this is goin to be a good one!

6

Phew. This took all day but have a round up of all my rubberhose kids so far. Im still fixin to add another one or two but this is a pretty good gang I got goin on here I think.

Meet the Gang:

Walter the Reaper: A very mellow angel of death who has been doin this job for so long that not much  phases him. Hes actually rather sweet but unfortunately overworked. He’d just like a lunch break to enjoy his favorite meal, a sandwhich.

Brunhilde and Odin the unicorns: These siblings are fixing to get into toon hell for some reason. They’re both tougher than nails and have been in more scraps than they can count. While they can use magic they are equally capable of handling situations with their fists.

Olson the Hellhound: He may look like a mutt but hes a powerful fiend from down below who likes to stir up trouble. While hes a rough n tumble type of guy he has his charm and can be quite the gentleman when he wants. 

Fierro Hellfire: Fierro runs a popular joint in toon hell where everyone visits to have a good time dancin and drinking. Fierro himself is a sweet lil guy who seems to know just about everyone and anything around here. Now what he does with that info is none of your business.

ok so i take these classes w a bunch of showoffs who do a lot ofparkour/tricking/gymnastics/acrobatic-style bullshit and i genuinely believe Percy would do half this shit as well as other demigods so here is this fuckery

  • Percy has a natural affinity for it
  • by affinity i mean the water god in him makes things easier to jump/scale like it would be in a pool bc buoyancy science shit
  • so he can get pretty good air without a spring floor
  • but CHB has one bc u cant tell me Chiron would say it is useless (it isn’t. that shit makes u strong)
  • Percy could do a standing front tuck since he was 13
  • boy did arials and arabians like it was NOTHING
  • he goes back to high school n in the middle of gym some dipshit is goin hard and Percy just does a fuckin webster and chucks the dodgeball at him, pointing as him as his team lOSES THEIR SHIT
  • nobody knew Percy could do that
  • panties dropped, dicks were hard
  • boy does layout variations of stuff
  • his senior prank is getting a bunch of gymnast friends and just doing shit down the hallways
  • roundoff back handsprings
  • full outs
  • Percy one time does a back tuck off of lockers because a guy said he wouldn’t and Percy doesn’t play with that shit
  • nobody saw Annabeth do any until she busts into English doing back handsprings around the room because fuck you this is Annabeth Chase

feel free to add

Punk (Chap. 1)

Originally posted by in-perfectenschlag

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 1871

Warnings: Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….

A/N:  So this is what I work on when I get blocked writing Nobody.  It’s supposed to be angsty and funny and fluffy (maybe a tad naughty at some point idk).  I hope you enjoy the first part!



“Morning, sunshine,” Tony greeted you as you slogged into the kitchen with a scowl.  Your (Y/H/C) was sticking up in random, knotted directions from tossing and turning all night, and dark bags hung under your puffy (Y/E/C) eyes.  

“Uhnnngg,” you groaned as you poured yourself a sizeable cup of coffee.  Tony was one of those ‘happy morning people’.  You hated him.  And his stupid face.  But his coffee was good so you let him live.

Keep reading

2

never thought i’d make an Angst ™ comic starring tome, yet here i am. 

damn u ONE…..ur good

Fast Firsts and Sloppy Seconds  (a Manorian/Rowaelin AU)

NOTE: This is a piece very near and dear to my heart!! Welcome to my very first TOG fic, and second fic overall! This is kind of a celebration of hitting 100 followers, and kind of a celebration of ACOWAR, but first and foremost, this is a gift for my girl @highlady-casandra. You’re pretty cool, I guess and I love you so so much but you already knew that <3 but also I really hope you’re sleeping right now or we’ll have to fight  Second, it goes to to my fellow Revolutionaries,  @miladyaelin  @snaps7@jxmessjrjuspottcr @throneofstars @fictionalcharactersaremyreality, y’all are the true heroes ;) Third, for @propshophannah, my favorite SJM blog and one of my favorite writers for this fandom, who is a hero in her own right for a million reasons. Thanks for existing. Last but not least, this one’s this is for all of you guys reading it!! I hope you enjoy, and I hope I didn’t butcher them too bad! ( @meabhd You’re a queen and amazing artist and I hope I didn’t butcher your accent/country too much :/ ) Without further ado, here we go!


Dorian and Aelin burst into the small lively Irish pub. Well, “burst” was kind of a strong word, considering how bogged down they were by their huge backpacks. The two friends had decided to travel across Europe after their college graduation. It was supposed to be a group of them, but they’d lost Lys and Aedion back in Italy. Chaol was supposed to meet them in Dublin – but that was if they ever made it there. The huge storm had come out of nowhere, and their flight had been redirected. Aelin had insisted they try to catch a ferry to continue on to Dublin – but when the huge waves had almost flipped over the boat, she conceded, and they were dropped off on the beach in some other part of Ireland. Trudging up the long hill, they finally came to the bustling pub – the only awake part of the small sea town. Gasping for breath and dripping wet, they glanced around for an empty table in the crowded bar, and spotted a couple getting up in the corner. They quickly grabbed the table before anyone else had a chance, pulling the massive weights off of their backs and flopping into the hard wooden chairs.

They could feel the heat of the packed pub seeping into their bodies. Groups of people danced around, producing more and more warmth as they jumped and whirled to the tune of the lively reel. The band in the corner looked like they’d been playing for a while, empty beer bottles scattered around their feet as they played.

They took a few minutes to settle down – wringing the water out of their soaked shirts. Aelin was running a hand through her long blonde hair, trying to untangle the wet tresses, when Dorian shook his head at her like a dog, spraying water everywhere. It was at this moment that the waitress walked over, a hand on her hip and a smirk on her face as she watched Aelin smack him repeatedly.

She stopped quickly when she noticed the gorgeous girl. A tray was balanced against her hip, and she had a long, messy white braid over one shoulder, along with a wicked grin on her bright red lips. “Name’s Manon,” she drawled, her Irish accent washing over them. “What can I get you lot?”

Dorian cleared his throat, quickly running a hand through his hair in an effort to look presentable. He began to stumble over his words as his eyes ran over her lithe, muscular body. “I – uh – we – do you have any, um, menus?”

She snorted, raising an eyebrow at the boy. No – man. He was in his early twenties at least. Her eyes quickly flashed to his flexing muscles as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. He was broad, tall, and all around gorgeous. His bright blue eyes avoided hers as she watched him squirm under her golden gaze. “Aye, o’ course lad, would you like some gold rimmed plates, too? What d’you think this is? A palace, princeling?” She rolled her eyes, scowling at the gorgeous man. Why was it always the pretty ones that were like this?

“I’ll take a Guiness –”Aelin’s cool voice cut in, as Dorian struggled to regain his composure. “And some food. We’re both starving.”

