Nvm I Just Went W Movie Im Too Impatient And Matt Dillon Is Too Fine 😣

thank you @marilyn-girly for the tag!! (no I did( just change my user name what are you talking about…)

c - calypso, current joys

o - only you, mac demarco

z - zombie, the cranberries

m - methatonin, destroy boys

i - it’s okay to punch nazis, cheap perfume

x - xanny, billie eilish

x - xerces, deftones

i - i know it’s over, the smiths

e - east coast, alex g

z - zombie girl, adrianne lenker

tags: @eepy-weepy-silly

(I kid you not that is the only person I can tag I have zero moots 🥀💔)

♱ *ೃ.⋆ username tag game!

pick a song starting with each letter of your username ♡

j → jesse's girl by rick springfield. a → army dreamers by kate bush. m → más duele by andrés calamaro. e → elevator man by oingo boingo. s → spanish eyes by elvis presley. d → doll parts by hole. e → everybody loves somebody by dean martin. a → all shook up by elvis presley. n → nope your too late i already died by wifiskeleton. b → boarding school by lana del rey. b → beautiful boy (darling boy) by john lennon. y → yes sir, i can boogie by baccara.

tagging : ( @johnnycadesmuse , @johnnycadesslut , @twobitsblade , @r0seb100d , @kahkie )

․ ⁺ ⊹ 𐔌 MY OH MY…

WHAT A GIRL ⁀₊➷ ⋄

─────﹒★﹒ ─────

she/he/they // mac demarco enthusiast // outsiders fan !

───── ───── ───── ─────

MASTERLIST !!

───── ───── ───── ─────

WRITING RULES

Note: So far, I’ve only written OC things — which I’ll continue to do — but I’m also thinking about doing x reader things.

I WILL write:

Kissing, hugging, normal shit

Certain mental health things; if I’m not too familiar, I’ll do the best research I can

Mild SH, such as hints at it or someone having scars, but I won’t describe it in detail

Death, but not smth rlly graphic 😣

Mentions of or implied SA

What I WONT write:

Smut

Graphic SA

Graphic SH

Anything where someone — reader, a character, an oc — r*pes someone else (idk if tumblr allows that word so I apologize for the censoring 😓)

Pedophilia, zoophilia, anything of that nature 🤢

───── ───── ───── ─────

INFO ABOUT ME !!

my nickname is Francis (I did name an oc after me, I js love the name 😓💔)

I’m 14-going-on-15 🫢

I’m bisexual therefore I have every right to project it onto my oc’s 😝

My fav artists/bands are Mac Demarco, Nirvana, Alex G, Current Joys, Cheap Perfume, The Smiths, Big Thief and Billie Eilish

I collect soda tabs for sillies (I have 250+)

I’ve seen the movie Flipped over forty times….. (and counting)

I’m a silver jewelry girl

I LOVEEEE reading; my fav books are The Hunger Games, The Outsiders obv, Percy Jackson, The Song Of Achilles, Greek myth retellings, the Powerless trilogy, dystopia books, etc!

I collect vinyls

I’m madly in love w Minecraft….

My fav shows are Brooklyn 99, Scott Pilgrim (the series), Demon Slayer, Pokémon, Gravity Falls, Ponyo, My Neighbor Totoro, and plenty more

I also REALLY love Stardew Valley (Harvey 4 life)

Vanilla is MY scent

─────﹒★﹒ ─────

a/n: I’m new to this writing stuff, so pls don’t expect insanely good shit 🙏 I’ll take requests, but it’s finals season so I may or may not get to it 😞 also if my blog looks goofy its cuz i use phone (at least for the posting part) and it's a lot diff than computer or laptop....

𐔌 . ⋮ Miracles .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

aka: The aftermath of Lynn gaining custody of Johnny!

Synopsis…! After a hectic trial, Lynn brings Johnny home to their apartment, emotions weighing heavily down on them

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

The words of the Judge ring throughout her mind like a mantra:

“Ms. Dubois, you have been granted custody of Johnny Cade.”

