Outsiders FanFiction

outsidersfic @ 2008-04-30T22:03:00

2008-05-01T03:05:41Z

this is my first real attempt at fanfiction...so i know it's not perfect...and the first couple chapters are accidentally Mary Sue...or they seem so to me at least, but it gets better...so please read&review.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4094201/1/Confused

outsidersfic @ 2008-03-27T19:45:00

2008-03-27T23:46:26Z

Okay, obviously this community is dead or dying, but I'm gonna post anywhere. I haven't read anything about any sort of hiatus.
And livejournal is giving me static, so if this entry posts itself 12 times, I appologize D:

Title: Sunset
Genre: Romance, friendship
Rating: G
Main Characters: Johnny Cade, Ponyboy Curtis
Pairings: JohnnyxPonyboy
Warnings: Fluff, romance
Summery: "You know," Johnny said softly, looking at the setting sun, "I never thought about sunsets or the colors of the sky or nothin' 'til I met you."

A beautiful sunset was the best way for a beautiful day to end. Ponyboy believed this strongly, Johnny knew. And if today was any example of this, he was right; pink and gold filled the summer sky, giving the countryside a gorgeous glow. The golden-yellow sun was slowly sinking into the horizon beyond the hills and farm houses, and Johnny stood a couple feet in front of Ponyboy as the two of them watched the sunset outside of the church, momentarily forgetting all of their problems. The only thing that was real was that beautiful gold sky, and that didn't bother Johnny one bit.

"You know," Johnny said softly, looking at the setting sun, "I never thought about sunsets or the colors of the sky or nothin' 'til I met you."

Ponyboy glanced over at Johnny. The thin, tan boy was still staring mesmorized at the golden sun. The light it gave off added a lovely glow to the older boy's face. His brown eyes sparkled with gold, his thick lips glistened. Dark brown hair appeared to be highlighted by a light gold, and his face appeared to be powdered with a golden dust. He looks twice as beautiful as this sunset, Pony thought to himself. Twice as beautiful as any sunset.

Yet, he could think of nothing to say. Johnny glanced at him, perhaps wondering if he had heard. Ponyboy nodded his head, and Johnny turned back toward the sun. He was thankful that the church was located on top of a high hill. This moment would stay in his memory for the rest of his life. "I wish it could stay like that all the time," Johnny nearly whispered.

"Yeah." Pony said, equally quiet. The two stood there, just watching the sun set. It was now a little over halfway out of sight, and neither of them wanted it to ever fully disappear. Ponyboy would have been just fine standing there forever, just watching the golden sky from that hilltop with Johnny.

"Pony?"

"Hm?"

"How much longer until the sun goes away?"

Ponyboy looked down at the sun, which was getting closer and closer to the horizon. "I'd give it about five more minutes."

The tan boy stood there silently, his eyes never leaving the sun.

"Five more minutes?"

Pony nodded, even though Johnny wasn't looking at him. He noticed that the golden glow has slightly worn from Johnny's face. His eyes still held the beautiful pink and gold sparkle, and his face was still kissed gently by the light. But it had definatly faded, and this fact upset Ponyboy significantly. It was proof that this moment would, like all others, eventually come to an end. He did his best to remember the sight of his gorgeous friend, features glowing softly. It was too perfect and too precious for him to forget.

"I always dreamt about this moment," Johnny said softly. "Since we met. The sun setting on the horizon, the air warm, and you by my side..." -Johnny let out a choked laugh- "I know how dumb that sounds, but this moment means so much to me..."

Ponyboy felt his heart speed up. He walked up beside Johnny, looking at him silently. Johnny still had his eyes fixed ahead, a small smile on his face. His lips were parted slightly, and his eyes were sparkling and wide with wonder.

"I always was waitin' for a moment like this, something special," Johnny continued in a hushed voice. "I was just waitin' for the perfect moment to tell you."

"To tell me what, Johnnycake?" Ponyboy asked quietly, his heart speeding up even more. He could barely keep the smile off of his face. He was sure that his heart was pounding loud enough for Johnny to hear.

Johnny didn't answer for a minute and for one horrible moment, Ponyboy thought he wouldn't answer at all. Then, the boy turned away from the sun and looked into Pony's green-gray eyes. They, too, had a soft golden glow to them. Johnny reached for Ponyboy's hands and held them gently in his own.

"I've been waiting," he said softly, "to tell you that I'm in love with you."

Ponyboy smiled an honest and beautiful smile which Johnny shyly returned, and then they kissed softly as they held hands in the most beautiful sunset either of them could ever imagine.

Wowwy...

2007-12-29T02:19:32Z

Wowzers, this community is definitely dying...

*revives it* No one said it was on hiatus. :B

Title: Good Night
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: T
Main Characters: Dallas Winston, a bit of Ponyboy as well.
Pairings: Dallas/Ponyboy! It needs more love! =D
Warnings: Fluff!Slash, cursing
Short Summary: Dry your eyes, because we say good night. Not good bye.

Author's notes: It was Evanescence-inspired, as you might see from the title and summary.

