#SOCS

[eviesqueezie]

“geez man, wait your turn.” ponyboy mutters, lunch tray firmly gripped in his hands as one of the socs pushes infront of him.

“geez man,” the boy imitates, voice high pitched and whiny before it reverts back to normal and he continues. “you greasers have no patience, just wait the extra minute why don’t you?”

“well your fat ass is gonna get every fuckin’ thing available, so i won’t be surprised if i’m here a bit longer than-“ he pauses, sucking in a breath before rolling his eyes and continuing in a mimicking voice, “a minute”

[hellothereimaloser]

Ponyboy still dreams of drowning...

Before I got sick I managed to draw this oneee, it was hella out of my comfort zone but I like how it turned out eventually 🥺💞

And yes it's exactly what you think it is 😔

[lemons-bittersweet]

Johnny: No twobit I’m this *shows gay flag*

Twobit: You’re French?

[multifandomworldsposts]

Day 7 of Kinkmas: Sleeping In The Lot With Sodapop Curtis

KINKMAS 🎄🧤❄️

Pairing: Sodapop Curtis x fem!reader

Warning: making out, hickeys, protected sex, public sex

Y/N’s POV

Sodapop and I are going to the drive-in to see Beach Blanket Bingo tonight, we’ve been wanting to go somewhere alone for quite sometime because of him working including me going to school.

When Soda and I got to the drive-in, I can see some socs and their Mustangs and Corvairs, as usual. When Soda and I parked we went to the concession stand to get some food and snacks. When we got there, I see Bob and Randy, looking smug as ever.

“Just ignore them.” I whisper into Soda’s ear.

“I will Y/N/N.” He whispers back.

We get our food and drinks and we walked out like there was no one in the room. We get back to the car and get in the trunk of Soda’s truck and we get comfortable, ate our food, I cuddle up with Soda and enjoy the movie.

After the movie, Soda decided to take us to the lot to be somewhere quieter. I cuddled up with Soda again and look up to the stars to see any shapes in the sky.

“Did you like the movie?” Soda says looking at me.

“Yeah I did, I really loved the dancing and the fashion in the movie.” I say looking at him.

“I only liked the dancing.” He jokingly says.

“Come on, what else did you like?” I asked him.

“Fine, I liked the dancing and the sets of the movie.” He says trying to think.

“I like that better.” I smile.

Soda looks at me and kisses me, I kiss back. We look at each other and I make him get on top of me. We begin to make out, we haven’t done this in a while now but I’m glad we’re doing this.

Soda begins to touch my body, I moan, but I try to keep my moaning quiet because there’s neighbors everywhere. I feel him giving me love bites, I gasp. I get on top of him and gave him some hickeys as well.

“This is new to me Y/N/N.” Soda whispers in my ear.

“Just want to give my baby what he wants.” I whisper back.

“I like the sound of that.” He smirks.

I giggle and continue to kiss his neck. He wraps his arms around me and continues to touch me which makes me to giggle. Soda makes me lay down on the ripped up car seat and grabs a condom.

“You wanna do this?” He says to me.

“We’ll just be quiet.” I sit up and whispers in his ear.

We begin take our clothes off, Soda gets the condom on him and begins to fuck me slowly, I cover my mouth so I can be quiet. I gasp a little, he really is so good at this.

I flip us over so I can be on top, I begin to ride him. He grabs on my hips and guides me, I already can tell I’m going to be sore tomorrow. I sway my hips to make him feel deeper inside me, he covers his mouth and groans. I giggle at him. I make him sit up so he’s looking at me and he looks at my breasts.

“I don’t mind if you do anything to em’.” I say to him.

He grins and starts to do something to the valley of my breasts, I tug on his hair, I feel him sucking my nipples, which makes me arch my back and lean my head back by the pleasure of him now giving me more hickeys. My parents are going to kill me, I hope we have children one day.

After him being a sex crave addict, we lay on the car seat. I feel his heart beating and he touches my hair.

“I hope we can do this somewhere more private Soda.” I say looking up at him.

“So we can be louder?” He grins.

“Maybe.” I giggle.

We look at the stars again, they different than the last time I saw them.

“I promise I’ll make daddy fuck me harder.” I whisper.

“Let’s just go to an abandoned warehouse and, daddy will make you beg.” I says in a deep voice.

“What if mommy wants to take control?” I pout.

He winks at me, he knows I’ll take control and make him feel good like he does with me.

[lemonysunsets]

Fanon Johnny Cade: Sweet, innocent lil guy who would never hurt a fly and never thought an inpure thought in his whole life. Doesn't know what a curse word is and just a shy wittle baby man uwu cinnamon roll

Canon Johnny Cade: A trouble teenager with trauma from growing up in an abusive household and getting harassed all his life by socs, while also getting jumped as well. Doesn't speak if he doesn't need to. Always on guard and tense. Suicidal and lost hope in the world, wishing for a way out of the chaos.

[sams-butt-dem0n]

The gang reacting to reader breaking up with them

DARRY doesn't really know what to do when you break the news to him that you're dumping him. He stands there shocked for a few seconds to gather his emotions before even attempting to ask. "Why? Did I do something?" He says, his chin shaking a little but you can visibly see him pushing back the tears. "I just can't deal with this anymore," you say. "All I'm trying to do is help you provide for your family and you can't even stop for ten minutes to say thank you and spend a little time with me. Ten minutes. that's all I'm asking for." You can see the guilt written all over his face. You knew he wasn't going to change - you had this discussion many times before and every time it ended the same: him saying he'll change and that he's sorry you feel that way, and then never doing anything about it and going back to work the next day as if what you had talked about meant nothing. He just nodded and let a singular tear roll down his cheek as he opened his front door for you and watched you walk down the street with your bags and out of his life forever.

