they grew up on the outside of society

RUMBLE FISH: LJ Header and Friends Only banner!

2007-11-24T10:40:05Z

01] Please comment!
02] Credit mrbnatural or iconzicons if taking!
03] No hotlinking or altering, please!
04] Blind terror in a fight can easily pass for courage.

C. Thomas Howell Radio Show

2007-04-29T17:30:27Z

Tonight, on Tommy's show, S.E. Hinton will be on. Tommy's trying to get as many "Outsiders" alumns to call in/attend as possible. It promises to be a really cool show, with lots of "Outsiders"-related chatter.

You can listen here: http://www.971freefm.com/

hintonverse @ 2006-10-08T13:08:00

2006-10-08T12:10:10Z

Hey everyone!
There's a third season of Wrong Side of the Tracks awards up now with some stories already nominated, so get reading some decent stories, nominate some more and cast your votes!

http://www.angelfire.com/planet/outsidersawards/home.html

wow, the last entry in here was back in March? woah. I have to rehaul some bits of this place over so it'll have a new layout soon and hopefully some new entries!

Or do I have to start badgering people for Halloween fics again? :-p

hintonverse @ 2006-03-10T23:50:00

2006-03-11T08:05:29Z

(is totally happy she found this comm)

Well I found like two comms, but the one was kinda uptight and no slash. Like whats up with that? lol.

At any rate, I want to make icons. Anyone have picture links for me? or are they hard to come by?

I want to draw pictures too.

I read the book way back in Gr.8 for English and loved it. I recently bought the book at a book sale and it was missing a page?! But reading it again made me love it.

I really want to do a doujinshi actually, but my friend wouldn't draw it for me >: (i'll work on her X3 and will share any doujinshi if i manage to get it out of her) But I have the story idea, I just need an artist (or I could just do it myself I guess...)

I would love to read some Dally/Johnny stories *_____* so please direct me towards them XD Or write them for me :3(you would recieve so much love from me if you did)

Also, if anyone has the movie and is able to get it to me (like upload it to "you send it" or something like that), I would totally make a MV. That would rock!

(can hardly contain myself *jumps up and down*)

Hurt

2006-02-07T01:56:00Z

Title: "Hurt"
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13 to R for drug use
Main Characters: Steve Randle
Pairings: None
Spoilers: Not unless you don't know about what Hinton said would happen to Soda and Steve
Warnings: Drug use, mild language, alot of sad stuff
Short Summary: "What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end." Songfic from the Johnny Cash/Nine Inch Nails song. Don't sue me... It belongs to Trent Reznor.

Steve Randle woke up, surprised to find himself in his own bed. It still hadn't quite hit him that he wasn't in Vietnam anymore. But one thing that hit him every day, over and over, was that his friend, his best friend, Sodapop Curtis was dead.

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't washed it in forever. And he really didn't give a damn, either. Nothing was important. He lived in his own little world... a world of heroin and needles and nightmares.

I focus on the pain,

The only thing that's real.

He reached for the syringe at his bedside. He needed a fix, and he needed it now. The longer he went without it, the more images of Soda bleeding to death filled his mind. He couldn't fight it with anything but the heroin.

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting.

Steve unloaded God only knew how much of the drug into his vein, and lay back down on the bed, not wanting to feel anything but the drug coursing through his veins and taking over his mind, clearing his thoughts of the hurt that tormented him every moment he was drawing breath.

But as he waited for the drug to take effect, he couldn't help remembering.

Try to kill it all away,

But I remember everything.

"Steve, you're the best friend I ever had. Thanks."

Steve looked around him at the room. Dirty clothes lay everywhere, and the room smelled horrible. Broken beer bottles lay scattered all over the room, and dirty needles littered the tables and his chest of drawers..

"Dammit, Soda!" he yelled at the walls. "What have I done?"

What have I become?

My sweetest friend.

Steve's mind filled with memories. Memories he'd tried so hard to forget. The day Soda's parents had died... they were more like parents to him than his own father had been. He remembered Ponyboy walking into the house that night after the rumble and saying, "Johnny's dead." He could see himself and the others running down the street, trying to get to Dally before it was too late, only to see their friend shot down under the street lights. And then, he saw Soda again, dying... so young... and telling him to tell Darry, Ponyboy, and Sandy that he loved them.

Everyone I know

Goes away in the end.

You could have it all

My empire of dirt.

He thought about it. He hadn't told Sandy... hadn't given her Soda's message. He hadn't bothered hunting for her. With Soda gone, it only made Steve hate Sandy more for what she had done to his friend.

I will let you down

I will make you hurt.

As the heroin began to take effect, Steve lost control of his thoughts.

I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair.

Steve could feel his mind... his ability to think... slipping away from him. And the thing that was really sad was that he really didn't mind that. He liked not being able to control what he thought. He liked the fact that pain and heartache were the farthest thing from his mind when he was high. He couldn't think happy things anymore. It was nice to just not think.

Beneath the stain of time

The feeling disappears.

You are someone else.

I am still right here.

Steve lay still on the bed. He'd just stay that way until the high wore away. He was a mess. A complete mess.

What have I become?

My sweetest friend.

Everyone I know

Goes away in the end.

Steve lay there for a long time. He didn't know how long. It was hard to keep track of time when he was high.

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt.

I will let you down.

I will make you hurt.

He finally started to come down from his high after a while. He always hated coming down. He looked around again, wishing he had a chance to start all over again. He wished he had a chance to go back and change everything. And he wished like hell he had another shot of heroin to take so that he could just forget everything... forever.

If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself.

I would find away.

Greasers=brothers

2006-02-04T18:47:28Z

Title: A Friend Sticks Close Like a Brother
Genre: General
Rating: PG
Main Characters: Ponyboy Curtis, Sodapop Curtis... pretty much everybody
Pairings: None
Spoilers: Nope
Warnings: None.
Short Summary: The gang makes a day special for Ponyboy. Pony's POV

"Friday at last," I thought as I walked into my living room after a long day at school. I tossed my books on the table and walked out to our back yard.

Soda was grilling hamburgers and hot dogs and they smelled great. I have to admit though, I was kinda worried. I mean, Darry always does the grilling, and, well, Soda can get a little... creative... with the food.

"Hey, Soda," I said, plopping down in a yard chair. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothin'," Soda said. "The boys are comin' over. Evie, Sandy, and Sylvia, too. We're gonna eat and play football or somethin'."

"Evie and Sandy and Sylvia are gonna play football?" I asked. I didn't believe that.

Soda shrugged. "Maybe."

"Where'd you get the money for all this food?" I asked.

"The boss gave me and Steve a bonus for that overtime we worked last week on that rich lady's car."

I laughed. "And you're celebrating by using it all up to feed a pack of hoods and their girlfriends?"

"Hey, who you callin' a hood?" a familiar voice asked as Two-Bit poked his head around the corner.

"Hey, Two-Bit!" Soda said.

"Hey, Soda... Pony," he replied, a big cheerful grin on his face.

"You bring the stuff?" Soda asked.

Two-Bit replied by holding up a paper grocery store bag. "In here," he said.

"Good. Put it on the table, huh?" Soda said. "Go help him, Pony," he added, winking at me.

I followed Two-Bit in and helped him unload three six packs and a jar of mayonnaise. Good ol' Two-Bit. No party was complete for him without booze.

"Hey, Ponyboy, you ready for some football tonight?" Two-Bit asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I said. "But you won't be if you're soused."

"Aw, shoot, kid," he said with a shrug. "That's for after the game."

It was then that we heard another voice say, "Hey," and looked up to see Johnny Cade.

"Hey, Johnnycake!" Two-Bit said.

Johnny, too, carried a bag. I almost hugged him when he set his bag down and revealed two six-packs of Pepsi. My favorite drink in the world. He also had some stuff for the burgers and all.

I wondered how Johnnycake had come up with the money for all that. But when Dally came in, I figured it out. Dally had a pocket full from the last race he was in. Dally brought chips and some other stuff.

Steve and Darry were the last of the gang to show up, and Darry took over the grill. Steve had brought Evie, Sandy, and Sylvia. He and Evie started heating up some chili, while Dally sat down, letting Sylvia slice up the tomatoes and onions he'd brought.

I couldn't believe Sylvia did all the work while Dally was being lazy, but she probably owed him at least that much for the last time he was in jail. She'd run around on him. As always.

Sandy was in the kitchen with Sodapop, who was now frosting and decorating a cake. We never decorate cakes, but I figured Soda had gotten bored with just plain old chocolate cake and had decided it needed some color.

Dally lit a cigarette, then passed the pack to Johnny, who was busily setting out spoons for the mustard and stuff. Johnny took a cigarette and lit up, then passed the pack back to Dally. That reminded me that I hadn't smoked since lunch. I was getting really excited about hanging out with the guys, too, so my nerves would be shot soon enough if I didn't get a smoke in. So I got me a weed and lit up.