“Aye, and soaked through the bone,” Manon mumbled, glancing at their wet clothes. She let out a deep sigh as she crossed her impossibly long legs. “I’ll see what the boys can dig up – kitchen’s supposed to close any minute now.”

The full weight of her golden gaze turned back to Dorian, a smirk on her face as she watched him startle under the attention. “Anything else I can get you, princeling?”

He cleared his throat and narrowed his stormy blue eyes as he forced a smirk on his face. “A double shot of whiskey, please.” He winked at her then, feeling the bravery re-enter his voice. “Need something to help warm me up.”

“Aye,” she smirked, “and some of that Irish courage will do you good, as well.”

With that, she turned, making her way back to the bar. He couldn’t help but stare at her enticing hips as they moved from side to side. Just like she’d wanted him to.

He was cute, this American boy. Kind of ridiculous, but cute.

Soon enough she was back with their drinks, shot Dorian some heated looks, and was off again. He wasn’t usually a one night stand kind of guy, in most situations. But for her? For her he’d make an exception. Miles of long legs were barely covered by a pair of ripped jean shorts. She had on a loose red t-shirt, further accenting her bright red lips. Yet, even in the simple outfit, she looked like a queen. His queen.

Aelin rolled her eyes watching Dorian eye-fuck the white-haired beauty. Aelin thought she was kind of a bitch, but Dorian never listened to her opinions on his conquests. He was usually more of a relationship guy, but she could tell that this time he just didn’t care. And she wasn’t drunk enough to put up with his shenanigans.

With a heavy sigh, she stood up from her seat to get another drink. Dorian barely paid her any attention as his eyes followed the waitress, watching her float from table to table, laughing heartily as she flirted with everyone, lighting up the room with her smile.


Aelin stepped up to the bar, the barkeep nowhere to be found. She eyed the empty seat in the corner and decided to take it right as she noticed someone else about to make a move. It’s not like Dorian was much better company. She ran a hand through her long blonde hair, still wet from the rain. She’d opted to keep her soaked sweatshirt on, wearing nothing but a small tank top underneath. But between the grossly wet fabric against her skin and the heat of the pub, she was leaning closer and closer to taking the damn thing off. Finally, she gave in, ripping off the soaking wet hoodie. And of course, this was the moment the barkeep chose to arrive.

Rowan Blackthorn couldn’t help but watch, shell-shocked, as the blonde beauty pulled the dark sweatshirt off of her curvy torso. As if the barely-there lace tank top wasn’t bad enough, it slowly slipped up her body as she struggled with the sweatshirt. And there, in that moment, he knew he was absolutely fucked. He cleared his throat as he stepped up across from her, averting his eyes.

“What can I get you, lass?” His voice was a soft sensual rumble, but she couldn’t really properly enjoy it in her struggle.

“Right now,” she grunted, “a hand would be nice.” He winced at the fact that he was completely and totally about to begin his descent into hell, and reached over to pull the girl’s sweatshirt off.

She was suddenly greeted by six feet and four inches of pure muscle. She wasn’t exactly short, but the bartender towered over her. His short white hair was cut close to his head. Gaelic tattoos trailed down half of his face and one of his arms,clearly showing off his heritage. His bright green eyes caught her gaze, and she found herself unable to look away. “Um, thanks,” she mumbled, reaching to grab the sweatshirt that he was holding out to her.

They stood there then, just like that, watching each other. He took in her wet blonde hair that fell just to her shoulders, and her tight light pink tank top. At least it wasn’t see-through. Then he would have definitely lost it.

“Y’know,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood, “normally I don’t let guys undress me until after I’ve learned their name.”

He snorted at that. “Is that all it takes with you, then?” Shit. He couldn’t stop himself. The words were already out, but he’d immediately regretted them. Well, that was that, he supposed.

She narrowed her eyes at the man. As pretty as he might be, she wouldn’t put up with any bullshit he was presenting her with. “Give me another Guiness,” she snapped. He raised an eyebrow before turning around to grab it without another word. He pulled the cap of the beer straight off with his hands, the asshole. The muscles in his arms tensed and relieved as he accomplished it, and Aelin just about died.

It was in this moment that Manon sauntered over, two plates in hand. “Are you goin’ back t’yer boyfriend there, or are you stayin’ over here?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she scowled, reaching out a hand for one of the two plates. “On a good day he’s my friend. Right now though, he’s my pain in the ass. So yeah, I’ll eat over here.” Manon smirked as Aelin finally accepted the Guiness Rowan had been holding out.

She walked away, an extra bounce in her step as she once again made her way to Dorian. Aelin rolled her eyes at the predatory smirk that was growing on her friend’s face. It looked like he’d found his footing fast enough. She turned back to her beer, and the asshole of a bartender.

He’d begun to clean a glass, obviously trying to look anywhere but at her. She scoffed, rolling her eyes, and turning her attention to her meal.

Rowan was a fucking idiot. Yeah, Rowan. Great idea. Get the gorgeous girl to like you by insulting her. That always works. Then again, he was sort of out of practice. And more than that, she was only here for, what, a day? Two maximum? He was willing to bet the storm had rolled her in, and she’d be leaving as soon as it was over. Slowly shaking his head, he sighed. Rowan didn’t have time for more attachments to beautiful women who were just going to leave. So maybe being an asshole was a good idea.

Except then he heard the moan slip out of her mouth. And every logical thought left his head as his entire body stiffened at the sound.

“God,” she sighed, “who the hell is your cook, and can I marry him?”

Rowan cleared his throat, straining to talk as her husky voice just played over and over in his head.

Shit.

He was in such deep, unending shit.

“We have two cooks,” he grumbled, trying to prevent his voice from cracking as he watched her lick her fingers, unable to look away.

His words ran away from him as he watched her dip her soda bread in the Irish Stew and take a large bite, letting out another long, low moan. “Please tell me whichever one made this stew is single.”

A low growl built in his throat, the sight much too sensual to bear. That moan. However good that stew was, it couldn’t taste nearly as delicious as he was sure she did. What he wouldn’t give to have her thighs around his head, how she would moan then –

He grit his teeth, shook his head, and forced himself to look away, discretely adjusting his pants as he once again tried and failed to regain his composure. At the sound of bickering voices coming up behind him, Rowan let out a small sigh of relief. Saved by the devils.

“Fenrys, Connal!” He called behind him, welcoming the distraction. And then he remembered what she was wearing. And that he’d been an asshole. And that she had wanted to marry one of the two idiots. And suddenly regretted everything. “You have an admirer,” he ground out. He hesitated, cautiously glancing at Aelin once again as she slowly enjoyed the bread, her eyes closed and a soft smile on her face. He began to smile as well, and then stopped, scowling instead. Remember. Lyria. With that thought in his head, he stormed down the walkway behind bar to go pour some other drinks.