SODAPOP would completely fall apart if you dumped him. He would come home from work with a huge grin plastered on his face, ready to give you a cuddle and a kiss but it soon dropped when he saw you. Standing there with a bag on the table, waiting for him. There was nobody else home, it was supposed to be a day dedicated to the two of you. "Babe, what's going on?" He asks. "Are we going on a road trip or something? because if we are, give me five minutes for a shower and I'll-" "Soda," you say, cutting him off. You saw his head hang to the floor, his eyes darted at the floor. He knew what was happening. he just didn't want to admit it. "I'm sorry," you say. "Why?" He asks, hot tears streaming down his face as he looks up to meet your eyes, his stare hurting your heart. "What did I do? I'll fix it I promise. I promise I'll fix whatever you think went wrong." You sighed, your breath shaking from the water gathering in your eyes. "There's nothing left to fix, sodapop. It's already shattered." And with that, you pick up your bag, grab his hand and give it a small squeeze, your last touch of Sodapop Curtis, before walking out and not looking back once.

PONYBOY would be a mix between Darry and Soda. He wouldn't know what to do considering you were his first-ever girlfriend and he would also be heartbroken beyond belief. You would be a little mean about the breakup, not to hurt his feelings, but to make sure he never came back into your life. To make sure he thought you were gone for good and there was nothing he could do to change your mind. "Ponyboy," you say, sitting up from being laid on his bed. "There's something I gotta talk to you about." Convern layers through his eyes. "Yeah, sure. What's wrong?" You sigh. "Before I say anything, I just want you to know that you are such a sweet guy and I will always appreciate you for everything you've done for me and all the sunsets you've shown me." "Y/n," he begins, his voice much quieter now. "What are you doing?" "I'm sorry, Pony," you say, wiping a tear from your cheek and standing up. "I can't be with you any more." "What?" He asks, his voice cracking. He stays seated and just looks up at you in disbelief, not wanting to accept what you're saying. "You're just too immature. I know we're only kids and that's what young boys do but I need someone who isn't gonna spend their life goofing around and starting fights with random people. I don't want to be with someone who has nothing lying ahead for them. Don't get me wrong, I think you're real sweet 'n all but it's just not good enough for me to stay. I'm sorry." Tears were falling down his cheeks, somewhat gracefully, leaving a hot pink trail behind. He says nothing as he watches you leave his room, say goodbye to the gang as if you hadn't just shattered his heart, and walk out.

DALLAS would pretend to be unfazed. Especially if you hadn't been dating for that long. It would be short and snappy. "I'm breaking up with you." "Okay." You're not gonna ask me why?" "Nah." - However, if the two of you had been together for over a year, I'd say; he would be destroyed. You were the only thing he loved, apart from Johnny. You were the only person he had ever said those three words to you. You were his first everything, and now he had lost you. It was all his fault. "Can I do anything to make you stay?" He asks, his cheeks a lot redder than usual and his eyebrows furrowed, a giveaway that he is upset. "No," you say, as coldly as you can, wanting to get away and cry for a few days. "So that's it then?" He says. "I tell you that I love you and this is how you repay me? I give you everything I have, knowing what it could do to my reputation, and this is what I get?" He scoffs. "So much for love, huh?" He would be the one to walk away from you, not having the power to throw an insult, just letting his heart slowly split in two as he feels his soul separate. He had not only lost you, but he had lost a part of himself, too.

JOHNNY was used to being left, uncared for, abandoned, and mistreated. But he never expected it from you, the one person he thought loved him. He would cry just like he did in the lot when he and Pony had that talk (Yk what I'm talking about). "Johnny," you say. "I'm sorry." "What for?" He asks, confusion written all over his face. You sigh and lift up a bag of all of the things he had given or made you during your relationship. Cards, love letters, teddies, jackets, bracelets. Everything. "I- I don't understand," he says, his eyes welling up with tears. "It's not your fault, Johnny. It's me." You say, the words breaking your heart. "I just can't do it anymore. It's too much for me. I'm sorry." "But-" "Don't." You say. "If you say anything, I'll end up running back to you and apologising. I don't want to do this, Johnny. But it's what's best."

TWO-BIT definitely thinks you're joking at first, and thinks that you're playing some sick prank on him. "Haha, very funny, sweetheart," he says. "But seriously, what did you want to say." He swings an arm over your shoulders, causing you to push him away and glare at him. "I'm not messin'" you say, watching his face drop. "Huh?" Two-bit says. "I don't understand. Why are you doin' this?" "I have to. I'm not happy, Kieth. I'm sure you'd rather be happy in the future without me than be depressed knowing that your girlfriend doesn't love you like she used to." A tear slips from his eye. "You don't love me anymore?" You shake your head, tears flowing down your face, painting the skin red. "No. I don't."