( This would be the link )

outsidersfic @ 2007-01-22T23:13:00

2007-01-23T04:16:16Z

Title: Umbrella
Genre: Friendship, lite romance
Rating: G
Main Characters: Ponyboy, Cherry
Pairings: Cherryboy! XD
Warnings: Nothing I can think of.
Short Summary: Reunited because of a faulty umbrella.

She stepped carefully through the puddles gathering on the cobblestones, trying not to ruin her new flats. So much for sunny, back-to-school weather. Balancing her umbrella, bookbag and coffee was proving to be difficult as the rain beat down harder and the wind picked up. She cursed under her breath as the cold mist was blown into her face; she angled the umbrella forward to shield her from the stupid, inconvenient rain.

In general, she rather liked the rain. Rainy days were soothing and quiet and a good excuse to sit in her dorm with a book. But this day was different. The water was icy cold despite the fact that it was hardly September and the wind was sharp and strong. She blinked, thinking she just saw lightening; her suspicion was confirmed when a long, thick rumble of thunder echoed across the huge plaza. As another gust of wind threatened to send her across the ground while she pussy-footed through the puddles, she considered abandoning her trip to the library altogether.

He'd been watching her through the window almost since she'd entered the plaza. The lighting was dim and warm inside the tiny coffee shop and she looked so unhappily contrasted out in the wind and rain. Setting his latte down, he slipped out the door and continued to observe her from under the awning.

She was achingly familiar, but he couldn't place her. He wasn't sure that he knew her as much as she reminded him of someone he knew -- but who? It was driving him crazy, feeling so close to recognizing her and not being able to. She was a nice-looking girl, in a cotton skirt and a nice jacket. Nicely curled hair. God, she was familiar.

He saw her suddenly lose control of her umbrella thanks to a sudden, strong gust. He could barely hear her shriek as the double-crossing object turned inside-out; she could barely hold onto the handle and her hair was definitely messed up now.

The good Samaritan in him rose up and he dashed across the plaza to help her. "Here, I've got it," he said over the weather, snatching the umbrella and helping her hurry back with him to the dry safety of the café awning.

A bit stunned, she shook her hair and tried to get herself back in order. She glared at the offending umbrella in his hand before straightening her posture and smiling at him. "You okay?" he asked as she smiled.

"Oh, of course! Thank you, by the way," was the reply as she shook droplets from her hair. The loose curls were a deep wine color and it hit him. Cherry. She was reminding him an awful lot of Cherry. She seemed to notice his stare and at first seemed a bit uncomfortable, but then something clicked in her green eyes and she squinted back at him. "Ponyboy?" When his eyes seemed to silently answer, she laughed and threw herself at him, almost spilling her thermos of coffee -- which she'd managed to save so far. "Oh, my God, Ponyboy! I can't believe it!"

He had no clue how to respond, so her silently returned the embrace almost as fervently. The last time they'd spoken was in high school; the last actual conversation they'd had was at the trial four years ago. They hadn't parted on bad terms per se, but he didn't know what university she'd be attending or how she was doing; they'd never really talked, other than to say "hi."

But she seemed genuinely glad to see him: her arms were tied around his middle, her face pressed to his wet shirt. He swore she nuzzled against him. After a moment, she seemed to realize herself and stepped back, flushed a bit. She tucked her hair behind her ear and grinned. "Never expected to run into you."

"Well, that goes both ways," Pony replied, raising his eyebrows. Honestly, he had no idea what to say.

"I'm really glad to see you," Cherry admitted, biting her lip bashfully. She wasn't sure why. "I've been regretting not saying goodbye or anything."

"Really?"

She couldn't believe how startled he looked, like he almost didn't believe her. Leaning closer, she nodded. "Yeah. I was awfully petty, wasn't I?" When he averted his eyes, she nearly laughed. "No, I'm serious. I was pretty snotty. I'm sorry about that," she added, shrugging and peeking up at him from under long eyelashes.

If it was possible for the most lovely young girl to become even more lovely, Cherry made it possible. "Ancient history," he said, finally smiling back. "You wanna go inside where it's warm and dry?"

"That sounds fantastic, Ponyboy," she answered, and he rather liked how she said his name.

dawn goes down to day

2006-12-17T21:18:35Z

I made a short walk into Outsiders fanfiction a few months ago, after we read it in Hon. English, and this was the product of it. It's short, but I'm rather fond of it as a whole.

      Title: Dawn Goes Down To Day
      Genre: angst
      Rating: G
      Main Characters: Johnny, Ponyboy
      Pairings: Johnny/Ponyboy, friendship, or slash if you squint really REALLY hard
      Warnings: none, that I know of. Canon character death. Angst, I suppose.
      Short Summary: it all happened too quickly.

I.
(It all happened too quickly, he didn’t understand what it was, what he was doing, the pull of the knife and the slide, too easy, too easy, too easy and he is seeing red. Oh, oh, God, Ponyboy, wake up. Please, wake up. It’s over. . .)

It is the park at night, the thin boy frantic and wet beside him, and maybe the blood on his hands that undoes him, leaving him somewhere in the sky above his body where he can think. A plan, he says, a gun. The realization creeps up on them both before they can prepare for it, and they run, Johnny’s feet moving innately to a person that he has always trusted, despite what everyone says, who loved him when nobody else would look at him.

II.

