adjust your napkin or brush an imaginary crumb from your cheek. Patrick Bateman: ୭ ∿ feeling bratty? ∿

patrick felt more on edge as time passed, a tightening coil of frustration that wound ever tighter within him. when the tension reached its boiling point, he reacted instinctively, striking out like a stray cat cornered and threatened, hissing and baring its tiny fangs. in that moment of vulnerability, his anger found an outlet in the nearest target—unfortunately, that target was you. deep down, he recognized his own insufferable behavior; he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. he watched as you scoffed at his provocations or simply ignored his taunts, and each dismissive reaction stoked the flames of his irritation. the more you turned away, the more desperately he sought your attention, despite knowing the fire he was playing with could easily burn him.

misc ⟢

Soldier Boy: 𓂃 ꒰ freak show ꒱

Ben never imagined he'd find himself at the entrance of a peculiar circus, its weathered sign proclaiming "freak show" in faded letters. for weeks, vought's pr team had hounded him relentlessly, insisting that this appearance would be "good for public relations" and "humanize" him in the eyes of the masses. ben had scoffed at first, but their persistence wore him down like water on stone. now, here he was, surrounded by wide-eyed gawkers and the constant buzz of excited whispers. as the show began, ben found himself oddly captivated. each act was more outlandish than the last - contortionists twisting their bodies into impossible shapes, fire-breathers painting the air with flames, and strongmen hefting weights that should have been beyond human capability. but then, as the ringmaster's booming voice announced the next act, the tent fell into a hushed silence. a single spotlight illuminated the center ring, and ben's breath caught in his throat. there you were. the aerialist.

Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ favorite monster ꒱

stiles was well versed when it came down to the supernatural, he read every book, myth, and stories when it came to the supernatural. was well aware of the dangers of ghosts, werewolves, vampires the whole gist, you name it he undoubtedly knows it all. of course, you were a different case, a unique case that even though he knew the dangers about being a vampire he couldn’t for the life of himself get away from you. every late-night conversation and shared secret made it harder for him to keep his distance. as the two of you walked through the forest, discussing everything from pop culture to existentialism, it was at the very instant that your sudden laugh made his heart race. the warmth in your eyes and the way you would brush your hand with his rendered him utterly transfixed. he wondered how it was possible to feel so electrified and safe in the presence of someone who was, by all accounts, a threat. Stiles Stilinski: 𓂃 ꒰ you're ghostface ꒱

stiles didn’t know what to expect when the rumors of a serial killer began circulating in their small town. the gossip, dripping with fear and intrigue, shattered the fragile peace of beacon hills. as he stumbled through the dimly lit alley, the unmistakable glint of a knife illuminated by the flickering light from the nearby streetlamp caught his eye, and as the scene grew clearer, every hope he'd entertained shattered like glass. you, standing over a crumpled figure on the ground, the knife still gleaming in your hand, ghostface mask perched above your head. stiles had known you—i mean, really known you. the fact it was you, who was said killer made his stomach churn. he felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath him, leaving him suspended in disbelief.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ bitchy!user ꒱

madison's initial reaction to your caustic demeanor was a blend of irritation and intrigue. it catches her off guard; she's unaccustomed to having her façade challenged so directly. your unwavering stance and refusal to be cowed gnaws at her composure, chipping away at the armor of superiority she's cultivated. yet, beneath her outward indignation, she finds herself grudgingly impressed. your razor-sharp retorts and quick wit present a novel challenge—one that simultaneously infuriates and exhilarates her.

Madison Montgomery: 𓂃 ꒰ tobacco lips ꒱

before her death, madison was already dead inside. numb to the world, she craved to feel—anything. she chased oblivion through a haze of flesh, drugs, and alcohol, desperately seeking to drown the echoes of her past. each indulgence was a futile attempt to erase the memories: her mother's absence, her asshole of a father, the relentless scrutiny of the press, and the string of lovers who had taken pieces of her without leaving anything in return. she had found her way to the nearest bar, her face, heavily caked with makeup, felt like a mask weighing her down. her once-pearly teeth, now tobacco-stained, hid behind a sneer. the dress she'd chosen, meant to turn heads, only succeeded in making her look cheap rather than alluring. she navigated the crowded gathering with a practiced arrogance, projecting an aura of superiority she didn't feel. a fresh cigarette dangled from her lips, the filter stained with lipstick—a silent testament to her desperation. her words flowed freely, empty promises spilling from her mouth to the eager ears of men old enough to know better. then, through the haze of smoke and poor decisions, she saw you. beautiful, poised you—the coven's rising star, their future supreme. you stood surrounded by distinguished men, everything madison's admirers lacked. everything madison herself lacked. shame crashed over madison, as darted out, trying to get away from your sight.

might fix some of these but …. probably not anyway! @eppwtf on c.ai 😛

[cleabellanov]

Different sides of the same coin: Lokius/Cherik

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This one!!!

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protective boyfriend behaviour

[binogirlatx]

RW&RB❤️🤍💙Alex and Henry

My Policeman💙🩵💙Tom and Patrick

[sematarygirls]

do you ever just get this sinking feeling in your stomach because you love a character so much, and you know you'll never be with them 😭

[admireforever]

My Policeman

[poltoreveur]

I mean, I can fix him.. but do I want to tho?