Aelin opened her eyes at the sound of the barkeep stomping away. Her eyes were quickly drawn to the tightness of his pants against what she assumed was his equally tight ass. Dear god. She quickly looked away, chastising herself. She shouldn’t pine after what she knew she couldn’t have.  She didn’t even know his name.

It was then that she found the twins stepping up to her behind the bar. Both were well-built, with gorgeous dark eyes, and deep tans to their skin. They seemed older than the barkeep. The one on the left was easily the most beautiful man she’d seen in her life. He had long golden hair and a mischievous grin on his lips, easily accompanying his onyx eyes that held her favorite kind of sinful promises. The other was just as beautiful, though with long dark hair, and thoughtful dark eyes. He seemed calmer – more melancholy in a way. The dark to the other’s light. Though for some reason, neither could compare to the bartending buzzard.

She took a sip of her beer and grinned at the twins who were eyeing her just the same. The blond was unashamedly appreciating her figure under the tank top, offering her a wolfish grin, hinting that cooking wasn’t the only thing he was good at doing with his hands. Meanwhile the dark-haired twin simply stepped back, leaning against the bar and rolling his eyes at his brother’s behavior.

“Name’s Fenrys,” the blond purred, holding out a large hand for her to shake. She took it slowly, feeling the calluses in his palm as her eyes met the heat in his.

“Aelin.” She smiled coolly, dropping his hand and returning to the stew, feigning aloofness. She could eat politely when she wanted to. And now that the beautiful barkeep wasn’t around, she had no reason not to. She almost laughed thinking back to his attempts at discretely readjusting his pants. As though his lust for her wasn’t entirely obvious. I hope you hate every minute of it, she thought, glaring at his gorgeous broad back.

“So,” Fenrys drawled, dragging her attention back to him. “Is our dear cousin Rowan treating you well? Irish hospitality and all that?”

Rowan. Gorgeous name for a gorgeous man. Her eyes followed him as he poured out shots for a group of boys who looked just barely legal. Then she dragged them back to Fenrys, and lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug, her face entirely blank. “Well enough, I suppose.” She took another small bite of the stew, even though all she really wanted was to devour it.

“You know,” Fenrys murmured, his fingers lightly playing with the tips of hers, “I could certainly treat you very well, if you’d let me.”

She drew her hand away from his and placed it under her chin, raising a single eyebrow at his forwardness.

“Since I’m not a dog, I doubt you’ll be surprised to hear I don’t respond well to treats. Though since I’m not entirely certain you’re not a dog, unless you’d like me to rip off your balls so you can play fetch, I suggest you leave me alone.”

Connall barked out a laugh as Fenrys staggered back, an incredulous look on his face. A surprised laugh escaped his lips as he stepped away, reaching for the whiskey and mumbling to himself about crazy American women.

It was at this moment that Rowan walked back over, an aggravated look on his face. He should’ve been relieved that she’d probably already agreed to sleep with Fenrys, but for whatever reason, all he felt was a quiet stifling rage. His shoulder rammed into his cousin’s as he passed by him, stepping up next to Connall.

“Congratulations,” Connall grinned at her, “it’s not often a lass sends my brother off with his tail between his legs.” The two chuckled at the joke between them, Aelin finally smiling again as Rowan stood there, confused.

“What happened to your betrothed?” He bit out, defensive, not allowing himself to hope for what was too good to be true.

Aeliln’s smile turned sensual as her eyes once again roamed over his muscular frame. The heat in them almost burned him as they finally met his once again. “Turns out he wasn’t my type. Too easy.” A smirk spread on her lips as Rowan flinched. Connall chuckled again and began to walk away, clapping Rowan on the shoulder. “This one’s all yours, cousin. Good luck.” He winked at him and continued into the kitchen, finally ready to clean up for the night.

She took a few more bites of her stew, and Rowan went back to methodically cleaning his bar.

He wished he could say he’d forgotten she was there. But he hadn’t. Even with his back turned to her, he could feel her behind him, burning him with her gaze, and then it was almost as if her moans were ringing in his ears again. With a low groan, he wiped down the bar harder, angrily scrubbing.

A mischievous grin stretched across her lips, entirely aware of the affect she had on him. He’s going to sleep with me tonight, and he’s going to like it. And then we’ll see who’s the easy one. She ignored the small voice in her head that pointed out the fact that she would no doubt more than like it as well.

“So, Rowan,” she purred, placing both elbows on the bar and leaning her chin on her intertwined fingers, “tell me about yourself.”

Part 2

Neil takes up a hobby

A concept: Neil Baking™.Just sayin’

  • okay, so neil and andrew are mindlessly flicking through channels on tv when they stumble upon one of those baking shows where they teach you how to make aesthetic cakes
  • neil is intrigued™
  • he sees andrew’s eyes light up at the prospect of the sugary goodness
  • so decides he needs to make it for him
  • he tries smth and goes to matt (god bless his soul)
  • matt suggests to start with smth more simple so he doesn’t poison andrew
  • so he tries making brownies (emphasis on tries) 
  • he’s proud.they’re a little burnt but otherwise they seem okay
  • so he gives them to matt
  • poor matt didn’t know what he was signing up for
  • he nearly chokes on them, but tells neil they’re great,yeah, keep goin kiddo
  • cue matt nearly dying from food poisoning many attempts later
  • nicky finds out, so he decides to help neil (don’t tell me nicky can’t make the best cakes ever)
  • and so, neil manages to make That One Cake that he saw on TV
  • everyone is impressed™ it’s actually really good
  • “wait until andrew tastes it” nicky laughs
  • neil, all flustered and blushing just shoves the plate of cake under andrew’s nose while they’re on the roof
  • andrew is only a little confused 
  • lbr he probably figured neil was up to smth when he showed up covered in flour one day
  • “what’s this?”
  • “cake…i made it”
  • “this better not kill me josten”
  • andrew takes a bite and… it’s rly good???? wtf
  • “234 josten”
  • neil beames he’s so happy andrew likes it

Also:

  • neil making exy related sweets, the junkie
  • like orange paw cookies
  • cookies in the shape of exy raquets
  • andrew is not amused
  • not even a little
  • nicky takes a shit ton of photos of them and puts one on their wall

Also:

  • andrew ordering obnoxious desserts just to see if neil will make them
  • which he does spectacularly so
  • andrew is so proud of his boy, but he’ll never admit it
6

found hIM OH GOD WAIT

this text post by @incorrectnoragamiquotes inspired me!!

but my  style got too serious out of nowhere, i’ll probably clean up the “die?” panel and post it seperately cuz looks pretty good to me??idk here are more noragami comics of mine:

theyy are familyyy Part1///Part2////Part3  

The One with the Blackout - Daddy’s Little Lovebug

Word Count: 5367

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst where I said there would be none. I’m sorry. 