(Johnny doesn’t like the road, with dust flying up around their legs, tracing patterns in their hair, drawing stares from people on front porches as they pass. He doesn’t like it, but he understands it, and that is what frightens him the most.)"Are you tired?" Johnny asks.

"No." Ponyboy pants, but he is lying, and they both know it.

III.

(He holds the hair as he cuts it, trying to do it smoothly, trying not to make him worry. Ponyboy loves his hair, though he would be embarrassed if Johnny told him that he knew, but he does know, and tells him that he’d always had the tuffest hair, that it made him look like Soda, even though it didn’t, because Ponyboy never really looks like anyone but himself)

He looks different with his hair too short, ragged at the edges, and Johnny did that, he did that. Now, he almost resembles Dally, the pale hair and the eyes with an edge of understanding, but while Dally’s are cold, Ponyboy’s are still young. They are green, no matter how he tries to pass them off as grey, and, right now, as they stare at the fields from the steps on the church, there are stars of yellow and blue in them.

"I’m sorry." Johnny whispers, but Ponyboy only shakes his head, and his eyes say that it doesn’t matter anymore, that there’s nothing left to do but wait, and he believes them, because he always has.

IV.

(And Dally doesn’t want them to stop, doesn’t want to care, but Ponyboy is already out of the car, with Johnny at his heels. It is a blur, black smoke, broken glass, laughing, laughing, children screaming, somewhere.)

This is it, he thinks, staring into the flames licking around him, a scream still stale

on his lips. Nobody ever, ever thought I would die a hero. Nobody.

It hurts, too much to breath, sharp stars of it shooting through his body. He made this decision, split-second, pale head bobbing in front of him frantically, calling through the flames. The last child is out the window and Ponyboy is reaching for him, and darkness, slow and soft and consuming, swirling in front his eyes. Bye, he thinks, distantly, a smile slipping slow across his lips.

V.
(he doesn’t die, somehow. He knows when he wakes up and is wrapped too tight in sheets, clean sheets, not like home. Hospital, he whispers, trying to open his eyes. He’s awake. A high excited voice, a nurse with long hair leaning over him. Yes, yes, you’re in the hospital. Can you speak? There is a silence, thick and pitch-black until his eyes open fully. I want to see them, he whispers. I want to see them I want to see them I want to see them. She nods, hesitantly, and disappears. Tears prick his eyes, and he runs a hand through his hair, and doesn’t try to fight them.)

Their eyes are indecisive when they walk in, appearing through the white doorway, one after the other. Dally touches his shoulder, softly, softly, as if he’ll break. All of the words are soft, too, thinning at the edges, uncharacteristic. He thinks it might have something to do with hospital, and something to do with how he must look, pale and sleepless.

Later, Ponyboy comes back and reads to him from Gone with the Wind, and he doesn't have the heart to tell him that he doesn't remember any of it.

-end-

Outsiders Fan Fiction awards

2006-10-08T06:08:09Z

Hey everyone!

Please visit at http://www.angelfire.com/planet/outsidersawards/home.html for the Wrong Side of the Tracks fan fiction awards! You can nominate any of your favourite fics for various categories from now until October 31st. Details are at the site, and there are already some great fics nominated!

Photograph

2006-10-07T01:34:30Z

Title: Photograph
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG for mention of drinking
Main Characters: Ponyboy
Pairings: Friendship Pony/Johnny is spoken of
Warnings: Mm, nothing really. Just ultra angst.
Short Summary: "Ten years had aged him more severly than he imagined, his eyes darker than they once were and dark circles beneath his eyes. Suddenly, he wanted those ten years to disappear, all the challenges and losses they brought, and wanted to return to the age of fourteen."

A/N: I can say this is one of the fics that makes me most proud. It took about two days to write, and it was inspired by a Polariod of a friend and myself at a school dance last year, and it led to this. I hope you guys are still around! I'll probably be linking back here. Maybe.

Ponyboy sat at his desk, his eyes dry and red, his hair dirty and sticking up in every which way. His eyes were no longer letting tears fall onto his prickly, unshaven cheeks, as his eyes had no tears left to shed. The inhabitants of a picture that had sat in the exact same place on Pony's desk for nearly ten years were staring at him. The two boys in the picture were young; one of fourteen, the other sixteen, though they both looked fourteen. They both had dark hair, though one had darker skin, though not extremely dark as that he appeared African, for he was not. The dark-skinned fellow had large, dark eyes, and looked as if he had been beaten too many times, or lost among a crowd once as a child. The other boy, though, had green-grey eyes, giving him a warm look. His eyes, though, did not show such a horrible past as the first, he looked as if he had been loved, though a tragedy may have struck not long before the picture was taken.
Ponyboy looked closely at the picture, then turned back to the composition notebook open on his desk.

There was, once upon a time, a town where upper- and lower-class citizens were characterized as Socs and greasers. Socs and greasers were completely different and weren't willing to accept each other as people quite like themselves and were at constant battle, almost like a civil war among the teenagers of the town. There was no resolving it - not a single person could convince neither one group nor the other that either was no better than the other, because they knew it was untrue. Socs had money, cars, and madras. Greasers had hair grease, tennis shoes, and leather jackets. No matter who fought who and who won, it was always the Socs that came out on top.
But one person went and changed that: Johnny.

