Two Bit The Outsiders - Blog Posts

Messenger Boy; Blue Button Baby

Shameless plug for the Outsider's fic I just wrote, centered on Two-Bit's perspective on getting jumped.

I wanted to explore his feelings about being injured by a girl (grappling with his own judgements of femininity and also his sister, who has always wanted to be 'pretty' like a Soc girl), his shame around being used as a message, and his fear for his family.

I've always loved the complexity of Two-Bit having a loving family, and his getting jumped is a detail I'm so glad got added into the musical.

There is also incredibly vague Marbit if that's ur thing.

Anyways, check it out if you're interested!

ᯓ⭒Fight like wolves,

but flee like birds .ᐟ

“There’s Darry, Sodapop and Ponyboy — and then there’s their baby sister. She’s loved, sure, but do they truly ever show it? Or do they just say so and hope that it’s enough?”

Warnings ~ cursing, arguing, insinuation of sh and mental health struggles

･ ⟢ ⋮ a/n ~ This little fic is based around this fic by @jamesdeanbby !! I tried my best to make sure it isn’t the exact same, but the store scene is rlly similar 😓 🙏 also yes I am making this two parts…

w/c: 1,000+

──── ₊˚⊹ ♰ ⊹˚₊ ────

Life would never be easy for someone like you.

A teenage girl, living in a house constantly full of boys.

Before your parents died, it was fine; sure, you didn’t always get the newest clothes or cutest makeup, but it was enough. Because you had your mom.

Now you don’t.

And Darry is the one bringing you shopping. Darry is the one supervising what you buy. Darry, a twenty-year-old boy — no, man — is the one who watches you eye the frilly, cute dresses in the store and is the one who says no every time.

It feels as though he never even tries to understand you. He gets along with Soda and Pony just fine, because they’re boys, but you?

You’re a girl. And therefore, lesser than.

At least that’s how it feels.

Soda can go to as many rodeos as he wants, stay out as late as he wants. Pony gets praised for his smarts, he can smoke in the house whenever, he can stay at the lot and not get grounded.

You?

At the age of sixteen, you can’t stay out past 8:30. You can’t get cute skirts because they’re too expensive. You can’t go anywhere without telling Darry. You can’t get anything cute or girly. You can’t do anything.

You feel like a rat trapped in a cage. Like a bird with clipped wings.

It’s hell.

Darry never understands you. Never tried to understand you. Not before your parents died and certainly not after. He never knew what you did in your room, late at night — why your arms would suddenly be covered by sleeves despite the blistering summer heat. He never put in the effort.

───〃★

Beeps from cash registers, the pungent smell of cleaning products and terribly bright fluorescent lights overwhelm your senses. Darry’s footsteps echo beside you. Loud. Heavy. The total opposite of your own.

As you walk past the girl’s clothing section, your eyes catch on something. A skirt; pink with ruffles and lace. Your steps falter, and of course, Darry notices. His response is almost immediate.

“No.”

You look up at him, your expression shifting. That spark of excitement in your eyes burning out. He notices, but doesn’t show it.

“You know we can’t afford it, kid.” His voice is firm. Cold. That’s all it ever is around you. Not warm like it is with Soda, not calm like with Pony. He’s never treated you the way he does them.

“I know.” You reply, your own tone taking on an edge by default. But Darry, of course, can’t help getting mad.

“Would you quit that? You’re actin’ like a brat. You can’t always get what you want.”

He stares down at you, eyes stormy and voice like thunder; expecting you to argue, to make a scene like Pony would or scold him right back like Soda might.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

You just stand there, tears welling up but never falling.

He knows you’re not like Pony and Soda. You’re a girl. You’re different. Your brain is just wired differently, and he can’t seem to grasp onto the fact.

The rest of your time in the store is tense, like a taught string waiting to snap in half. Not a word is spoken from either of you; only subtle glances.

The drive home is worse.

───〃★

“You listen here young lady–!”

Darry’s voice roars throughout the small space of the living room. Moments earlier, you’d burst in, tears welling in your eyes, your expression full of frustration and betrayal.

“No! Why should I listen to you when you never listen to me?!” You yell back.

The others all stare on, the entire rest of the gang – Soda, Two-Bit, Pony, Steve – they all watch on as you and your brother argue like angry dogs.

Darry huffs, shaking his head disapprovingly. Like a dad would. Not a big brother. “Would you quit sayin’ that?! You’re actin’ like a damn child, y’know that?”

It’s like seeing someone argue with their reflection. Two people, both too stubborn to understand the other, but equally struggling. You, unheard and unseen, and Darry, placed in the position he is by chance, not choice.

“You never let me do anything! You treat me like a pest, not your sister!” You argue back.

He doesn’t say anything. Just stares. Too frustrated to snap back and not say something he’ll regret.

But you continue on; cracks in your voice, but not a single stutter.

“You don’t treat me like you do Soda and Ponyboy! You treat them like brothers, while I’m nothing but vermin!” The tears finally start falling, hot and salty against your cheeks. “You let Soda do what he wants, you praise Pony for being a genius, but what do I get? Nothing! Not a word of kindness or affection! ‘Stop pouting,’ ‘Don’t give me that look,’ ‘Calm down’! That’s all I hear—”

All Darry can do is stare at you. The room is silent aside from your rambling, each pair of eyes looking anywhere but you and Darry from their scattered positions.

“— and nothing else! I bet you wished I was in an orphanage, huh? So you wouldn’t have to deal with me an’ all my ‘childish’ wants?!”

This is what makes him snap. The idea that you think he doesn’t love you; that he doesn’t care.

“Would you shut your goddamn mouth?! You act like I don’t care, when that’s all I do! It ain’t my fault we’re broke and can’t afford your stupid skirts and dinner!”

There he goes again. Placing the blame on you, as if you aren’t the one being neglected. Tears stream down your cheeks like waterfalls, your bottom lip quivering as you try your hardest not to let out a sob; brows furrowed in a scowl. A mirror image of Darry himself.

And then you say the three words he would never wish to hear – three words that send him spiraling.

“I hate you, Darry! I wish I was never born, goddamnit!”

He freezes. Everyone does. The tension in the room reaches its peak, your words causing everyone to stop and hold their breaths.

But before he can reply, before he can apologize or argue, you’re gone. Leaving nothing but a door swinging in your wake.

Darry stares at the open door, eyes wide with emotion; regret, anger, frustration, betrayal. This is his fault and he knows it. He never made an effort to understand you. To make you feel loved. To love you in general.

Moments later, Dally and Johnny step inside, quickly noticing the tension and quietness.

“The fuck happened here? Did the girl throw another fit?” Dally drawls, a sick grin on his face.

His words are like a knife to Darry’s heart. Everyone’s silence tells him all he needs to know.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

The realization appears on his face as quick as a lightswitch flipping on.

“Oh, shit, man. What did you do, Darry?” He immediately asks, stepping further into the quiet house.

“Not enough.” Is all he can reply.

──── ₊˚⊹ ♰ ⊹˚₊ ────

“I can’t be what you need,

I am stuck in a dream.”

Synopsis…! You and Johnny are best friends. You’ve been there for each other through thick and thin. But what happens when you have an undeniable love for him, and he just doesn’t seem to notice?

a/n…! Made this based off an ask I did but couldn’t get out of my head🙏 can’t tell if I like it tho…. Also begging for literally anyone who sees this to req smth im in desperate need of writing inspo

w/c…! 1800+

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

You need to look perfect.

That’s what you tell yourself over and over, the sentence repeating like a broken record.

Buck’s hosting a party tonight. Johnny will be there; the same Johnny you’ve been trying to get the attention of for months now. And yet, each time you cast him an extra glance, make a flirty comment, dress up extra pretty, he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t even seem to look.

It breaks your heart.

Which is exactly why tonight you’re going to this party. Tonight is the night, the one where he has to notice you. You’ll march up to him, bat your eyelashes and be forward.