A/N: Written for @sis-tafics and @eyes-of-a-disney-princess Hubba Bubba Birthday Challenge. Sorry it’s like a week late. Life happened. This also wasn’t what I was originally gonna write but again…life happened. Sorry. 

Constructive feedback always appreciated!

Daddy’s Little Lovebug Masterlist


“So this is pretty nice.” Dean chuckled, grabbing your hand across the diner table. Sam and Eileen volunteered to spend the night watching JoJo to give Dean and you the night to yourselves and you’d spent it eating greasy diner food at an old dive bar. It was very much your style. “Not that I don’t miss my little girl but adult time is fun too.”

“You know she’s probably sprawled across our bed, right?” Dean snorted a laugh and nodded, knowing you were right. She always did that when you were both gone unless she passed out on the couch with Sam or in Sam’s bed.

“Well, this is a treat.” A voice sneered from behind you as the diner suddenly went dark and silent. High heels got closer and you turned, staring at a face you recognized quite well. “Never thought I’d run into you two again. Where’s that precious little girl of yours?” The tall blonde staring down Dean and you was a witch you both failed to kill several years ago, Gretchen, but you managed to kill her entire coven and family. You thought you ran her off, never to be seen again, but you were apparently wrong. “Come on…what’s her name again? Joanna Celeste Winchester?”

You gritted your teeth, unsure of how she knew about your daughter. “Who?” You decided to play stupid and Dean followed along.

“You must have us confused with other hunters. We don’t have a kid.”

“What dumbass would bring a kid into this life?” You scoffed, reaching for the gun tucked away in your holster.

Keep reading

NCT as Horror Movie character stereotypes

Taeil: the weird little nerd guy you expect to just accidentally fall off a cliff but somehow manages to turn some sticks and a string in his pocket into a trap for the thing chasing them. saves the day. gets the hot barbie girl in the end

Hansol: that one guy that gets revealed to be the killer and you’re like ‘tf he was there the entire time! how!?’ and you rewatch the movie and realized he disappeared after the first 3 minutes

Johnny: the big tough guy that logically would be the one that would survive but is really slow and gets fucked up by a zombie but doesn’t tell the group he’s been bit until his skins falling off 

Taeyong: the attractive nerd that is immediately put in charge when shit got real. makes sure everyone eats. doesn’t know how to stab someone tho. nearly gets killed every time something happens but gets saved by his buddy.

Yuta: the buddy. the dickhead everyone kinda wants to trip and get jumped by Jason but he just keeps on goin and survives the whole film unscratched. massive douche but is redeemed by saving everyone in the end miraculously 

Doyoung: the complainer. whines about the shitty food and places they have to stay in when its literally an apocalypse outside rn. dies half way through the movie trying to grab a can of spaghetti-os while zombies are breaking down the door

Ten: weird, nature dude. lives in the city but somehow knows exactly what berries will kill you in 2 minutes and how to track and hunt. no one questions how city boy knows it but yeah. really good hunter. basically Daryll. 

Jaehyun: the second buddy. comedian dude. cant shut up to save his life. keeps attracting zombies with his loud as mouth, but hes the one making sure yall dont have a mental break down over the end of the world. dies last minute of the movie after the final comedic break. rip.

WinWin: basically the baby. little brother of one of the group. got dragged along and now hes trapped with yall while the world falls apart. doesnt really talk. doesnt really do much. kinda just a lap dog that you cant really get rid of. 

Bail (pre-apocalypse!DarylxReader)

Hi guys! Since I’m so ridiculously obsessed with the idea of young Daryl before the apocalypse, I’ve made yet another pre-apocalypse!Daryl fic where he’s once again up to no good. I think I might make this into an AU series, but idk. Let me know what you guys think!

Characters- teenage!Reader, teenage!Daryl Dixon, and Merle Dixon.

REMINDER: REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR ALL TWD CHARACTERS!!

Summary:

When Merle takes Daryl out with the intention to cause trouble, the two get caught, but Merle gets away and Daryl gets thrown in a jail cell. Not wanting to get his brother in trouble, he takes the blame. He doesn’t want his father to bail him out as he knows that he isn’t getting home without a beating, so the only choice he has is to get his girlfriend Y/N to bail him out. Y/N is ridiculously angry, as this isn’t the first time that Merle has gotten Daryl into trouble and Daryl has just rolled over to protect him once again. 

Warnings- strong language, fluff, angst, a little bit of violence.

and also sorry Merle stans, but I made him kind of an asshole in this, but don’t worry, it’s all for the purpose of the plot and the Daryl feels

Enjoy!

*NOT MY GIF*

Originally posted by van-is-mine


“Who am I calling, son? Your parents?”

“No… no, God no.”

“You need to get someone to come and get you. You got a friend that drives? A girlfriend?”

“Yeah, my girlfriend drives. Fuck, I didn’t want her to find out.”

Keep reading

Everything Two-Bit Mathews says in the book.

“Nup. They got away this time, the dirty…”

“Nice-lookin’ bruise you got there, kid.

“Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough.”

“Next time get one of us to go with you, Ponyboy. Any of us will.”

“I was plannin’ on getting boozed up tomorrow night. If I don’t, I’ll walk over and find y'all.”

“Okay, greasers, you’ve had it.”

“Who’s this, your great-aunts?”

“Sorry, kid. I forgot.”

“Shoot. You’re ninety-six if you’re a day.”

“Brother, you’re a sharp one. Where’d you two ever get to be picked up by a couple of greasy hoods like Pony and Johnny?”

“Five. They don’t talk Arabian, I don’t think. Say somethin’ in Arabian, Johnnycake.”

“Hey, where is ol’ Dally, anyways?”

“He’ll probably find the fight. That’s why I came over. Mr. Timothy Shepherd and Co. are looking for whoever so kindly slashed their car’s tires, and since Mr. Curly Shepherd spotted Dallas doing it…well…Does Dally have a blade?”

“Good. Tim’ll fight fair if Dally don’t pull a blade on him. Dally shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“A fair fight isn’t rough. Blades are rough. So are chains and heaters and pool sticks and rumbles. Skin fighting isn’t rough. It blows off steam better than anything. There’s nothing wrong with throwing a few punches. Socs are rough. They gang up on one or two, or they rumble each other with their social clubs. Us greasers usually stick together, but when we do fight among ourselves, it’s a fair fight between two. And Dally deserves whatever he gets, ‘cause slashed tires ain’t no joke when that was his fault. Our one rule, besides Stick together, is Don’t get caught. He might get beat up, he might not. Either way there’s not going to be any blood feud between our outfit and Shepard’s. If we needed them tomorrow they’d show. If Tim beats Dally’s head in, and then tomorrow asks us for help in a rumble, we’ll show. Dally was getting kicks. He got caught. He pays up. No sweat.”