STEVE would be like Dally. He'd pretend to be so unbothered and then as soon as you leave, he'd gradually break down throughout a couple of days until he can't fight his emotions for much longer. He and Soda would sit and get so drunk to try and distract Steve from whatever was going on, Darry would constantly be checking in on him, and Dallas would be so beyond pissed at you for hurting him, you'd think there was a manhunt out for you. "Honey," Steve says. "Is everything alright? You seem a little off lately. Is it something I did?" You and Steve had been arguing a lot lately, and it was tiring the both of you out. It was either going to end now or end badly, no in-between. "I think we should break up. Not take a break - break up." You said, straight to the point. His face said all that his words didn't. His eyes pleaded for your forgiveness, the softness of his pupils melting into yours, his brown orbs absorbing you into his atmosphere like you were there for him and him only. You had to escape now before you were trapped forever. "Okay." He shrugs and leaves you there, in the middle of the street. Confused and alone. Just like you had left him.

[suesdebut]

Soc style vs. Greaser style

Socs: Bold colors, pastels, short skirts, letterman jackets, long sleeves, and sleek clothes. Socs wear lots of bright and pastel colors. Pastel colors signify elegance, optimism, innocence, and even dreaminess. Mini Skirts are a huge part of the girly soc style, in the 60’s they were a sign of the new generation and playfulness. Letterman jackets are a sign of academic achievements, popularity, and toughness in the 60’s.

Greasers: grays, blues, browns, dark-toned colors, denim, grungy, tank tops, long or ripped pants, flannels, and jean jackets. Denim is CRUCIAL to the Greaser style, denim often symbolizes revolution, the working class, and opposing mainstream ideas. Blue is a color of loyalty, every single greaser is loyal to each other. Every greaser is wearing something blue, the only one that isn’t is Darry. He wears lots of brown, brown is a color of strength and dependability. It’s important that he’s not wearing blue because Ponyboy perceives Darry as someone who isn’t loyal to him, but really Darry is always there for Pony, he just doesn’t realize it.

I’ve never seen the musical, so I hope I did okay! Let me know if you guys want me to do specific characters!

[alienturnipp]

Update: Image description in Alt

This comic is made as the response to @thedasincolor's prompt, exploring how the Contact Clan Lavellan mission could have gone for my Ellana ✨

Splash of Color Saturday Prompt: Tell us about how different families, groups, cultures, and societies welcome visitors! When Inquisition Agents reach out to Clan Lavellan, or when they enter the Jaws of Hakkon, what might they expect to encounter? When a Warden calls upon the Legion of the Dead, how are they welcomed, and what are the customs that differ between the dwarves outside of Orzammar and those within? When we reach out to allies across the sea, or meet with diplomats from the indigenous Seheron people or in Rivain--or elsewhere? How do these welcomes differ for strangers, for armed people, for unarmed people, for children, for long-lost family?

Ellana's hand poses in the "folding betel leaf" page is heavily referenced from this video. The phoenix-wing betel and the trope of Deshanna recognizing her daughter from how the betel was prepared are also inspired by the Vietnamese folktale "Tấm Cám", which has a similar ending reveal to Cinderella where instead of the glass slipper, the King saw a set of phoenix-wing betel and immediately recognized it as being made by his long-lost love, and reunited with her at last. I've included some images under the cut of how it looks like in real life.

A noble's betel kit (with gold, silver, jade, ivory, Nguyễn Dynasty):

[annesboloser]

'all the pretty girls getting all dolled up!' - maggie kuntz in her soc outfit!

she is so <33333

I am working on a masterlist for easier navigation so posts will be slower

[dallasgallant]

I’ve seen a few posts calling attention to the similarities between Bob and Dallas and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Specifically I want to call attention to this:

Only one person ever told them no, but it wasn’t the no they needed.

Everyone their age is afraid to tell them no, they always get what they want. For Bob it’s because he leads, for Dally it’s because he’s a Hood- both of them have a reputation and live up to it. Bob’s parents won’t tell him no because they don’t think they have to any trouble he gets into is anyone’s fault but his (because blaming him would point out their bad parenting) and Dally isn’t around his dad enough or the man doesn’t give enough of a shit. The difference is that Bob wants his parents to parent and feel - Dally doesn’t know if he wants anything anymore.

The only people to ever say no in a way that affected them were Cherry and Johnny. They said it and came out unscathed when anyone else would’ve gotten hurt. Cherry refusing to get in the car and aid in his drunken antics (even if she later caves to social pressure) and Johnny telling Dally to lay off the girls. The difference being Dallas silently stalks off and listens…

These are the “no” they’d listen to but not one they needed. Not the law and attention they both lacked… both of their behaviors and personalities are cry for help that goes ignored by adults and friends alike— who assume it’s just their nature.

It goes to show that sometimes we all have the same types of problems regardless of socioeconomic class, it’s just what they make someone that differs. Bob is praised and held up while Dally is seen as the lowest of the low.

In the end they both died violent and young and desperate. Failed by the same systems and structures.