The drive to their apartment is quiet, silence hanging between them like a treat over a puppy’s head. So many questions and thoughts run through Johnny’s mind, his heart beating wildly in his chest. It isn't until they arrive at the door, their bags in their hands, that it hits him – he’s free.

He’s no longer in the care of his parents, no longer forced to be in the middle of screaming matches, no longer being beaten over trivial mistakes.

Meanwhile, Lynn is sitting in terrified silence. She has zero idea how to take care of someone, even if he’s literally only two years younger than her. What if his teachers think he’s still being neglected? What if the neighbors call the cops, since she’s only eighteen?

Her thoughts run wild, coming up with every possible bad outcome of their current situation – when suddenly, a pair of arms encircle her middle.

Lynn is broken out of her haze and looks down, only to find a trembling Johnny clinging to her side.

“Thank you. For… for saving me.” He mumbles out, burying his face into her shoulder.

For a split second, she just sits there, shocked at his actions. But when his words register and she realizes what he’s saying, she wraps her arms back around him. Gentle hands cradle his head, allowing him to leave further into her body.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, Johnnycakes. You got that?” She replies, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head.

They spend the next couple moments just standing there, embracing like two siblings reunited after years of being apart – which, in their own way, they are. Once Johnny and Lynn both are ready, they pull back, before heading into the apartment.

It’s a cozy space, with a decent sized kitchen and a living room connected to it, with windows overlooking the Tulsa skyline (which is really just run down houses on one side and fancy mansions on the other). They take their time exploring, taking in the space they can now call their own, before they claim each of their respective rooms.

After that’s out of the way, they get started with making the space their own. Pictures are hung on the walls – which are mainly Lynn’s old paintings and photographs from high school – blankets and pillows placed in the living room, candles set on tables, mugs placed in cabinets.

In Lynn’s room, she hangs up all her Elvis and Frank Sinatra posters, as well as her vinyls. Her record player is set up, as well as her small bookcase, her collection of horror movie VHS tapes, her perfume and makeup organized in her old vanity.

Johnny, on the other hand, doesn't have much. All he does is put up some old superhero posters Dally and Soda gave him and set out his comic books.

It’s quite saddening for Lynn, seeing him have so little. He never got the chance to have a childhood; he was too focused on surviving. He never got to do bakesales, go on field trips, hang out with friends. In short, he had nothing until Ponyboy and Dally came along.

But now, Lynn is determined to ensure he’s treated well, that he’s given all the love that he missed out on while in the custody of his parents.

At the end of the night, they curl up on the couch, watching The Creature From The Black Lagoon, Johnny tucked into her side. She smooths her hand over his hair in a comforting gesture, content with this new life brought upon her. Despite all of the burdens and responsibilities that come with it, she’s content.

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

a/n: from now on, all my fics will be posted to my main acc, and I’ll link them on t.f.t.o.t. Community since the links never work 💔

me whenever I try searching for fics of a specific character but tumblr shows me shit of other characters 💔🥀

⭑𓂃˗ˏˋ CARS AND STARS ˎˊ˗𓂃⭑

˗ˏˋ aka: when Johnny and Francis met! ˎˊ˗

─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─

Synopsis…! one night, johnny sneaks around in an attempt to meet his idol, only to make a shocking discovery

Featuring…! @eepy-weepy-silly ‘s oc, Sergei Volkov!

── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ──

The breeze is soft and the night cool, as Johnny Cade sneaks quietly into the busy stands of the local drag racing arena. Dallas and Sergei follow behind him closely, glancing around to ensure nobody is following them. Once they’re in, they take their seats in the stands, trying to get the best possible position so they can actually see. Nights like this are important to Johnny, since racing is one of his favorite past times and very rarely does he get this good of seats.

They watch as the cars pull onto the track, lining up side by side, cheers roaring throughout the hundreds of greasers in the bleachers. Johnny’s eyes light up upon seeing his favorite racer — and his idol — stepping out of his car. Frank Turner, an infamous person in the Tulsa racing community. Nobody knows what he looks like nor his identity, only that he’s better than the rest. Cocky, arrogant, smug, all things that you wouldn’t expect Johnny to admire.