“Hey, Johnnycakes, wanna go out to the drive-in sometime?” You’ll state. He’ll have to say yes.

But to make that work, you’ll have to look extra pretty. Not just normal pretty, special pretty. Sure, it feels silly trying so hard for a boy, but you can’t help it. This needs to go right.

However, you currently find yourself in a bit of a dilemma.

You’ve spent probably the past two hours trying to find an outfit.

“Ugh! I have nothing to wear!” You wail, hands carding through already messy hair.

“Just wear what makes you feel confident! That’s what will really make you ‘special’ pretty!” Your friend Lindsey replies, quoting the statement you’d made earlier.

“How do you know that’ll work? What if he sees me and thinks, “wow, she’s really wearing that?” I’ll ruin my chances!”

“I can almost guarantee Johnny won’t think that. Here, let me try to find something up to your standards.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. So, you sit at your vanity, sulking as she searches your closet.

After only ten minutes she’s coming back out with an outfit draped over her arm. She shoves it into your hands, grinning as she shoves you into your bathroom, saying that “it’s perfect!’

You sigh as you close the door. Is it really perfect? You know Lindsey is very big on fashion, but can you truly trust her? The only way to find out is to try the outfit on, and when you do, you decide you’ll never doubt her again.

First you pull on the lace tank top. It’s one with spaghetti straps that hugs your body just right – but you bought it so long ago it somehow still has the tag. Then comes the blouse, pale green and gingham, with a low enough neck to show off the lace of the shirt beneath. And last, on bottom, is a white pleated skirt that reaches your mid-thigh. You’ve worn it more times than you can count, but that’s what you love about it; it’s simple but effective.

You step out of your bathroom, feeling prettier than you have in a while. Lindsey can’t help grinning, clapping her hands together as you give her a bashful smile.

“It is perfect,”

“I know, right! Never doubt me again, girlfriend!” Her voice is giddy, as are her movements, as she sits you down at your vanity.

A handful of hours later, you’re walking up to Buck’s – hair styled, makeup done, outfit flawless. Lindsey and Cherry are at your sides, for emotional support, they’d said. Despite the confidence in your step, nerves eat away at your stomach. Your thoughts are filled with nothing but the worst-case scenarios of tonight.

The moment you step foot into the house, your senses are violated by your surroundings – the smell of smoke and beer, the loud yells and even louder music, the bright lights.

But your eyes don't take long to find him.

Black hair. Tan skin. Big brown eyes. Leaning against a wall with a red solo cup in his calloused hands, a grin spread across his lips.

And a girl standing before him.

Hand touching his arm. Laughing unbearably loud at a dumb joke. Eyes full of lust.

Your heart drops. Your ears ring. Your throat grows dry.

You’re moving before your brain even registers it, feet carrying you over to where Johnny’s standing. He doesn’t notice you. Not until you’ve started speaking.

“Are you kidding me?”

He immediately turns to you, an expression of bewilderment falling upon his features.

“What?” His tone is laced with confusion. He glances over at the blonde chick, watching as she approaches her next victim like Johnny never existed.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Johnny?” You repeat, taking a step closer to him – voice heavy with emotion as you continue your rambling.

“I got dressed up. I bought new mary janes. I spent hours on my hair.”

He’s too confused to respond, his mouth stupidly hanging open. As if he has a right to be shocked.

“I did all this for you, and I don't get so much as a spared glance. Not a ‘hi’ or a wave or even a glance. Nothing.”

Your eyes are brimming with salty tears, but you hold them back. He doesn't get to see you cry. Not now.

“I tried so goddamn hard, Johnny. I always did. But you just don’t see it, do you?” This is what makes him speak up, voice poisoned with uncalled for frustration.

“What do you mean I don’t notice? Of course I do!”

“No, you don't!" You immediately retort. “Not like how you’re supposed to. You don't see me and think, ‘I wish she were mine.’ You see me and all you think is that I’m your good friend.” Your heart sits heavy in your throat, your words choked out as you hold back tears.

Johnny just stands there like an idiot, his brows creased, his expression incredulous.

“But–”

“Don’t.” You don’t want him fighting for you. It’ll only make the aching in your chest worsen. He’s too late, anyway. He’s made his intentions clear.

You turn on your heel and walk away. Never even once do you look back. He doesn’t deserve your heart, not anymore.

You shove your way through the crowd, colliding with sweaty bodies over and over until you reach the door. You’ve practically collapsed the moment you’ve left, sitting down on the curb.

Salty tears stream down your cheeks. You were never a pretty crier, not like the actresses in movies. You sob, sniffle, hiccup; ruined makeup stains your face. Shaky hands come up to swipe at the tears, though not helping much.

It’s official. Your chances with him are smothered out like the flame of a burnt out candle.

Johnny stands there, frozen. Stuck in place like an idiotic looking statue. From across the room, Dallas watches. He saw the whole thing. You strutting in, your pretty outfit, your nervous smile. The argument. The tears. He knew how you tried, it was made clear from the moment you’d started hanging around Johnny. But he boy was a goddamn idiot.

“You’ve royally fucked up, man.” Dally suddenly says.

Johnny’s head snaps over to him, his shock still written all over his face. But he doesn’t say a word.

“She really likes you. No clue why you didn’t notice. Hell, I thought about takin’ her for myself-” Those last words make his heart feel like it’s being carved straight out of his chest.

“I fuckin’ get it! Jeez, don’t gotta make me feel like a bigger asshole..” Johnny barks, the pain in his chest getting worse with every moment you’re gone.

The only reason this makes him feel so shitty isn't because he hurt his best friend, but because he’d been in your position before. Trying so goddamn desperately to get her attention – not in a normal way, in a romantic way. He wanted you to see him, but he gave up long ago. And as it turns out, that’s when you started trying.

It’s just one big fucked up mess, really.

“You should go after her.” Dally suddenly says, nudging him. “Tell her how you feel. It’s rainin’, too. You could make it like one of those stupid ass romance movies she likes.”

Johnny perks up at this, realizing he’s been standing here like a goddamn idiot for the past five minutes while you’ve probably been sobbing.

Without thinking, he starts racing to the front door praying that she’s still out there.

The rain pelts down at his skin hard. But there you are, sitting on the curb, your pretty face in your hands.

When you hear footsteps, you know it’s him. Before he speaks, before he even makes himself known. You’d always recognize him, down to the very last beat of his heart.

“I get it, Johnny. You feel bad for making me cry but you don’t like me like that. You don’t have to like me or apologize.”

You look over your shoulder at him, expecting him to be nodding, but all you see is his confused face.

“What—?! I mean- you’re.. how did you even make that conclusion?”

The two of you stare at each other. For several seconds, all you can do is stare at him.

“You never even noticed me, Johnny. You never–“

“Would you quit saying that I didn’t notice?!”

His snappy tone catches you off guard. Catches himself off guard. But nevertheless, he goes on.

“Of course I noticed! I couldn’t not notice! You looked like the goddamn sun in all those skirts and dresses, and you expect me not to notice you?!”

You stare up at him, slowly rising on shaky legs to face him fully. He noticed? Did he really notice and she just couldn’t see?

“Then why didn’t you say anything? I dropped the most obvious hints and you didn’t even reciprocate!” You allege, your own tone just as accusatory as his own.

“Because I thought you were being nice! I didn’t flirt back because I couldn’t fathom the idea of someone as angelic as you liking me!”

You’re right in front of him now. Faces close, arguing like two scared mutts. Voices raised, rain pelting your skin, mixing with the stray tears on your cheeks.

“So you just gave up? You decided I wasn’t worth fighting for and stopped trying—!”

Calloused hands grasp your cheeks as soft lips cover your own.

Your heart stops.

Your breath catches.

But you don’t pull away.

Not for a single second.

Not until you both can’t take it anymore and need to breathe. Even then, you’re hesitant, chasing his lips until the last second.