[variansgoggles]

Outsiders Musical characters and their real names also including actors names :)

Greasers

Ponyboy Curtis - Brody Grant

Johnny Cade - Sky Lakota-Lynch

Sodapop Curtis - Jason Schmidt

Darrel Curtis - Brent Comer

Dally (Dallas) Winston - Joshua Boone

Two-Bit (Keith) Matthews - Daryl Tofa

Ace Evans(?)- Tilly Evans Krueger

Steve Randle - Renni Anthony Magee

Socs

Bob (Robert) Sheldon - Kevin William Paul

Cherry (Sherri) Valance - Emma Pittman

Paul Holden - Dan Berry

Marcia Meyrink - SarahGrace Mariani

Beverly Jitney-Bush - Melody Rose

Clark (Brill) Brillstein - Barton Cowperthwaite

Chet Baker - RJ Higton

Trip (Terrence Dip) - Sean Harrison Jones (formerly Kevin Csolak)

Swings/Alts/2nd track characters

Greasers

Ponyboy - Trevor Wayne, Josh Strobl

Johnny Cade - Josh Strobl, Daryl Tofa

Dallas Winston - Daryl Tofa, Wonza Johnson

Steve - Jordan Chin, Andre Malcolm, Ryo Kamibayashi

Sodapop - Victor Carillo Tracey, Dan Berry

Two-Bit - Jordan Chin, Renni Anthony Magee, Henry Julian Gendron

Darrel Curtis - Victor Tracey, Dan Berry

Ace - Milena J. Comeau, Anna Bermudez

Socs

Bob/Cop - RJ Higton, Sean Harrison Jones, Barton Cowperthwaite

Paul - Victor Carillo Tracey, Ryo Kamibayashi, Sean Harrison Jones (?)

Cherry - Maggie Kuntz, Melody Rose, SarahGrace Mariani

Marcia - Melody Rose, Maggie Kuntz, Anna Bermudez

Beverly - Maggie Kuntz, Milena J. Comeau, Anna Bermudez

Chet - Henry Julian Gendron

Trip - Victor Carillo Tracey, Henry Julian Gendron

Brill - Henry Julian Gendron, Ryo Kamibayashi

Only Socs for the Rumble

Melvin - Melody Rose

Sergei - SarahGrace Mariani

Rogelio - Anna Bermudez

Glen - Maggie Kuntz

Martin - Milena J. Comeau

If anyone has further information I will update this thank youuu!! And if y’all have any Soc boy headcanons I will love you forever (I love Trip/Sean sm yet there’s nothing on him anywhere 😭 fun fact he was Action in 2021 west side story 🤭)

[cococreation]

Home Safe

Sodapop Curtis x she/her reader (fluff/comfort)

1300 words

18+

TW: assault, implied SA, suggestive cat calling, descriptions of injuries, violence, fighting

Reader is walking home late when she is jumped by a gang of Socs. Soda patches her up.

Y/n was used to walking home from the DX late. As the DX’s secretary, she often stayed later into the evening to finish the filing for that day. Her pocket book was clutched close to her side with the rose decorated switchblade hidden inside gifted to her by Soda.

A car’s headlights landed on her. Y/n cursed to herself, walking faster. The Curtis residence wasn’t all that far. She could make it.

“Hey!” A slurred voice called out to her. She kept walking, her head low. The sound of the car’s engine cut off as the lights went out, leaving Y/n with the Socs in the dim street lamps. A man stepped out in front of her. Bobby, clearly intoxicated, eyed her. “I’m talking to you, doll face.”

Y/n’s hand slipped into her purse. The cool metal of the blade’s handle steadying her. “Fuck off.”

The Socs circled around her. One let out a wolf whistle. “The DX must be getting a lot more customers as you as their personal pinup gal.”

Y/n subconsciously tugged at the white skirt that her light blue shirt was tucked into. “I’m serious. Get out of my way before this gets violent.”

Bobby raised his hands up as Y/n pointed her switch at him. “And, here I thought, those greasers only taught you how to spread your legs.”

“At least those greasers got her all oiled up for us,” a boy with a cigarette said, flicking her skirt up. Y/n yelped, bringing the blade down on his wrist. The boy cursed. Before Y/n knew what happening, the gang was dragging her into an alleyway.

The fight felt like it had lasted years, but in reality it was only a few minutes. Y/n sat up, groaning. The side of her neck burned from where the cigarette butt had been put out. Y/n’s knife was laying in the alley, discarded after she had slashed Bobby in the shoulder after he tore open her DX shirt. Scooping up her blade and purse, Y/n winced at the pain below her neck. Bobby had dug his knife into the soft flesh below her collarbone after he realized how idiotic his intentions were.

Holding her pocket book to her chest, Y/n walked to the Curtis residence. The living room lamp was on as always. Nudging the door open, Y/n stumbled in.

The three brothers were still awake to her surprise. A western film was playing on the TV. Soda stood up so fast, he nearly knocked over the sidelamp.

Y/n collapsed onto the couch. The western was long forgotten. Darry was busy getting the first aid kit, and Ponyboy stared in horror at her. She cracked a smile at him. “Don’t worry, Pony. It doesn’t hurt too bad.”

Soda knelt next to her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “What happened?”

Y/ns eyes flitted to Pony in a silent message. Soda turned to his brothers, taking the first aid kit from Darry. “Can yall give us a moment?”

Ponyboy’s expression morphed into one of confusion. “But-“

“Come on, Pony. You’ve got homework to finish anyways.” Darry herded the youngest Curtis brother out of the room.

Soda returned his attention to Y/n. “What happened?” He asked, examining her wounds.

“Bobby and them all ganged up on me.” Her gaze was fixed on a single spot on the tile. “They didn’t get what they wanted, but lord, were they pissed.”

Y/n hissed as Soda stared disinfecting her wounds. “I know it stings. So, they pulled blades on you?”

“Yeah.”

“And, you pulled out yours?”

Y/n chuckled, “Bobby left with a slashed up shoulder.”

Soda brushed her hair away from her neck as he smiled. “That’s my girl.” He paused. “Is that a cigarette burn?”