"Hey, Ponyboy," Soda called. "I forgot the hot dog buns."

"Yeah?" I replied, knowing he was going to send me to go get them.

"Yeah. You and Two-Bit go get some, huh?" Soda called back.

"OK," I called back.

Two-Bit yelled to Johnny and Dally, "Hey, come give me a push."

Dally rolled his eyes and stood up, followed by Johnny.

Me and Two-Bit climbed into his old beat up Plymouth, and Dally and Johnnycake got behind it to give us a push start.

Pretty soon, the two of us were at the store. I went in and got the buns while Two-Bit kept the car going so we wouldn't have to push it again.

I came back out, and Two-Bit drove back to my house and parked in the yard. We walked up to the door, and Two-Bit opened it for me with a gallant bow. "Ladies first," he said.

"Shut up, Two-Bit," I said, smacking him across the back of the head.

But I walked into the house anyway.

"Surprise!" I heard everyone yell.

I looked at Two-Bit. It wasn't his birthday. And it sure wasn't mine. Two-Bit was grinning like an idiot. "What's going on?" I asked.

Soda led me over to the table giddily. "Look, Pony!" he said, pointing at the cake on the table. It was decorated and said: "Congratulations on making the A track team, Ponyboy!"

I looked at Soda incredulously. "Y...You mean..."

"Yep!" Soda said. "And me and Darry got you a little something."

Sandy smiled, touching Soda's arm. "Oh, yeah," he said with that happy-go-lucky grin of his. "Me, Darry, and Sandy got you something."

"You got me a present?" I asked, not quite believing it. I knew money was tight.

"Yeah," Darry said. "Go sit down in the livingroom."

I sat on the couch. Sandy sat beside me, and rested her head on Soda's shoulder. I don't see how, though, with Soda wiggling so much. Johnny sat on my other side, while Two-Bit was plopped in the floor. Dally sat in one chair with Sylvia on his lap, more for lack of space than for any romantic reason. Evie was on Steve's lap, but they were too busy making out to care about what was going on. It was kind of gross.

Darry walked out of his room with a wrapped box. He set it on my lap.

"Open it!" Soda exclaimed, bouncing around like he had ants in his pants.

I took the box and ripped the paper off, then the lid. When I saw what was in the box, I almost cried. It was a brand new pair of track shoes... the pair I'd wanted for weeks. Darry had told me they were too expensive, so I'd tried to forget about them. I'd just have to make do with my regular old tennis shoes. I knew how much those shoes were, and that my brothers and Sandy had paid dearly for them.

"B- but..."

"But nothin'!" Soda said. "Dontcha like 'em?"

"Course I like 'em!" I managed to get past the lump in my throat.

Sandy gave me a hug and smiled. "Thanks," I said, hugging her back, then hugging Soda and Darry.

"Come on!" Two-Bit said. "Food's gettin' cold!"

Good ol' Two-Bit. You can always count on him to keep you from bawlin' like a baby.

So Sodapop made me go first, since it was my party. I made a hamburger just like I like it, with mustard, ketchup, and onions. I added some chips to my plate and grabbed a Pepsi. "Y'all are the best gang a guy could have," I said.

"We know!" Two-Bit said with another gallant bow. Then, he promptly laughed his head off.

I rolled my eyes as I walked back to the livingroom to sit down and eat.

Gosh, but that hamburger was good. Soda and Darry were masters of the grill, no doubt.

Soda was eating a hotdog when Steve yelled, "Gosh, Soda! You like some food with your ketchup?"

I looked at Soda's plate. Sure enough, his hot dog was covered with ketchup, as were his chips. Soda's food philosophy is, "If you can't put chocolate in it, put ketchup on it."

I ate hurriedly, and sucked down my Pepsi. Man, that was good.

After we were all done eating, Darry grabbed the football, and off we went.

"OK," Darry said, getting everyone's attention. "We're playing tackle, but take it easy with the girls."

I looked at the girls. The only one I'd be worried about hurting would be Sandy. Sylvia and Evie are every bit as hard and tough as any of us. But Sandy's all soft and pretty... I know why Soda likes her so much. She's not like the other girls.

Soda said me and Johnnycake were the captains, so we had to pick teams. I called Darry first. It was dirty to take the only real football player, I guess. Johnny couldn't pick anybody half as good as Darry. But he called Dally. I called Soda, and Johnny picked Two-Bit. I called Steve, and Johnny called Sylvia. I finally chose Sandy, and Johnny took Evie. Steve acted annoyed that Evie was on the other team, but we told him to get over it and play.

We started on offense. Darry played center, and Sodapop was the quarterback. We all lined up and hunched down. I found myself face to face with Two-Bit, who was trying to be tough, but just couldn't help laughing and goofing off. That had me laughing, and when Darry snapped the ball to Soda, I wasn't paying attention. Dally tackled Soda before Steve could move to cover him.

The next play, I payed more attention and covered Soda long enough for him to make a long pass to Steve. Before Steve could score, Evie took him down. Unlike the guys, though, Evie just stayed where she was, sprawled on top of Steve.

"Score!!" Two-Bit yelled.

Soda grinned as Sandy stepped closer to him. He put his arm around her and said, "Hey, Stevie, not in front of the kids!"

"Come on," I said, once again a little grossed out by Steve and Evie. "Let's play."

We played a good long game, and of course, with Darry on our team, we won.

Then, it started to get dark. We went back inside and settled down to watch some movie on TV. It was a James Dean movie called "Rebel Without a Cause." James Dean was tuff. There was no doubt about that. He died, though, when I was little. I really liked the movie, but I think Johnny and I were the only ones watching it. Two-Bit was working on a six-pack, and Soda could never sit still long enough to watch a movie. He was working on his third piece of chocolate cake, and goofing around with Sandy, who was trying to watch the movie, but just found Soda too distracting. Most girls find Soda distracting. Darry had fallen asleep on the couch. Dally, too, was out like a light, with Sylvia on his lap. Steve and Evie were in their own little world in the other chair.

I sighed. It was nice to be at home with all my friends around me. Very nice.

------

After the movie went off, the gang went home. Soda and I headed off to bed. I set my new track shoes on the table by the bed. I couldn't stop looking at them. I couldn't believe they were mine. "I have the best 'family' in the world," I thought.

Soda slid closer to me, putting his arm across me to keep me warm. "D'you like your party, Ponyboy?" he asked sleepily.

"Yeah," I sighed. "It was great. Thanks, Soda."

"No problem," Soda replied. "'Night, Ponyboy."

"Good night, Soda," I said, closing my eyes and slowly falling into a sleep full of dreams about track, food, and family. My whole big overgrown family.

Cuts like a knife

2006-01-31T01:02:55Z

Johnny has a knife, we all know that. But what we don't know is how did he get the knife?
Rating PG
Characters - Johnny and Two-Bit

The firelight glinted off the blade, shining a warning into the night as the dark haired boy turned it in his hands. He stared at the knife intently, seeing his brown eyes reflected in the knife blade as flames licked near his shoes. Other greasers were standing around him, their chatter indistinguishable from the music playing from the radio of a car parked on the lot. Johnny started from his engrossing thoughts as he heard a noise behind him, and relaxed with relief as Two-Bit Mathews sat next to him on the dusty ground, nudging him softly with his shoulder and offering him a can of beer.

Johnny shook his head and the older greaser sighed, "I've been looking all over for you Johnnycake. Went over to the Curtis's place but Pony was stuck doing some homework so I figured you'd be out here at the lot. How are you doing?" Johnny simply shrugged in reply, his shoulders lifting up and down as he stared at the knife once more. Two-Bit scolded, "Aw, Dally won't be pleased that you're carrying a knife."

"Would he rather I ended up dead?" came the curt reply and Two-Bit looked at him sadly.

"Johnny, ever since I saw you lying there, all bloody and still, it really shook me and I know it scared you so bad, but you can't let it ruin your life. At least let me look at the knife, if you have to carry it, let's make sure it's a decent one or it won't be a Soc ending up dead if Dally finds out I knew you were carrying a knife that couldn't protect you."

Johnny handed the knife over; secretly glad to be rid of the heavy weight and turned to look back at the fire, the flickering flames hypnotising, glad of something to look at so Two-Bit wouldn't see the tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered how he felt after getting jumped. But the allure of Two-Bit's studying the knife was too much to resist so he quickly wiped his eyes with his dirty denim jacket sleeve and turned to watch as Two-Bit scrutinised the knife, turning it round, looking at the hilt, the blade, weighing it in his hand, checking the mechanism on the handle.

"You could do better than this piece of shit, it'd snap as soon as you stuck it in some Soc. Who'd you get a knife from anyway, why not come to me?"

"I was hanging with Ponyboy at the Dingo and Curly Shepherd came up, he showed…"

"Aw, what does he know?" Two-Bit interrupted, "he's dumb, and he'll probably get picked up by the fuzz sooner or later."
Johnny wanly grinned.

