juvenile delinquent

" Curly was an average downtown hood, tough and not real bright, but I liked him. He could take anything. " - [ Independant Roleplayer] Based on The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton

[riverpheonixs]

- People should do and say exactly what they feel and think and try not to hide things. - Okay

[shepardcurly]

(I just want to say that this rp blog is pretty amazing good job)

ooc;//

 <3 <3 <3

[gallxnt-deactivated20141217]

He laughs. Dallas is drunk, too, but he’s staying safely at his barstool, leaning toward an uninterested and increasingly irritated brunette. There’s a half-finished cigarette between his lips; Dallas thinks of the couple he has left in his pack, shakes his head, and grins. “This is my last one,” he bluffs coolly. Why should I, anyway? he almost adds, but keeps his mouth shut. For now. 

[shepardcurly]

There's a frown on his lips, sharper than a blade, becoming a threat as anger radiates of him in heat waves. He pauses, examining Dallas' face for a moment (and his stupid grin), before plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting his lips where the other's had just been. Curly took a smooth drag off the cancerstick, eyes closed in satisfaction when he tried to hand it back and narrowly missed stubbing it out on the greaser's jacket.

"Now you can call yourself a goddamn saint."

[shepardcurly]

"Winston, give me a cig', would you?" He was mad, drunk, and swaying more than dancing would allow. Being polite never occurred to him on the regular, but as intoxicated as he was all that meanness in his voice came off like the crying of a pathetic child.

[shepardcurly]

like for a starter;

[oklahomaxreject-deactivated2014]

shepardcurly

[oklahomaxreject-deactivated2014]

           ”Everyone seems to have picked up a habit of starin’ while I was gone.”

[shepardcurly]

He isn't staring for the reasons he should be. Curly couldn't remember her face, didn't have the foggiest idea who she was, apart from that she must've been here before. Just knew she pretty, like some kind of china doll.

"I'm sorry." He really is, but he still stared at her, gaze unwavering even the slightest.

"You a natural blonde?" 

[killedasoc-deactivated20140603]

"Naw, it’s still all sorts’a messed up. Engine’s still a little jacked. Fixed up the breaks and changed the oil. Little stuff."

Johnny was never one to participate in the racing scene, not one to be behind the wheel. There was a time or two where he had found himself in the back seat, sliding left and right as the driver would turn corners a little too sharp. Good old days, he called them, as if he were a man in his thirties in the middle of some midlife crisis. Johnny Cade was only sixteen years old, and sometimes it occurred to him that he felt thirty.

Lighting the end of his cigarette, he takes a few preliminary puffs before flicking the ashes at the toes of his shoes. Another drag, the tip glowing red-hot in the dark.

"I might come out to watch. I ain’t one for racin’ ‘em myself. You?"

A hair tickles his greasy forehead, and he uses his free hand to brush it back in place. 

"Ain’t really seen you around in a while, Curly. How’re things?"

[shepardcurly]

" That's a shame. " 

The disappointment sinks in and he doesn't know what to say until Johnny speaks again. There's a wave of something bitter in his chest, saying little things, wanting enough  money to get a real car and a lot of wishing that that if he got a nice ride he wouldn't have to sweat a scratch in the paint job and how many meal he'd have to skip to get it fixed. The bad shit in his chest leaves as quick as it came, and he just gives him a dumb grin. A grin that can say with a peak of teeth that the lights are on, but no one's home.  "I'm barely fifteen man, you think my mom's going to trust me with the car when she knows I'd go out racing?" Trick questions rise. She didn't even trust him with the stove, much less the rickety truck only available to him if her or Tim were in the passenger seat. And she sure as hell didn't let him drive it on the weekend.

"Yeah, but I've been good. Got into a little more trouble, a lot've more trouble. " He laughs and it's all melon ball, his eyes drawing into crescents from the force of his 10 watt smile. It's hard to let it get you down, when around these parts a mark on your record is a badge of pride.

"It's crazy. My old lady about lost her mind-- How about you, you still keeping your nose out of trouble?" 

[i-run-things]

Tim watched his brother back up.  His brow arched at the defiance, and his hand fell to his lap to hang between parted knees; limp wrist.  His other hand smoothed his thumb and forefingers down his jaw to the tip of his chin.  ”Gimme.”