“You dig okay, baby. Anyone want a weed?”

“Me, too. Get Johnny some, too. I’m buyin.”

“You must make such interestin’ conversation, you keepin’ your mouth shut and Johnny not sayin’ anything.”

“Who is it? The F.B.I.?”

“And a few other of the socially elite checkered shirt-set.”

“Who’s acting? I’m a natural normal.”

“Don’t get mouthy, Ponyboy.”

“No…no, Ponyboy, that ain’t right…you got it wrong…”

“Shut your mouth, kid. If you wasn’t Soda’s kid brother I’d beat the tar out of you. You know better than to talk to Johnny like that.”

“He didn’t mean it Johnny.”

“Shut up talkin’ like that. We couldn’t get along without you, so you can just shut up!”

“I know. The chips are always down when it’s our turn, but that’s the way things are. Like it or lump it.”

“Who you callin’ bums?”

“Then pity the back seat.”

“Why? We ain’t scared of them.”

“Well, those were two good-lookin’ girls if I ever saw any.”

“Marcia’s number. Probably a phony one, too. I must have been outa my mind to ask for it. I think I’m a little soused.”

“Y'all goin’ home?”

“I don’t know why I handed you that busted bottle. You’d never use it.”

“Gonna go play a little snooker and get hunt up a poker game. Maybe get rip-roarin’ drunk. I dunno. See y'all tomorrow.”

“Anybody home?” 

“Hey, Ponyboy. Long time no see.”

“Man, dig baldy here! I wouldn’t have believed it. I thought all the wild Indians in Oklahoma had been tamed. What little squaw’s got that tuff-lookin’ mop of yours, Ponyboy?”

“What I like is the ‘turn’ bit. Y'all were heroes from the beginning. You just didn’t ‘turn’ all of a sudden.”

“No what?”

“Why is it very bad?”

“I’ll babysit him. I haven’t got anything better to do.”

“Work? And ruin my rep? I wouldn’t be babysittin’ the kid here if I knew of some good day-nursery open on Saturdays.”

“Holler uncle.”

“…anyway, I was walking around downtown and started to take this short cut through an alley…and I ran into three guys. I says ‘Howdy’ and they just look at each other. Then one says 'We would jump you but since you’re as slick as us we figure you don’t have nothin’ worth takin’.’ I says 'Buddy, that’s that truth’ and went right on. Moral: What’s the safest thing to be when one is met by a gang of social outcasts in an alley?”

“No, another social outcast!”

“This house ain’t messy. You oughtta see my house.”

“Shoot, kid, if I ever did that my mom would die of shock.”

“I would drive us, but the breaks are out on my car. Almost killed me and Kathy the other night. You oughtta see Kathy’s brother. Now there’s a hood. He’s so greasy he glides when he walks. He goes to the barber for an oil change, not a haircut.”

“You know the rules. No jazz before the rumble.”

“Hey, Johnnykid.”

“They treatin’ you okay, kid?”

“Don’t talk. Just listen. We’ll bring you some hair grease next time. We’re havin’ the big rumble tonight.”

“It’s too bad you and Dally can’t be in it. It’s the first big rumble we’ve had—not countin’ the time we whipped Shepard’s outfit.”

“Tim Shepard?”

“Did you know you got your name in the paper for being a hero?”

“You want anything besides hair grease, kid?”

“Okay. Don’t y'all run off.”

“I wish it was any one of us except Johnny. We could all get along without anyone but Johnny.”

“No wonder he hates your guts.”

“Oh, lordy! He has to live with that.”

“We just left him. I don’t know about stuff like this…but…well, he seemed pretty bad to me. He passed out cold before we left him.”

“Yeah.”

“You feel okay? You’re awful hot.”

“All right. But Darry’ll kill me if you’re really sick and go ahead and fight anyway.”

“You know somethin? You’d think you could get away with murder, living with your big brother and all, but Darry’s stricter with you than your folks were, ain’t he?”

“You know, the only thing that keeps Darry from bein’ a Soc is us.”

“I never knew you to play chicken in a rumble before. Not even when you was a little kid.”

“Somethin’ is gonna happen. We’re gonna stomp the Socs’ guts, that’s what.”

“What’s up with the big-times?”

“You sure?”

“Thanks, Cherry.”

“Welup, I see we’re in prime condition for a rumble. Is everybody happy?”

“Get thee hence, white trash. I am a Soc. I am the privileged and the well-dressed. I throw beer blasts, drive fancy cars, break windows at fancy parties.”

“I jump greasers!”

“Shoot, everybody fights.”

“They’re running! Look at the dirty —— run!” (Ponyboy isn’t sure if Two-Bit says it or not, but we could count it as him.)

“So he finally broke. So even Dally has a breaking point.”

“You really would have used that bottle, wouldn’t you? Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn’t need to. You’d have really cut them up, huh?”

“Ponyboy, listen, don’t get tough. You’re not like the rest of us and don’t try to be…”

“What in the world are you doing?”

“You little sonofagun.”

“No, but that’s what I’m wishing was all that’s bothering me.”

Evan Peters- Liar

Word Count: 2035

Warning: heart break, cussing, and my weird writing.

A/N: I don’t really watch Evan Peters interviews and such , so I’m sorry if this isn’t the way he’ll act.
——––——–—–—–—–
Flashback
Calm down Y/N. You’ll be okay. You are gonna live your dream! He’ll be happy. You’ll come back. At least you’re at home and no-

I snapped out of thought when Evan tapped my shoulder.

“Are you okay babe?” Evan said to me

I looked at him and gave a light smile.

“Of course I am!” I said

“You looked scared.” He said with a frown, “Are you sure?”

“A little bit. I’m just have to tell you something.” I said putting my head down.

He grabbed my hands, “You can tell me anything and you know that.”

“Okay…” I took a deep breath, “I got the job I wanted.”

I looked up to see him smiling.

“That’s great ne-” I cut Evan off.

“It’s in England.” I said looking down.

He tried to speak words, but nothing came out.

“I’m sorry Evan…” I said on the verge of tears.

“Hey…” he said quietly, “Don’t cry. We’ll see each other soon. I can visit.” He said lifting my face up with a finger. He kissed me lightly.

“It’ll be alright…”

END OF THE FUCKING FLASHBACK BITCHES

“It’ll be alright” was the only thing floating through my mind.

“Liar…” I said as I looked at the photo.

It was him and his co-worker, Emma, kissing.

“THAT FUCKING LIAR!” I screamed as I flung a paint brush across the room.

How could he. How could he do that to me. I thought he was the one! The one who wouldn’t hurt me.

I’m wrong.

I grabbed a canvas out of a box and painted my heart out.

All I could do was paint. All I could think of was the hurt and pain running through me.