And yet, he does; quite significantly, to be totally honest. He watches with a grin on his lips as Frank waves to the crowd, a ski mask covering his whole head aside from a pair of smug eyes and an even more smug grin.

Johnny spends hours watching the cars speeding around the track, the sun falling over the treeline as time passes. As anticipated, Frank wins each one by a long shot. Cheers echo throughout the stadium each time he surpasses another racer, especially from Johnny.

However, halfway through the night, Sergei and Dallas run off, finding themselves bored and unamused, leaving Johnny alone. He doesn't mind, however, being content with watching by himself. That is, until the end of the festivities When everyone is leaving, Johnny finds himself desperately wishing to meet his beloved idol. So, he comes up with the bright idea to sneak down to the dugout. He knows it’ll be easy, considering the lack of security. It’s a local thing organized by greasers, for god’s sake, of course there’s no security…

Which is why Johnny now finds himself pressed against a wall, footsteps silent as the wind as he manages to sneak his way to the dugout where the racers hangout. The first sign that things are amiss is the fact there isn’t loud chatter, just two voices having a private conversation. Where the hell are the others? Shouldn’t all of the racers be hanging around, having fun? Alas, he presses on, determined to at least speak a word to his #1 idol.

The second sign, however, should’ve most definitely turned him away: the door leading to the back is completely ajar. Faint music plays behind it, alongside those two voices he heard earlier.

Now, him not seeing the third sign is purely him being an oblivious idiot: the female voice. Johnny doesn't notice it, not until he's pushing the door open, hoping to come face-to-face with this man he’s completely idolized —

— and is met with the face of a woman.

Before him stands a girl, leaning against the hood of Frank Turner’s car, his iconic ski mask and helmet sat on top of it. Beside her is Buck Merril, a cigarette between his fingers, now wearing an expression full of anger. The girl – who for some reason looks to be his age – has pure, terrified shock on her face. Both she and Buck can’t help but ask themselves, “how the hell did he get back here?!” It doesn't take Johnny long to connect the dots, and when he does, he can't keep himself from blurting out:

“I won't tell anyone! I swear!”

The girl simply stares at him, her expression softening at his promise of secrecy. Buck, however, steps up towards him, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a scowl.

“God fuckin’ damn, Johnny- You keep this shit secret, ya hear me, boy? Nobody can know ‘bout her. Not Dally, not Sergei, not fuckass Pony – no one.” His voice is practically a growl as he says this, his tone dripping in anger and frustration. He’s rightfully angry, this chick gets him a hell of a lotta money and he’s not giving that up just because some stupid kid saw who she really is; a greaser girl trying to make ends meet for her siblings.

“I-I promise I won’t tell anyone! Not a soul will know about this!” Johnny stammers out in reply, trembling hands held up in surrender. He glances between the girl and Buck, eyes full of fear, breaths shaky and labored.

Grumbling angrily under his breath, Buck stomps away, leaving Johnny and this random girl who he’s just discovered has been his idol for the past two years. The two stare at each other, wide eyed and confused, the only sound the chirping of crickets and rustle of the breeze. That is, until the girl breaks the silence.

“You seriously won't tell anyone?” She mutters, her voice carrying a pleading tone. Johnny doesn't realize it, but not only her own life and wellbeing but others’ as well rely on her racing job. If she couldn’t do this, she’d probably end up either dead or in the fucked up foster system.

For several moments, all he does is stare, before shakily nodding to her. He can see the way she relaxes, the way her shoulders go slack and her eyes soften. It suddenly hits him that he’s standing before his idol, she’s a girl, and she's speaking to him. Hell, at this point, it doesn't matter that she’s a chick, she's a hell of a good racer and he wants her autograph.

“Can I get your autograph..?” He suddenly blurts, cheeks flushing as he begins to regret his decision. But even as she’s replying, he feels embarrassed.