“Yeah, one of ‘em wanted to,” she took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on same kitchen tile. “Mark me as his own.” Y/n’s eyes found Soda’s gaze. Soft and gentle. Tears silently slid down her cheek. “I told him, ‘to go to hell,” so he put his light out on me.”

Y/n’s hands were clenched around the top of her shirt. Soda’s hands cupped her hands. “You’re bleeding.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to take care of it alone?”

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut in surrender, leaning her head back. “I don’t think I can,” the word was barely audible. “It’s an ugly mark though, Sodapop.”

“Nothing can be ugly on you.”

Y/n winced as she slipped off her DX button down, revealing the mark Bobby gave her on her collarbone. The shoulder had fingerprint bruises pressed into the skin and in crudely drawn out letters read the word, “WHORE” under her collarbone.

The tears fell faster this time. Her head hung low, Y/n wept, “They wouldn’t let me go, Soda. I tried so hard.”

“I know.”

Soda’s mind was racing as he cleaned and dressed the wound. It was definitely going to scar. Bobby would want that, wouldn’t he? Soda’s heart pounded with anger. Someone touched his girl. Someone made her cry. Made her bleed. Made her feel less than human. Soda wanted to burn it all down.

Then his thoughts came to a sudden stop. Looking into Y/n’s eyes, glassy with fresh tears, he knew what he needed to do. He closed up the first aid kit and retrieved some fresh clothes for her.

Y/n thanked Soda, setting the clothes down next to her. Soda turned to leave the room, but her voice called back, “Soda, I can’t- ah, hell.”

Soda turned back around to Y/n. Her DX shirt tossed away as her injured collarbone and shoulder stiffly moved to unclasp her bra. She was unsuccessful, grimacing as she rested her taped up shoulder. Soda walked over to her. “What’s bothering you?”

“I can’t get my bra off with this shoulder. Can you help me?”

Despite the rumors and relentless teasing from the gang, Soda and Y/n haven’t had sex yet. Sure, they’ve had their fair share of kisses and making out, Soda kissing every bit of skin that saw the sun. But, after Sandy had cheated on Soda, he asked to take things slow, which Y/n had no problem with.

Y/n pulled her hair forward. Soda’s hands ran over the smooth material of the bra, searching for the small clasps. He found the little hooks and unclasped the bra. “Do you need help to take it off?” Soda’s hand held the unhooked bra together.

“If you’re comfortable with that, then yeah.”

“If you’re comfortable, then I’m comfortable,” Soda said. He let go of the clasp. Y/n easily slipped out of the first strap. Soda’s hand guided down her arm. “Alright, we’re just gonna slide this thing off, now.” The bra glided down her arm.

Soda placed the bra on the table, reaching for his shirt. Sitting behind her, Soda said, “Alright, I’m gonna put your shirt on.”

“I don’t have any clothes here,” Y/n said, confusedly knitting her brows together.

“It’s mine; couldn’t let you wear that torn up work shirt. Now, you ready?”

Y/n nodded, holding up her good arm. Tugging on the t-shirt over her head and wriggling her good arm through the sleeve, Soda held her shoulder steady as Y/n slowly inched her injured arm through the other sleeve.

Sighing, Y/n itched at the tape and gauze that stretched across her collarbone and shoulder. She settled into Soda’s side as he secured a blanket around her. Y/n traced his jaw with her bruised fingers. Pressing a kiss to his lips, Y/n smiled at him. “Thank you, Sodapop.”

“Anything for you.” Soda smiled down at her.

“I love you,” Y/n said, her fingers grazing over his light 5 o’clock shadow.

Soda pressed a kiss to her bruised knuckles. “I love you too.”

[damthosefandoms]

my life has changed in oh so many ways

(ao3 link)

Summary:

"You aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else. You don’t have to do this.”

He stares at her. Maybe she is still kinda nice. But nice girls don’t date guys like Bob Sheldon who've picked on him for a decade now because sometimes he talks funny and because he can’t read or write or do anything like people his age are supposed to, on top of everything else that comes with being a greaser.

Guys like Bob Sheldon who do nothing but get drunk and beat on poor kids like Johnny Cade until they aren’t themselves anymore and never will be again.

"It just ain't fair you never got any help!"

“You told me you wanted to be a teacher here when you grow up, Sodapop. But if you want to be a teacher you have to work! What do you think would happen if I came to school everyday and did nothing?”

“I ‘unno.”

“I’d get fired! So if I were you, I’d pick up that pencil and start writing.”

Soda puts his head down on his desk and cries. His teacher just sighs and walks away. She’s giving up on him just like everyone else.

He’s a lost cause.

He just wanted help.

Soda slams the door to their dad’s old truck and tries to control his breathing. He waits for Darry to drive off, to drop Ponyboy at the middle school, where their genius little brother only has one month left of seventh grade. Soda has what feels like centuries left of tenth; but the piece of paper hidden in his sorry excuse for a backpack will change that.

Steve jogs up to him and goes, “You remember it today?”

“I shoved it under my pillow and couldn’t sleep all night ‘cause of it. Yeah, I remembered it.”

“They gonna take it covered in drool?”

Soda swings at him, but Steve just dodges and switches to walk on his other side. They pause in front of the doors, so Soda can get the withdrawal form out.

The main entrance to Will Rogers High School is intimidating, but not as intimidating as what lies beyond the doors. Most kids—greasers and socs alike—don’t give it a second thought as they walk in every morning, but Sodapop Curtis isn’t most kids, and the paper in his hand proves it.

