#i hate soc <- biggest lie ever said

[newtness532]

TOO MANY EMOTIONS

[chaotically-cas]

Could you repost your seven deadly sins post? Pls?

I got you anon!! I deleted it cause I didn’t know if I vibes with it, but I got you :)

Words: 1.9k ish

Some dark/mature themes

Aka I try & explore Jally through the 7 deadly sins

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Pride.

Dallas Winston had an issue with pride. He was too proud. Too proud of his rap sheet and most definitely too proud of his reputation. Like it was practically the only thing he valued, the only thing that mattered to him. His pride in everyone he hurt or stepped over. Every minute he spent in the slammer or every time someone flinched or went all white at his name. Everyone but Johnny Cade. That was probably their biggest difference. The fact that Johnny was proud of nothing, not even the clothes on his back, and Dallas too proud of everything. Proud of the way he lived his life to the point he was a walking dead man. Spitting at cops shoes and keying at random Soc’s cars. His pride was dangerous.

It’s what got him in the most trouble. With his friends and the law. Like the night Johnny got jumped, Dallas was supposed to be with him. Walk him home and keep him safe from whatever harm his parents had inflicted on him that day. But he was too busy protecting a reputation with an empty revolver and a ten inch blade. Building up his pride while Johnny’s got torn down and he was torn a new one. Again and again and again. So he didn’t know how to answer the question when Darry asked him why he hadn’t been with him that night. Johnny spoke up instead. Said Dal had business to attend to, life or death, something way more important than just walking him home a few blocks. Life and death. Pride and shame.

Envy.

Johnny Cade envied the way Dallas carried himself. How he drove fear into the hearts of those who even knew of his name. How he was able to command the response and respect of every lousy person he came across. Johnny thought he would be the most jealous of Ponyboy Curtis, at first. How he had a nice family with nice brothers and a real nice brain that got his every report card hung on the refrigerator. While Johnny’s parents could only take their best guess to what grade he was in. He supposed he could be jealous of Two Bit Matthews, too. How he had the closest thing to a perfect family that someone in their part of town that you could get. He figured he should be jealous of them, he tried to be jealous of them, but it could never really compare.

Compare to the way his heart clenched and his mind ached whenever he saw Dallas. He hated the fact that he couldn’t help himself but to antagonize over the fact that he wanted nothing more than to be like him. Because then, maybe, if he was more like him, he wouldn’t get his ass handed to him on a silver platter every single day. He wanted to live like Dallas. On his own, without his parents, doing well enough for himself that at least he was alive. And that seemed to be the only thing that matters. Because he felt like he wasn’t living. And all Dallas was doing was living. Sure, it was a lousy way to live your life. In and out of jail for crimes your ego is too big to commit. Crime and punishment. Envy and ego.

Sloth.

Dallas Winston was as lazy as you can get when it comes to… well. Just life. He dropped out of school at fourteen and never looked back. Never got a job. Never moved on. Never did shit. Got thrown in the slammer for the first time at an age so young it was commonly debated by everyone in town. Twelve. Ten. Even seven years old. The only thing about him that wasn’t the most utterly lazy, was his taste for trouble. Or as he liked to call it, adventure. Whether it was riding at the rodeo, drag racing down town, or just robbing small businesses so blind they’d probably never see again. Or maybe that was the most lazy thing about him. The fact that he would do anything to avoid any sort of responsibility.

Darry forced him to get a job once, he showed up three days in a row until he stole everything in the register and skipped town for two weeks. Even his methods of ‘work’ were lazy. Although if you asked Johnny, he would say the exact opposite. He would say that Dallas worked harder than anyone else he knew for everything he had. He would say that Dallas never really had a chance, growing up in New York and being surrounded by nothing but malice deeds his whole life. That it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t lazy for following suit. But he was braver and better than anyone else he knew. That it took guts to live the life he did. Guts and strength. Hard work and slouth.

Greed.