"We'll get you a proper knife tomorrow, kid." Two-Bit lifted up his hand and waggled the fingers as well as his eyebrows, "what do you say to a five-finger discount?"

Johnny laughed at Two-Bit, "you just want to show off your stealing skills!"

"Damn right I do! What's the point of being good at something and not showing off? It's not like you guys can see how good I am in bed so you all marvel at my shoplifting instead!"

Johnny bit back a good natured retort at what he'd heard about Two-Bit in bed and raised his hand, copying Two-Bit's moving fingers.

“Five fingered discount it is!” Two-Bit whooped as he grabbed Johnny’s hand and shook it, standing up and pulling the smaller boy to his feet.
“I’ll walk you home since I’m such a nice gentleman and all but don’t get any ideas about me showing you my bedroom expertise,” he chuckled.
Johnny rolled his eyes and stuck his hands deep in his jean pockets, as they walked off the lot, Two-Bit cat-calling at the other greasers gathering around the fire.

The next day Johnny found himself shielding his eyes against the sun shining off the storefront window, peering closer in until his hair touched the window.
He stared at the various knives on offer, ranging from the mild pocket knife to the smaller version of Two-Bit’s knife, he idly wondered if this was the shop Two-Bit had got his own knife from. He heard a low whistle next to him.

“Boy, look on the curves on that one, that baby ought to be illegal in several states, hell, probably is.” Johnny grinned to himself and was about to make a point regarding knives and just how legal are they when Two-Bit continued, his voice louder than before, “Hey baby, can I check your curves out later?”

Johnny looked up in time to see a Soc looking girl disappearing round the corner of the block hastily followed by Two-Bit’s raucous laugh, and punched Two-Bit playfully in the shoulder. “I thought we were here to get me a knife, not to pick up girls!”

“Who says I can’t do both?” Two-Bit replied with a good natured shrug of his shoulders, turning to the store window. “So any of these knives caught your attention yet Johnnycake?”

“I like that one, the one in the middle” he looked up to see Two-Bit’s opinion on the one he’d pointed at but the other boy had already gone in, the door swinging shut behind his leather jacket.

Johnny swallowed nervously and pushed the door open. He looked around him at the other people milling around in the general store. Two-Bit was nonchalantly loitering at the back, his back to the knife display. Johnny wondered why he wasn’t looking at the sales clerk behind the till or the old man stocking up one of the shelves. Two-Bit’s steely grey gaze was locked on Johnny as he edged back to the knives, sliding an arm behind him, Johnny could see the reflection of Two-Bit’s fingers in the window, they were caressing each knife gently, feeling for the one Johnny had chosen. Johnny couldn’t watch anymore, he decided to pretend he was buying something, he dragged his feet towards the lady at the till, sure that talking to her would distract her attention from the busy hands of Two-Bit, his eyes wildly looking for something to ask for... Cigarettes. There were cigarettes behind her. . He could always try asking for something else though. He opened his mouth as she stared at him, waiting expectantly.

“Um, do you have any Zippos?” asked Johnny, his voice cracked slightly under his nerves, wondering just how long it would take Two-Bit to steal the knife.

“Yes, we have a selection as you can see for yourself,” the clerk pointedly said, waving her hand at the Zippo display underneath the glass front. Johnny nervously laughed and studied them carefully as he could, wondering if Two-Bit had left yet. After five minutes of intense staring at the various Zippos on display, the female clerk broke into his thoughts.

“Have you made any decisions as to whether you’ll be here all day or not? I have other customers to serve, you know.”

Johnny looked up, and looked around the shop, Two-Bit had gone but there was a small queue next to him, headed by a harried looking housewife. He bit his lip and turned back to the clerk, “I don’t think I can afford one right now.”

She immediately sighed, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. “I thought so, the minute you walked in here, a foolish time wasting hood, go on, get out of here.”

Johnny turned to leave, tripping over his untied shoelace. As he knelt to tie it, his slim fingers moving quickly, he heard the housewife next to him ask for chewing tobacco, he got a flash of inspiration to get some for Two-Bit as a thank you for the knife. After all, he was always chewing on something or other, and Johnny couldn’t think of any other way to say thank you.

As he rose, he saw different coloured tobacco packages spread out in front of her on the counter, and as the snooty female sales clerk turned to see at which cigarettes the lady was pointing at, Johnny saw his chance. He snatched the nearest packet, shoving it in his denim jacket pocket and leaving the store quickly. He walked past the window display noticing one more empty space lying there on the knife shelf and a grin spread across his face. He broke into a run, running around the corner and bumped into Two-Bit. Two-Bit laughed as he ruffled Johnny’s hair and they both started running, heading towards the lot.

Johnny had a great lazy afternoon, getting taught the basics of knife fighting by the older greaser, their knives flashing in the afternoon sunlight, Two-Bit’s hand warm on his as he showed him how to do a particular move. They were both tired and thirsty after a few hours of this so they headed towards the Dingo for a few beers in the back parking lot, smuggled out by Two-Bit’s mom, her laugh echoing around the half empty lot. Johnny tentatively drank the beer, remembering the last time he’d got drunk - it hadn’t gone down too well, plus he didn’t want to turn into a lush like his parents, whatever sorry excuse they were for parents. He wanted to show he was different from them, that he wasn’t spiteful and mean and ignorant or cruel.

He grudgingly turned down the offer of Two-Bit’s bedroom floor, he felt he’d depended on him too much for one day, as they walked towards his house - or rather, Two-Bit weaved across the road and Johnny made sure he wasn’t run over by any cars, but their hilarity was shattered by the shouts and yells coming from the Cade household. His eyes stung with bitter tears as he heard his parents raised voices.
Two-Bit’s suddenly sober voice entered his ears instead, “come on kiddo, stay at mine, I don’t mind, I’d feel better if you were at mine tonight, rather than with them.”

Flashes of silver, dark eyes, and pain splitting across his cheek, with a cruel voice in his ears. Johnny started awake, his breath quick in his chest. His face was sweaty and his pulse was racing. He never knew dreams could affect you like this, no wonder Ponyboy never looked well after he had one of his bad dreams. No wonder Darry always worried about him, fussing and giving him an extra plate of chocolate cake on those particular mornings and that was if Ponyboy had bothered to tell him at all.
Johnny felt so helpless and alone, even though he knew he wasn’t alone. He turned around on his makeshift mattress, seeing Two-Bit’s huddled form asleep in his bed, gently snoring, the early morning light playing upon his face. The new unfamiliar bulge of the knife in Johnny’s jeans reminded him of the tobacco he’d stolen and he grabbed his nearby jacket, rummaging for the crinkly package. Normally, he’d be trying to go back to sleep but he was impatient to leave and to get some fresh air, get different things into his mind than the events of that day.

Tobacco in hand, jacket over his shoulder, he stepped over to Two-Bit’s bed, laying the package down on the pillow next to the sleeping boy. He straightened up, making sure he hadn’t woken him up and he crept over to the sash window, soundlessly sliding up the window, grinning at the silence, Two-Bit had obviously made sure it was a quiet way to come in after a night out hunting action. Hitting the ground outside, he slid the window back down and put his jacket on, shivering at the early morning coldness, hoping it’d get warmer later.

Later on, it had got warmer. Johnny was lying down in the grassy part of the lot, letting the sun dance upon his face, his eyes shut against the world. He liked it, but in the darkness behind his eyelids, memories came flooding back and flashes of silver, a rough voice and blood returned. Sitting up with a gasp, Johnny felt someone near him. He grabbed his new knife, switching the blade open the way Two-Bit had shown him. He turned, ready to defend himself against any Soc and to his surprise, he saw Two-Bit standing there, his hair ruffled by sleep and concern in his eyes.

“You alright there kid? You had me worried when I woke up just now and saw you were gone and my mom said she hadn’t seen you. Do you feel alright, you look a bit pale?” Two-Bit said as he crouched down by the younger boy.

Johnny touched his cheek tenderly, wincing at the throbbing pain under the newly forming scar and whispered bitterly, “I’ll survive.”

Dally Fic

2006-01-25T22:11:25Z

Title: Loved and Lost
Genre: A touch of everything... Romance, tragedy, drama, angst
Rating: PG-13
Main Characters: Dallas Winston
Pairings: Dally/OC (very brief), Dally/his mom (family relationship, not incest), Dally/Johnny friendship
Spoilers: Everybody should know about most of it.
Warnings: Character death abounds. Much tragedy. Mild language.
Short Summary: "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Well, Tennyson... I hate to break it to ya, but a certain greaser just doesn't agree. Dally's POV on losing everything he loves. (Italics are flashbacks)

Johnny's dead. Dammit. Johnny. Why Johnny?