After that, Pony stopped. He wasn't completely sure how to tell his story, or even if he should. He wanted people to know that there was a way that their lives wouldn't always be the same, but didn't want to disappoint them with what that may have brought, or what may have brought it. He didn't want to tell of three tragic deaths of people who weren't ready to go, and the people who suffered and continued to dread the nights that their loved ones haunted their dreams.
Ponyboy put his pen between his teeth and sat there for a minute before he decided to continue:

Johnny was always a small, fragile boy with dark hair, skin and eyes. His parents were abusive and his mother an alcoholic, and had never been taken very good care of by his family. He had friends, though, who stuck up for him no matter the danger, and made sure he was always safe. There were six others in the "gang": Two-Bit Mathews, Steve Randal, Dallas Winston, and the Curtises, Darry, Sodapop, and Ponyboy. The most peculiar of the bunch was Dallas Winston, who was generally referred to as Dally. He was certainly the toughest, and had been in jail numerous times. He was constantly getting into fights, and was not a person you wanted to mess with. The strangest thing about Dally was that he always seemed to treat Johnny differently; he never really got mad at him, almost like he couldn't. What hardly anyone seemed to notice was that Dally really cared for Johnny more than anyone. No one thought Dally had a heart, but he did - but only for Johnny.
How do I know, you wonder?
Well, I'm Ponyboy, and Johnny was my best friend.

Pony looked back at the photograph, his eyes begging for moisture. He pushed his chair backwards and made his way into the bathroom, flushing his face with cool water. He leaned on the sink, looking into his reflected eyes. Ten years had aged him more severly than he imagined, his eyes darker than they once were and dark circles beneath his eyes. Suddenly, he wanted those ten years to disappear, all the challenges and losses they brought, and wanted to return to the age of fourteen. He wanted those bright eyes and long hair, the smooth face and fit body. He wanted his best friend back, and he wanted still to live with his family, with his brothers. He wanted to stay home that night, instead of going to the movies with Johnny and Dallas. He wanted not to have met Cherry that night, he wanted Bob not to have been drunk. He wanted not to have liked Cherry, he wanted the Socs not to have jumped him. He wanted Johnny to have let Pony die instead.

Then, he thought, maybe it all happened for a reason.

Mod Post No. 2

2006-08-14T22:21:37Z

One of your mods here. This is just a reminder post to refresh your memory!

> Please do not make any posts that are off-topic. Even if it's Outsiders-related, if it's not a fic you wrote or a plug to someone else's fic, it belongs in theoutsiders or hintonverse.

> If you want to post a fic starring an OC (having one as a minor character is fine), you are to contact one of the mods in their personal journal in a comment OR email them, if that info's provided on their profile. We'll read over the fic and either approve or pass on the fic. There are plenty of Mary-Sue stories at FanFiction.net. This community is not the place for them to gather.

> Remember to tag your entries! This makes browsing the community easier, especially as we accumulate more posts. If you don't know how to tag a post, please ask. I am probably going to add it to the user info sometime soon, anyway.

I don't mean to sound like an evil governess and I don't like deleting posts, but we want to keep the community nice and neat. There are a lot of people (such as at fanficrants) who really want to read good Outsiders fanfiction, but are turned off by the content at FFnet. So we're trying to keep this community to better quality for picky readers, as a place we can all reccomend to find some good Outsiders fic! :)

If you have any suggestions or think anything on the community user info is confusing or not clear enough, please let us know! You guys can leave comments on this post with any feedback you have. We just want to make the community enjoyable and smooth for everyone. Again, don't hesitate to ask any questions.

Stay gold, and keep writing!
- suzanami, the Evil Mod. ;)

Burn to the Wick

2006-08-11T22:26:06Z

Title: Burn to the Wick
Genre: General/Angst
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Steve, Sodapop, Ponyboy
Pairings: None
Spoilers: Inspired by Hinton's commentary on what happens to the characters post-novel, but not set in that defined timeline—that is, only one element has been preserved.
Warnings: Substance abuse
Summary: Cleaning yourself up is never easy.

( Soda's been with him these three days. )

Twenty-Four Hours Later

2006-06-16T18:40:53Z

Title: Twenty-Four Hours Later (Horrid title, I know. But I just couldn't think of one.)
Genre: You could call it angst.
Rating: PG, for recollection of character death.
Main Characters: Sodapop
Pairings: Um, I guess it could be Pony/Soda (friendship-wise).
Spoilers: If you haven't read the book, why are you even here? *shrugs* Book-spoilers, w/e.
Warnings: Um. Recollection of death, is all, as mentioned in the rating.
Short Summary: Without Ponyboy, I don't think I'd be half the person I am today. Even though if you asked I'd tell you Steve was my best friend, it really is Ponyboy...

I sat in the chair beside my bed, holding Pony's sweating hand, watching the moon rising into the dark sky through the open window. The street was quiet, which was a new thing. Usually, it was filled with noises of fights and drunk greasers, but tonight was different. Tonight was the night which was set for greiving.

It had been only twenty-four hours since Darry, Two-Bit, Steve, Ponyboy and I had been running down the street, screaming at the cops. There stood Dally, gun in hand, just asking to be shot. My heart was racing, and not because I was running. I was afraid for him.