He’s never even driven by this place without wanting to throw up.

“Seriously, man. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I know Darry’ll kill you, but we talked about this, we all got your back and Two-Bit or me are gonna drive ya to school every day and you can just walk to the DX for work, say you’re working just part time every afternoon now, he’ll never—”

“It ain’t Darry I’m worried about. He’ll be mad as the day is long, I don’t give a damn. Dad gave the okay, it ain’t up to Darrel at all. Never was. But Pony’s gonna take it hard and I can’t stand that.”

Soda gives it three classes before he feels sick to his stomach. He’s got the form folded up in the pocket of his dad’s favorite flannel, the same one he’s worn practically every day since the accident. Darry’s always getting on him about giving it a rest and wearing something else—“Everyone knows we’re poor! No need to make them think we don’t wash our damn clothes!”—but to Soda it’s like a security blanket. It’s also one the few shirts he has that don’t make him want to rip his skin off while wearing it. And, you know, his dad always cut the tags off.

He doesn’t even ask his history teacher to let him use the bathroom, just gets up and leaves. He’s told to sit down but he doesn’t because he’s a greaser and nobody expects obedience from him, anyway. He doesn’t look back as he walks out, just reaches into his pocket and takes out the form. It’s the only piece of paper he’s ever put in there without crumpling. He absent-mindedly hums a little tune while he walks—“Help!” by the Beatles, which is one of his favorite songs. It’s a few years old but he heard it on the radio again recently and it’s catchy, not that he could ever admit that to any of his east side buddies—and he unfolds the form. He wants to read through it one more time before he hands it in.

He knows what it says in theory, but there’s so many words on there, and the font is so small that his eyes kind of glaze over, but he keeps his eyes glued to the page while he walks.

Until he collides with something and it flies out of his hands. He looks up and there’s a girl in front of him—ohgodit’sCherry—and he immediately goes to help her up. She looks at him for a second, eyes wide and he thinks maybe her cheeks might be as red as his are her hair, but she ignores his hand, so instead he goes to pick up her books for her.

“Sorry,” Soda mumbles, somehow briefly forgetting that he’s not supposed to be saying stuff like that to soc girls, he’s got a reputation to uphold, but glory, his Mama taught him manners and he’d be damned if he didn’t use them. And deep down he knows Cherry isn’t like the other soc girls because she was nice to him once in first grade and he’s never ever forgotten it.

He nearly shudders at the memory. The words “consonant digraph” are not ones he remembers anymore, all these years later, but way, way back when he was learning them he wanted to cry at the mention of it.

He’s brought back to first grade. It’s sometime in the beginning half of the year, and they’re doing some cut-and-glue activity with partners. He’s been paired with Sherri Valance because he’s always paired with her. They sit next to each other because their class sits in alphabetical order by first name, and they always do partner work with their neighbors.

There’s muffled yelling down the hall and another first-grade teacher pokes her head in and asks for backup, ‘cause one of her problem students is throwing chairs. Their teacher tells them she’ll be right back and heads out. Soda hears somebody who wasn’t in his class last year mutter to their friend, “Dallas, probably.” They see the principal speed-walking down the hall through the doorway, and then everyone loses interest and starts to get to work.

Sherri taps Soda on the shoulder.

“Can you write our names for me?” she says. “I’m going to go get scissors and stuff.”

She gets up and Soda looks at her nametag. He takes a whole minute to decode it. Sherri.

Goddamn digraphs. /sh/ and /ch/ are his worst enemies lately, and she’s got one of them in her name. He knows it’s real sad that he can barely tell which one. He feels butterflies in his stomach as he picks up his pencil. In the best possible handwriting he can muster up—writes her name. He is pretty sure he wrote it correctly, tries to read it aloud, and thinks he’s doing well until one of the kids at the desk pair behind him, Randy Adderson, laughs.

“What’d you just say?”

Soda is starting to understand now why Darry keeps telling him to stay away from the kids with the nice backpacks and brand-name shoes.

“You’re copying off her nametag and you still spelled it wrong?” Randy sneers, and his friend Bob Sheldon looks over too, and starts to grin. Soda’s butterflies turn into rocks.

“I just wrote her name. Sherri.”

But his mouth does that thing again where the word doesn’t sound quite right coming out of his mouth as it did in his head and he can feel his cheeks heating up. That always happens. Bob and Randy and their friends always make fun of him for it, too. He tries to make out the letters he wrote on the paper.

He did write a y instead of an i. And his S is kinda weird-looking, too.

Oh. He didn’t mean to do that. His pencil must’ve moved on its own again like it always does when his brain gets jumbled.

“Cherry, you said Cherry! Her name is Sherri! An’ I think you wrote it too, but who knows, I can’t read that at all!” Bob jeers at him loudly, and the whole class is starting to look over. Chet Baker, the kid who mentioned Dallas earlier, is laughing too, and he whispers something into the ear of his partner. Soon everyone is staring at him, and Soda feels like sinking into the floor. Bob revels in the glory of it all.

“Leave it to dumb ol’ Sodapop to mess it all up!”

The classroom explodes into laughter, like that was the greatest insult of all time and not some lame comment from little kid.

“I like it, actually,” a voice says suddenly and Soda thinks for a second it’s an angel come down to earth. But it’s just Sherri, and she’s handing Soda a glue stick.

“Cherry. I love that. It’s going to be my new nickname.”