Because I loved Johnny. He's like, the only one in the gang I can say I loved. I mean, the other guys are my buddies, I guess, but... Johnny, man... If there was anybody on this earth who deserved better than what he had, it was Johnny. And he died. Why did he have to die? Why couldn't it have been me?

Because somebody up there hates me. God or whoever it is. Because somehow I pissed off the Big Guy, and he's punishing me.

I should have known. I shouldn't have gone for it. I shouldn't have loved Johnny. Just liked him OK. But how could you not love a kid like Johnny. Havin' him around was like havin' a kid brother. Somebody to look out for. He was just one of those people. He had those big black eyes that just broke your heart. Until I met him, I'd forgotten I had a heart for anyone to break. It was so hard and cold. But that kid warmed it up some, broke through the hardness... And I hate myself for letting him.

I was stupid. I shouldn't have loved him. Because everyone I love ends up getting ripped away from me. And it's always my fault.

13 years earlier:

Daddy's gone, and Mommy's playing with me. She's helping me put together a puzzle. I like puzzles. They're hard, but Mommy always helps me.

"Here, Dallas," she says. "Put this one here."

I take the puzzle piece from her and put it where she told me to. It fits just right. "Good job, sweetie," she sas.

I look at my mommy. I'm really tired tired. "Come on, sweetie," she says. "You look tired."

I nod. I am tired. I climb up on Mommy's lap and go to sleep in her arms. She's always so warm and she can put me right to sleep. She smells good. Like soap and sometimes food. Not like beer. Daddy always smells like beer.

When I wake up, Mommy's still holding me. She's asleep, too. I reach up to her cheek and give her a kiss. "Mommy, wake up."

She wakes up and smiles at me. "Hey, sweetie. You have a nice nap?"

I grin. "Yep."

"Good," she says. "But now we have to get this place shaped up for Daddy."

I'm scared. I know what Daddy will do if the apartment's a mess when he gets home.

We clean it up. I help Mommy alot, and when Daddy gets home, we have the apartment clean, and Mommy's making supper.

We eat, and even though we can't be loud or Daddy will get mad, Mommy smiles at me across the table every once in a while so I know she loves me. Me and Mommy don't have to say nothing. We just look at each other and smile, and we're happy. Daddy doesn't know. But we do. I love my mommy.

A Few Months Later:

My mommy's sick. And it's all my fault. She was out looking for me when I was playing with my friends. I was playing in the alley with Tommy and Jake and some other guys, and she came looking for me.

When she got there, she said, "Come on, Dallas. We need to go home. It's lunch time."

The other guys were hungry, too, so they all went home.

We were walking home, and this man came out and said, "Hey, lady," in a real scary voice.

Mommy said, "Hello," real sweet, and kept walking. She was holdin' my hand real tight, and I tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let me.

"How about givin' me that purse," the man said, looking at Mommy.

"I can't," she said. She sounded real brave, and I would have been real proud if I wasn't so scared.

"Yeah, you can," he said, and he hit Mommy real hard in the face. She fell down... she hit her head real hard.

And the man took her purse. He ran away, and I wished I was big and tough so I could beat him to a pulp.

I looked at Mommy. "You OK?" I asked. But she didn't open her eyes. I ran as fast as I could down the street toward the police station. I had to find somebody. A man stopped me before I even got there. "Hey, son. Are you OK?"

"My Mommy," I said. "A man hit her real hard, and she won't wake up!"

The man looked at me, then said, "Take me to her, son."

I ran back to where Mommy was. The man looked at her. He looked real upset, and that made me upset. "Help her, Mister!" I said.

He kept looking at me. "I'll go call an ambulance."

I sat down beside Mommy and played in her hair. Why did I have to go play in the alley? If I'd just stayed out of the alley like she told me to, she wouldn't have come looking for me. It's all my fault.

The next day:

Mommy woke up! I'm here with my Grammy.

"Dallas," Mommy says. I jump up and down. She'll be OK now!

"Hey, Mommy!" I say. "Can we go home now?"

Mommy smiles at me. "No, Dallas. We can't go home. Not together."

"But..." I don't know why Mommy can't go home with me.

"Come here, Dallas," she says, patting the bed beside her. I climb up on the bed, and she smiles at me. "Dallas, I'm not going home again. I can't."

"Why not?" I demand, hurt.

"Because, sweetie... My brain... it's bleeding, and the doctors can't fix it," she says real quite-like.

Grammy's crying. "It's a miracle you're awake, darling. They said..."

Mommy looks at her, then back at me. "Dallas, you be a good boy, OK? Don't give your Daddy too much trouble." She hugs me, and picks up the St. Christopher medal on my necklace. "St. Christopher will take care of you," she says. "And I'll be here, too. Even if you can't see me."

I hold onto my medal with one hand, wrapping the other arm around Mommy. "Mommy, please don't leave me."

God. My mom. She was such a great lady. Why'd she have to die instead of the old man? Because God hates me. That's why. Everyone I love, He takes away.

I cried for days after she died. And my dad'd beat the stuffing out of me until I couldn't cry anymore.

God, I hate my old man.

And I hate myself for loving anyone. Because it's my fault they keep leaving me.

4 years earlier:

Katie Cochran. Just a few weeks ago, she was the new girl at school. Wow, she's pretty. Dark brown hair and blue eyes. I never really cared all that much for girls before. But this one is something else.

We started talking a little right after she showed up. Next thing I know, she's wearing my Christopher, and we're a couple. Sure, we're only 13, but heck. I don't care if she don't.

Most of the guys are jealous. I'm the only one of us that ain't datin' a cheap whore. Katie's real sweet. Kinda reminds me of... Nevermind. I don't wanna think about that.

----

Dammit. The old man kicked me out again. And of all things, right out in the New York winter. Somebody really oughtta shoot him someday. I'll freeze to death, and he won't even know.

I walk down the streets aimlessly. God, it's cold. I pull my jacket tighter around me. As I wander, I notice an apartment building that I know. Katie's place. I look up and see her window. The light's still on in there. Maybe...

I climb up the fire escape stairs to her window, then I knock lightly. I cross my fingers that her parents aren't in there or anything.

She comes to the window, opens the curtain, and smiles. She opens the window as quiet as she can considering that most apartment windows are pretty damn squeaky.

"Dallas," she whispers. "What are you doing here?"

I stumble over the words. "I'm... I'm... My old man kicked me out. And I was wonderin' if I could come in and get warm."

She smiles at me. "Come on in. Just be quiet. I don't think my dad'll like this very much."

I grin like an idiot. "Why not? Ain't like we're doin' nothin'. I'm just cold."

She sighs. "Well, try telling my dad that."

She lets me in, and I sit down on her bed, pulling my jacket tight around me.

"Let's get some sleep," she says casually, like she was just havin' a sleepover with some friend of hers.

I move to lay down in the floor, but she says, "It's cold in the floor. Get under these covers."

I almost laugh at her. She's acting like my mother instead of my girlfriend.

I kick my shoes off into the floor, then toss my jacket and shirt beside the bed, and Katie pulls the covers over us.

"Why'd your father kick you out?" she asks me, snuggling into my arms. She feels right in my arms. It's weird, but I kinda like it.

"Hell if I know," I reply, squeezing her just a little. I rest my cheek on her hair. "But thanks for lettin' me in."

"No problem, sweetie," she says. "I love you."

I look into her blue eyes, and though I've tried to fight it, I can't anymore. "I love you, too."

"Dally?" she says softly.

"Yeah?"

"You have to be out of here by 5 in the morning. My dad gets up then to get ready for work then." She snuggles her head into my chest. It's kinda like bein' in a movie or something. I like it.

"Katie," I say softly. "When we get out of school... You wanna get married?"

Katie smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

I feel her relax in my arms, and she's breathing real soft. I tuck the covers around her and go to sleep.

----

"What the hell is going on here?!" An angry yell shakes me out of my sleep. It takes me a minute to figure out where I am. Then I feel Katie's soft hand on my chest, and I realize that her Dad's discovered us. Damn.

Katie's eyes are full of fear as she looks at me. "Dallas, you should go," she says.

"Not until I get through with him," her dad says.

I'm too tired to fight with my own old man, much less somebody elses. I roll out of bed, reaching for my T-shirt. "Mr. Cochran," I say, trying to be respectful. "Nothin' happened. I had a problem at home, and it was too cold to be outside. So Katie let me in to get warm and get some rest." Hell, I don't know what he thinks happened. Katie still has her pajamas on, and I'm still in my jeans.

I pull on my T-shirt and jacket, then my boots. "Don't punish Katie," I say. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have asked her."

"You're damn right you shouldn't have asked her," he says.

Katie looks at me, then at her old man. "Dallas, go. I'll see you at school."

I nod, too angry to think straight. "Fine."

I raise the window and slip outside. "Love you, Katie."

"Love you, too."

----

Katie's not here yet. I'm in 5th period, and Katie's not here.