“D’you want my autograph or the autograph of the character I’ve created?” She says back, her accent making her smugness all the more prominent. She can’t help smirking at him, the cockiness of Frank Turner clearly the least fake part of his (lack of) existence.

Before Johnny has the chance to mumble out a reply, she’s grabbing a napkin and marker out of her pocket. He watches as she scribbles a couple words down on it, puts the cap back on the marker, shoves it in her pocket, then turns to him. Without another word spoken, she hands the napkin to him, grinning ear to ear.

“Have a good night, Johnny.” She drawls, grinning over her shoulder as she turns to walk off, boots crunching against the gravel road, her silhouette soon disappearing into the night. Johnny watches her go, the shock of it all still coursing through his veins, before looking down and reading what she wrote on the napkin;

“Call for a good time. . . just kidding. . . sort of ;)” Scribbled beside it? Not only a phone number, but the signatures of both Frank Turner and Francis Vendelini.

That night, Johnny calls the number, and when a feminine voice with a jersey accent replies, he feels an unfamiliar flutter in his stomach – and unknowingly establishes one of the most important relationships of his life.

── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ──

a/n: reposting this here cuz the link won’t work💔

guess who’s finally writing smth today ‼️

(I’m not making any promises tho…..)

okay so for the part 2 of my last fic, should I make Dallas book accurate or movie accurate? I can’t decide 😖

ᯓ⭒Fight like wolves,

but flee like birds .ᐟ

“There’s Darry, Sodapop and Ponyboy — and then there’s their baby sister. She’s loved, sure, but do they truly ever show it? Or do they just say so and hope that it’s enough?”

Warnings ~ cursing, arguing, insinuation of sh and mental health struggles

･ ⟢ ⋮ a/n ~ This little fic is based around this fic by @jamesdeanbby !! I tried my best to make sure it isn’t the exact same, but the store scene is rlly similar 😓 🙏 also yes I am making this two parts…

w/c: 1,000+

──── ₊˚⊹ ♰ ⊹˚₊ ────

Life would never be easy for someone like you.

A teenage girl, living in a house constantly full of boys.

Before your parents died, it was fine; sure, you didn’t always get the newest clothes or cutest makeup, but it was enough. Because you had your mom.

Now you don’t.

And Darry is the one bringing you shopping. Darry is the one supervising what you buy. Darry, a twenty-year-old boy — no, man — is the one who watches you eye the frilly, cute dresses in the store and is the one who says no every time.

It feels as though he never even tries to understand you. He gets along with Soda and Pony just fine, because they’re boys, but you?

You’re a girl. And therefore, lesser than.

At least that’s how it feels.

Soda can go to as many rodeos as he wants, stay out as late as he wants. Pony gets praised for his smarts, he can smoke in the house whenever, he can stay at the lot and not get grounded.

You?

At the age of sixteen, you can’t stay out past 8:30. You can’t get cute skirts because they’re too expensive. You can’t go anywhere without telling Darry. You can’t get anything cute or girly. You can’t do anything.

You feel like a rat trapped in a cage. Like a bird with clipped wings.

It’s hell.

Darry never understands you. Never tried to understand you. Not before your parents died and certainly not after. He never knew what you did in your room, late at night — why your arms would suddenly be covered by sleeves despite the blistering summer heat. He never put in the effort.

───〃★

Beeps from cash registers, the pungent smell of cleaning products and terribly bright fluorescent lights overwhelm your senses. Darry’s footsteps echo beside you. Loud. Heavy. The total opposite of your own.

As you walk past the girl’s clothing section, your eyes catch on something. A skirt; pink with ruffles and lace. Your steps falter, and of course, Darry notices. His response is almost immediate.

“No.”

You look up at him, your expression shifting. That spark of excitement in your eyes burning out. He notices, but doesn’t show it.

“You know we can’t afford it, kid.” His voice is firm. Cold. That’s all it ever is around you. Not warm like it is with Soda, not calm like with Pony. He’s never treated you the way he does them.

“I know.” You reply, your own tone taking on an edge by default. But Darry, of course, can’t help getting mad.

“Would you quit that? You’re actin’ like a brat. You can’t always get what you want.”