Last night had been the loudest, slowest night of all. Ponyboy came home, crying, covered in cuts and bruises from the rumble. That had been the only silent time all night - just before he told us that Johnny had died. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, my stomach sunk down into my toes, and I couldn't have spoken if I wanted. I choked up, unable to speak.

Now, Ponyboy lay in our bed. He had slept through the day, his cuts and scrapes not yet tended to. I wanted him to wake up, just so I could know he was okay.

For no reason at all, my grip on his hand became tighter. I just wanted him to know that he meant the world to me, and that no matter how he acted, Darry felt the same way. Without Ponyboy, I don't think I'd be half the person I am today. Even though if you asked I'd tell you Steve was my best friend, it really is Ponyboy - Pony's a lot more understanding than Steve, and tends to take feelings to deeper consideration.

Pony then opened his eyes and looked at me. "Soda," he said groggily. "Is somebody sick."

I gave him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, Pony, somebody's sick."

"Who?" he asked, closing his eyes.

I felt a cool tear fall down my cheek. "You are."

Hurt

2006-02-07T01:56:28Z

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

2006-02-04T18:48:02Z

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 Soda 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.

I don't wanna see that happen to you, like it happened to me...

2006-01-26T22:07:08Z

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)[approved by suzanami Here: http://community.livejournal.com/bethie88fanfic/467.html?thread=2259#t2259], 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.

Johnny's Jean Jacket

2006-01-26T14:15:42Z

Title: Johnny's Jean Jacket
Genre: Mystery/Drama
Rating: PG* to Be safe
Main Characters: Ponyboy
Pairings: none.
Spoilers: Johnny's death.
Warnings: Language,
Short Summary: Johnny Leaves Pony his Jean Jacket. he tell him, “Ponyboy, keep my jacket for me, please. Until I come back and get”. Ponyboy wonders how could Johnny do that?If he was Dead?Or is He?

outsidersfic @ 2006-01-24T11:36:00

2006-01-24T16:38:20Z

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."

Four Ponyboy/Cherry flashfics.

2006-01-15T23:44:42Z

These short pieces are set in a slightly AU "fanverse" in which Ponyboy and Cherry attend the same university. I refer to it as the "September" universe, since the almost-drabble-and-a-half from which it originated is entitled "September" (and I think that first piece is a little awkward; it was only my second piece of Outsiders fanfiction and I really didn't have any kind of feel for it down yet, oh dear). This fanverse coincides with S.E. Hinton's commentary on what happens to the characters post-novel (as seen here), with the notes on Soda playing an important role.

I'm also using them for fanfic100, for which I'm writing 100 The Outsiders general novel fanfics. The first three, however, were written prior to signing up for the challenge.

I'm a little self-conscious about sharing these; originally, I hadn't intended to share the "September" fanverse with others. But suzanami encouraged me to post them, so even though I still think they're a bit romanticized and self-indulgent and come across as a bit more fluffy than they're intended to, here they are anyway.

Title: September
Word Count: 137
Rating: G
Summary: Some people are just connected.

Cherry smiled. "We have a way of running into each other, don't we?"

He shrugged one shoulder casually. "I guess so."

"I hear you got a scholarship. Athletic, right? In track?"

"Yeah, almost a full ride. And some pretty good academic awards. I think I'm going to study English. Maybe be a teacher or a writer."

She touched his arm lightly. "Whatever you do, Ponyboy, you'll be wonderful at it."

And oh, she was so beautiful under that autumn sky, with her cheeks rosy in the crisp wind and her eyes bright with the freshness of the air, her long wine-red hair tumbling down her slender back and her gentle fingertips resting on his arm. When she asked him to join her for coffee, he was already swallowed up in those autumn-bright eyes. He couldn't say no.

Title: Grape Jelly
Word Count: 222
Rating: PG
Summary: It's just the smallest things that make him remember.

His hands are shaking around his teacup. "It's just the stupidest, smallest things, you know?" And he's trying so hard to breathe steadily, but tears are closing up his throat.

She's looking hard into his eyes. "It's okay, Ponyboy."

But the damage is already done. "I had the same damn thing for breakfast yesterday. Why's it bothering me today?" And he turns away and scrubs at his eyes, then pushes the plate of toast with grape jelly to the side of the table. It's just the smallest things that make him remember.

"It's okay, Ponyboy," she says again. And he knows she's right. It's okay to still feel this sick knot in his chest at grape jelly, at DX gas stations, at movie-star-handsome strangers with wheat-gold hair and dark eyes. It's just not okay to spend sleepless nights reading that letter, that awful dark letter, over and over again with his eyes straining in the moonlight until he cries so hard his head and chest hurt.

She watches him take a swallow of tea. When he goes back up and brings back a bagel smeared in cream cheese, she doesn't quite smile, but the hard concentration leaves her pretty face. So he smiles so she will smile, even though he's still heartsick with that toast sitting at the corner of the table.

Title: Smashing Glasses
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG
Summary: She can't sit back and watch him fall into the same trap as other men she has loved.