Neither are her brothers...

Oh, no... Surely... If he...

----

I walk home, knowin' my dad's still at work. I want to go to Katie's, but that's just askin' for trouble. I switch on the TV as I fix myself a sandwich.

What's on? The news? Oh, well...

"In today's news, a girl was found outside her apartment building beaten to death. Thirteen-year-old Katherine Cochran was found at 8:30 this morning outside of her apartment building. She suffered severe bruises. Her father, Raymond Cochran has been arrested in connection with the death."

I sit down and stare at the screen.

God, no.

Not again.

Katie's the only chick I ever loved. I promised after her I'd never love anyone else, because I just end up screwing up everyone's life. It's like everything I touch get's destroyed. And it's all my fault.

So, when I met Johnnycake, and realized that he'd found a place in my heart, I almost knew it was going to be trouble.

"You sure can cuss good, Dally."

"Sure can."

Why did God take the last person I loved away. He's taken every person I loved. Dammit, what did I ever do that was so bad. Sure, I'm a hood now, but I wasn't when I was four and my mom died. What did I ever do to You, God? I was a good kid when I was little. I always said my prayers. But then I figured out you didn't like me, so I stopped.

And now, I'm gonna stop everything. Stop loving. Stop caring. Stop breathing.

At least when you're dead, nothing can hurt you. And you can't love anything anymore. I used to think I could be tough enough to fight it, but I'm not. I can't fight it off. But if I'm dead, there's nothin' to fight.

Yeah. Bein' dead don't sound so bad.

hintonverse @ 2006-01-24T11:38:00

2006-01-24T16:38:38Z

Title: As I Lay Dying
Genre: Tragedy/Deathfic
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Main Characters: Sodapop Curtis
Pairings: Soda/Steve friendship... non-slashy
Spoilers: Not unless you don't know Hinton's post Outsiders plans for poor Sodapop
Warnings: Violence, character death, not my best fic, but I wanted to post it anyway.
Short Summary: Soda's POV. Based on S.E. Hinton's post-Outsiders timeline on what happened to Sodapop Curtis.

Oh, my God.... I can't die. I'm only 18. It's almost my 19th birthday. Steve? Steve, is that you?

Steve's standing beside me. He's still shooting, but he's talking to me, too. "Soda, it's gonna be OK. I promise."

But I know it won't be OK.

God, help me. I've never been shot before. It hurts real bad. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think of one of my friends, two years ago, under a bunch of streetlights with too many bullets in him. God, Dally... What did you think when those cops shot you? What did you...

It hurts so much. There are still gunshots all around me, and I just wish that I was home again.

Steve's down beside me as soon as the shooting stops. "Soda, you OK?"

I look up at my best friend, wishing my other friends were here, too.

"Soda?"

"I'm just great," I manage to say. "Only, I got this bullet in me." I try to grin.

Steve halfway smiles, but he's cryin'. I never saw Steve cry like that. Not since Dally got shot.
And then, I know for sure. I ain't just hurt. I'm dyin'. "Steve?" I say softly.

"Yeah?" he replies, through his tears.

"Steve, you're the best friend I ever had... Thanks."

"Soda... Soda, you're... You're gonna be OK," Steve says, but I ignore him.

"Steve, tell Ponyboy and Darry... I love 'em." I'm losing my ability to talk, so I gotta get this all out real fast. "And Sandy," I add. Because even though she hurt me... nearly killed me... I love her still. I love Sandy.

I'm so tired. So tired. I hear Steve saying, "No, Soda. Come on, man!"

But then I don't here him any more. I close my eyes, and I'm home again, in bed. Darry and Pony are waking me up for breakfast. And when I look beside me, there's Sandy holding a tiny boy close to her.

"Yeah," I think, before everything goes dark. "Maybe this ain't heaven, but it sure is close enough for me."

Dear Me, I was Bored!

2006-01-11T20:57:59Z

Outsiders Anti-Drug icons!

One for all 7 greasers... Comment, credit (Me for icons, and angelcakescaps for caps) and enjoy... But don't hotlink... *tries to think of creative way to tell you not to hotlink* Just don't do it, OK?

Teasers:

::::::::::::

If they're too fast, click this link, and thanks suzanami for slowing them down!

http://www.livejournal.com/community/theoutsiders/95466.html?thread=619754#t619754

TEXT POSTED BY REQUEST:

1. Just tell Two-Bit you didn't notice his sideburns because you were stoned. He'll understand. Two-Bit Mathews. My Anti-Drug
2. Just tell Steve you ate all the chocolate cake because you were stoned. He'll understand. Steve Randle. My Anti-Drug
3. Just tell Soda you couldn't go out with him because you were stoned. He'll understand. Sodapop Curtis. My Anti-Drug
4. Just tell Ponyboy you couldn't watch a sunset with him because you were stoned. He'll understand. Ponyboy Curtis. My Anti-Drug
5. Just tell Johnny you couldn't stay gold because you were stoned. He'll understand. Johnny Cade. My Anti-Drug
6. Just tell Darry you stayed out too late because you were stoned. He'll understand. Darrel Curtis. My Anti-Drug
7. Just tell Dally you couldn't go cause trouble with him because you were stoned. He'll understand. Dallas Winston. My Anti-Drug

hintonverse @ 2006-01-11T11:06:00

2006-01-11T16:10:16Z

Wow... I don't know why I didn't post these here... I'm not sure I even knew this com was icon friendly. lol.

Teasers:

.:..:..:..:..:.

Comment, credit me for the icons and all icons with pictures credit angelcakescaps for caps!

And don't hotlink... I don't like hotlinkers... I just... Don't like 'em. /enddallyaccent

If I had to pick the real character of the gang...

2006-01-11T15:49:02Z

Title: Hauled In... Again...
Genre: General with comic relief all over the place! lol.
Rating: I'd say PG/PG-13ish
Main Characters: Dallas Winston
Pairings: None
Spoilers: Not really
Warnings: Mild language... and I'm not sure if I've quite got Dally's voice down... Tell me what you think, please?
Short Summary: Idea from marsonfire's FF idea list! Thanks for the good idea! When there's trouble around, isn't Dally ALWAYS involved?

My God, how did Ponyboy and Johnny get in so much trouble?

And of all things, they get in trouble, and Tulsa's finest haul ME down to the station! I was headin' over to Two-Bit's from Buck's and I heard that stupid cop... James, or Jamison, or something... yelling, "Winston! Hold it!"

I rolled my eyes as he pushed me onto the hood of his car and cuffed me. "C'mon," he said. "We're gonna have to have us a heart-to-heart down at the station."

"Listen, man," I said, playing my best dumb look. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. You know somethin', Winston? We didn't have near as much trouble here until you showed up."

I grinned, which really pissed him off. "Sure ya did... I just make trouble alot more interesting."

The cop pushed me into his car and drove me down to the station. Oh, my, my... The station... My home away from home. I could almost feel myself hitting my cot to end the day. Heck, I don't mind sleeping in a jail cell. Least I know I got a place to sleep when I'm in jail.

We got to the station, and the cop led me in. Then, he immediately jumped down my throat. "What do you know, Winston?"

"About what, dear officer?" I asked innocently.

He glared at me, so I glared back.

"Come on, Dallas," he said. "Tell me what you know about the murder at the fountain." I could tell he was sick of my bull already... So naturally, I shot some more.

"Murder?" I exclaimed. "Gee, Officer... a murder you say?"

"Listen, Winston!" he yelled. He slapped the table hard in front of me. I hope the fuzz broke his wristbone. "I know that if anybody knows about a murder, it's you."

"Geez," I said, acting... kinda like that Socy chick acted when I asked her about her red hair... Like I'd be violated or somethin'. "I thought I was... uh..." I snapped my fingers, searching for the phrase. "Innocent until proven guilty."

Then I started laughing, 'cause that reminded me of one time when I got sent to the cooler for a few days for something a Soc did... Two-Bit said I was "innocent until proven greasy."

The cop looked ready to belt me... but good. Let him hit me. I didn't much care. It wouldn't be my worst experience with the fuzz.

The cop asked me a buncha questions like, "Where were you last night between the hours of 10 pm and 2 am?"

I grinned at him. "First, I was fightin' Tim Shepard. Then I went over to Buck Merill's place to get some sleep."

He looked at me kinda funny. Like I was off my rocker or somethin'. So what? I can't help it if Buck's always got a spare room, and I can sleep through Gabriel's horn, plus a stampede and a buncha old corny country music.

"Listen," I said. "Last night, I didn't even see the fountain."

"Winston, maybe you didn't, but maybe somebody you know did," he said, like he was askin' me a question instead of tellin' me somethin'.

"OK," I said. "Maybe I do know somethin'." I sighed like I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't. "But, see, officer... I ain't had nothin' to eat since yesterday evenin', and it's alread almost lunch time... I'm almost starvin'."