Johnny Cade never wanted anything more in his life other than to just life it. But Dallas wanted everything there was. If there was a dollar on the street, Dallas believed he was entitled to it. He believed he was entitled to anything that was in his way or that he forced to be. But Johnny wasn’t like that, he didn’t want anything. Dallas didn't understand that with the way he was raised and the way he was treated, how he didn’t want more. To Dallas, Johnny should want everything in the world. He should be more greedy than only wanting consistent meals and a good education. And even then he doesn’t feel like he deserves that, he must be crazy, according to Dallas. He has to be. He has to want more.

Dallas got everything he wanted once he decided that’s what he needed to happen. He asked for it as nicely as he could with whatever blade and heater he had, and then he got everything he asked for. He was selfish, and everyone knew it, but no one bothered to question it or his greed would have your ribs wrapped in ace bandages too. He stole and lied. Johnny only lied to himself. Dallas lied to everyone that’s ever met him. His whole facade was a lie. His whole personality was a lie. Nothing but a greedy lie mixed with an attitude that made him undesirable for anyone to be around. Anyone but Johnny. Undesirable and filthy. Greedy and indifferent.

Wrath.

Dallas Winston was the angriest person there was. Maybe even in the entire world. If there was a single thing Dallas couldn’t find to be pissed at, that would be the day. He would get mad at a tiger for having stripes. Johnny thought he had every reason to be mad. And in some ways, he did. He had every right in the world to be as mad as possible for his innocence being stolen, even if in a way, he sold it. He sold it for a bottle of Jack Daniels and a ghost of a name. For long nights with strange girls and odd bets with dangerous men. Everything fueled his rage. Everything and everyone. Especially Tim Shepard and the cozy house of the Curtis’s. Everyone in the world but Johnny. Johnny made him mad for different reasons.

Johnny made him mad for every time he didn’t get the hell out of his house or seemingly let himself take every punch and every foul word. He didn’t understand how Johnny could be so patient and not get as mad as he did. Or even if he did get mad, he sure had a funny way of showing it. Or hiding it. He tried to ask Johnny one day how the hell could always stay looking up and looking forward. How he didn’t want revenge on the entire world and everything else that had fucked him up. But in a calm voice, calm as ever, Johnny explained that there was no point in getting back at a world that doesn’t even want you in it. Pointless and dumb. Revenge and wrath.

Lust.

Dallas Winston had a lust for life. Johnny Cade did not. Dallas could go out and live, get any girl he wanted to, start whatever fight he felt like it, and win over anyone who gave him a dirty look. And it wasn’t like Johnny wasn’t capable of that, he was just as capable as anyone else, especially Dallas. But he didn’t have the lust to live in the same way. Not at all. He didn’t want to fight, he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to pick up any girl he saw, he didn’t want to. You could say that Johnny really only lusted after one thing. Only wanted one experience. Only needed one person. And that was Dallas.

But Dallas’ lust was unmatched. When you want something bad (sex, drugs, alcohol, blood), it clouds your judgment. However most of the time it is only a light fog, a brief passing mist. Not for Dallas. For Dallas it was so thick that the air wouldn’t clear no matter what Johnny tried, what anyone tried. The smoke from his cigarettes only adding to it. But if you asked him, even Johnny, if he desired anything from life; they would both say no. Because he never wished for anything, everything just seemed to. Happen. It was difficult. Desire and will. Lust and life.

Gluttony.

Johnny Cade couldn’t define the word if he read it straight from the dictionary. He had never experienced it once in his life, that’s what he would tell you. That’s what anyone who knew him would tell you as well. But truthfully, the only time Johnny ever had a reason or a time to be gluton was when he was with Dally. Not only because he made sure he was fed, that he was warm, and he had anything he needed for the basic pillars of life; but that it was the only thing he took in excessively. Johnny wasn’t someone who things belonged to. Who claimed things as his own and took them in access. He wasn’t like that at all. Only with Dallas.