You finally look up at him, and you’re met with black lashes framing eyes as dark as the night sky. Your heart nearly stops.

“Johnny, I–” You attempt to stammer out, but he interrupts you once again.

“Don’t.” You pause. His eyes lock onto yours, hands refusing to move from your cheeks. Calloused thumbs caress your cheekbones, the touch gentle despite the storm behind his eyes.

“Please just let me call you mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Is he being serious, you ask yourself, is this really happening?

But before you can fully formulate a response in your mind, you’re nodding your head. And then he’s leaning in again. Your lips collide, the rain pelting your skin only fueling the need behind your kisses.

From the window in Buck’s living room, Dallas cheers to himself. Finally, the stupid kid has his entire world all to himself.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

guys I know it’s been a fat second since I’ve posted but I pinky swear I have something cooking 😓🙏 I have literally two days left of school on my life I’ll finish it soon 😖

☆.「 A Heart Full Of Tears 」.☆

“There’s a place where lovers go…

to cry their troubles away.”

Synopsis…! You never thought you’d fall for someone like him. A Greaser. He never thought he’d ever have a chance with you. A Soc. But your two worlds inevitably collide, changing your lives like a star exploding. Until it all goes down in a flaming mess.

a/n…! Apologies for the fact the girl in the mood board at the end isn’t very racially ambiguous… I couldn’t fit enough photos w/o taking up other needed spaces😞

w/c…! 1900+ words

───── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────

July 14th, 1964.

The sun was high in the sky of Tulsa as you walked around, shoes tapping against the pavement of the sidewalk.

You know you shouldn’t be walking around like this alone, but you’re confident your mother is only exaggerating the things she says about the people on this side of town. How they’re “hoods” and “violent.” Sure, you’ve seen what they’re capable of, but you also know there’s a big difference between those who are greasers by choice and greasers by chance.

Meeting Johnny Cade is what solidifies your opinion.

When you stepped into the local diner – one of your favorite spots – he quickly caught your eye. His shaggy black hair, honey skin, big black eyes. It all made your heart stutter.

But you put on a straight face nonetheless.

You take your seat on a barstool, waving over a waitress so you can order a milkshake.

And all the while, Johnny is looking at you.

Your smile, your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your lips; they’ve all been the center of his mind for a long while.

Dally and Pony’s jokes and words fall upon deaf ears, his body and soul occupied by the Soc girl a couple meters away.

“Ay, Johnnycakes, anyone home?” Dally taps his finger against Johnny’s forehead, immediately pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, just, uh, spaced out..” He replies, fighting to keep his gaze from the girl he’s been infatuated with for months.

“You sure about that, man? You’ve been awful quiet.” Ponyboy adds.

Johnny can only sigh, his gaze fixed on a girl he’ll never have. You.

When you eventually leave the diner, your mind is still stuck on Johnny – as it always has.

But you’ve hardly taken ten steps before you hear the jingle of the door opening behind you. You turn, only to see a familiar face. Big black eyes. Honey skin. That goddamn scar.

Johnny.

Your eyes lock. His friend shoves him forward, Dallas Winston, you note. Suddenly he’s standing before you in all his glory. His shy, beautiful glory.

“Hey, uhm, I-I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to go see a movie sometime?”

His question catches you off guard. He wants me to see a movie with him? you think to yourself.

For several seconds, you’re stunned into silence and he thinks you’re going to reject him. Call him a filthy hood and spit on his shoes. But your response shocks him even more.

“I’d love to.”

December 1st, 1964.

Nearly five months.

That’s how long you and Johnny have been going steady, and oh, how amazing it’s been.

He showers you with love and compliments 24/7, hands always holding your hips or waist or hand. It surprises you, considering the way he was raised.

And surprisingly, your parents have been accepting of your relationship. He’s allowed to stay over when his parents are fighting and he’s caught in the crossfire, they always make extra food for him at dinner, and your older brother even lent you some old clothes for him.

It’s perfect.

One night, you and Johnny are cuddling in your bed. His arms are wrapped around your body, his hands tracing patterns on your skin as you lay your head on his chest. Never in your life have you felt so loved, so happy. He’s the light of your life. Your everything.

“I love you, Johnny.” You mutter suddenly.

He looks down at you in surprise, and for a moment, you think you’ve ruined it all.

But then his features soften. Those big eyes of his, going from wide-eyed shock to loving gentleness in moments.

“I love you too, baby.” He murmurs in return.

You look up at him, eyes meeting. A small smile graces your lips, one full of the kindness and love he’s grown used to.

You’re his whole world. His sun, his moon, his stars — the air he breathes, the grass he touches.

The two of you lean in, lips locking. It's soft. Sweet. Not like the way you see other greasers kiss their girls. More like he’s savoring you, as if you’ll disappear the moment he pulls back.

But you don’t.

And that’s why he loves you.

When everyone else would have left, you stayed.

April 7th, 1965.

“He did what?!” You yell over the phone, voice breaking at the words Dallas has just confessed to you.

“Yeah, they’ve, uh, ran away... Don’t know what else to tell ya, man. They may not ever come back, to be honest.” Dallas replies.

You can’t believe what you’ve heard. Johnny – your Johnny – killed a Soc? Sweet, soft, kind Johnny? It’s shocking.

Sure, you’ve seen him get into fights, yell and look more like a rabid wolf than a small puppy, but him taking a life?

It makes you sick to your stomach.

Dallas gives you the rest of the details, to steer clear of cops and all that. But the moment he hangs up, you're breaking down.

Tears you’d been holding back for too long stream down your cheeks, loud hiccups and sobs leaving you. Your knees buckle and you land on your floor with a thud.

Your darling, wonderful Johnny may be sent to prison for manslaughter.

The following day, you go visit the Curtis household, a tin of homemade chocolate cupcakes in your hands. It surely won't make up for the disappearance of Pony and Johnny, but it may provide comfort.

You take a deep breath and rap your hand against the door softly.

It’s Darry who opens the door.

He murmurs your name, voice full of disbelief and clear exhaustion.

“What are you doing here?” He adds, motioning for you to enter.

Everyone is there. Dally. Steve. Soda. Two-Bit. All but two familiar faces. It makes your heart break.

“I just… I-I just wanted to stop by. See how y’all are doin’.” You say, ignoring the way your voice cracks with emotion. Your hands tremble as they grasp the tupperware in your hands.

They all know the pain you’re in, feel it themselves, but only to an extent.

Johnny was someone they knew, of course. They loved him like a brother. But they never did – and never will – know him like you do.

Without speaking another word, Darry pulls you into his arms, allowing you the freedom to sob against him.

It hurts, seeing someone so bright lose their spark.

At the end of the day, after spending hours at the Curtis’ place – reminiscing, talking, bonding – you decide to go home. But you’re hardly out of the door when Dallas pulls you aside.

“Hey, uh, by the way, I’m plannin’ on goin’ to see Johnny and Pony later this week.”

“You know where they are?!”

“Yes, doll, I know where they are. But you can’t know.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette, like he’s bored.

“You should write Johnny a letter. I’ll give it over to ‘im and stuff.”

You look up at him, eyes brimming with tears at his statement.

“Of- Of course, yes. I'll bring it over tomorrow.” You say.

With a single nod as a goodbye, you walk over to your car, sliding into the driver’s seat.

That night, you write your letter.

But your words are never read.

April 15th, 1965.

The fire.

The church.

The letter.

Johnny.

Not much aside from those things have been occupying your mind.

A week has passed since they ran away.

A day has passed since the fire.

An hour has passed since you last saw Johnny.

You currently sit on the couch at the Curtis house, biting your nails like crazy. There’s a rumble tonight, against the Socs. Dally told you, Two-Bit and Pony that they’re gonna beat them. For Johnny, he said. It’d only hurt your heart more.

Hours pass. Then the door swings open. You watch as Darry, Two-Bit, Steve and Soda all file into the room, but there’s two people missing.