"You can eat when you get done talkin'," he said.

"Oh, my!" I said. "Wouldn't it just be horrible if it got out that you were usin' starvation torture on a poor kid to make him tell ya what he knew?"

I saw him trembling with anger. God knew he wished he could bust me a good one. Then, just to piss him off more, I laughed out loud. Then, I made my best straight poker face. "Officer... I'm feeling so weak. I think I might faint."

The cop almost growled at me. "OK, FINE!" He opened his drawer and grabbed a pack of crackers. "Here!" he snapped.

"Why thank you, officer," I said, giving him a smile that Two-Bit called "the Dallas Winston I'm-trying-not-to-kill-you smile." "But I'll need a Coke to wash these crackers down with... Unless you have a beer."

The cop looked at me like I was an idiot or something. That almost struck me funny. But I was worried about Pony and Johnny, so I thought about that to keep from laughing. I didn't know if the cop could make it through one more snicker from me without killin' me.

The cop handed me a can of Coke from under his desk.

"It's hot!" I complained like a little kids. Gah. Then I remembered why I've always hated little kids so much.

The cop looked at me angrily. "Fine, Winston. I'll just put you in a cell for a while and let you think about it."

I looked at him, pretending I was really scared now. "OK, OK!" I said. "It was a coupla kids I know... They're goin' to Texas, man... Don't let nobody hurt 'em, though... Please?" I gave him a look like a whipped pup. Almost like that look Johnny's had ever since the Soc got him.

"Good boy," the cop said. He uncuffed me and said. "Have a nice day."

I grinned as I walked back out into the street. "Sucker."

hintonverse @ 2006-01-11T02:53:00

2006-01-11T07:53:45Z

32 cherry bases, because i love her. *0*

previews:

please leave comments on the bases at the entry in my icon journal, HERE, because it makes my life easier. :\

cross-posted to theoutsiders & starshapedcandy. enjoy :D

hintonverse @ 2006-01-08T21:46:00

2006-01-08T21:46:59Z

What do you think Sodapop wrote in his letter to Sandy?

Hey, Pepsi~Cola!

2006-01-07T00:46:39Z

Title: The Truth Won't Set Him Free
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG
Main Characters: Sandy
Pairings: Sandy/Soda
Spoilers: I hope not!
Warnings: Suggestion of sex, but just barely... a little mushy, I guess...
Short Summary: Sandy tells the truth about what happened between her and Sodapop.

.

Sodapop Curtis... God knows I love him so much.

That's why I lied to him... That's why I had to hurt him.

When my parents found out I was pregnant, the first thing they did was to call Darry, Soda's older brother and tell him just what they thought of his "hormone crazed brother" getting their "poor baby" pregnant.

Soda wanted to marry me. But my parents said, "No sixteen-year-old kid is gonna marry our Sandy.

Well, first of all, I'm only a month older than Soda is. He was only two weeks from turning seventeen.

But they said I couldn't marry Sodapop. So they sent me to my Grandma's in Tampa.

I kept telling myself that it was only a matter of time before I'd go back, and Soda would be there, waiting to marry me.

But the more I thought about it, the sicker it made me. Thinking of Soda, sweet, happy-go-lucky Soda, out in Tulsa worrying about me and the baby... our baby... And besides, Soda didn't want to do anything until his younger brother, Ponyboy, was out of school. He wanted to help Darry put Pony through college if it was possible.

I fought it for a while, but then, I did the merciful thing... If merciful and cruel can be used to desribe the same thing. I wrote him a letter... and lied to him. I told him the baby wasn't his. It was impossible, though. Soda and I... I mean, he was the only one. I think he'll always be the only one. But he didn't have to know that. I told him that I'd been two-timing him. And that he didn't need to worry about me anymore, because the baby and me wasn't his problem anymore.

Soda wrote me back, but I couldn't open it. I couldn't read what he wrote. But it killed me wondering if it was words of hatred or words of forgiveness... So I wrote "Return to Sender" on it, hoping that he'd give up.

Because I love Sodapop Curtis, and a little pain now will save him so much more pain in the future.

I don't want him to hurt anymore.

hintonverse @ 2006-01-04T15:49:00

2006-01-04T15:50:13Z

I wonder why S.E Hinton never writes a mother character in her work, could it be to do with the fact that her mother treated her badly and wasn't encouraging of her writing, all her main characters are from broken families?
In "Rumble Fish", the mother leaves taking the 6 (?) year old Motorcycle Boy with her and leaving Rusty-James alone with the father whilst the father goes off on a bender.
Hmmm.. I wonder why she didn't take Rusty James along with her. Poor boy.

Breaking Point

2006-01-01T13:18:30Z

Title: Breaking Point
Genre: Hrm... I'm not sure...
Rating: PG... Censored language and a touch of violence
Main Characters: Dallas Winston (@ the age of 10)
Pairings: N/A
Spoilers: Nope!
Warnings: Touch of violence
Short Summary: "Dally had spent three years on the wild side of New York and had been arrested at the age of ten."

"Where have you been, son?"

Ten-year-old Dallas Winston shrugged in response to his father's question.

"What do you mean you don't know?" the man asked, in that sugar sweet tone that said he was doing all he could not to blow up. It made Dallas want to puke.

"I been... around..." the young boy said, another shrug showing his father how little he cared about what the man thought of him.

Now his father was angry. "Dallas, you are ten years old! You're too young to be going out on your own and walking out on the streets!"

Dallas shoved his fists into his coat pockets and slouched like he'd seen alot of the hoods in his neighborhood do. "I don't care," he said, with yet another cocky shrug of his shoulders. "'Sides, I wouldn't be out on the street if you watched me better."

"I'm sick of your disrespect!" the man yelled at the boy.

"Fine!" Dallas yelled back, eyes blazing. "You won't have to deal with it no more!" With that, the boy made a run for the door.

"Dallas!" the man yelled, running after him. "Dallas!"

Dallas's father slammed his fist into the wall as the door slammed behind his son. Dallas was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dallas ran down the sidewalk, tears streaming down his elvish face. "Da--it!" he swore, furiously wiping the tears away with the sleeve of his jacket. He kicked over a trash can angrily.

A man across the street yelled, "Hey, kid! What's your problem?"

The boy looked up, his face now dry. He was suddenly glad that he was big for his age, and could pass for much older than he was. "What's it to ya?" he yelled back.

"Hey, that's my trash, kid! I just got it out for the garbage man!"

Dallas whipped out a switchblade quickly. "You think I care?"

The man turned pale. "Uh..." he stammered.

"That's what I thought!" Dallas replied, before disappearing into the alley.

"Winston," called a familiar voice from the shadows. "That you?"

"Yeah," Dallas replied, recognizing the voice of his 14-year-old friend, Ace. "It's me."

"You been cryin'?" Ace asked, when he appeared from the shadows.

"No, I ain't been cryin'!" the younger boy snapped. "Now gimme a cancer stick."

Ace knew better than to tease Dallas. The younger boy had proven himself too many times in a fight.

"What's goin' on anyhow?" Dallas asked. "I'm bored. The old man's been buggin' me."

Ace shrugged. "We was figurin' on hittin' that liquor store down the street.. We all need some cash... and besides... I could use a drink."

Dallas grinned, a dangerous grin that looked out of place on someone so young. "Sounds good to me."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The boys walked down the street to the liquor store, bothering people along the way. Dallas pulled a switchblade on a boy who was much younger than he was, and all of the boys yelled dirty things at a hooker, who yelled back, "Shut up, will ya! You're too young!"

Dallas spoke first when they slipped into the alley across the street from the liquor store. "Lemme do it, Ace."

Ace shrugged. He didn't doubt Dallas's abilities. "Go ahead."

Dallas walked across the street, acting like he was just a curious kid.

The man behind the counter looked up. "What're you doin' in here, kid?"

Dallas glared at the man, then walked toward him silently, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Gimme the money in the register," he said, pulling out the switch again.

The man's eyes filled with fear, then shame that he'd been bested by a kid. But Dallas was a big kid. He gathered up the money in the register and handed it to Dallas, who shoved it into the pocket of his jacket.

The boy jumped when he heard a voice behind him. "Hold it right there, kid!"

Dallas whirled to find himself staring straight down the barrel of a gun. A plainclothes cop. "Da--!" Dallas said, dropping the blade.

And at the age of 10, Dallas Winston first felt the shiver that came with the closing of ice cold metal around his wrists. He was in deep trouble, and he knew it. And the worst thing was, he wasn't even sure he cared.

A Cop's Tale

2006-01-01T04:32:24Z

Title: All In The Line Of Duty
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13ish... for violence
Main Characters: Unnamed police officer, Dallas Winston (of course)
Pairings: N/A
Spoilers: If you don't know what happens to Dally in the end, you might be in for a shocker!
Warnings: Death references, violence
Short Summary: He was just a kid. Only 17.