Dallas wouldn't agree. He would say that Johnny wouldn't let himself indulge in any sort of behaviors that didn’t revolve around the fact that he had always wanted others to be more than he saw them as. Or maybe that he had seen them for who they wanted to be, who they were at heart. That’s what he saw in Dallas. So to him, he was the furthest thing from wanted or needing or having of any sort of gluton. That was Dallas’ responsibility. To stuff himself full with any sort of anger and selfish want he could gather. For every bit that Johnny didn’t have, Dallas had it all. Or maybe that’s just how he saw it. Wants and needs. Gluttony and moderation.

[parkersrevenge]

The Outsiders is Gay(tm), an academic study:

Some of these quotes are 100% serious and meant genuinely, especially in regard to Dally and Johnny. Other quotes are absolutely us being pedantic, entirely because of how much of a hissy fit Hinton threw for the mere suggestion that there is a possible queer reading of this book. So if some of these seem like reaches… they are, and that’s what makes it so much fun.

Chapter 1:

WHEN I STEPPED OUT into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. (Paul Newman, a bisexual icon.)

I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray, because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. (Ponyboy has a type.)

Darry is six-feet-two, and broad-shouldered and muscular. He has dark-brown hair that kicks out in front and a slight cowlick in the back--- just like Dad's--- but Darry's eyes are his own. He's got eyes that are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice. They've got a determined set to them, like the rest of him. He looks older than twenty--- tough, cool, and smart. He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so cold.

Soda is handsomer than anyone else I know. Not like Darry--- Soda's movie-star kind of handsome, the kind that people stop on the street to watch go by. He's not as tall as Darry, and he's a little slimmer, but he has a finely drawn, sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time.

Soda merely cocked one eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from Two-Bit.

“I'd just as soon tease a full-grown grizzly” (The biggest and best reach of all.)

They came running toward us now--- four lean, hard guys. (They were hard, guys.)

Steve Randle was seventeen, tall and lean, with thick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated swirls. He was cocky, smart, and Soda's best buddy since grade school.

(The entire description of Dally that lasts three paragraphs.)

If it hadn't been for the gang, Johnny would never have known what love and affection are.

Dallas lit a cigarette and handed it to Johnny. (Historically a queer symbol, just saying.)

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid." I touched my cheek gingerly. "Really?" Two-Bit nodded sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough."

I can understand why Sodapop and Steve get into drag races and fights so much, though--- both of them have too much energy, too much feeling, with no way to blow it off. (Heh.)

In a moment his breathing was light and regular. I turned my head to look at him and in the moonlight he looked like some Greek god come to earth. I wondered how he could stand being so handsome. (Why would you even think that?)

Chapter 2

I felt my ears get hot. Two-Bit or Steve or even Soda would have gone right along with him, just to see if they could embarrass the girls, but that kind of kicks just doesn't appeal to me. I sat there, struck dumb, and Johnny left hastily to get a Coke.

I grinned with pride--- I don't think I look one bit like Soda, but it's not every day I hear Socs telling me they think my brother is a doll.

Dallas scowled for a second. If it had been me, or Two-Bit, or Soda or Steve, or anyone but Johnny, Dally would have flattened him without a moment's hesitation. You just didn't tell Dally Winston what to do… But Johnny was the gang's pet, and Dally just couldn't hit him. He was Dally's pet, too.

It had taken more than nerve for him to say what he'd said to Dally--- Johnny worshiped the ground Dallas walked on, and I had never heard Johnny talk back to anyone, much less his hero.

I looked at Two-Bit admiringly. He sure put things into words good.

"Get Johnny some, too. I'm buyin'," he added as Johnny started to reach into his jeans pocket.

I don't like to go on weekends because then there is usually a bunch of girls down there flirting with Soda--- all kinds of girls, Socs too. I don't care too much for girls yet. Soda says I'll grow out of it. He did. (COME ON.)

