“I’m So Alone…”

oh matt dillon the man you are 😣💔

headcanon that Dallas and Steve purposely refer to Pony as a 13 year old solely to piss him off:

Steve: “hey dal what month is it?”

Dally: “idk go ask the 13-year old”

Pony: *throws lamp at them*

“Skin fights my favorite kinda fight” alright Darrel not in front of the kids

He’s such a hater

if i speak

how my brain picks a new favorite character who sucks

ꪆৎ .. I am guilty as sin for my biggest fantasy is to be the youngest girl at the front row of one of his concerts. be staring at him with my doe eyes and wait for him to notice me standing there, like an angel, and kneel infront of me to sing can't help falling in love while looking into my eyes.

then I'd ask him to marry me, and he'd chuckle —completely endeared— and ask the crowd if he should marry me. they'd cheer for it, and then he'd lean down to kiss me all sweetly and call me his wife through the concert.

<3 Then he'd take me backstage and wouldn't care that I'm just a teenager 💋

ily jfk

Things Sodapop Curtis dreams about at night

Horses!

He and Darry are in a pie-eating contest but the pies turn into chocolate cake and Darry turns into a goat

A wall full of blue ribbons

Ponyboy’s drawings come to life like a television cartoon—they dance and sing and everything!

He’s alone in the house, walking from room to room in search of Darry—he can hear his big brother’s voice, always just behind the next door, but can’t find him.

He owns a horse!

Drag racing with Steve, except the race never ends, and they just keep going and going, windows down, wind in their hair, hearts alive.

Mickey Mouse bites him. He laughs, and bites back.

Ponyboy is blazing, burning up like a 4th of July bonfire. Funny thing is, Soda can’t see it happening—he smells it though, ash so thick it clogs his mouth, choking him. He wants to yell, but there’s too much smoke in his throat.

Soda is alone in the house, walking from room to room in search of Darry. He can’t find his big brother. His big brother is gone.

The room is dark, he’s five years old, and his mother sings while stroking his hair.

Dallas Winston crumples beneath a streetlight. Over and over again, on repeat, but each time the puddle of blood gets bigger, until Soda drowns in it.

He doesn’t have a mouth, it’s gone right off his face. It feels so real that when he wakes, he spends an hour in silence, until he remembers he still has a tongue.

The high school principal and his big, shiny belt-buckle.

Ponyboy and Darry are going at each other with switchblades. Soda tries to intervene. He can’t move. He tries to shout. He has no mouth.

Ponyboy and Darry kill each other in front of him; their bodies laid out, still and cold, on crimson train tracks.

The house is empty. He’s alone in the house. He hears their voices, but he can’t get to them. He’s alone in the house.

He’s alone.

Horses!!

this is emitting an unusual amount of parry energy