[shepardcurly]

" No. " He pulled both bottles to his chest, holding them tight with one arm as if it was new born child. With the other he opened the front door, Curly's eyes never leaving Tim's as he bolted towards the front lawn. 

( He'd be damned if he was sharing anything. )

[i-run-things]

"I look like I care?"  He could have stolen it from a bum slouched against the side of a storefront.                  Tim had his hand outstretched for one of the bottles.

[shepardcurly]

He stares at his outstretched hand, and then slowly back to Tim's . For a moment, there's hesitation, there's arm moving upwards and toward his-- and then he's taking tight steps backwards. Away from his brother, away from his empty hand, with both bottles in tow. 

[shepardcurly]

Feeling Half Alive || Sophie Morgan

[southsidesoloist]

"You first!"

People were staring, surely. Crazy Sophie Morgan, chasing another one of her boys clear back to his side of town. She tried to calculate the difference between her and Charlie. Well, not Charlie, but whatever his name was. Callum?

Curly. His name was Curly.

"Curly."

She didn’t raise her voice, she came to almost a halt. She did everything ‘properly’, treating him as a human being rather than some stupid creature that needed to be protected for its own good. Maybe that might help open a dialogue above ‘leave me the fuck alone.’ Maybe it would crash and burn, but at least she was giving it the old college try.

"Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. That was wrong. Will you at least let me walk you back to your side of town?"

If he walked away, that was his own business. If he got jumped by a bunch of soc boys in madras because he walked away, that was his own business. She would feel like shit for causing the commotion that got the boy noticed, but it was still all his if he was going to deal with it. She had one opportunity to make it right, and with the ball in Curly’s court, all she could do now was wait.

[shepardcurly]

He came to a slow stop, hesitantly turning around and giving her a hard look. Eyes dark as he quickly examined the girl's body, from her disheveled clothes to the plea in her voice, he decided that it'd be better to stop being a dick to her. 

Might as well follow through with what he had walked all this way for.

" I just wanted to ask you out on a date is all. I didn't mean to bug you. " The hood didn't even raise his head, just stared at his sneakers and kicked hard at the pavement underneath him, causing a clumsy spray of gravel. Yes, he had came here to simply ask her to go out with him, nothing more or less. Not to try to cop a feel, or get a goodnight's kiss. And most definitely not to scare her sister. He had just been bored, and lonely, and for some reason chose the social to harass. He tried hard to be nice, and he tries again with a deeply carved frown.

"I figured a fancy girl like you would want to go dancing. " He finally looks up to her, weakly and not all too eager. She's standing in front of the setting sun, and he doesn't notice how pretty she looks, just how much it hurts his eyes, and how straight edge she looks compared to all the girls he knows. 

"We could still go dancing, if you wanted."

[pxnyboys]

        { And people called him touchy… }

He listens closely as Curly begins speaking — already regretting having asked him for a story in the first place. He’d really had something different in mind, just some small offense that wouldn’t have anything to do with the kind of subjects that made his ears go hot.

He’s not entirely innocent, sure, and he joins in with Dally every now and again when the older teenager would go off hunting some action, but that was different. It wasn’t really Ponyboy — he just talks all that junk for laughs, and only ever with his buddies from his own gang. Hearing all the things Curly and his other friends had to say on the topic never ceases to make him feel uneasy. Who knew he could be such a hypocrite?

He swallows, brows furrowing before he replies.

              “ — How? ”

[shepardcurly]

" Lonnie had his girlfriend sneak them in, during visitations. " He tries to keep down his laughter but it's a struggle, not because he found his story particularly funny, but because of the look on Ponyboy's face. This was gold. 

" She stuffed them up her skirt, tucked them right into her garter. " He remembers hazily how once his bunkmate had asked him to meet his girl when he couldn't, when he had his visitation rights taken away because fighting the warden was an irresistible task. With a pleasant, faraway, smile on his face, he tacks on lazily to the end of his sentence.

" Girl was so fine. She didn't even wear underwear. " There's no shame. Just a fond memory, and the mass of cigarette he had traded them for making a bulge in his jacket pocket. 