“Where’s Dallas and Pony?” You ask.

“Not sure. Maybe went to see Johnny.” Two-Bit replies, already grabbing a beer from the fridge.

After about a half hour, the door opens again. Pony’s beaten face appears in the doorway.

“Hey, where ya been?” Darry murmurs. No response.

“Hey, Pony.. whats wrong?”

You stare at the boy, your throat tight with emotion.

The first words out of his mouth leave your already cracking heart in pieces.

“Johnny’s dead. Told him about beatin’ the socs.”

You don't register another word that comes out of his mouth. The whole world goes blank, your entire mind crashing down on you.

“Johnny’s dead.”

June 15th, 1965.

Your soft hands brush over the rough stone you’re sitting on, a small tremble in your touch.

It’s been exactly two months since Johnny died. Since Dally killed himself and your world was flipped upside down.

You’re currently sitting on his gravestone. He’s lucky he even got one, to be honest. The only words carved on the surface are his name and the day he died.

“Johnathan Cade. Died April 15th, 1965.”

The sight leaves you weak.

He was more than just a name. A date that didn't matter to most but meant everything to you. He was a friend. A brother. A son. To some, he was everything. To you he was everything.

In your hand is an envelope. Inside, the letter you wrote but never got to be heard. Countless words, left to be nothing but ink sitting on a page. Not your whole heart and soul.

You carefully open the envelope, taking the piece of parchment out with a delicacy spared for butterfly’s wings.

With a deep breath, you speak.

“To my darling Johnny,

I do hope this letter finds you well. I’m not going to beg for you to return, nor to run away with me to Texas and change our identities. All I ask is for you to listen. To hear my words and never forget them. I love you more than anything, I hope you know that. Life just isn't the same without you around so often. I see you in the dandelions growing between the cracks of concrete. I see you in the cigarettes I pass by in the D.X. I see you when I walk past the lot. The others all miss you greatly. Pony, too. Darry’s been worried sick about him. Won’t eat or sleep, Soda said. Tell Pony he oughta make up with him if he ever comes back. I wish I got to say goodbye. I know there’s a chance I’ll never see you again, never hear you laugh or speak or feel your hand in mine, so I’ll tell you what I never got to. I was hoping to marry you, Johnny Cade. I can’t imagine my life without you. Without your dumb jokes and cheesy pick up lines. It’s just… dull, without you here. I hope that the next time I see you, I’m wrapped in your arms, with a ring on my finger and a venue already in mind. You’re my everything, Johnny. I want you to always remember, that no matter what you’re my favorite. My whole universe.

Sincerely, your darling girl.”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks by the time you’re done.

You wipe away your tears with trembling hands, before reaching into your pocket and pulling out a switch. You kneel down, placing the blade against the surface of his headstone.

By the time you leave, there’s new words on his grave.

“Johnny Cade. Died April 15th, 1965.

Died on Earth, lived in the Stars.”

───── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────

𐔌 . ⋮ GUESS .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

“Is it showing off my brand new lower back tattoo?”

Synopsis…! Lynn gets herself a new tattoo, but is scared of how the gang will react — but it’s the way Dally reacts that catches her off guard.

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

She’d meant to tell them — honest — she just forgot.

A week prior, Lynn went out and decided to treat herself, inevitably having the bright idea to get a tattoo on her lower back. She’d wanted one for years anyway, and now that she’s eighteen, she can do whatever the hell she wants.

Somehow, though, she managed to forget to tell the gang. Despite the fact they’re some of her best friends, it just didn't feel like something to speak about with them –Angela Shepard, however, is. She was the first and only person she’s told, and because she’s Angela, she loved the design.

“Oh my god, it’s so hot! I might get one too, now! We should match-!” She then blabbered on for an hour about nonsense.

For a while after she got it, she’d simply forgotten to tell them. The design was often covered by pants, anyways. One day, though, her silly little secret gets revealed in a rather odd manner…

───── ─────

It was blazing hot out, normal for a May morning in Tulsa, and Lynn decided to wear a pair of low rise jeans and a cropped tank top, paired with her leather jacket. It’s nearly 80 degrees out, she’s not going to be caught dead in anything else.

“Hey, ya’ll! She calls out, as she and Johnny enter the Curtis house, her typical grin on her face.

A mantra of “hey”s and “hello”s echo throughout the house, all voices familiar and comforting.

“Darry, is the A.C. still broke?” She asks, sitting down on the couch.

“‘Course it is, Lynn. I ain’t a plumber, I’m a roofer.” His response is what she expected, so with a small huff, she takes off her jacket, tossing it away.

Her lower back is inevitably exposed, and guess who’s the first to see the tattoo? Dallas.

He rubs a hand over his face at the sight, mumbling curses under his breath. For several seconds, he does nothing but sit there, staring. His gaze locked on her back with pupils blown wide.

He’s the only one to notice, apparently, based on the fact nobody else has said a word — because we all know they would.

But the moment she’s bending over to grab a soda off the coffee table? He’s a goner.

“Fuck, man…” He murmurs softly, glancing away and adjusting his jeans ever so subtly. His hands find her hips the moment she’s near, tugging her between his legs without a second thought.

“Doll… what the hell is this?” He asks, smoothing a hand over the tattoo, fingers tracing the ridges.

“Oh, uhm, just a tattoo?” Lynn replies, feigning nonchalance with every bone in her body.

At the sound of her words, unfortunately, everyone in the room turns to her. Steve and Two-Bit quit wrestling, Soda stops being their referee, Pony looks up from his book and Johnny tears his gaze away from looking over his shoulder.

Lynn stares at them, her expression blank, as if such a predicament is normal.

“IS THAT A TATTOO??” A shocked Pony gasps, breaking the silence that had been hanging in the air like a taught string. That makes everyone run over, their voices overlapping as they all ask frantically about the new addition to her body.

“When did you get it?”

“Did it hurt?”

“Why the hell did you want it?”

“Not gonna lie, it’s kinda hot….”

At that comment from Two-Bit, Dally stomps on his foot, the hand around Lynn’s waist tightening as the other man yelps.

The whole situation is… interesting, to say the least. She can’t help basking in the attention, showing the thing off with a wide grin.

“Yeah, it didn't hurt much. Which was kinda surprising, since the skin there’s supposed to be sensitive or somethin’. I wanna get more soon, but they’re damn expensive.”

All the while, Dally is watching from the couch, icy eyes locked onto her back.

Eventually, the commotion dies down, and Lynn takes her spot beside Dally, gaze stuck on the TV before her playing Mickey Mouse. But Dallas – of course – is still thinking of that goddamn tattoo. The way it looked on her skin, the design she’d chosen, the image of her laying on the table.

He can't quit thinking about it, and it’s driving him nuts. Why can’t his mind just let it go?

───── ─────

From that point on, whenever he gets the chance, he lets his hands brush her lower back. Lynn doesn’t notice – at least, not until Johnny points it out.

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

a/n: kinda hate this one ngl, but it’s whatever :P

⭑𓂃˗ˏˋ Modern Franny

+ gang hcs! ˎˊ˗𓂃⭑

Synopsis…! I was feeling writers block all because of this stupid idea being stuck in my mind 😓

─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─

Franny Only:

She’d 100% listen to Nirvana, The Smiths, Slipknot, Radiohead, Destroy Boys, Cheap Perfume, Alex G, Mommy Long Legs, Bikini Kill, etc.

Would be the type of person to say “name five songs” to anyone wearing a band t-shirt — it pisses dally off to no end

Actually does really well in school, probably has straight A’s and has all her friends in and outside the gang begging at her feet for the Math answers

Also an honors English girl (like me;))

Whenever you search up “grunge bedroom” on Pinterest, her room would be the poster child for those vibes

To build off of that, her style would be a very balanced mix of “modern” grunge (even tho that’s not a thing and style has nothing to do with being grunge smh…) and “real” 90’s grunge

Wears a TON of jewelry — I’m talking rings, bracelets, necklaces, anything she can get her hands on

Coffee addict

Constantly taking Polaroids of her, her friends and the gang (she has a whole album dedicated to Johnny)

── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ──

Franny + The Gang

She and Dally cause too much trouble for their own good, the kinda people that draw on desks

On top of that, Dally draws dicks everywhere. Every. Single. Surface.