I was crying as I painted. All the colors I used expressed my emotions. Each brush stroke expressed my pain. How they were shades of blue and maroon with rough and jagged strokes.
(A/N: I think that expresses sadness and anger.)

In the end it was an abstract painting of a girl  on her knees crying, ripping her chest open to reveal her broken heart. Her head was tilted back and her long hair was so jagged, but it flowed down.

I smiled weakly as I signed my name. I felt a bit better, but a hole was still in my chest. I felt nothing there. Where is used to feel a pulse. Now I feel nothing there. It hurt.

I checked the time.
3:00 am.
(A/N: I don’t know how to convert it.)

I just took off my clothes and slept. I was drained emotionally and physically.

-Le Next Day-

I woke up with a knock on my apartment, or flat is what they say here, door.

I got up an-

“I’m leaving today!” I said

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!

I ran to a suitcase and grabbed a shirt and sweats. I got in the restroom and did stuff.

Someone was knocking.

“THE DOOR!” I yelled with my toothbrush in my mouth. I ran to it and opened it.

“Ms. Y/L/N your ride is ready to leave.” The man said in a very thick British accent, that sounded a bit like Matthew Lewis.

“I will be down in three minutes.” I said trying to smile with a toothbrush in my mouth.

“Will you need help?” The man said.

“Yes please, but not my green bag.” I said calmly.

“Yes ma'am.” He said with a smile.

I went back to the restroom and rinsed my mouth. I packed up my toiletries, and started to think.

Where am I going to stay? I’m not going back home. I need a plan.

Maybe Y/F/N will be able to let me stay at their place.

Or you can confront him!

No little voice. I will not confront that asshole.

Fine! Suit yourself.

I’m going crazy aren’t I?

Yes. You are talking to yourself.

Maybe that little voice is right. Maybe I should talk to him. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought of. Also that I need to get checked for any mental disorders.

“Ma'am. The car is ready and so are your luggage.” The man said.

I snapped my head to him.

“Thank you.” I smiled at him politely, “I will be out.”

He nodded and left.

Time to stop thinking and relax for an hours now.

-Time Skip brought by Jimmy Dean-

So that was a lie about not thinking. I thought a lot.

About life decisions and a lot about Evan.

Was he worth my tears?

I shook the thought of my head.

WAIT!

Who’s picking me up?

I got my carry on from the over head compartment, and exited the plane wearily. I went to baggage claim and got my bags. The others are going to be shipped to my house. Well our house.

I sighed I turned my phone on. Should of down that earlier. Whelp!

It took a couple minutes for it to turn on, but soon all the notifications came in.

Twitter.

Instagram.

Facebook.

One from MySpace.

19 missed phone calls and 20 messages from him.

I texted F/N to pick me up. Even if Evan came I won’t go with that asshat.

She said she’ll be there in 46 minutes because she lived close by and no traffic.

I went to sit and relaxed.

I went to my texts and said, “We are over. Don’t look for me. Don’t speak to me. We are over.”

My fingers hovered over the send button. I breathed in and hit send. It’s over. Time down the drain.
(A/N: Even my heart is hurting writing this.)

I stare at my phone noticing all these notifications. Mostly Twitter, so my curious mind decided to check.

So many people were bashing Evans and Emma. Whelp. Serves them right.

Some people say I deserved it and they saw it coming. Those soggy ass waffles.

I decided to respond.

“If I couldn’t see it coming then… How would you?” I tweeted.
(A/N: Cringe)

I turned off all notifications except my essentials. Messaging and phone calls. I just muted Evan. Simple.

Break down again! It’s healthy.

Not this again.

You made me up. This is you. I’m telling you what you tell your friends. You even say it’s good advice, so why not take it.

Because I don’t want to cry anymore!

I said to the little voice with an annoyed expression.

I got my earbuds out and decided to try and relax.

I put my Spotify songs on shuffle and let relaxation take over me.

I got troubled thoughts
And the self-esteem to match

Great.” I mumbled to myself taking a deep breath.

What a catch, what a catch
Whoa
You’ll never catch us
So just let me be
Said I’ll be fine
‘Till the hospital or American Embassy
Miss Flack said I still want you back
Yeah, Miss Flack said I still want you back
I got troubled thoughts
And the self-esteem to match
What a catch, what a catch
And all I can think of
Is the way I’m the one
Who charmed the one
Who gave up on you
Who gave up on you
They say the captain
Goes down with the ship
So, when the world ends
Will God go down with it?
Miss Flack said I still want you back
Yeah, Miss Flack said I still want you back
I got troubled thoughts
And the self-esteem to match
What a catch, what a catch
And all I can think of
Is the way I’m the one
Who charmed the one
Who gave up on you
Who gave up on you
What a catch
What a catch
What a catch
What a catch
I will never end up like him
Behind my back, I already am
Keep a calendar
This way you will always know
I got troubled thoughts
And the self-esteem to match
What a catch, what a catch
And all I can think of
Is the way I’m the one
Who charmed the one
Who gave up on you
Who gave up on you
Where is your boy tonight?
I hope he is a gentleman
Maybe he won’t find out what I know
You were the last good thing
We’re going down, down in an earlier round
And sugar, we’re goin’ down swinging
Dance, dance, we’re falling apart to halftime
Dance, dance, and these are the lives you’d love to lead
Dance, this is the way they’d love
If they knew how misery loved me
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamn arms race
This ain’t a scene, it’s a goddamn arms race
One night and one more time
Thanks for the memories
Even though they weren’t so great
He tastes like you, only sweeter
Growing up, growing up
I got troubled thoughts
And the self-esteem to match
What a catch, what a catch

I remained at the airport till my friend picked me up. I trusted them with my life, and sometimes I shouldn’t.

They took me in and they gave me everything I needed. They were great, but what lingered on my mind was.

Evan…

-Time Skip: A week-

I opened the door and saw him. Why is he here!? I was about to close it, but he put his foot in the way.

“Y/N. Hear me out.”  I heard her voice say softly.

I nodded slowly unsure of what to say because if I did this would be a shit show.

“The article isn’t true.” He said to me, “We were going out to lunch together after a shoot with the cast. I was whispering something in her ear because I didn’t want others to hear, of course. They photoshopped to make us look like we were kissing. I swear. I would never hurt you. You make me so happy! You make me the happiest man!” He used small hand gestures. I looked in her eyes to see if he was lying, but he wasn’t, “I love everything about you. From how your hair smells to how sweet you are! I would never ever hurt you like this. I promised you.” He said with his voice cracking in the end.

“You really didn’t do any of it?” I said quietly.

He lightly grabbed my face.

I hesitated, but I grabbed one of his hands lightly.

“I would never lie to you for something this huge. Without you I don’t feel whole. I don’t feel me without knowing I can’t protect you. It hurts knowing I hurt you. It even hurts going home because I know you aren’t there.” He said looking me in the eye.