I helped kill a kid last night. He was 17. Only 17. And I shot him.

I knew the kid sorta. I don't know how I coulda made it bein' on the force without ever running into him. The kid had a record a mile long. His name was Dallas Winston, and all of us at the station had seen him at one time or another. He'd been hauled in for everything from petty thievery, to fighting, to disturbing the peace. Even hauled him in the other day for questioning regarding a murder.

Every time I saw that kid, I thought, "Man, he's really gonna get himself into some real trouble one day if he don't start actin' right." He was a hard one. And when they're already that hardened at 17, it's hard to ever get through to them again.

I'd see him in the station... sometimes I'd be the one questioning him... and I'd always tell him, "Stay out of trouble, kid. I don't like seein' you in here so much."

And he would just sneer at me and say, "Yeah, whatever, fuzzman."

I knew he was trouble, but I really hate to see a kid go down the wrong path. I never wanted to see him with a bullet in him. Especially not my bullet.

In ten years on the force, this is the first time I've ever killed anyone.

Why'd it have to be a kid? He never had a chance to be a man... But I just wonder... If he'd ever had that chance, would he have taken it?

But I'll never know.

You know what else makes it so bad? The gun he pulled on us wasn't even loaded. Not one dang bullet in it. Believe me... I've looked at it a hundred times in the past few hours. But it didn't matter. All I could think of was one of my men going down.

So I took aim and fired. And now I've killed a kid. And no matter how I try to forget it, I can't. I'll never forget that I took away any last vestige of hope that Dallas Winston might one day become a man, and not a hard, cold hood.

And no matter how many other officers pat me on the back and tell me it was all in the line of duty, I'll never forgive myself.

Smart Like Me

2005-12-30T00:28:18Z

Title: To Love Somebody
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG Just to be safe
Main Characters: Cherry Valance
Pairings: Cherry/Pony friendship, Mostly Cherry/Dally
Spoilers: Yeah, I guess. But if you haven't read the book or seen the movie, whats the point? lol.
Warnings: Death references, a little violence, might be a little fluffy...
Short Summary: I didn't want to fall in love. Especially not with him. Dallas Winston. He was one of those guys, you know? Ten feet tall and bulletproof. At least, that's what he thought.

To Love Somebody

I didn't want to fall in love. Especially not with him. Dallas Winston. He was one of those guys, you know? Ten feet tall and bulletproof. At least, that's what he thought. I kinda thought so too. I wish I had been right. He was alot like Bob. Greasers and Socs aren't so different you know. He was frightening... and thrilling. He scared me, but somehow that only seemed to make it harder not to love him. He was everything I'm not. Cold... hard... even mean. He was violent, and cruel, and... absolutely beautiful. I don't even know if he was capable of loving me. But as hard as I tried to fight it, I loved him for all I was worth. And I don't even know why.

Ponyboy told me that greasers feel too much. That they're all emotions, and reactions to getting their buttons pushed. Soc's are cold and hard. But I don't know. Maybe not all greasers feel like Pony said. I never saw any sign of feeling coming from Dallas. He reminded me of Socs like Bob. So unfeeling that they almost scare me.

But he did feel. Obviously. He had to feel something. I talked to Pony, and he told me. Dallas did love one person. He loved Johnny Cade like family. Like the brother he never had. Dallas never loved any of the other greasers. They were just "his buddies," and he felt some kind of loyalty to them. But not love. I think he never loved anybody else but Johnny. He would have died for Johnny. And I guess, in the end, if you get right down to it... he did.

Pony told me that Dallas died because he loved Johnny. When Johnny died, the only part of Dallas that felt anything died, too. And I guess he figured there was no point in even trying anymore. So he pulled that gun on the cops. It wasn't loaded. He never loaded that thing, Pony told me. But nobody told the cops. So then... Then he went down. I was there. That's what noone knows. I was in my car on the other side of the road. I saw the cops shoot him... again and again. They didn't have to shoot him so many times. What kinda cop couldn't just aim for his arm so he'd drop the gun or something? Or maybe sneak up on him and take it? Why'd they shoot him so many times?

In my heart, I wanted to run to him... to hold him so that maybe he'd feel something before he died. But I didn't. Because my head wouldn't let me. "Stay out of it, Cherry," I said to myself as tears streamed down my face. "Just let it go. It's just a greaser. He helped the boy who killed Bob..."

And then I felt really bad, because I knew Johnny Cade. And of all the people who Bob's death hurt, I'd say Johnny took it the worst. That kid was all heart... He reminded me of a little kid who's lost his way, and doesn't know which way to go, and all the time, people just laugh in his face instead of trying to help. That was Johnny. I guess I'd only met him once, but... he was like an open book. You didn't have to know him long to know that he'd been hurt. And that he worshiped Dallas. If Dallas had said, "Hey, Johnny, I want you to jump off the Grand Canyon, and I'll be at the bottom to catch you," I think Johnny would have done it.

I guess he wasn't the only one.

I wanted to help Dallas... But I didn't. Because I didn't want to feel anymore. I didn't want to hurt like I knew I was going to. I didn't want to let myself give my heart away again, only to have it handed back in a million pieces. I talked to Ponyboy yesterday at Dallas's grave. The two of us just showed up at the same time. And he told me how Dallas told him that going to jail had made him hard and unfeeling, and he liked it that way. That feeling too much would get you killed, like Johnny. You'd stick your own neck out too far trying to help somebody else. Pretty ironic, huh? He died because Johnny died, and he just didn't care anymore.

The day I met Dallas, I told him I couldn't stand him. I wouldn't even drink the Coke he bought me. I told him that I wouldn't take anything from him. But I never said I'd never do anything for him. I bought him a Coke to put on his grave. Only, I poured the Coke out and put flowers in the bottle. And as I put on his grave, I said, "There, Dallas. I guess that's all I'll ever give ya, so hope you like it."

Ponyboy gave me a hug as I began to cry. I guess he knew how it was, acting tough so you wouldn't have to feel the pain. Acting like you don't care so that you can hide how much you really do... how much it hurts you. He's alot like me. Always trying to be tough... and tuff.

That never really meant that much to me before. But I guess it does now. Because Dallas was right... if you get hardened to things... If you just flat don't care... Then you won't get hurt.

I don't ever want to get hurt again.

The End

Help meeeee... (And a fic)

2005-12-27T18:21:50Z

Hey, guys? I need a little help here . . . I've noticed that over at ff.net, slash fics are sometimes well-liked, sometimes not. I'm planning on writing an AU Outsiders fic, and the way I'm going to write it, it could easily be either a slash or non-slash story between Johnny and Dally. So I need help on deciding something: do I make it slash or non-slash?

The way it's going to be written, I could also 'end' it (and I mean actually make a good-sounding chapter where you'd think it would end) where they're in the really-close-almost-brothers stage for the non-slash people, tell them that it's about to turn slash, and continue writing from there, but I'm not sure how well-received that would be.

So . . . Any ideas? (And because this is a post-a-fic community and not a bawl-for-help community, here's a fic:)

Title: Black
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Warnings: None?
Summary: A fic about Dally's favorite color and why it is what it is.

Black

Black always had been his favorite color.

When Dally had decided this, he had been very disappointed in his own appearance – white blonde hair and ice blue eyes. Having less noticeable black hair and dark eyes would have been better for him; his appearance was too easy to recognize. Maybe it was bitterness at his self that made his like the color black.

If not, then it had probably started in New York. Black meant night, and darkness; shadows, disguise, and shelter. It also meant those things for other people, who might try to jump him, but Dallas Winston was confident enough to not care about that.

It was the color, other people had said, of the thing they called Dally’s ‘heart’. He would laugh them off and say, half-joking, half-serious, “What heart?”

The color had risen another notch in Dally’s eyes when he returned to Tulsa and reunited with Johnny Cade; that lost puppy of a boy that held Dally as a hero in his eyes. Johnny had the darkest hair Dally had ever seen; jet-black strands stuck together with grease that made them shine like wet, black leather. The only flaw in Johnny’s hair was that it was always in his eyes; always in his dark, dark eyes that were constantly trained on the ground.

His liking of the color had lessened a bit, however, when he saw the dark smears that the smoke from the fire had left on Johnny and Ponyboy’s bodies. It rose again when he took the black-handled switchblade from Two-Bit; that switch was why he had been able to go to the rumble, to fight for Johnny.

The gun that he had pulled on the cops had been black as well, as had been the guns the cops had pulled on him. Black was the only color that he saw as the bullets impacted; as his body was spun around; as that bitterly triumphant smile had made its way to his face . . . As he lay still on the ground.

Oh, well.

Black always had been his favorite color.

-fin-

I'm considering doing the rest of the gang, too. Hmmm . . .

Friend request and questions

2005-12-21T20:09:18Z

Hey all=) If anyone would like to add me as a friend, I'll add you back - my journal is mainly Outsiders stuff.