The gang would very much eat up that “hitting a lick” trend from 2022-2023

Seriously, there’d be stop signs and school bathroom mirrors on their living room walls

Whenever Paul visits the school (since he peaked in high school) Franny and Two-Bit throw shit at him — books, paper balls, water bottles, anything.

Two-Bit and Dally smoke weed together

Franny also has a suspicious love for the ICarly tv show (defo has a gibby tapestry)

She is also openly a VERY big romance movie fan. Flipped, Dinner in America, The Notebook and Juno are her favs

On the other hand, Dally and Darry both secretly love romance movies. One of them will make a subtle reference to one of the movies and they just look at each other with mutual respect for said reference

Franny is obsessed w Garfield, girly has the pants, shirts, mugs, posters, it’s scary. Weirds out Dally a lot, too, but Johnny thinks it’s cute

She and Johnny meet at their local small town drag race track (in this universe, her parents aren’t total assholes n Johnny was taken by CPS so they’ve both got less shitty parents) and hit it off immediately

To build off that, they get together a lot quicker

The gang all go on annual road trips together in Darry’s mom’s old minivan (that poor car has seen some shit)

Franny still makes fun of Steve

─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─

a/n: guys I’ve fixed my writers block are you proud of me (I hope)

me whenever I try searching for fics of a specific character but tumblr shows me shit of other characters 💔🥀

𐔌 . ⋮ Miracles .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

aka: The aftermath of Lynn gaining custody of Johnny!

Synopsis…! After a hectic trial, Lynn brings Johnny home to their apartment, emotions weighing heavily down on them

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

The words of the Judge ring throughout her mind like a mantra:

“Ms. Dubois, you have been granted custody of Johnny Cade.”

The drive to their apartment is quiet, silence hanging between them like a treat over a puppy’s head. So many questions and thoughts run through Johnny’s mind, his heart beating wildly in his chest. It isn't until they arrive at the door, their bags in their hands, that it hits him – he’s free.

He’s no longer in the care of his parents, no longer forced to be in the middle of screaming matches, no longer being beaten over trivial mistakes.

Meanwhile, Lynn is sitting in terrified silence. She has zero idea how to take care of someone, even if he’s literally only two years younger than her. What if his teachers think he’s still being neglected? What if the neighbors call the cops, since she’s only eighteen?

Her thoughts run wild, coming up with every possible bad outcome of their current situation – when suddenly, a pair of arms encircle her middle.

Lynn is broken out of her haze and looks down, only to find a trembling Johnny clinging to her side.

“Thank you. For… for saving me.” He mumbles out, burying his face into her shoulder.

For a split second, she just sits there, shocked at his actions. But when his words register and she realizes what he’s saying, she wraps her arms back around him. Gentle hands cradle his head, allowing him to leave further into her body.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again, Johnnycakes. You got that?” She replies, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head.

They spend the next couple moments just standing there, embracing like two siblings reunited after years of being apart – which, in their own way, they are. Once Johnny and Lynn both are ready, they pull back, before heading into the apartment.

It’s a cozy space, with a decent sized kitchen and a living room connected to it, with windows overlooking the Tulsa skyline (which is really just run down houses on one side and fancy mansions on the other). They take their time exploring, taking in the space they can now call their own, before they claim each of their respective rooms.

After that’s out of the way, they get started with making the space their own. Pictures are hung on the walls – which are mainly Lynn’s old paintings and photographs from high school – blankets and pillows placed in the living room, candles set on tables, mugs placed in cabinets.

In Lynn’s room, she hangs up all her Elvis and Frank Sinatra posters, as well as her vinyls. Her record player is set up, as well as her small bookcase, her collection of horror movie VHS tapes, her perfume and makeup organized in her old vanity.

Johnny, on the other hand, doesn't have much. All he does is put up some old superhero posters Dally and Soda gave him and set out his comic books.

It’s quite saddening for Lynn, seeing him have so little. He never got the chance to have a childhood; he was too focused on surviving. He never got to do bakesales, go on field trips, hang out with friends. In short, he had nothing until Ponyboy and Dally came along.

But now, Lynn is determined to ensure he’s treated well, that he’s given all the love that he missed out on while in the custody of his parents.

At the end of the night, they curl up on the couch, watching The Creature From The Black Lagoon, Johnny tucked into her side. She smooths her hand over his hair in a comforting gesture, content with this new life brought upon her. Despite all of the burdens and responsibilities that come with it, she’s content.

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

a/n: from now on, all my fics will be posted to my main acc, and I’ll link them on t.f.t.o.t. Community since the links never work 💔

⭑𓂃˗ˏˋ CARS AND STARS ˎˊ˗𓂃⭑

˗ˏˋ aka: when Johnny and Francis met! ˎˊ˗

─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─

Synopsis…! one night, johnny sneaks around in an attempt to meet his idol, only to make a shocking discovery

Featuring…! @eepy-weepy-silly ‘s oc, Sergei Volkov!

── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ──

The breeze is soft and the night cool, as Johnny Cade sneaks quietly into the busy stands of the local drag racing arena. Dallas and Sergei follow behind him closely, glancing around to ensure nobody is following them. Once they’re in, they take their seats in the stands, trying to get the best possible position so they can actually see. Nights like this are important to Johnny, since racing is one of his favorite past times and very rarely does he get this good of seats.

They watch as the cars pull onto the track, lining up side by side, cheers roaring throughout the hundreds of greasers in the bleachers. Johnny’s eyes light up upon seeing his favorite racer — and his idol — stepping out of his car. Frank Turner, an infamous person in the Tulsa racing community. Nobody knows what he looks like nor his identity, only that he’s better than the rest. Cocky, arrogant, smug, all things that you wouldn’t expect Johnny to admire.

And yet, he does; quite significantly, to be totally honest. He watches with a grin on his lips as Frank waves to the crowd, a ski mask covering his whole head aside from a pair of smug eyes and an even more smug grin.

Johnny spends hours watching the cars speeding around the track, the sun falling over the treeline as time passes. As anticipated, Frank wins each one by a long shot. Cheers echo throughout the stadium each time he surpasses another racer, especially from Johnny.

However, halfway through the night, Sergei and Dallas run off, finding themselves bored and unamused, leaving Johnny alone. He doesn't mind, however, being content with watching by himself. That is, until the end of the festivities When everyone is leaving, Johnny finds himself desperately wishing to meet his beloved idol. So, he comes up with the bright idea to sneak down to the dugout. He knows it’ll be easy, considering the lack of security. It’s a local thing organized by greasers, for god’s sake, of course there’s no security…

Which is why Johnny now finds himself pressed against a wall, footsteps silent as the wind as he manages to sneak his way to the dugout where the racers hangout. The first sign that things are amiss is the fact there isn’t loud chatter, just two voices having a private conversation. Where the hell are the others? Shouldn’t all of the racers be hanging around, having fun? Alas, he presses on, determined to at least speak a word to his #1 idol.

The second sign, however, should’ve most definitely turned him away: the door leading to the back is completely ajar. Faint music plays behind it, alongside those two voices he heard earlier.

Now, him not seeing the third sign is purely him being an oblivious idiot: the female voice. Johnny doesn't notice it, not until he's pushing the door open, hoping to come face-to-face with this man he’s completely idolized —

— and is met with the face of a woman.

Before him stands a girl, leaning against the hood of Frank Turner’s car, his iconic ski mask and helmet sat on top of it. Beside her is Buck Merril, a cigarette between his fingers, now wearing an expression full of anger. The girl – who for some reason looks to be his age – has pure, terrified shock on her face. Both she and Buck can’t help but ask themselves, “how the hell did he get back here?!” It doesn't take Johnny long to connect the dots, and when he does, he can't keep himself from blurting out:

“I won't tell anyone! I swear!”