"You're drunk," she said. He didn't deny it. He lowered himself into a chair heavily, lowered his forehead to the top of the table. Faintly he heard the smile in her voice when she said, "Only you would come to the library when you get drunk." But there were tears in her voice, too.

She knelt beside his chair, looking up at him under his arm. "Listen to me. Look at me and listen to me." He didn't move, so she reached up and took his face in her hands, firmly but gently, and forced him to look her in the eyes. "Do not do this," she said, and her eyes were bright and wet, her mouth trembling around the words she spoke. "Do not do this to yourself."

"It's so hard," he said, his voice sliding low. "It's just so hard, I'm just so tired..."

"That's no excuse. Ponyboy... Ponyboy..." And she was really crying now, and he slipped out of the chair to sit on the floor, allowed her to put her arms around him and bring his head to rest on her shoulder. "You can't do this to yourself. It'll ruin you. It ruins everyone. Please don't. Please stop. Just please..."

He turned his face against her shoulder and sniffled. "I didn't mean to."

"You never would. They never do. Just don't, Ponyboy, don't. I couldn't stand it... Oh, not you too. Not you, too." And she shivered and clung to him, and vaguely he knew that she wasn't holding onto him really as much as she was holding onto hope, the desperate hope that he wouldn't slide away like the others did. So he nestled against her side and said, "I promise." And she wept, holding him like a child, like the child he really was.

Title: Spinning Daisies
Word Count: 229
Rating: G
Summary: She's not the shallow girl she was at sixteen.

On these brilliant, gorgeous afternoons they find themselves on the hill-side behind his dorm building. He lies on his back in the sun-warmed grass and points up at the sky, naming the cloud-shapes. She tips back her head to note each one, but mostly she looks off across the trees, her pretty face drawn close in thought. She picks violets and daisies and Queen Anne's lace, twirling them in her fingertips. He plucks buttercups and holds them under her chin, tells her Look, it's all yellow, you must love butter or maybe you're in love. He spins the flower and it flicks against her skin and she smiles and swallows a giggle, raises her eyebrows at him.

Years ago she would not have sat with him on a hill-side, picking petals from flower-heads and talking about books. She would not have had breakfast with him, tea and toast, in the dining hall three mornings a week. She would not have let him sit up from the grass, sit up so close that his shoulder brushes hers; she would not have smiled when he blushes and shifts a little distance between them and snaps up a blade of grass to chew on. But she is not sixteen anymore. So she leans foward, her shoulder just barely brushing his, and asks him to show her how to make a grass-blade whistle.

Pride & Prejudice.

2006-01-12T07:21:10Z

TITLE: Pride & Prejudice
GENRE: Angst, Friendship, Romance.
RATING: G
MAIN CHARACTERS: Ponyboy & Cherry.
PAIRING: Pony/Cherry
SPOILERS: End-of-novel spoilers.
WARNINGS: None I can think of.
EXCERPT: Somehow, looking back, it seems that the girl who walked those halls was the most superficial person I've ever met. I know you can't completely change over the summer, but I still feel different from the girl called Cherry, the cheerleader, the girl whose boyfriend was killed by greasers.

I'm leaving for college tomorrow.

It's been a crazy summer, getting ready for school. Graduation was a huge relief. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Somehow, looking back, it seems that the girl who walked those halls was the most superficial person I've ever met. I know you can't completely change over the summer, but I still feel different from the girl called Cherry, the cheerleader, the girl whose boyfriend was killed by greasers. Yeah, high school kids remember stuff.

I'm both excited and apathetic about college. I know. How does that work? I guess I'm excited to get out of here, to grow up, to make something out of myself. To not be "a Soc" anymore. To leave my high school nickname behind and be known as Sherry. To just be me. But there's a feeling of apathy and anxiety that coats all that. I don't know why, but it does. I don't know how to explain myself anymore, and I used to be so good at that.

I'm just so sick of having a fake life. Sick of being called the little rich girl. Sick of people pretending to be my friends as long as it's convenient. Marcia's the only one who's always been by my side, ever since we were in elementary, and she's going nearly across the country to school.

I reach the cemetery and slam my car door behind me. The August sun is warm, but there's a chill in the breeze. Man, am I tired of the contradictions.

I want to visit Bob's grave once more before I leave. I still think about him every day. I'm over him emotionally, of course; not carrying a torch or anything, but the way I lost him still stings. I've had casual boyfriends here and there since, but I'll always remember him.

A cool gust of wind blows my hair to one side and I shake it back into place, dropping a bundle of rosemary onto the grave. I read once that it's used in funeral wreaths as a symbol of remembrance. I blame the fact that I read too much. And I'm not the type to leave ornate bouquets.

I sigh as the wind picks up again and begin to knot my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck, just to get it out of my way, as I head for my car. Glancing to my right, who do I see but Ponyboy Curtis, standing over a grave. I swallow. I haven't spoken to him in over a year. Haven't had a conversation with him since... well, since the trial two years ago. We barely said hello in the halls. I feel guilty now, and petty. What would my friends've thought? I was already known for being involved in the whole incident sophomore year, and I was afraid to tarnish my reputation further. Too scared to be associated with the local thugs.