He really wasn’t lying.

You miss him. Go to him.

At this moment I didn’t hate this voice. It was right.

“I love you.” I said hugging him.

He hugged back almost instantly.

I pulled back and dragged him into the house.

Then I started thinking as I locked the door.

I turned back to him.

“What did you say to her?” I said to him.

He blushed.

Now it was his turn. He hesitated.

“I told her that I-I wa-wanted to m-marry you.” He said very nervously.

My eyes widened, but I smiled.

“You want to marry me?” I said sheepishly with a blush evident on my face.

“I still do.” He said confidently.

“Is that offer still up?” I said rubbing my arm.

I just got him back and I’m asking him to basically marry me.

He smiled widely and got down on one knee.

“Will you Y/N Y/L/N become my partner-in-crime for life, even in the afterlife?” He said pulling a a black box out with a beautiful ring inside.
(A/N: Imagine the ring because I don’t know your style at all.)

“Yes!” I said jumping on him.

I smashed my lips on him and he smiled into it. This kiss was a kiss that made up all the lost time.

He was my world. He made me so happy. His personality made me smile, and his looks made me smirk.

He was mine and I love him.
———-
A/N:
The next part will involve some naughty things.

Daughter-Carl Grimes

Requested: Nope

Plot: Y/N is Negan’s daughter who he loves more than he loves Lucille. One day, she finally was able to do a waterfall braid in her hair-and since her mother is already dead-she ran to go tell her father. Negan doesn’t care if he’s sitting in his room having a meeting or about to let Lucille feed, he will stop everything for his baby girl. This particular day was the day Carl Grimes just so happened to be sitting in Negan’s room, staring down the man as he paced and talked about how good it had felt to kill Carl’s friends. 

Warnings: Swearing (duh), death, mentions of death, mentions of cancer

Paring: Carl Grimes x Female!Reader 

Word Count: 6,393

A/N: Hey! Sorry this is super long, but I just kinda kept writing. Let me know if you want more of this. (Also sorry for any inconsistencies, I wrote this over a couple days) Part 2 is up now, right here! <3

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hello!! you probably know my blog if you’re tagged and you probably also have no idea what my name is or what i’m about so here: i’m bee, i’m a brown muslim girl who grew up in dubai but my parents are indian, also i’m pretty gay

so i’ve been on tumbler.org for about four or five years, and left, but i came back in early summer 2016 after i read throam. i didn’t really do anything with it besides make shitposts and ramble about my life which is why i was so surprised when i found out im getting closer to 1k, and i decided to do this thing (that literally no one asked for now that im at one thousand followers wtf??)

anyway here’s a little thank you to every single mutual that has tried and failed to be proper friends with me and still stuck around even though i couldn’t really be friends with any of them bc my offline social handicap decided to follow me here as well, and to every mutual who’s been so incredibly nice to me, and every mutual who i see in my notifs and every other blog that doesn’t follow me back but has inspired me to keep this up (keep what up lmao) alright im gonna stop rambling

fav blogs are bolded <3 (i’m sorry for annoying your notifs lmao this is probably a one time thing don’t worry)(also think of this like a blog rec since i maybe only really talk to four or five of these but all of these blogs are 10/10)(also there’s A LOT of blogs because i follow like 4000 people wtf how did that happen lmao this is gonna look messy idk how to tunmgler)

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Everything Johnny Cade says in the book.

“Leave her alone, Dally.”

“You sure didn’t show it. Nobody talks to Dally like that.”

“Sixteen.”

“How come y’all ain’t scared of us like you were Dally?”

“Dally’s okay. He’s tough, but he’s a cool old guy.”

“Hey, Two-Bit.”

“Aw, cut it out! Dally was bothering them and when he left they wanted us to sit with them to protect them. Against wisecracking greasers like you, probably.”

“Soda?”

“There was a whole bunch of them. A blue Mustang full…I got so scared..”

“Your boyfriends?”

“Gee, I thought you and Darry and Soda got along real well…”

“It’s the truth. I don’t care.”

“It’s because we’re greasers. We could have hurt her reputation.”

“Man, that was a tuff car. Mustangs are tuff.”

“I can’t take much more. I’ll kill myself or something.”

“Well, I won’t. But I gotta do something. It seems like there’s gotta be someplace without greasers or Socs, with just people. Plain, ordinary people.”

“Ponyboy. Hey, Pony, wake up.”

“I don’t know. I went to sleep, too, listening to you rattle on and on. You’d better get home I think I’ll stay all night out here.

“Okay.”

“Easy, Ponyboy. We’ll be okay.”

“Well, don’t be. You’re scarin’ me. What happened? I never seen you bawl like that.”

“I think I like it better when the old man’s hittin’ me. At least then I know he knows who I am. I walk in that house, and nobody says anything. I walk out, and nobody says anything. I stay away all night, and nobody notices. At least you got Soda. I ain’t got nobody.”

“It ain’t the same as having your own folks care about you. It just ain’t the same.”

“Okay. Okay.”

“Ain’t you about to freeze to death, Pony?”

“I don’t know. But I bet they’re looking for us. We picked up their girls.”

“It’s too late now. Here they come.”

“You’re outa your territory. You’d better watch it.”

“I killed him. I killed that boy.”

“Go ahead. I won’t look at you.”

“Yeah. I had to. They were drowning you, Pony. They might have killed you. And they had a blade…they were gonna be me up…”

“Yeah. Like they did before.”

“They ran when I stabbed him. They all ran.”

“Calm down, Ponyboy. Get ahold of yourself.”

“We gotta get outa here. Get somewhere. Run away. The police’ll be here soon. We’ll need money. And maybe a gun. And a plan.”

“Dally. Dally’ll get us outa here.”

“I think at Buck Merril’s place. There’s a party over there tonight. Dally said somethin’ about it this afternoon.”

“Dally! We gotta see Dally.”

“We figured you could get us out if anyone could. I’m sorry we got you away from the party.”

“Wish I had me a weed.”

“Sure, Dally, thanks.”

“Now.”

“The first stop’ll be Windrixville. I don’t see why he gave me this. I couldn’t shoot anybody.”

“Blast it, Ponyboy. You must have put my legs to sleep. I can’t even stand up. I barely got off that train.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t want to wake you up until I had to.”

“Go ask someone. The story won’t be in the paper yet. Make like a farm boy taking a walk or something.”

“I’ll have to stay here. You go down the road and ask the first person you see where Jay Mountain is. Then come back. And for Pete’s sake, run a comb through your hair and quit slouching down like a thug.”

“You know, you look an awful lot like Sodapop, the way you’ve got your hair and everything. I mean, except your eyes are green.”

“Shoot, you are too.”

“I swear, Ponyboy, you’re gettin’ to act more like Two-Bit every day.”