The girl simply stares at him, her expression softening at his promise of secrecy. Buck, however, steps up towards him, his brows furrowed and mouth set in a scowl.

“God fuckin’ damn, Johnny- You keep this shit secret, ya hear me, boy? Nobody can know ‘bout her. Not Dally, not Sergei, not fuckass Pony – no one.” His voice is practically a growl as he says this, his tone dripping in anger and frustration. He’s rightfully angry, this chick gets him a hell of a lotta money and he’s not giving that up just because some stupid kid saw who she really is; a greaser girl trying to make ends meet for her siblings.

“I-I promise I won’t tell anyone! Not a soul will know about this!” Johnny stammers out in reply, trembling hands held up in surrender. He glances between the girl and Buck, eyes full of fear, breaths shaky and labored.

Grumbling angrily under his breath, Buck stomps away, leaving Johnny and this random girl who he’s just discovered has been his idol for the past two years. The two stare at each other, wide eyed and confused, the only sound the chirping of crickets and rustle of the breeze. That is, until the girl breaks the silence.

“You seriously won't tell anyone?” She mutters, her voice carrying a pleading tone. Johnny doesn't realize it, but not only her own life and wellbeing but others’ as well rely on her racing job. If she couldn’t do this, she’d probably end up either dead or in the fucked up foster system.

For several moments, all he does is stare, before shakily nodding to her. He can see the way she relaxes, the way her shoulders go slack and her eyes soften. It suddenly hits him that he’s standing before his idol, she’s a girl, and she's speaking to him. Hell, at this point, it doesn't matter that she’s a chick, she's a hell of a good racer and he wants her autograph.

“Can I get your autograph..?” He suddenly blurts, cheeks flushing as he begins to regret his decision. But even as she’s replying, he feels embarrassed.

“D’you want my autograph or the autograph of the character I’ve created?” She says back, her accent making her smugness all the more prominent. She can’t help smirking at him, the cockiness of Frank Turner clearly the least fake part of his (lack of) existence.

Before Johnny has the chance to mumble out a reply, she’s grabbing a napkin and marker out of her pocket. He watches as she scribbles a couple words down on it, puts the cap back on the marker, shoves it in her pocket, then turns to him. Without another word spoken, she hands the napkin to him, grinning ear to ear.

“Have a good night, Johnny.” She drawls, grinning over her shoulder as she turns to walk off, boots crunching against the gravel road, her silhouette soon disappearing into the night. Johnny watches her go, the shock of it all still coursing through his veins, before looking down and reading what she wrote on the napkin;

“Call for a good time. . . just kidding. . . sort of ;)” Scribbled beside it? Not only a phone number, but the signatures of both Frank Turner and Francis Vendelini.

That night, Johnny calls the number, and when a feminine voice with a jersey accent replies, he feels an unfamiliar flutter in his stomach – and unknowingly establishes one of the most important relationships of his life.

── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ──

a/n: reposting this here cuz the link won’t work💔

Lynetta Rose Cade-Dubois

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

Nicknames: Lynn, Rose, Lynney, Netta

Age: 18 as of 1965, just after the book

Birthday: May 12th, 1948

Height: 5’6

Gender: Female, she/her

Sexuality: bi, no pref (yes I’m projecting)

Class: greaser

Faceclaim: Sophie Thatcher as Natalie in Yellowjackets

Relationship status: Not officially dating anyone, but being courted by Dallas Winston (i.e., she wears his ring on a necklace)

Friends: Dallas Winston, Steve Randle, Two-Bit Matthews, Angela Shepard

Personality: while she’s definitely similar to Dally — loud, unpredictable, flirty — she’s equally different; she’s thoughtful, smart, kind, gentle, several things he isn’t. Considering her maternal role towards Johnny, it makes sense that she’s softer. Sure, she teases him relentlessly, takes him out driving and goes to parties, but she’ll never not be there for him. She loves him to death, as does he.

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

Oh, Lynn? My god, is she a sweetheart! She’s an oddly amazing guardian to Johnny, despite how she acts when we’re alone. Though, I can’t help but pity her. As much as she loves Johnny, she desperately wants to get outta Tulsa. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ran off one day with Dally.

My, oh, my, is that girl beautiful. She’s totally different from Johnny, with bright blonde waves, pale skin, but they’ve got the exact same eyes. I’m tellin’ you, they’ve both got a terrible case of puppy-dog eyes. For fuck’s sake, it’s like looking into space, I’ll say. And on toppa that, the girl’s got hella curves! A good chest, nice waist and a fuckin’ amazing ass!! It’s no wonder Dally likes her so much, she’s pretty as hell. Her lashes are so long and she somehow manages to do her makeup perfect every day, her face has a buncha freckles and markings, it’s so unfair…

Man, don’t get me started on her closet! She has the cutest jeans, the coolest t shirts, the sexiest tank tops — ugh, makes me jelly! And the cherry on top is the fact they’re all stolen from her dad! They’re actual vintage shit! Her outfits are always so good, I honestly might steal her whole closet sometime soon. Trust me, she dresses better than all the greasers I’ve ever met.

She and Dally are the two biggest idiots I know. They’re always gettin’ into trouble, drinking, all that junk. Though, they wouldn’t know each other if not for Johnny, so she owes him. I’ve never seen two people have as much chemistry as they do, which is saying a lot, if I’m being honest. She’s always sneaking off to the drive in with him and Steve or being annoying in gas stations. They also steal beer with Two-Bit sometimes.

— Angela Shepard, 1965

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

“I don’t give a fuck about my reputation.

Living in the past, it’s a new generation.

A girl can do what she wants to do,

and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

— Lyn Odel, Cheap Perfume/Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

“Netta? She’s the best thing to ever happen to me. If she hadn’t come along during the trial, I’d still be with my parents. But now I have her. I honestly don’t think I’d felt real familial love until she came along. From the get-go, she treated me like a person — not vermin on the street or a mistake. She’s real nice to me, especially when I’m flexible with her community college classes when they get in the way. I owe a lot to her.”

— Johnny Cade, 1965

───── ─────

“Nah, man, Lynn is somethin’ else entirely. She’s sick, man, it’s amazin’. She goes along with me perfectly, always bein’ so fuckin’ insufferable, flirtin’ an’ bein’ all sassy n’ junk. Not that I’m complaining. But one thing that sows piss me off to hell is the way she looks at me — like I’m a fuckin’ saint or something. And to make things worse, she always ends my makin’ my stomach get all tingly when I’m with her! It sucks, ‘n I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me…”

— Dallas Winston, 1965

───── ─────

“Lynn? She’s a hoot, I’ll tell ya! Whenever I’m at the D.X. with Soda, she drops us an extra couple bucks. I can’t help admiring her for how she treats Johnny, bein’ all motherly to him. She’s like a sister to me, to be frank. She ain’t all mean and bitchy like a lot of other girls, but she hasn’t got a stick up her ass like all the Soc girls. Whenever she’s out with me and Dal, she’s a riot, man!”

— Steve Randle, 1965

───── ─────

“YOU’RE STARTING TO

LOOK PRETTY WEIRD.”

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

DISCLAIMER: before you read her backstory, I’d like to preface this by saying that in her au (and Francis’), the events of the book were exaggerated by Pony to get a good grade. Bob’s murder did happen, but because of Randy’s and others’ testimonies (and plot armor), Johnny just got a slap on the wrist. There will be more context in her backstory:

───── ─────

BACKSTORY:

Lynn grew up like any other greaser: poor, few meals, a lack of parental guidance. Sure, her folks were around physically, but that’s it. They didn’t cook or clean or work — just sat at home and did nothing. Thank god she’s an only child, or else she’d have gone through hell. All her life, she’d dreamt of leaving Tulsa, of going to college and making a name for herself. She did the best she could in school, earning good grades and respect. However, one night, it all changed.

