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prompt: greaser
"Nobody in this neighborhood's going to call the fuzz," Steve said grimly. "They know what'd happen if they did."
"All the same, you two blow at the first sign of trouble. You hear me?"
"You sure don't need an amplifier," Soda said, and stuck out his tongue at the back of Darry's head. I stifled a giggle. If you want to see something funny, it's a tough hood sticking his tongue out at his big brother.
- The Outsiders, Chapter 9
happy outsiders week 2025! here are some Darry & baby gifs I whipped up from the tv show. in my heart of hearts I know he's just a natural with babies
Outsiders Week 2025
Hi all! This is an official announcement for Outsiders Week 2025, a fandom-wide event celebrating all things SE Hinton! This year it is taking place November 16-22, 2025!
What is Outsiders Week?
A week celebrating the creators and fans of the classic story, The Outsiders by SE Hinton! This event is inclusive of all adaptations: the book, movie, musical, and TV show, as well as other Hintonverse stories (That Was Then, This Is Now, Rumble Fish, Tex, etc.)
To participate, you create a new, never-before-seen fanwork and post it during the week of November 16-22nd. You must tag this blog or tag the post "outsiders week" or "outsiders week 2025". The AO3 Collection can be found here. The work must contain characters or locations from The Outsiders or any of S.E. Hinton's adjacent work. Original characters are allowed, but the focus should be on existing characters or the OCs relationship with existing characters.
What types of fanworks will be allowed?
Any! Fic, art, moodboards, gifs, playlists, meta, edits - anything you can think of! AUs are also allowed. I just ask that the work is new, or at least has not been shared publically before.
If you are posting art, please add alt text - This is a short description of the image and helps make it more accessible to people who use screen readers or people with low vision. You can learn more about alt text here.
If you are posting fic, you can link to AO3 or post it on tumblr. If it's on tumblr please put it under a readmore.
I don't have any ideas, help!
Don't worry, there's a prompt for that! Each day of the week will have both a general prompt and a character prompt. Fee free to mix and match prompts! You do not have to follow the prompts if you don't want to, they're just to get your creativity going! (Prompts can be found here)
Is shipping allowed?
Yes! Both shipping (romantic) works and gen (platonic) works are allowed! This includes x reader and OC ships, however the work should contain at least one canon character and the focus should be on their relationship to the canon character.
Please note, for the comfort of everyone involved, works containing incest ships or adult/minor ships* will not be allowed. Aged-up ships is fine.
Is NSFW or mature work allowed?
No. We ask that any work shared for the week has a "PG-13" rating. No explicit sex or graphic violence, but implied or fade-to-black is okay. Basically like how it's written in the book.
If you have any questions about the week or if your work will be allowed, please ask!
Day three of @outsidersweek! You guys ever think about how despite all the differences between Bob and Dally, they were also both teenagers who were violently killed in front of their friends
(This is a contrapuntal poem: there's two separate texts that form a new, third text when the lines are read together)
ID and transcriptions under cut
This is for Day #2 of @outsidersweek 2025! The prompt was Two-Bit. The A03 Link can be found here. Enjoy!
RING… RING… RING
“Jesus, keep your pants on I’m comin’.” Steve was careful not to wake Evie as he crawled over her. Untangling their limbs to get down the stairs and find the phone. Ace lies unmoving in the hallway, oblivious to the ringing of the phone downstairs. Normally, they’d share a room but in favor of Evie being over, Ace had dragged her already frameless mattress out into the hallway to sleep. She was obviously a deep sleeper, not even stirring at the endless ringing of the phone.
Steve bounds down the last two stairs, more than thankful that his and Ace’s aunt wasn’t at the house tonight. She bummed around town with druggies, cowboys, and all sorts of derelict types. Not that Steve was complaining about it tonight, she would have had Ace by the hair by now if she was home. Somehow, everything was always Ace’s fault around here. Steve also thought that maybe she was too scared to try anything with Steve.
“Hello?” He asks, groggily, hoping that this is a quick fix.
The Outsiders Week (Day 5) - Two-Bit!
(straying from the prompts today oOo)
[Image ID, from left to right: Emilio Estevez as Two-Bit, two beer bottles clinking, Daryl Tofa and Two-Bit, a quote that reads 'we r cute shoplifters', an old Mickey Mouse cartoon poster, a car number plate that reads 'no fear', Daryl Tofa as Two-Bit, disposed bottle caps on the ground, Emilio Estevez as Two-Bit. End ID]
A bit late but this is my contribution for day one of outsiders week!
***************
Ponyboy.
There’s a need, after Windrixville, an inescapable pull, tugging him towards the younger boy at all hours of the day and night, forever haunted as he is by Ponyboy's thrashing and then limp body in the fountain, of his jacket starting to smoulder in the heat of the church fire.
Ponyboy.