Gosh, but guilt can eat at you. And right now, seeing him standing there, staring at the cheap headstone, it's gnawing at every part of me. I hadn't thought to say goodbye to Ponyboy before I left. The thought never even crossed my mind. That makes me feel even worse.

I find myself walking up behind him and just standing there. He's three feet away. And I don't know what to say. I've purposely ignored him whenever I could, and there's no decent excuse for it, other than pride and prejudice.

I hated that book.

I take a deep breath and step closer. My hand seems to move of its own accord as it brushes against his. He starts and turns to see who snuck up on him. His expression softens. "Hey, Cherry."

"Hi, Ponyboy," I reply quietly. What else should I say? My eyes fall on the headstone to see Johnny Cade's name crudely carved. Johnny was a sweet kid; he deserved better than such a cheap grave. I remembered Bob's expensive one, and all the hundreds of flowers that were left when he died, and still were sometimes. Johnny's donned a bunch of forget-me-nots, tied with a piece of fishing line. "How've you been?"

He turns his head and we're both facing the grave now, but he hasn't moved his hand. "Pretty good, actually. Except for the fact..." He swallows and his eyebrows knit together. "Except that Soda was drafted. He's over in 'Nam right now."

I feel my blood run cold and I blurt, "Is that why you're here?" As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. It was awfully inconsiderate. I look at his profile to see him blinking furiously, like he's trying not to cry. "I'm sorry," I whisper, pulling my hand away.

"No, it's okay." His fingers catch mine, but he keeps staring straight ahead, not at anything, it seems. "You're right." He inhales deeply and his shoulders rise and fall.

"It was tactless," I insist.

He actually grins, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. "But you could tell. We haven't talked in two years and you can still read me like a book." I keep watching him, but he seems fascinated with the horizon. "I don't know why, but that surprises me."

After a moment, I step up to stand next to him, rather than behind his left shoulder. I find my fingers linking through his, but I let them. "Forget-me-nots," I murmur, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence. I see him nod out of the corner of my eye. "I was here to see Bob. I left him rosemary."

"Both symbolize remembrance."

"Yeah, well, great minds think alike." He finally smiles. "We're still kind of similar, aren't we?" I add.

He nods and turns to face me. "I guess we're just funny kind of folk. Neither of us naturally fit in, do we?"

"One of us tries," I whisper.

"Yeah." He looks away again. "I know."

That awkward silence again. After a new minutes, I take a breath and say, "I'm sorry for being such a snob," and I can't believe how much lighter my chest feels. I can't even believe I said it.

He makes a funny sound in this throat and turns to me. I can't read his eyes, but he's just staring at me. I'd step away, but his fingers are still caught in mine. "It's okay," he finally says. "I know the score. I didn't expect anything different."

"It was still petty and childish and selfish," I argue, frowning. Why can't he be more difficult? I deserve it. "You're a nice kid, and I like talking to you, but I snubbed you whenever I got the chance."

He shrugged and smiled at me. This time he smiles with his eyes, too. They look really green in the afternoon sunlight. "You're talking to me now."

"Like that makes up for it?"

"Yeah, it does, actually."

I do step back this time, but he's still holding my hand. "I feel bad," I finally murmur.

"I forgive you," is the equally quiet reply.

The wind kicks up again and I shiver as it cuts through my cotton jacket. When he reaches out to embrace me, I let him, leaning against his shoulder and wrapping my arms across my chest insecurely. He's sixteen, half a head taller than me now. He looks so much like Soda it's making me sick. "I hope Soda's okay," I whisper.

"Me, too."

I used to avoid him, afraid of what others thought. Now, I'm standing here, letting him hold me, and I find myself - finally - not caring.

The Real Character of the Gang

2006-01-11T15:52:21Z

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."

Mod-Post.

2006-01-07T02:55:08Z

I just went through the posts and tagged them all, for convenience, especially since we're starting to get a nice pile of fics here! :D To view the tags, go to http://www.livejournal.com/community/outsidersfic/tag/

They're characterized by character and author. Feel free to tag your own entries when you post (if the tag you need isn't there, a mod should get to it shortly, don't worry!).
[scuddernutter, I took the first underscore off your tag, because it wouldn't work with it on there. :\ Just FYI.]

And I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone who's been posting! We've had a great turnout so far. Please remember to leave lots of comments for people; it encourages them to write and post more. ;D

Keep up the great work, and Stay Gold. ;)

"Sodapop is handsomer than anyone I know"

2006-01-07T00:48:33Z

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.

How Do You Get that Lonely?

2006-01-03T00:10:45Z

Title: How Do You Get that Lonely?
Genre: General
Rating: PG, I suppose
Main Characters: Ponyboy and Cherry
Pairings: Pony/Cherry
Spoilers: don't read this if you haven't read the book. pretty much takes place after it. and gives away most of the book.
Warnings: mourning (death in original story)
Short Summary: "It was a desperate attempt at bringing him back." I said quietly. Cherry turned to me. "Yeah," she wispered. "Yeah."

