✪ katerina! ✪

my interests include:

๋࣭⭑ the outsiders 👖🔪

๋࣭⭑ enola holmes 🌺

๋࣭⭑ red, white, and royal blue 👑

๋࣭⭑ conan gray 🐨

๋࣭⭑ dead poets society 🪶

๋࣭⭑ project hail mary 🚀

๋࣭⭑ last night at the telegraph club ❤️☎️

๋࣭⭑ the song of achilles 🏺🌿🎶

+ many, many more

lots of love towards my siblings, sage and wyatt, found family even across hundreds of miles <2

some of the ships i like:

✪ pb+j/johnnyboy (i post about them a lot, a lot of my fanfics are about them.) (wtf im being called the ceo and the parental figure of the johnnyboy community okay???) (parent with the lovely aj, aka pixl-puppyyy)

✪ tally (tim x dally)

✪ chercia

✪ holmesbury

✪ firstprince

✪ anderperry

✪ small disclaimer i am a multishipper but i do not talk about it frequently :) im generally neutral on most ships except for incest, pedophilia, or i just. dont like a ship.

just random gifs

August, 1964. Page Two

We went on a trail today and I was thinking about the movie I saw with Johnny. It had Paul Newman in it.

Paul Newman's kind of like the idol to me, he's my favorite actor. Everyone rolls their eyes when I talk about him again, though.

Anyways, cross country— we went on a trail and there were a few weeds that reached out and snagged onto my legs. It wasn't a fun time, because I ended up tripping and scrapping my legs. I have a lot of nasty cuts, Soda told me I could just "walk it off like a man." I hoped he was joking because it hurt really bad. Mom was cleaning dirt off my legs in the kitchen when he said that and she gave him the mom glare, or something. I was too busy trying not to cry, only because the scratches stung, but so did my eyes. Some kid laughed at me before another kid ran to help me, it was (honestly) a little humiliating. I think his name was Leonel? Or their. I don't know, he looked a little like a guy and a girl. I've heard about people like that. Anyways, mom put these superhero bandaids on the cuts. It looks like I took a pretty bad tumble, but I didn't think I fell too hard? I think I also scratched up my face, there's a bandaid there, too. Does that make sense? Is it a comma before too?

Also today, Paul (Darry's friend, not Newman) came over for dinner. I don't remember his last name too much, but he's a Soc. The only reason I like him is because he's a good drawer, but other than that he's an obnoxious rich kid. Well, not obnoxious, he just wears yellow cashmere (or is it wool?) sweaters. He's real good at drawing horses. Horses are sort of hard to draw, but at least they're a good relaxer. In summary: I don't like Paul Holden. I don't hate him, though, mom told us not to hate too much.

Dad's hollering at me to sleep, I really wish I could stay up longer, but I do need energy for tomorrow. There's a meet tomorrow. I hope my legs don't sting too much, it's really not preferable. The trail we're going on is pretty long, but there's all sorts of bumps and hills and dips and everything. I dislike it, only because that might cause me to trip. It was a decent day today.

-Ponyboy Curtis

August, 1964. Page Three

Good news— I'm contemplating jumping into a ditch.

I was one of the slowest in the race and I almost tripped about fifteen ka-jillion times. I don't dig cross country much now. I feel embarrassed and slightly stupid. Soda and Johnny and Darry and mom and dad (my English teacher will hate me once more, I know it's a run-on sentence. I'm so sorry to the historian possibly reading this) told me to not beat myself up too much, that it's just a race, but come on. It's humiliating to an extreme level! I'd rather be kicked to the curb by a Soc and in the stomach than run a fifty minute thing-a-ma-bob! There's also Socs in the cross country team, I think. Probably, since it is a slightly expensive thing.

After we got home, I locked myself in my room and cried for a little while. I don't like to cry, it doesn't make me feel very tough.

Greasers are tough. Boys dont cry. I don't cry. Soda is the more emotional one out of the three of us (us being me. Darry, and Soda) and I'm the more empathetic one. He can take all the crying into pillows stuff, crying over dogs dying in movies, but I'm not doing it. Boys. Don't. Cry.

I've got an ice pack on my ankles now anyways, so I think I'm fine. The superhero bandaids are still on the scratches from yesterday. Scratches on my skin aren't the prettiest, for some reason I bruise up and they take a while to heal. Mom says it's just a special trait of mine. I think it's a bad trait.

Johnny hugged me after the race. He slept over last night, we shared a bed since… why not??? He told me I did good. I like when he compliments me on things, I feel warm and fuzzy just a little. I don't know— I guess I dig it. I've started on using greaser slang, Two-Bit patted me on the back snd said 'you're finally grown up.' I'm perfectly grown up, what does using tough or tuff or I dig have to do with being grown up?

Today was awful. I hate myself.