I quit worrying about everything and thought about how nice it was to sit with a girl without having to listen to her swear or to beat her off with a club. I knew Johnny liked it, too. He didn't talk to girls much. Once, while Dallas was in reform school, Sylvia had started hanging on to Johnny 32 and sweet talking him and Steve got hold of her and told her if she tried any of her tricks with Johnny he'd personally beat the tar out of her. Then he gave Johnny a lecture on girls and how a sneaking little broad like Sylvia would get him into a lot of trouble. As a result, Johnny never spoke to girls much, but whether that was because he was scared of Steve or because he was shy, I couldn't tell. (Harold, he’s gay.)

Chapter 3

Dally--- wild, cunning Dally-

I looked at their clothes and realized for the first time that evening that all I had was a pair of jeans and Soda's old navy sweat shirt with the sleeves cut short. (Fashion.)

Two-Bit took a long drag on his cigarette, Johnny slouched and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, and I stiffened. (Heh, pt. 2.)

I only wanted to lie on my back under a tree and read a book or draw a picture, and not worry about being jumped or carrying a blade or ending up married to some scatterbrained broad with no sense. (He just wants to deal with normal stuff, not weird stuff like gang violence and women!)

"Shoot," I said, startled out of my misery, "you got the whole gang. Dally didn't slug you tonight 'cause you're the pet. I mean, golly, Johnny, you got the whole gang.

Chapter 4

"You could use a bath, greaser. And a good working over. And we've got all night to do it. Give the kid a bath, David."

Bob, the handsome Soc, was lying there in the moonlight, doubled up and still. (He’s dead, Pony. You don’t need to describe his looks right now.)

I knew Buck, and the only way you could get anything from him was to bully him. I guess that's why Dallas could handle him so easily, although Buck was in his mid-twenties and Dally was seventeen.

He appeared in a few minutes, clad only in a pair of low-cut blue jeans, scratching the hair on his chest. (Fashion, pt. 2)

It would be a miracle if Dally loved anything. The fight for self-preservation had hardened him beyond caring. (IMPORTANT)

"Oh, shoot, kid"--- Dally glanced contemptuously over his shoulder--- "I was in the bedroom." He suddenly stared at me. "Glory, but your ears can get red, Ponyboy."

Dally walked us back to the door, turning off the porch light before we stepped out. "Git goin'!" He messed up Johnny's hair. "Take care, kid," he said softly. (He’s in love. Source: Chapter 10.)

I stretched out and used Johnny's legs for a pillow.

"I'm sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?" "That's okay. I didn't want to wake you up until I had to."

"I guess I look okay now, huh, Johnny?" He was studying me. "You know, you look an awful lot like Sodapop, the way you've got your hair and everything. I mean, except your eyes are green." "They ain't green, they're gray," I said, reddening. "And I look about as much like Soda as you do." I got to my feet. "He's good-looking." "Shoot," Johnny said with a grin, "you are, too."

Chapter 5

I pushed off Johnny's jeans jacket, which had somehow got thrown across me…

I propped myself on my elbows and grinned up at him. "Hey, Johnny. Fancy meetin' you here." He looked down at me over a big package. "I swear, Ponyboy, you're gettin' to act more like Two-Bit every day." I tried unsuccessfully to cock an eyebrow. "Who's acting?" ( ಠ◡ಠ )

"A paperback copy of Gone with the Wind! How'd you know I always wanted one?" Johnny reddened. "I remembered you sayin' something about it once. And me and you went to see that movie, 'member? I thought you could maybe read it out loud and help kill time or something."

"Things have been happening so fast..." I put my arm across his shoulders to warm him up

He slumped down beside me. "I didn't mean it like that, Ponyboy. Don't cry, Pony, we'll be okay. Don't cry..." I leaned against him and bawled until I went to sleep.

I woke up late that night. Johnny was resting against the wall and I was asleep on his shoulder.

That was the first time I realized the extent of Johnny's hero-worship for Dally Winston. Of all of us, Dally was the one I liked least. He didn't have Soda's understanding or dash, or Two-Bit's humor, or even Darry's superman qualities. But I realized that these three appealed to me because they were like the heroes in the novels I read. Dally was real. I liked my books and clouds and sunsets. Dally was so real he scared me.