I stood in front of those two headstones wearing my nicest clothes; a button down blue shirt with black pants with a matching jacket. I remembered so recently the two people buried practically under my feet were right at my side, eating barbeque sandwiches and drinking Coke. Sometimes I wondered what could have stopped them from being laid in the cold ground. Maybe if I hadn't spit at that Soc, they wouldn't have chased us and never tried to drown me in the first place. Maybe if Dally hadn't gotten out of jail early we never would have even gone to the drive-in. I finally decided it was Bob's fault; if he hadn't been drunk, Cherry wouldn't have gotten so upset and left the car to sit in front of it. Too bad I couldn't get him back for it, he was dead too. He lay only a few rows away; there were a few Socs, friends of Bob's, standing around, putting large bouqets of flowers near the headstone. It was sad, really, to look back at Dallas and Johnny's headstones. Compared to Bob's, they were bare. A few people had stopped by to give Johnny flowers for being a hero. I don't think his own parents had even been there. Dallas's was practically abandoned. There were two small bouqets, but that was all. No one thought of his as a hero; he was a juvinille delinquent, and he didn't deserve respect for that. But they didn't know, no one did. Only me and Darry and Soda, and Steve and Two-Bit. And we were the only ones left. We went from a strong group of seven to a stronger group of five, because we'd endured so much heartache, so much pain. Between losing my own parents, then them... Dallas died for Johnny. Without Johnny, all Dallas really was was a hoodlum. A lonely hood without a reason to hotmail.clive. If only Johnny had known Dally was gonna die for him, maybe he would have held on a little longer.
I set a large bunch of colorful flowers between the two graves. No one else had thought to do that. Darry did it to save some money; I did it to give them a link to each other. Sure, everyone knew the two of them had been the two people with me, saving the kids from the church, but what nobody knew was Dallas wasn't all bad. He did his best to help out me and Johnny when we needed him most.
I've still yet to figure out what caused that fire. Maybe it was a cigarette, but somehow I don't think so. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe God thought Johnny was a bad person for killing Bob, and didn't think to look deeper. Maybe He thought Dallas didn't have a heart. Maybe He really doesn't look deep enough into people. Or maybe He decides destiny by your parents. Neither Johnny nor Dallas had incredible parents. Hell, they didn't even have remotley good parents. Why did God give them this?
I cleanched my teeth, fighting back tears, but nothing in the world could stop them from falling down my cheeks. I stared at Johnny's headstone.
Johnathon Cade
March 1, 1950-1966
No one had bothered to put his date of death. I don't think his parents even knew. And no one wrote anything about dying a hero. Because his parents had paid for the headstone. It was one of the cheapest in the cemetary. Even my own parents' was nicer.
This headstone told nothing of Johnny Cade. Heck, if anyone had ever called him Johnathon he probably wouldn't have noticed, thought you were talking to someone else. This didn't say that he'd saved a dozen kids' lives in a church fire, and broken his back doing so. It didn't say it could have been me. If only he'd gotten out first.
I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder. There stood Cherry, in probably her own finest clothes, hair hanging below her shoulders, finely curley. She seemed calm and normal, yet tears were falling down her cheeks. I put my arm around her shoulders, and she turned and cried into my chest.
Cherry cried into my jacket for what must have been an awful long time but didn't really feel like it. She finally looked up and rested her head on my shoulder.
"I'm just so sick of crying," she said. "I lost three people in a week. In one damn week."
I stood there for a long time, not saying anything, simply thinking. She must have felt guilty. She'd said it at the juvinille court hearing, and it rang over and over in my head: "I could have made it easier for the fight not to have happened in the first place."
"It's not your fault," I told her. "It's no one's fault."
She closed her eyes. "No matter who's fault it is, I feel so guilty."
I pulled her into a hug, and she didn't seem to mind. She continued crying on my shoulder, unafraid of who may have seen.
We then stood there, watching the graves, thinking maybe there would be some sign that Johnny and Dallas were alive underneath. Of course, they weren't. Sadly, I'd watched both of them die-one, optomistic and ready, the other desperate and unprepared.
"It was a desperate attempt at bringing him back." I said quietly.
Cherry turned to me. "Yeah," she wispered. "Yeah."
Somehow I knew that Dally had been standing in that store he robbed, thinking, no, he wasn't dead. He'd simply fallen asleep, but how could a person sleep hearing Dallas Winston cry? Dally couldn't cry-it was morally wrong. If Dally cried, it was the sign of the apocalypse.
"How do you get that lonely?" I asked. I was really asking Dallas, but Cherry answered.
"I didn't know you could," she said. "Not until I met Dallas Winston."

Breaking Point

2006-01-01T13:18:56Z

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

2006-01-01T04:33:07Z

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.

Two of mine, previously shared in theoutsiders.

2005-12-31T02:24:19Z

Title: Mercury Knew
Genre: General
Rating: G
Main Characters: Ponyboy
Pairings: N/A
Spoilers: Set after the novel, with vague references to events which occur near the end of the story
Warnings: N/A
Short Summary: Mercury knew. Or Hermes, if you prefer. It doesn't matter. Either way, he knew.

Title: Flypaper Boys
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG
Main Characters: Darry, Ponyboy
Pairings: None, unless you maybe squint and tilt your head and search for it
Spoilers: Inspired by S.E. Hinton's commentary on what happens to the characters post-novel. (As seen in this post.)
Warnings: Angst, character death
Short Summary: Life makes no promises and death makes no apologies.