She elbows him gently and smiles at him. Her eyes are so green. Soda thinks green eyes are his favorite; Cherry has green eyes, and so do both of his brothers and his dad. That’s almost all of his favorite people on Earth, except for his mom. Her eyes are brown, like his own.

“I really like it, Soda.”

He really likes it too. Soda wishes he could’ve stayed in first grade forever, sometimes, because back then Cherry always stood up for him and now…

Now they’re sixteen and when he goes to hand Cherry her books, she seems to come back to reality. Her face contorts into something angry, or maybe more defensive, as she snaps, “I don’t need your help, grease. Helping me pick up my books like some wannabe-gentleman… don’t you have a girl, anyway?”

He does. Sandy’s somewhere one floor up in English right now reading some Shakespearean tragedy about star-crossed lovers, and he hasn’t told her he’s dropping out yet, either. He loves—really loves—three people left in the world, two of them are his brothers and one, he thinks, is Sandy, and they’re the only ones of the people he really cares about that he hasn’t told about his plan.

Now that his parents are dead, they’re the only people left he’s truly terrified of disappointing. They’re the only people he ever talk to about his problems.

The only people he felt he could ever ask for help. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t anymore.

So why does it bother him so much when he has to ask Cherry Valance to move her foot because she's standing on a paper that might honestly be his lifeline?

He points it out to her and she goes, “Oh,” and picks it up for him. Even brushes the dust off. Soda watches her eyes scan the top of the paper before his face turns even more red and he has to rip it from her hand.

“You didn’t see shit, soc,” he snaps, and maybe it’s mean and out of character for the ever-so-charming Sodapop Curtis that is known to walk these halls, but he’s embarrassed. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut at the face Cherry’s making and his stomach somehow hurts even more.

Not hurts. He’s got butterflies.

He’s in love with Sandy though, and she loves him back, and who gives a damn if he’s been practically ignoring Cherry for a decade now. Who gives a damn if she was the only person from the entire west side of Tulsa to show up at his parents’ funeral. She’s always gone to their church and it was right after the regular Sunday morning service and it doesn’t mean shit. Even if he didn’t have a box under his bed he’s been filling with cash for a ring to marry Sandy one day, Cherry wouldn’t matter, because she’s a soc and he’s a greaser and he might not be in even the average level English class like Sandy is, but Soda asked his mom about it once back when Darry was in sophomore year and was reading it and so he knows how Romeo & Juliet ends.

Soda’s in love with Sandy. She loves him back. He flips the collar of his flannel up because he’s a greaser and he’s gotta look tuff or tough or whatever and keeps walking.

“Sodapop!” Cherry calls, and he shouldn’t turn around but there’s classes going on right now and no one’s watching them.

“What?”

“I just—you aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else. You don’t have to do this.”

He stares at her. Maybe she is still kinda nice. But nice girls don’t date guys like Bob Sheldon who’ve picked on him for a decade now because sometimes he talks funny and because he can’t read or write or do anything like people his age are supposed to, on top of everything else that comes with being a greaser.

Guys like Bob Sheldon who do nothing but get drunk and beat on poor kids like Johnny Cade until they aren’t themselves anymore and never will be again.

“School just ain’t going to be the same without you brightening up everyone’s day, Soda,” Cherry calls after him, but he pushes through the door to the stairwell and pretends her words aren’t eating him alive.

“It just ain’t fair you never got any help!”

He wanted to be a teacher once. So did his mom, once upon a time, that meant college, and she had no money and had a baby at eighteen, so she never even had a shot of working in a daycare. And Soda’s dumb and nobody wants a dumb teacher, so he’s never going to be able to make a difference in the lives of kids like him.

Cherry’s right, he never got any help. That’s why he wanted to be the one to help the next generation. But it’s not going to happen.

She stood up for him once. She used to check his work for him before he handed it in. She would whisper-read when they were supposed to be reading silently so he’d understand the passage. They just can’t talk about it anymore because they grew up.

There aren’t many things he’ll miss about Will Rogers High School, but Cherry Valance is admittedly going to be one of them.

Another thing he won’t miss—the grouchy secretary he’s got to hand in the form to. When he gets to the office she gives him a nasty look that just screams get back to class, hood! or maybe something more along the lines of what’s this idiot doing here? He blow in on the way to stupid town?

…Maybe it’s an oh great, another greasy little troublemaker sent to the office.

Clearly that’s the right one, because the first thing she says is “What’d you do? I ain’t gotten a call up or nothin’.”

“I have this withdrawal form to hand in. I talked to our case worker with social services, she says she confirmed with you guys here that my dad’s signature should still be good enough even though he…?”

She swipes the form out of his hands and glances over it. “I’ll have the principal look at it. Get back to class.”

Soda turns, fully intent on finding his backpack and then walking out a side door somewhere instead, and he’s still going to—but just as he’s walking out someone calls his name. He looks back over his shoulder and the principal has stepped out of his office.

“Mr. Curtis, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and Soda nods, just hoping it’s not to do with that form.

He’s handed an envelope, but it’s not for him.

To the Parent/Guardian of Ponyboy Michael Curtis, it says on the front. Soda’s confused.

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s an intake form for high school.”

“Pony’s in seventh grade. There’s a month left of school.”

“Yes, and his test scores are like nothing we’ve ever seen. He’s going to be coming here next year.”

“He’s in seventh grade. Sir, he never even hands in his homework on time! How’s he jumping ahead to ninth?”