Things aren’t the same now, might never be again, and it’s funny, Johnny thinks, because the worst scars from the whole thing are not the burns that cover his back and half his torso; just like the worst injuries aren’t the ones that left him like this, an invalid forever stuck in a wheel chair or on those stupid crutches during days when he is having trouble accepting the truth that he will never really walk again. As horrible and permanent as those injuries are, they are nothing in comparison to the way his mind has fractured, finally shattered into a capricious, fallible thing. His biggest scar is thinking the closest thing to a real family he’s ever had was dead twice over because of him.
Ponyboy.
He needs to find him. It’s stupid, he knows it, knows he’s in his room, sleeping, next to Soda, is safe in the house of his parents, protected by brothers who do a better job looking out for him than Johnny himself ever did. But still. His broken mind won’t let him relax, not when it’s telling him over and over that Pony is dead and it was all for nothing. Pony is dead with blue lips in that fountain, he is burning and scared in that church, and Johnny couldn’t save him.
Ponyboy.
He needs to see him. Just a glimpse, just for a second, a small eternity, just to make sure he’s okay. It’s as stupid as it is absolutely essential, and Johnny hates himself for it, for his panic and his weakness, because he never used to be like this, never used to spend every waking minute desperate to make sure his best friend and half his heart was still breathing every second of the day, but something between the fountain and the church changed him, made him all too horribly aware of Pony’s mortality and how fragile it truly is. Johnny doesn’t know why. He himself was closer to dying than Pony was during the whole ordeal, has spent his entire life being beat by his Pa close enough to shake death’s hand and still live to see the morning, but his own life seems to pale in comparison to Pony’s. Perhaps it is because Pony is younger, more innocent, is better than him in any way that matters. Perhaps it is because he is the only person Johnny has ever worried about protecting. Or perhaps it is because he is the person he loves the most. In any case, it doesn’t matter- Johnny just needs to make sure he is okay.
Ponyboy.
His movements are clumsy, unused as he still is to moving himself from the couch to his chair, half expecting legs that no longer work to bend to nothing but his flimsy will. He thinks sometimes he may never get used to it, to knowing what it felt like to have the freedom to run and never having it again. Still, at the moment the strangeness of the chair is a welcome comfort, a way to move, a way to get to Pony. He has to get to Pony, has to check on him, make sure he’s okay. Soda and Darry would never let anything happen to him, except they did already, once, and Johnny had had to take care of him then and he’d failed at it. Pony too, had come back from Windrixville different, could hardly stand the shower and flinched every time someone struck a match. He coughed something awful too, the smoke from the church fire stained into his lungs, yet another horrible scar. And he woke most nights screaming, trapped in horrors that were no longer there.
Ponyboy.
The frantic, desperate, need to see Ponyboy has grown from a swell to a roar, a frantic, frenzied, violent creature tearing at his chest, screaming at him that something is wrong, the Pony needs help, that Johnny isn’t there. He knows, he knows, somewhere inside himself, that Pony is safe in his room, safe in Soda’s arms, but it isn’t enough. He needs to see him, to make sure he’s alright. Just in case. Finally situated, he starts rolling his chair towards the hallway, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. The last thing he needs is to wake the whole house because his mind had broken along with his spine and now he’s half crazy, terrified his best friend is a ghost every time he can’t see him.
“Johnny!”
The hallway door swings open before he’s halfway across the room, and Johnny lets out a sigh of relief as he registers his best friend’s pale face and half grown out hair.
“Ponyboy? You ok?”
“Yeah,” Pony’s eyes are raking over him over and over, and he’s breathing hard, like he’s just finished a track meet or run away from home, “yeah I’m fine. Are you?”
Johnny follows Pony’s gaze, down to his own hands which he didn’t realise were shaking until just now. Come to think of it, he’s breathing fast too, almost as fast as Pony, and this is another thing they have in common now, another weird scar, the fact that fear seems to jump them when they least expect it, for no other reason that it seems to think they have some catching up to do.
“Yeah,” he promises, taking in Pony’s green eyes, the part of him that’s always been bright, even when the rest of him is dim, “yeah, I’m okay now.”
“Bad dream?”
“Something like that,” Johnny hedges, unwilling to admit he hasn’t been able to sleep a wink since Pony had gone to bed and he’d immediately started worrying he was going to die.
“Me too,” Pony carefully closes the door behind him and pads further into the room, climbing into Darry’s recliner. “Might stay up for a while I think. I promise I’ll be quiet if you’re tryna sleep.”
He doesn’t ask why Johnny was up. He figures he knows anyway.
Johnny nods, rolling his chair back beside the couch, and pushing himself back onto the cushions where his nest of blankets resides, lying so his head is facing the recliner, facing pony. He can see him now. Pony is still breathing. Everything is fine.
"Goodnight Pony."
"'Night Johnny."
The last thing Johnny sees as his eyes slip closed is a pair of tired green eyes, glittering in the light of the moon, watching over him.
He sleeps.
Mi mi mi mi mi
1st post for Outsiders week!! I had a different drawing, but i couldn't do it because i got a new phone an the art didnt save :( soo you guys get ponyboy
Edit: @f0rbidd3nlove i think you reblogged my realistic johnny drawing saying you wanted to be tagged in my other drawings, so here you go :)