One morning I woke up earlier than usual. Johnny and I slept huddled together for warmth

"You know," Johnny said slowly, "I never noticed colors and clouds and stuff until you kept reminding me about them. It seems like they were never there before." (Literally a cliché from every Disney movie ever made.)

Johnny shrugged. "Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I guess we're different." (!!!)

"Hey, Ponyboy!" He grinned down at me. "Or should I say Sleeping Beauty?"

Chapter 6

"Johnny," Dally said in a a pleading, high voice, using a tone I had never heard from him before, "Johnny, I ain't mad at you. I just don't want you to get hurt. You don't know what a few months in jail can do to you. Oh, blast it, Johnny"--- he pushed his white-blond hair back out of his eyes--- "you get hardened in jail. I don't want that to happen to you. Like it happened to me..."

Chapter 7

Darry and Sodapop were in the pictures too; Jerry Wood told me that if Sodapop and Darry hadn't been so good-looking, they wouldn't have taken so many. That was public appeal, he said. (Everyone has a hard-on for Darry and Soda.)

They slammed the door, of course, and Two-Bit came running into the kitchen. He caught me by the upper arms and swung me around, ignoring the fact that I had two uncooked eggs in my hand.

"Hate to tell you, buddy," Steve said, still flat on the floor, "but you have to wear clothes to work. There's a law or something."

Steve followed him and in a second there was the general racket of a pillow fight. (Why would you follow your naked friend into his bedroom?)

Chapter 8

"Tuff enough," he managed, and by the way his eyes were glowing, I figured Southern gentlemen had nothing on Johnny Cade.

I knew Johnny understood what I meant. We had always been close buddies, and those lonely days in the church strengthened our friendship.

Chapter 9

Darry had on a tight black T-shirt that showed every muscle on his chest and even the flat hard muscles of his stomach. (Fashion, pt. 3.)

"Welup," Two-Bit said cheerfully, cocking an eyebrow, "I see we are in prime condition for a rumble…

“That big guy with y'all, you know him pretty well?"

Then Paul said, "I'll take you," and something like a smile crossed Darry's face. I knew Darry had thought he could take Paul any time. (I bet he could…)

Steve lay doubled up and groaning about ten feet from me. We found out later he had three broken ribs. Sodapop was beside him, talking in a low steady voice.

Several people yelled at us, I think because we were pretty racked-up looking, but Dally had nothing on his mind except Johnny…

Johnny's eyes glowed. Dally was proud of him. That was all Johnny had ever wanted.

Dally swallowed and reached over to push Johnny's hair back. "Never could keep that hair back... that's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get..."

"Damnit, Johnny..." he begged, slamming one fist against the wall, hammering it to make it obey his will. "Oh, damnit, Johnny, don't die, please don't die..." He suddenly bolted through the door and down the hall.

Chapter 10

How can I take it? I wondered. Dally is tougher than I am. Why can I take it when Dally can't? And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone.

Steve stumbled forward with a sob, but Soda caught him by the shoulders. "Easy, buddy, easy," I heard him say softly, "there's nothing we can do now."

Chapter 11

Yeah, he was good-looking even then, with a grin that reminded me of Soda's, a kind of reckless grin. He had been a handsome black-haired boy with dark eyes--- maybe brown, like Soda's, maybe darkblue, like the Shepard boys'. Maybe he'd had black eyes. Like Johnny. I had never given Bob much thought--- I hadn't had time to think. But that day I wondered about him.

I knew he liked to pick fights, had the usual Soc belief that living on the West Side made you Mr. Super-Tuff, looked good in dark wine-colored sweaters, and was proud of his rings.

Chapter 12

You know a guy a long time, and I mean really know him, you don't get used to the idea that he's dead just overnight. Johnny was something more than a buddy to all of us.

It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn't be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore. It was important to me.