[blackynsupremacy]

ya’ll the outsiders is on tubi 🏃🏾‍♀️

time to simp and cry all over again 😩

[chelestials]

“ponyboy did not stay gold” “what happened to them” *giving low ratings to the actors because they’re old now* SHUT UPPPPPPP PLS🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 idc if it’s a joke it was funny at first but i don’t wanna hear it anymore PEOPLE AGE…

[ghstsrock]

Dally is Irredeemable

! 🗯 ⋆ in which i persuade you into believing dally is irredeemable

( a/n : this is based off that poll I posted a while ago asking for help deciding what I should write my persuasive letter about. this the result of that. enjoy! )

Dear Reader,

My name is Jeremy, I’m a loser who runs a tumblr account. I am writing to you as someone who likes analyzing characters to express my views on the character of Dallas Winston.

Dallas Winston, one of the main characters in S.E Hinton’s iconic novel, The Outsiders, is often seen as a complex and intriguing character by many readers. However, his actions throughout the novel raise questions about his intentions and motivations. In this letter, I aim to present evidence and argue my belief that Dallas Winston is ultimately an irredeemable character, whose actions and choices cannot be excused or forgiven.

For context, Dallas Winston is described as being one of the older members of the book's main group. He’s mean, cold, tuff, and the most hardened and violent. He spent most of his life living on the streets of New York, getting into so much trouble that he was first arrested at the mere age of ten. While this does not define a person, it certainly does him.

This is the first reason I believe Dallas is irredeemable: Johnny Cade. The relationship and dynamics between Johnny and Dallas is nuanced. Despite their differences in mental and physical characteristics, they have a strong bond between them. Dallas constantly shows special treatment towards Johnny, which is evident in the second chapter when they are at the drive-in theater. Dallas is making inappropriate comments toward a soc girl named Cherry. While both Ponyboy and Johnny were uncomfortable by this behavior, Johnny is the only one who intervenes. “Dallas just scowled for a second. If it had been me, or Two-Bit, or Soda, or Steve or anyone but Johnny, Dally would have flattened him without hesitation,” (Hinton). This highlights the deep connection between the two characters, but how good can that really be? Johnny is seen idolizing Dallas throughout the book, this stems from his troubled relationship with his parents causing Johnny to feel the need to earn Dally’s approval. Dallas, on the other hand, uses this power imbalance to his advantage, lashing out at Johnny when he tries to assert independence. This relationship highlights the toxicity that has existed throughout Dally’s life.

Continuing that, I bring you to my second reason: Dallas has known nothing but a life of crime and hatred. Now, I know what you’re thinking. People change, right? Well, Dallas is a different story. He has allowed his upbringing to define who he is in the novel - his abusive dad, absent mother, numerous run-ins with the law, and other traumatic experiences have shaped his negative outlook on life. For example, in Chapter Five, Dally, Johnny, and Ponyboy are in Dally’s car outside a Dairy Queen. When Johnny asks Dallas if his parents have asked about him, Dallas gets rather upset at Johnny. “You think my old man gives a hang if I’m dead in a car wreck, or drunk, or jail or something’? He doesn’t care, and that doesn’t bother me none,” (Hinton). By saying this, Dallas shows that he has internalized the neglect he experienced from his father to the point where he has become desensitized to the feelings of others who have different ones. It also shows one of Dally’s biggest defense mechanisms, violence.

My final reason is that Dallas Winston is weak. When I say weak, I’m referring to Dally’s mental strength rather than his physical strength. I’m sure that boy is malnourished, lactose intolerant, and can’t handle gluten. But, I digress. Despite being portrayed as a strong character, his behavior shows nothing but weakness. He’s weaker than Johnny mentally. He’s weak with how he handles serious issues, relationships, and his own life. He recklessly deals with issues and his reaction to Johnny’s death serves as the perfect example of that. “Why can I take it when Dally can’t? And then I knew, Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone,” (Hinton). As this iconic novel comes to a close, we witness two major character deaths, the first one being Johnny’s. As previously stated, Johnny and Dallas had a special relationship. Initially, Dallas doesn’t seem to react much to Johnny’s death, but as the moments pass, he becomes increasingly unstable, unable to cope with his emotions. He runs out following a moment of melodramatic whimpering, later we found out he robbed a magazine store with an empty gun. The way he handles his grief by resorting to violence, ultimately leading to his death, highlights his weaknesses. “Dally didn’t die a hero. He died violent, young, and desperate. Just like we all knew he’d die someday … But Johnny was right, He died gallant,” (Hinton).

Some individuals who hold an opposing view to mine believe that Dally is redeemable based on his loyalty to the gang and his good treatment of Johnny. However, Dallas has no actual sense of loyalty. He has a tendency to double-cross others for what appears to be his own amusement contradicts this viewpoint completely. The best example of this would be Dally’s on-and-off again friendship with Tim Shepard, the leader of a different gang in town. This is first brought up in the second chapter by Two-Bit Mathews when he says, “That’s why I came over. Mr. Timothy Shepard and Co. are looking for whoever so kindly slashed their car’s tires, and since Mr. Curly Shepard spotted Dallas doing it … well … does Dallas have a blade?” (Hinton). The fact that Dally’s tendency to betray people is a joke to his friends undermines any argument that attempts to redeem him based on his loyalty. Additionally, the incident where Dally lashed their tries and his lack of remorse for engaging in such petty and destructive behavior further demonstrates his lack of a moral compass.

I urge you to never find yourself in a position where you can actively sympathize with the man that was Dallas Winston. And that, if you do, you get the help you desperately need.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely, Jeremy

﹙📦﹚ request inbox thing is open ﹒zᶻ