My question is - what types of Outsiders fan fic do you like best? Do you prefer 3rd person, on OC telling the story, first person from one of the greasers? What types of storylines interest you etc?

I am thinking of trying my hand at fan fic, and I'm curious about what people are interested in reading.

hintonverse @ 2005-12-09T22:54:00

2005-12-10T04:59:29Z

Hey, I'm back with another fic!

Title: When Life Gives You Lemons
Rating: PG-13 for one strong swear word.
Pairings: None
Warnings: ... A bit of angst?
Summary: A Dally POV that I imagine probably took place when he was driving to the store he was about to rob...

Disclaimer: If I owned the Outsider’s boys, all of the emotion in the book that makes it so good wouldn’t have happened, ‘cause Johnny and Dally wouldn’t have died.

When Life Gives You Lemons

I remember one day when I was with you and Ponyboy, and we were walking back to Pony’s place after a movie at the Nightly Double. I don’t remember what you and Pony were talking to each other about; I was thinking about going down to Buck’s after you two got to the Curtis’, but something y’all said caught my attention. Pony had laughed, and said, “Well, I guess when life gives you lemons, you ought to make lemonade.”

I had raised an eyebrow, never being into that philosophy crap, and asked, “What does that mean?”

You glanced up at me, and then looked back down at the ground and said, “I think it means that when you gets opportunities, then you need to take them.”

I had snorted and said something about stupid phrases, and why did they have to use lemonade as an example, anyway?, but you had defended the stupid thing.

“I think it makes sense; even if they did use lemonade to explain it. I mean, if you don’t take what you’re offered, then you’ll never get anywhere, right?”

I had laughed and smacked you playfully, gently on the back, asking when you’d gotten all deep on me, and you’d just grinned, looking a little embarrassed.

The memory had stuck with me for some reason, maybe because it was one of the few times I saw you grin after you got beat up by the Socs, and it’d surfaced in my mind for no reason when I was with you in the hospital before the rumble.

You’d been given a- lemon, I guess- when we drove up to the burning church. You could’ve took the opportunity to stay in the car (‘and live!’ a voice is hissing at me), but you had taken the other one; the bad one, and jumped out of the car to see what was wrong. You picked another bad one when you ran into the burning church to save those kids. And, while I was sitting there, watching you breath in labored gasps, I’d had a thought:

‘If you believed in that lemon crap, then when life gave you lemons . . . why did you throw them fuckin’ back?’

Hello, I come with fic!

2005-12-09T04:48:06Z

Hello! Just recently my class began reading (and finished) The Outsiders, and now I have an almost unhealthy obsession with the entire fandom. You can probably imagine how happy I was when I discovered this commmunity, because, like it's been said, the Outsiders section at ff.net is less than satisfactory. Now that I'm done rambling, here's the fic/drabble I came to post!

Title: "You Dig?"
Rating: PG, at a stretch?
Pairings: Dally/Johnny
Warnings: Short? Slash? But this is The Outsiders, does 'slash' really count as a warning?
Summary/Notes: Dally's visit to Pony and Johnny at the church goes a little different after a misunderstanding... Notes: (Edit: My friend explained that it was a bit confusing, sorry! I fixed it!)

-Pony’s POV-

Johnny and me had been talking for a while, basically about anything that came to mind, and eventually I made a teasing remark that resulted in both of us wrestling and running around the church. At one point, Johnny pulled himself away from me and ran, and I quickly caught back up, when we were in front of the church door. I lunged at his back, just as he turned around to face me, and we both gave out strangled yells as we fell to the ground on top of each other, our faces pressed together by the fall . . .

-Dally’s POV-

I was only a few steps away from the church door; listening to the noise of a wrestling match going on inside, when I heard two yells from inside the church and then a loud ‘thud’. I normally wouldn’t have worried, but a ‘thud’ during a wrestling match was normally followed by moans of pain, more scuffling, curses, or laughter, and all I heard was silence. I didn’t even remember opening the door; suddenly I was just in the church and staring down at a blonde guy sprawled on top of Johnny, and- they were kissing?!

Johnny looked shocked, and so did the blonde guy, but my mind didn’t register the latter fact until I had pulled the guy off of Johnny and thrown him half-way across the room, then gently helping Johnny to his feet. I dimly realized that the blonde guy was Ponyboy, so there was no way he had been trying to hurt Johnny, but that didn’t stop what happened next.

“Listen, Pony,” I growled in a low voice, “I’m going to show you something and I want you to pay real close attention.”

And with that, I turned to Johnny and grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him to me until his lips met mine.

Turning back to Pony, I snapped, “You dig?”

“Yeah!” Pony squeaked, his face pale and his eyes wide. “I dig!”

hintonverse @ 2005-12-08T16:17:00

2005-12-08T16:19:23Z

Does anyone know where I can find out if there were age restrictions on buying cigarettes, lighters or whether knives were legal in the 1960s?
I've been searching google for ages and not finding any information :(
It's for my new fic, I've basically written it already but I really want to make sure on some points that are essential to the story, so I can change dialogue if I have to etc..

All Hallow's Eve - Motocycle Boy Fic (Rumble Fish)

2005-10-09T17:59:16Z

Title: All Hallow's Eve
Rating: G?
Pairings: Motorcycle Boy/Cassandra from Rumble Fish by S.E Hinton. I do not own the characters and make no profit from them. Just think about them too much to be healthy!
Summary/Notes: The Motorcycle Boy's home on Halloween, does he get a trick or a treat? betaed for me by hanfastolfe I've added a little bit more since then, let me know if it's any good, is it too much or not enough?

A sudden loud banging startled me from my reading; I got up, putting my book down but not before carefully marking my place, I hate losing my place in books. My mind was already sorting through the possibilities of who it could be at the door. I knew it was Halloween but none of the kids in our building would knock on the door for treats, they knew we didn’t have anything worth giving and no-one would dare trick us, well me that is, since Rusty James can be easy to trick. That led to Rusty James breaking a rib or two last year, beaten up by some greaser who’d taken exception to Rusty James talking to his girlfriend. He’d ended up in the hospital with more than a few broken ribs courtesy of me.
Hell, it could probably be Rusty James banging on the door, lost his keys or passed out and dragged home by his friends, they’d planned a big night out, I’d seen them hollering about scaring girls and parties and vast quantities of alcohol when I came back from the bar where I’d seen Cassandra and we’d had a long talk about the future, our future and my future, ignoring the drunk revellers around us. Rusty James had asked me to go with them, his eyes pleading more than he ever would. I shook my head no, he shrugged and left, banging the door shut as he raced after B.J and Smokey.
I swung open the door, not expecting to see who I did see. Or maybe I had been expecting her all along.
She stands there, a bottle in her hand, her eyebrows raised, waiting for a reaction, her eyes not focusing as she smiles at me.
“Cassandra, you’re drunk …”
She giggles as she raises the nearly empty liquor bottle, twirling round, and her dress swinging with her hips.
“I thought you didn’t want to see me so I came to see you.” She shoves the bottle at me, I catch it and her arm as she nearly falls, I hold her up, letting go as I take a gulp from the bottle, warming my throat. She holds her arm up where I’ve held her, staring with wonder at the patterns my fingers left on her skin.
“Cassandra, I…” She shushes me, finger to my lips as I move backwards, letting her in the apartment. I see her move out of the corner of my eye; she’s gazing around the apartment, at the books, the empty liquor bottles and the dirty beds.
“Let me tell your fortune.” She hums as she stares at me, and I look away, uncomfortable from her gaze. “If you stay with me, we could conquer the world with poetry in our minds and love in our hearts, we don’t belong here…if you don’t, there’ll be pain and death in our futures, tears pricking at our eyes as we see our downfall in this grey world.”
She slumps against the door frame, sliding down to the ground, her gauzy dress ripped and dirty at the hem, her hand outstretched to me, fingers curled up in her palm. Offering me something? Possibly not my salvation. Sighing, I reach out for her hand, opening her fingers gently around the object; it’s a hardboiled sweet. A grin spreads across her face at my confusion. “Trick or Treat?”
I laugh softly and pull her up to me, feeling her slight body shiver as she leans against me.
I ask her if she’s cold, not waiting for a reply as I pull my sweater over my head and over her shoulders. She leans her head against my chest, wrapped up in my sweater as we dance to the music we hear when we’re together, slightly humming under our breaths as we dance back to my bed. I lay her down and lie down next to her, stroking her face.
I hold her close as I whisper in her ear, to make her dreams sweet, so she won’t dream about bad things, not tonight, the night where all the personifications of bad things walk the streets.
She whispers to me, but I didn’t hear it, it slipped out of range, I heard bits of words but couldn’t piece it together. Never mind, I’ll be gone tomorrow, my future stretching out ahead of me on a long grey stretch of road to California, a motorbike humming between my legs and the road as I follow the river.