“Mr. Curtis, please, just deliver that letter, would you? Saves me the trouble of having to mail it myself. Glory knows you of all people should understand not wanting to waste money on a stamp.”

The butterflies in Soda’s stomach from earlier turn to rocks and he feels like he’s being weighed down again. “I understand just fine, sir.”

He walks back to class, grabs his backpack and walks all the way home.

That night Darry talks about throwing a party for their little brother and Soda has to grin and bear it, because he’s honestly jealous as all hell. He’ll never admit it, though, because he’s as jealous as he is proud of Ponyboy.

But now he’s never going to be able to tell them he dropped out.

Not when Pony’s immediate reaction to the letter is “I get to go school with Soda next year?”

(He then adds, “and Johnny?” but Soda missed that part because he was too busy wallowing in his own guilt.)

Ponyboy’s going to hate this, he thinks the world and more of Soda and he’ll probably find a way to blame Darry for it. But it’s not Darry’s fault, it isn’t their parents’ fault or anybody’s except Soda’s brain for not working like it should. He thinks if his brothers fight tonight he’ll either lose it and kill them both or never stop crying, so he doesn’t tell them that night.

He doesn’t tell them for a month, not until it’s the last week of school and it’s pouring rain and Darry’s roofing job gets canceled for the day. He comes home early to find Soda sitting on the couch watching cartoons because it’s too early to head out to the DX. The clothes he left the house in that morning for school are drying on the radiator and Soda’s nose is red and Darry has to put the worry he’s going to get sick from walking home in the rain aside.

Ponyboy thinks Darry didn’t yell at Soda for dropping out. Well, he wasn’t home for the fallout.

For the “I know school is hard for you. If you really needed a day off, little buddy, you coulda told me instead of skipping. I’ll go call the school now and say you’re sick.”

And the “Sodapop Patrick, what the hell do they mean you ain’t been enrolled at Will Rogers for a month now?”

Or the horrible silence as Darry has to drive Soda to the DX for work in the pouring rain just so whatever cold he definitely caught that morning won’t get worse before it even starts.

No, Ponyboy won’t find out about any of it until he’s back to school shopping in August and jokingly asks Soda if he’s throwing in the towel this year because he’s not buying anything, and Soda casually tells him he’s not going back to school. That working full time at the DX over the summer wasn’t just a summer thing. It doesn’t go over well.

Darry carpools to work on the first day of Pony’s freshman year, because Soda practically begged him to let him have the truck to bring Pony to school alone that morning. Normally the kid would’ve walked, but Soda knows how big of a day this is, and their mom used to always make sure they didn’t have to walk on the first day, not even to the bus stop when they were in grammar school.

They pull up to the curb by the front doors and Soda can see Steve and Two-Bit and Johnny waiting for Ponyboy. He really appreciates Johnny for that. He never goes anywhere in the school that socs go unless there’s a teacher in the room, after he got jumped at the end of the last school year.

It figures he’d show up for Ponyboy, though. If Johnny isn’t with Dally—who’s not there because he got locked up after taking the blame for busting out a bunch of school windows last year even though Two-Bit did that—he’s with Ponyboy. They’re just close like that.

(Actually, Soda’s pretty sure Dally got himself arrested either because he’s simply self-destructive, or so he wouldn’t give himself a chance to kill anybody for what happened to Johnny, but that’s not really the point.)

Soda turns off the engine of the truck and turns to his brother.

“You ready?”

Ponyboy shrugs. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, a nervous habit the three brothers share. Soda gently pushes his arm down, getting Pony’s hand away from his mouth.

“You’re gonna do great, Pony. You might be young but you’re smarter than everybody in there. You’re the smartest guy I know.”

“You know Darry.”

“Darry’s Darry. He’s smart but he’s like—perfect, yknow? He don’t count. And he an’ I both reckon you’re smarter than he’ll ever be. You’re goin’ places, Pony. Really, truly going places. We both know it. You’re on your way up in the world, you’re gonna go so far.”

“People said that about Darry. Look at him now. He’s just a college dro—” Ponyboy cuts himself off and Soda knows why.

“Show ‘em what for, Pony,” he says. “Show ‘em what us Curtises are really made of, okay? Darry gave up his chance for us, but…if anybody’s gonna make it outta this place it’s gonna be you.”

Because Ponyboy was made great things, and Soda wasn’t, and he might still be jealous but his baby brother is going to kick ass in high school.

Soda hugs him and Pony gets out of the truck, and as he starts to walk away, Soda rolls the window down and he calls out:

“Hey, Pony, if you meet a girl named Cherry, tell her I said hi!”

Pony rolls his eyes and waves. Soda laughs to himself as he drives off.

Ponyboy Curtis, talking to a soc girl. Imagine that.

He’s too busy laughing at his own joke to notice Sandy on the sidewalk as he drives past, heading up the steps into the school practically hand-in-hand with a guy who isn’t him.

He does see a girl with auburn hair walking up to school, frowning, and Bob Sheldon’s got an arm around her.

“Great job, Soda! Mrs. Larkin, look how good Sodapop’s doing! He nearly finished the whole worksheet and didn’t give up once!”

“You aren’t stupid. You just learn different than everybody else.”

Soda turns the radio on. “All You Need Is Love” blasts through the speakers. The truck’s windows are down as he heads for the exit of the school’s parking lot.

One head turns.

But Sandy doesn’t like the Beatles.

[lemons-bittersweet]

If the gang make YouTube videos:

[stevxiee]

imagine Pony reading to Johnny's grave