“Come on inside. Dally told us to stay inside.”

“A week’s supply of baloney, two loaves of bread, a box of matches…”

“I remembered you sayin’ something about it once. And me and you went to see that movie, ‘member? I thought you could maybe read it out loud and help kill time or something.”

“We’re gonna cut our hair, and you’re gonna bleach yours. They’ll have our descriptions in the paper. We can’t fit ‘em.”

“We’d have to anyway if we got caught. You know the first thing a judge does is make you get a haircut.”

“I don’t know either—it’s just a way of trying to break us. They can’t really do anything to guys like Curly Shepard or Tim; they’ve had about everything done to them. And they can’t take anything away from them because they don’t have anything in the first place. So they cut their hair.”

“Oh, come on, Ponyboy. It’ll grow back.”

“No. We gotta bleach it first.”

“Cut the front and thin out the rest. I’ll comb it back after I wash it.”

“Go ahead and cut it.”

“I guess—I guess we’re disguised.”

“Oh, shoot. It’s just hair.”

“Well, we got to get used to it. We’re in big trouble and it’s our looks or us.”

“I’m sorry I cut off your hair, Ponyboy.”

“I know. Things have been happening so fast…”

“Two-Bit shoulda been in that little one-horse store. Man, we’re in the middle of nowhere; the nearest house is two miles away. Things were layin’ out wide open, just waitin’ for somebody slick like Two-Bit to come and pick ‘em up. He coulda walked out with half the store. Good ol’ Two-Bit.”

“Stop it! Shut up about last night! I killed a kid last night. He couldn’t of been over seventeen or eighteen, and I killed him. How’d you like to live with that?”

“I didn’t mean to, but they was drownin’ you, and I was so scared…There sure is a lot of blood in people.”

“This is my fault for bringin’ a thirteen-year-old kid along. You ought to go home. You can’t get into any trouble. You didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Ponyboy. Don’t cry, Pony, we’ll be okay. Don’t cry…”

“Yeah.”

“Nope. We’re all cried out now. We’re gettin’ used to the idea. We’re gonna be okay now.”

“I bet they were cool ol’ guys. They remind me of Dally.”

“Yeah…in the manners bit, and the charm, too, I guess. But one night I saw Dally gettin’ picked up by the fuzz, and he kept real cool and calm the whole time. They was gettin’ him for breakin’ out the windows in the school building, and it was Two-Bit who did that. And Dally knew it. But he just took the sentence without battin’ an eye or even denyin’ it. That’s gallant.”

“Golly. That sure is pretty.”

“The mist was what was pretty. All gold and silver.”

“Too bad it couldn’t stay like that all the time.”

“What?”

“Where’d you learn that? That was what I meant.”

“You know, I never noticed colors and clouds and stuff until you kept reminding me about them. It seems like they were never there before. Your family sure is funny.”

“I didn’t mean nothing. I meant, well, Soda kinda looks like your mother did, but he acts just exactly like your father. And Darry is the spittin’ image of your father, but he ain’t wild and laughing all the time like he was. He acts like your mother. And you don’t act like either one.”

“Yeah. I guess we’re different.”

“You’re starved?”

“Yeah. Whatever gave you the idea we ain’t?”

“You sure can cuss good, Dally.”

“You’d better believe it.”

“Gee, it sure will be good to get into a car again.”

“A spy? Who?”

“Cherry? The Soc?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re goin’ back and turn ourselves in.”

“I said we’re goin’ back and turn ourselves in.”

“I got a good chance of bein’ let off easy. I ain’t got no record with the fuzz and it was self-defense. Ponyboy and Cherry can testify to that. And I don’t aim to stay in that church all my life.”

“We won’t tell that you helped us, Dally, and we’ll give you back the gun and what’s left of the money and say we hitchhiked back so you won’t get into trouble. Okay?”

“I’m sure. It ain’t fair for Ponyboy to have to stay up in that church with Darry and Soda worryin’ about him all the time. I don’t guess…I don’t guess my parents are worried about me or anything?”

“My parents, did they ask about me?”

“I was scared. I still am. I guess we ruined our hair for nothing, Ponyboy.”

“Would you rather have me living in hide-outs for the rest of my life, always on the run?”

“Hey, Ponyboy.”

“The window stopped him.”

‘Naw…Too fat.”

“Where’s the kids?”

“Shut up! We’re goin’ to get you out!”

“Get out!”

“Hey, y’all.”

“Don’t…don’t let me put enough grease on my hair. “

“He came by.”

“Came to see Dally.”

“Tuff enough.”

“The book—can you get another one?”

“Yeah, it just hurts sometimes. It usually don’t…I can’t feel anything below the middle of my back…”

“I’m pretty bad off, ain’t I, Pony?”

“I won’t be able to walk again. Not even on crutches. Busted my back.”

“You want to know something, Ponyboy? I’m scared stiff. I used to talk about killing myself…I don’t want to die now. It ain’t long enough. Sixteen years ain’t long enough. I wouldn’t mind it so much if there wasn’t so much I ain’t done yet and so many things I ain’t seen. It’s not fair. You know what? That time we were in Windrixville was the only time I’ve been away from our neighborhood.”

“I don’t want to see her.”

“I said I don’t want to see her. She’s probably come to tell me about all the trouble I’m causing her and about how glad her and the old man’ll be when I’m dead. Well, tell her to leave me alone. For once—for once just to leave me alone.”

“Hey.”

“Useless…fighting’s no good…”

“Ponyboy.”

Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold.”

Sheets.

Hello so I was wondering pretty please and a cherry on top with rose and her condition if you could write an imagine where Harry hears’s her trying to change the sheets and fix her accident because she’s embarrassed and he comforts her and helps her thankyou so much I hope this makes sense xxxx

It’s not a 6pm post, like I promised, but it’s close to that time so here you are!

So, for the last few days, I’ve had some pretty intense Dad!Harry feelings so this is a short, spur of the moment story that is based on the request above with teenage Rose and how she copes with the moment she has an unexpected accident through the night. 

A sweet and emotional moment between Harry and Rose which made me feel so weak inside at the thought. 

Enjoy. xx

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Overstimulation

Dean Ambrose/OC- Reader skeptically asked Dean a question. He took it very serious.

Warnings- Overstimulation(like alot), Spanking, a slight daddy kink, praise kink.

Hey anon hope you like this because I do.

Tags: @vebner37 @the-geekgoddes @llowkeys @sierrarukia


Today I woke later than I normally do. The window in the bedroom was open so a cool breeze could roll in. The warm sun on my skin made me even hotter as I was blushing thinking about all the things Dean and I did last night. When we have sex its usually rushed and a lot of faint “I love yous” are said. But last night was different, Dean made love to me. He went slow and roamed every part of my body. It was a completely different feel but today I want something different.

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