One night, Johnny Cade accidentally kills a Soc named Bob Sheldon who tried drowning Ponyboy. For a couple days, they hid at Buck’s place with Dally, before inevitably turning themselves in. During the court process and trial, all of Bob’s friends testify against him, saying he tried killing Pony first. As a result, nobody gets jail time. However, one thing comes to light: Johnny’s living situation. The authorities acknowledge his abusive parents and inevitably take him away, but who should they give him to?

This is where Lynn comes in. She had just turned 18 by now and had been searching for apartments to live in, after saving for years. When she heard her baby cousin needed a place to stay, she took up the opportunity immediately. She’d babysat Johnny plenty as kids, before it all went to shit. But when she arrives at the apartment with Johnny in tow, she feels nothing but overwhelmed. She’s not a mother, she’s not a parental figure! What the hell is she supposed to do? Alas, there isn’t anything she can do now. Not that she’d ever give up Johnny, he doesn’t deserve that. Not after all he’s been through.

The one problem, however, is university. She’d been dreaming of going to college, of making it out, but with Johnny, she can’t. She takes up jobs, as does he, and they somehow make a decent amount between the two of them. At one point, after a particularly hard day, Lynn confesses to Johnny her dreams of going to college. How she wishes she could amount to something, get a good job, have a good life, and he feels that pain. He blurts out the first sentence he thinks of: community college. He tells her she should try taking classes there, since he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. So, they devise a plan: every other weekend, Lynn gets to take her community college classes while Johnny’s out with the gang. The situation brings them closer, their bond stronger than ever.

Over the next several months, the gang sees changes in Johnny. He’s gaining weight, looking happier, healthier. Lynn does everything she can to make sure he feels loved — buys him his favorite comic books, takes him out for dinner, watches his favorite movies. The one problem, however, is university. She’d been dreaming of going to college, of making it out, but with Johnny, she can’t. She takes up jobs, as does he, and they somehow make a decent amount between the two of them. At one point, after a particularly hard day, Lynn confesses to Johnny her dreams of going to college. How she wishes she could amount to something, get a good job, have a good life, and he feels that pain. He blurts out the first sentence he thinks of: community college. He tells her she should try taking classes there, since he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. So, they devise a plan: every other weekend, Lynn gets to take her community college classes while Johnny’s out with the gang. The situation brings them closer, their bond stronger than ever. one goal is to make him feel safe, and she does exactly that. But guess who’s the person that picks up on the difference the most? Dallas Winston. So, when one night Johnny invites him over, he expects to see some older woman bent over a stove, not some hot broad with a hell of an ass and skin like the moon. That night, the inevitable relationship between Lynn and Dallas is sparked, and over the months, the flame only grows larger.

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

mood board !

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

EXTRAS:

Likes: superhero’s of any kind, the smell of pancakes, photography, love songs, James Dean, candles that smell like honey or sandalwood, collecting vinyls, Frank Sinatra, men who wear deodorant, painting her nails, doing her makeup, sleeping in said makeup, journaling, scrapbooking, rodeos, the punk/grunge movement, dancing, late night drives.

Dislikes: tea, men’s cheap cologne, pretentious photographers, Bob Sheldon, annoying Socs, rude greasers, people who are mean to Johnny, un-punk people, stupid paintings, weird old men, cheap jewelry, drinking.

Interests: LOVES photography, hopes to go to school for it, collecting both mugs and vinyl, superhero comics that she reads with Johnny (his fav is spiderman, hers is Thor), collecting stupid looking stuffed animals, horror movies.

Favorite music: Frank Sinatra, the everly brothers, Led Zepplin, Beach Boys, The Mamas and the Papas

Body type: she’s got curves, as stated previously, but like with Franny, due to a lack of proper nutrition, they’re not at their full potential. Nice thighs, a nice ass, a nice rack, all properly balanced.

Opinions on Socs: For a while, she despised them. But as she matured and saw first hand some of the things they go through, she began to lay off them. Never did she pick fights with them, though, because she knows what they can do to greasers, but also women.

Mental Health: She’s doing… okay. Mentally, at least. Like, she’s not fully mentally alright but she’s also not harming herself (totally not projecting). She has moments where all she can do is cry or her chest just feels unbearably heavy, leaving her exhausted and drained and feeling like shit. Also probably has ADHD.

Random: eats like a teenage boy left home alone, if she wasn’t caring for Johnny, she’d only eat Mac and cheese and soda. Constantly collects little things, like soda tabs and cans. Names absolutely everything — plants, towels, items, anything she can and wants to. Has the coolest room ever, too, very big “mean older sibling grunge” kinda vibes, vinyls and posters littering the walls, dirty converse in the closet.

─────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰ ─────

a/n: ANOTHER ONE !!

․ ⁺ ⊹ 𐔌 MY OH MY…

WHAT A GIRL ⁀₊➷ ⋄

─────﹒★﹒ ─────

she/he/they // mac demarco enthusiast // outsiders fan !

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MASTERLIST !!

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WRITING RULES

Note: So far, I’ve only written OC things — which I’ll continue to do — but I’m also thinking about doing x reader things.

I WILL write:

Kissing, hugging, normal shit

Certain mental health things; if I’m not too familiar, I’ll do the best research I can

Mild SH, such as hints at it or someone having scars, but I won’t describe it in detail

Death, but not smth rlly graphic 😣

Mentions of or implied SA

What I WONT write:

Smut

Graphic SA

Graphic SH

Anything where someone — reader, a character, an oc — r*pes someone else (idk if tumblr allows that word so I apologize for the censoring 😓)

Pedophilia, zoophilia, anything of that nature 🤢

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INFO ABOUT ME !!

my nickname is Francis (I did name an oc after me, I js love the name 😓💔)

I’m 14-going-on-15 🫢

I’m bisexual therefore I have every right to project it onto my oc’s 😝

My fav artists/bands are Mac Demarco, Nirvana, Alex G, Current Joys, Cheap Perfume, The Smiths, Big Thief and Billie Eilish

I collect soda tabs for sillies (I have 250+)

I’ve seen the movie Flipped over forty times….. (and counting)

I’m a silver jewelry girl

I LOVEEEE reading; my fav books are The Hunger Games, The Outsiders obv, Percy Jackson, The Song Of Achilles, Greek myth retellings, the Powerless trilogy, dystopia books, etc!

I collect vinyls

I’m madly in love w Minecraft….

My fav shows are Brooklyn 99, Scott Pilgrim (the series), Demon Slayer, Pokémon, Gravity Falls, Ponyo, My Neighbor Totoro, and plenty more

I also REALLY love Stardew Valley (Harvey 4 life)

Vanilla is MY scent

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a/n: I’m new to this writing stuff, so pls don’t expect insanely good shit 🙏 I’ll take requests, but it’s finals season so I may or may not get to it 😞 also if my blog looks goofy its cuz i use phone (at least for the posting part) and it's a lot diff than computer or laptop....

MY MASTERLIST !!

𖦹= oc work ⟡ = fluff ☾ = angst

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THE OUTSIDERS:

Darrel Curtis

tbd….

Ponyboy Curtis

tbd….

Dallas Winston

tbd….

Johnny Cade

A Heart Full Of Tears ☾

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OC MASTERLIST:

Francis Lorraine Vendelini

oc bio 𖦹

cars and stars 𖦹⟡

the gang’s opinions on francis 𖦹⟡

modern Franny + Gang hcs!𖦹⟡

Lynetta Rose Cade-Dubois

oc bio 𖦹

miracles 𖦹⟡☾

guess 𖦹⟡

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a/n: laughs because I feel no desire to write for anyone or anything else…. heh…….😓

Francis Lorraine Vendelini

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Nickname/s: Francie, Franny, Rainy

Age: Sixteen

Birthday: February 28th

Height: 5’4

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual, no pref

Class: Greaser

Faceclaim: nobody so far, dm if u have ideas!