He stares down at you, eyes stormy and voice like thunder; expecting you to argue, to make a scene like Pony would or scold him right back like Soda might.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

You just stand there, tears welling up but never falling.

He knows you’re not like Pony and Soda. You’re a girl. You’re different. Your brain is just wired differently, and he can’t seem to grasp onto the fact.

The rest of your time in the store is tense, like a taught string waiting to snap in half. Not a word is spoken from either of you; only subtle glances.

The drive home is worse.

───〃★

“You listen here young lady–!”

Darry’s voice roars throughout the small space of the living room. Moments earlier, you’d burst in, tears welling in your eyes, your expression full of frustration and betrayal.

“No! Why should I listen to you when you never listen to me?!” You yell back.

The others all stare on, the entire rest of the gang – Soda, Two-Bit, Pony, Steve – they all watch on as you and your brother argue like angry dogs.

Darry huffs, shaking his head disapprovingly. Like a dad would. Not a big brother. “Would you quit sayin’ that?! You’re actin’ like a damn child, y’know that?”

It’s like seeing someone argue with their reflection. Two people, both too stubborn to understand the other, but equally struggling. You, unheard and unseen, and Darry, placed in the position he is by chance, not choice.

“You never let me do anything! You treat me like a pest, not your sister!” You argue back.

He doesn’t say anything. Just stares. Too frustrated to snap back and not say something he’ll regret.

But you continue on; cracks in your voice, but not a single stutter.

“You don’t treat me like you do Soda and Ponyboy! You treat them like brothers, while I’m nothing but vermin!” The tears finally start falling, hot and salty against your cheeks. “You let Soda do what he wants, you praise Pony for being a genius, but what do I get? Nothing! Not a word of kindness or affection! ‘Stop pouting,’ ‘Don’t give me that look,’ ‘Calm down’! That’s all I hear—”

All Darry can do is stare at you. The room is silent aside from your rambling, each pair of eyes looking anywhere but you and Darry from their scattered positions.

“— and nothing else! I bet you wished I was in an orphanage, huh? So you wouldn’t have to deal with me an’ all my ‘childish’ wants?!”

This is what makes him snap. The idea that you think he doesn’t love you; that he doesn’t care.

“Would you shut your goddamn mouth?! You act like I don’t care, when that’s all I do! It ain’t my fault we’re broke and can’t afford your stupid skirts and dinner!”

There he goes again. Placing the blame on you, as if you aren’t the one being neglected. Tears stream down your cheeks like waterfalls, your bottom lip quivering as you try your hardest not to let out a sob; brows furrowed in a scowl. A mirror image of Darry himself.

And then you say the three words he would never wish to hear – three words that send him spiraling.

“I hate you, Darry! I wish I was never born, goddamnit!”

He freezes. Everyone does. The tension in the room reaches its peak, your words causing everyone to stop and hold their breaths.

But before he can reply, before he can apologize or argue, you’re gone. Leaving nothing but a door swinging in your wake.

Darry stares at the open door, eyes wide with emotion; regret, anger, frustration, betrayal. This is his fault and he knows it. He never made an effort to understand you. To make you feel loved. To love you in general.

Moments later, Dally and Johnny step inside, quickly noticing the tension and quietness.

“The fuck happened here? Did the girl throw another fit?” Dally drawls, a sick grin on his face.

His words are like a knife to Darry’s heart. Everyone’s silence tells him all he needs to know.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

The realization appears on his face as quick as a lightswitch flipping on.

“Oh, shit, man. What did you do, Darry?” He immediately asks, stepping further into the quiet house.

“Not enough.” Is all he can reply.

──── ₊˚⊹ ♰ ⊹˚₊ ────

guys I know it’s been a fat second since I’ve posted but I pinky swear I have something cooking 😓🙏 I have literally two days left of school on my life I’ll finish it soon 😖

nvm got an idea based around a fic by @jamesdeanbby (I’ll link it when I post) ‼️

praying this doesn’t turn out almost the exact same and make me wanna kms…!!!