[shepardcurly]

" I knew there was a reason I don't go to church anymore. "

Fifteen year-old twins living in Tulsa, Oklahoma. One a thug, and the other a harlot, and both the younger siblings of known gang leader Tim Shepard. 

independent roleplay blogs for both  curly shepard and angela shepard 

based & from the novels The Outsiders and That Was Then, This is Now.

literate. detailed. semi-para to novella. and +5 years of experience.

  curly  | home | about | ask

angela | home | about | ask

[cosmokramers-deactivated2018091]

[killedasoc-deactivated20140603]

+9 — phenocrysticskin jackofspadesx marciasx aegrotos mxllyslips metuere xaureus shepardcurly graniteskinned

[killedasoc-deactivated20140603]

A nick out of the skin of his cheek, bruises along all of his knuckles.

"—Hey, man,” a tiny voice that can hardly cut through the whistling winds around him, the cold tang of the breeze blowing in a storm from the west. He fights the harsh gale, pulling his jacket tighter around himself and shielding the worn pack of matches that rests in one palm.

"Gotta light?"

A cigarette.

Johnny had stopped snooping around his parents bedroom during the day, tiptoeing around his sleeping mother to snatch a few of the cancer-laced sticks from his father’s bedside. He felt bad for asking one of the older boys to grab him a pack from the store, especially when Johnny knew he had no money to pay them back with.

Rubbing both of his oil-stained hands together, he wipes his blackened fingertips on his (already dirty) jeans.

"Worked on some old car today in the lot. Smoked all mine up."

[shepardcurly]

" Yeah man, don't sweat it. "

He held his own in between his teeth, then dug in his pocket for another camel straight. And when his hand rose, wrinkled cigarette in the palm of his hand, he offered it to the older boy without another thought.  You were just about as good as scum if you didn't share smokes, especially the one's you stole.

What was the point if you kept them all to yourself?

"You soup up the car? If it's running real smooth, you should go downtown this weekend. They're racing for pinks." He doubted the car was in that good of condition, but he had his mind on drag races and didn't mind filling up the space between him with all his big talk.  Lord knew the kid was aching to race himself, and only had his mother's old beater to drive around.

She'd beat his ass into the ground if he even tried to go over 65 in that thing. 

[i-run-things]

"Nah?  ’cos it looks like y’got me a gift from nowhere.” He gestured to the loot, one hand still tucked beneath his head.

[shepardcurly]

" I bought it. " He's fifteen, and dirt poor--

and he fails to realize how this excuse is flawed. 

[pxnyboys]

 “ — I was jokin’. Who’s th' cry baby now? ”

       A smug expression comes over the younger grease,        all due to the returned sentiment. Opportunities to be        a smart ass were too cherished to be passed up, that        much was certain. His expression wears off only after        the mention of Darry, and he responds with a blasé        shrug of the shoulders.

                                          “ Maybe not, but he’d definitely consider ‘t. ”

 His cheeks pale slightly at the next question, however, though the  reaction was nowhere near noticeable. His memory flashes back  briefly to coming across the magazine beneath Darry’s bed, when  he was about twelve, and the look on his older brother’s face when  he walked in soon after. The teasing that came after that day had  only stopped recently, it seemed. He hadn’t touched one since.

         “ 'Course I have. ”

[shepardcurly]

" Yeah? Just watch your damn mouth."

He knows he's making an ordeal out of something small, but jokes about his IQ never cease to drive him up the wall. There's plenty of other things to laugh about aren't there? But the anger is quickly forgotten, because at least Pony isn't as brutal as his brother, and the kid went on talking about his own brother, and there wasn't too much to be mad about. Curly nods. 

" You can always blame me, as a bad influence and all. " But, then again, the ex-footballer would have no problems killing him, would he? Could use muscles to snap his fucking neck, couldn't he? ( Pony should listen to his brother, Curly decided, and ignore him completely. )

The slightest reaction to his words he doesn't notice, but he knows Pony. How during bull sessions, when guys were taking about girls, he kept his mouth shut like a vault. How catcalls by friends could make him turn as a red as a tomato, when shouted at the right girl. 

He decides he's going to have fun with this.

" Me and this kid Lonnie were dealing them out in the joint-- " He leans in close, voice edging on a whisper, and the worst smile on his face. " --Want to know how? "

[i-run-things]

              The fuck you been?

[shepardcurly]

" Nowhere. " And nowhere had to be a plentiful place, if they allowed him to take the two full bottles of whiskey he had under his arm.