Relationship status: single, but crushing on a certain someone… ;)

Personality: extremely temperamental and sassy, the kind of girl who doesn’t take bullshit from anybody — always ripping on people — cough cough, Steve — and causing unnecessary trouble. Confident, cocky, and careless on the surface, similar to Dallas. But when all those layers are stripped off, when it’s her in her most vulnerable state, she’s nothing but a shy, scared little kid who was forced to take on a parental role too early. Doesn’t stop her from being reckless and loud, though. Never did, never will.

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Franny’s a mystery, if I’m bein’ honest. Mean and loud and obnoxious one moment, quiet and contemplative the next. Can’t blame her. Life in Tulsa’s shit — most of the time, at least. It’s easy to disassociate yourself when things get to be too much.

She’s real pretty, considering she’s both grease and a girl. With a face that looks like it’s straight out of a Victorian painting and hair that could combat Ronnie Spector herself, she’s got it all. Most girls like her wear makeup that makes ‘em look like raccoons and act all mean. But Franny? She can’t afford that stuff, not with her siblings under wing. That’s why she has Two-Bit steal stuff for her. Her face is covered in freckles and little beauty marks, all across her nose and cheeks and arms that reminds me of splattered paint. Johnny says her grandmother called ‘em “angel kisses,” so she does too. She also always smells like coffee and leather for no explainable reason, considering the amount of cigarettes she smokes.

She never fails to out dress most of us. Stolen and handmade band shirts, roughed up jeans, leather jackets, denim jackets with patches all over ‘em, she’s got it all. The jewelry she wears, too, is pretty sick. All those silver rings and necklaces remind me of Dally… come to think of it, she probably stole some from him. I wouldn’t be surprised, she’s kind of a klepto.

Johnny is definitely her favorite, we all know it. They’re always together, laughing and smiling and causing trouble. Two-Bit tags along often, too, as well as Dally, which results in stealing and more trouble. However, the one moral she stands by to death is that she’ll never do something that would send her to prison. She can’t afford to, not withe her siblings in her custody. If she’s not around, they’ll have to fend for themselves. They’re her whole world.

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“Load up on guns,

and bring your friends,

it's fun to lose and to pretend.

She's over-bored and self assured,

oh no, I know a dirty word.”

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“Franny doesn’t take shit from anybody! She’s lived more lives than most, which in itself means more than one thing. Her whole being is messed up from what she’s been through, not unlike the other guys. She talks mean and fights dirty, but there’s still something… off about her. Like when nobody’s lookin’, she’ll get all quiet and have this weird look in her eye. And she probably doesn’t realize we see her flinchin.”

— Ponyboy Curtis, 1964

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“Oh, Franny? The girl’s a fuckin’ riot! She ain’t afraid to yell, steal, be a nuisance! Nice as hell, man, a breath of fresh air. At first, I thought she was some stupid broad, but now? I’m tellin’ ya, man, she’s got somethin’ to her. She ain’t fake or bitchy or rude like all the other broads I’ve met in my time. A real nice chick, man. Got a nice ass, too.”

— Dallas “Dally” Winston, 1964

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“What’s Rainy like? Oh, man, I mean… she’s somethin’ else. She acts all tough and mean and wild with Dally and Two, and I know she has fun, but they don’t truly know her. They don’t see the way she cares about her baby brother and sister. They’ll never see it, and I think she’s okay with that. She always talks about gettin’ out of here, goin’ to college and makin’ a name for herself other than “low-life greaser.” They don’t know how she grew up, how she lives now. But she’s okay with it.”

— Johnny Cade, 1964

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“ONE DAY…”

I AM GONNA GROW WINGS.”

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BACKGROUND:

Francis, or “Franny” as her closest friends call her, grew up in Jersey. She’d lived with her mom and dad and younger siblings, but unfortunately, she didn’t have it easy. Abuse and neglect took place, leaving nasty scars that end up lasting her whole life. But when her painters finally got divorced, her mother didn’t hesitate to pack up and run off to Tulsa with her and her younger siblings. Despite how it should have been a fresh start, it was the opposite. Her mother’s drinking and lack of an emotional and physical presence made things more than difficult. For the first few months, it was hell — until Buck Merril found Franny on the street and took her in. He then gave her a job posing as a man at the local drag racing track under the alias of “Frank Turner.”

This is where Johnny Cade, the quiet and calculating greaser everyone seems to know, comes into play. Him, being a fan of drag racing, had idolized Francis, believing her to be a man — as everyone else had. One fateful night, he decided to sneak to the back of the track. He had been anticipating a nice interaction with his idol, only to find a girl his age leaning on a car, laughing at Buck’s jokes and smoking a cigarette. In a moment of disbelief, he couldn’t help gasping, drawing her and Buck’s attention to him. For a moment, she fears for her whole life, thinking he’d tell everyone she’s a woman and ruining her main source of income. That is, until Johnny blurts out in a shaky voice “I won’t tell! Honest!” From then on, they were best friends.

Eventually, she got to meet the gang — Darry, Ponyboy, Soda, Dallas, Two-Bit and Steve. She was adopted into their group easily, in spite of her being female. Dally, especially, took a (mainly perverted) liking to her. She, Johnny and Dallas became a little trio, with Two-Bit occasionally tagging along. However, she and Johnny were always the closest, to the point where his first thought after being kicked out was to go to Francis. She became his safe haven, and she was happy to provide him with such comfort. At the Curtis house, with Darry, Soda and Pony, she was always happy to help with cooking or cleaning. Sure, she has her own siblings, but a couple more couldn’t hurt, right?

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moodboard !

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EXTRAS:

Likes: Snoopy/the peanuts Frank Sinatra, The Ronettes (don’t tell anyone), collecting vinyls, LOVESS pepsi, silver jewelry, cigarettes (she has no preference, she’ll take what she can get), diners, making fun of Steve, scented candles

Dislikes: Coke, Batman, uptight Socs, Snoopy haters, people who whine and complain 24/7, Bob Sheldon, music haters, people with no personality, Bob Sheldon, people who make fun of Johnny, Bob Sheldon, musk scented candles, milk, did I mention Bob Sheldon?

Interests: The peanuts, Cinema — specifically Frank Sinatra — music, the punk movement, the lore of Spider-Man, poetry (Pony put her on Robert Frost), books of all kind, George Orwell, women’s suffrage n shit.

Body Type: physically, she’s very strong, but due to being broke, she’s on the skinnier side. If she had three full meals a day, she’d have a bit more curves, similar to the Venus De Milos.

Friends: Johnny Cade, Two-Bit Matthews, Dallas Winston, Buck Merril.

Opinions on Socs: while she doesn’t purposefully pick fights with them, she also isn’t too kind. It mainly comes from a sense of jealousy — they get to have it all, while she and her friends are stuck with nothing. Though, if they’re nice to her, she’ll be nice right back. Bob Sheldon though? If he were to ever show his face to her, it’s on sight.

Mental Health: despite how she acts, all mean and rough, she’s struggling. Constantly keeping her thoughts and troubles to herself and never accepting help has lead to her having a lot of issues. She always puts out her cigarettes on her wrists or thighs, thinking nobody notices. On top of that, she and her siblings have undiagnosed ADHD and certain symptoms of Borderline.

Random: she knows ALL of the peanuts lore, in talking every little detail. Who’s best friends, who’s crushing on who, all of Snoopy’s siblings. Schroeder and Lucy are her favs (aside from snoopy). She is a MASSIVE coke hater, and she will til the day she dies. She also has an unhealthy love for Spider-Man and his lore. She speaks Italian to her siblings so they know it, but otherwise doesn’t, so when she does speak it in front of the gang, it’s always a spectacle.

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I’m new to this shit so criticism is okay! yall can dm me for writing tips, face claim ideas, if ur oc’s would be friends w mine, all that junk :))