Those were the best years of my life

-Ponyboy is not a loner or unpopular. He admits to having a lot of friends at school, and a few of them even visit him when he gets out of the hospital, though he notes it makes him uncomfortable that his middle class friends get to see where he lives. Which brings me to my next point;

-The gang does not spend all their time together, or even most of it. Yes they’re all friends, very CLOSE friends- yes, even Steve and Ponyboy- but they have lives outside of the gang. Pony has school friends, Darry has work or old school friends he skis with, Soda and Steve are inseparable to a degree that their outside lives overlap and their identities within the gang are also interwoven, but they all very much have lives outside the gang. Two bit has his mom and little sister and a revolving door of girls. Dallas only shows up when he feels like it and  he lives at bucks and jockeys in the races. Johnny couch surfs at the curtis’ and Two’s place, but he also regularly camps out in the lot and presumably crashes at Dally’s place sometimes too. Yeah, he’s Ponyboy’s best friend, but they’re not inseparable the way Steve and Soda are. It’s a different dynamic. The whole group has lives outside of the gang and I think it’s important to remember this. 

-The term ‘greaser’ is a derogatory term and originated in the 1800s as a slur against Mexican immigrants. It coloquial meaning changed when readopted by the greaser subculture in the 1950s and 60s (according to wikipedia), to primarily refer to lower working class individuals of mexican or italian ancestry, and becoming more ethnically ambiguous, but it still wasn’t widely used outside the subculture itself. Ponyboy is white, but he probably has some Italian ancestry which is characteristic of the greaser subculture, and he identifies with the word- but it’s still a more loaded term than the fandom sometimes pretends, and it still has racial undertones, regardless of how it’s portrayed in the novel and how it moved away from it's historically primarily racialised usage when adopted by the greaser subculture. Ponyboy makes a point of saying in the book that it’s okay for himself and the gang and others of their social group to use it, but when people outside the group call him it it ‘doesn’t make him feel so hot’. I think this helps illustrate that yeah, it’s an offensive term. ‘Greaser’ carries weight and I think it’s important for the fandom to recognise that.

-Darry is trying, but he isn’t a good guardian, and if he was then his character would not be redeemable after The Slap. The reason Darry Curtis as a character is so sympathetic is because he is twenty years old and trying his best, and his best is never good enough. If Darry was a well equipped guardian who was able to parent Pony AND Soda AND the gang (to an extent) the way his parents did, then him slapping Ponyboy would be unforgivable. It would be the action of a brute instead of the action of an overwhelmed older brother forgetting his new role as guardian. The reason Darry is forgivable and so beloved is because he is not perfect, or even good, at his role but he keeps trying and choosing to be present for his brothers over and over. (Remember, he had to fight very hard for custody, probably harder than Ponyboy realizes.)

-The portrayal of every female character is biased by Ponyboy’s narration- and Ponyboy has a lot of internalized misogyny and classism. It makes sense that he holds these ideas, considering the time period and the male dominated environment he grew up in where (presumably) the only woman he ever had any sort of close relationship with was his mother, but it doesn’t make it any less true. However, the women themselves are few and far between but incredibly important characters. I’ve spoken about it before but I think Sandy’s character and her unplanned teenage pregnancy sheds a small amount of light on how poverty affects women as opposed to men, something the book largely lacks due to the only main(ish) female character being upper class;  whereas Sylvia serves as a foil to Dally, and is essentially written to be the offscreen ‘female version’ of him, basically a representation of the ‘worst’ sort of greaser girl while Dally is the ‘worst’ kind of greaser. The only reason these women receive so much hate is because of misogyny- don’t pretend it’s just about the cheating, because it’s not- and if you want to hear further takes on them you can read my thoughts on the misogyny in the fandom here, and my thoughts on Sandy here.  Even Cherry, whom Ponyboy views positively, is viewed that way because of Ponyboy's biased ideas of what makes a girl 'good' and worthy of respect.

-Ponyboy has a fairly negative view of alcohol and alcoholism, but has a very addictive personality. Ponyboy has tried alcohol but didn’t like the way it made him feel. However, his view of Two-bit, while positive, seems to find him less brave than the rest of the gang as he drinks before the rumble, and Ponyboy ‘would hate to see the day he had to get his nerve from a can’. Soda’s reluctance to drink or smoke also adds to Ponyboy’s worship of him, despite the fact that Ponyboy is addicted to nicotine and caffeine respectively and it has the potential to be his undoing more than anything else in the east side.

Johnny "What is love? Where is it? Can I hold it? Can you hold me?" Cade

Soda "am I giving enough that you can love me now? if I let you hold my heart is it enough? Will you give it back?" Curtis

Steve "a boy laughed at you so I sunk my teeth into him, so I broke my knuckles on his jaw, so I tore out his throat. does that prove it? that I love you?" Randle

Two-Bit "i'll be anything you like. I'll make you laugh. i'll keep your eyes squeezed shut at the joke, can you love me then?" Mathews

Darry "it's not like them, it's never like them. it's not enough. no one ever taught me how to say it. i'm scared to. can you love me? when I don't know how to say it?" Curtis

I’m going to be honest and say I genuinely don’t understand where the idea of Darry being the ‘dad’ of the group, or some kind of father figure to Dallas or johnny of all people comes from, because it’s so explicit in the novel and even the movie that he isn’t (I haven’t seen the musical but from what I understand there's some sort of rivalry between Dallas and Darry there, so there probably isn’t any paternal dynamic there either). To claim Darry is a father figure to ANYBODY- even Ponyboy- is completely antithetical to his character. Darry is twenty years old. He’s a big guy, who has respect from most greasers, and he is the LEADER of the gang, looks out for all of them the way a brother would, but he does not PARENT any of them.

Even after the Curtis parents’ deaths, when he gets guardianship of both Ponyboy and Soda, the only one he actually attempts to parent is Ponyboy- and he clearly struggles with it. It’s not just the main source of tension between him and Ponyboy,  it’s the ONLY source of it. Canonically, Pony and Darry got along fine before the Curtis parents' deaths, were close even, because Darry is good at being an older brother. He always has been, because he is used to it and it doesn’t carry nearly the same level of responsibility as guardianship does. Darry never had to be a parent before, let alone to his brother, and he’s flying blind trying to figure it out. He doesn’t know what limits to impose that seem fair but not stifling, can provide materially but doesn’t know how to provide emotionally, because he’s a new parent who is struggling to raise a teenager instead of a newborn, and has no experience for what he’s doing. Darrel Curtis is DROWNING trying to figure out what being a parent means when he has only ever looked at Pony as a little brother instead of a dependent. He’s not happy. He’d never give his brothers up, but this new role is killing him, and it’s plain for anyone to see. 

This brings me to my next point: Darry is so overwhelmed trying to parent Ponyboy, it never even crosses his mind to try parenting Soda too. This isn’t even my interpretation- it’s textual. Soda doesn’t get hollered at, Darry doesn’t really care where he goes or what he does, and he never punishes him the way he punishes Ponyboy. It doesn’t help that Soda and Darry are closer in age than he and Ponyboy are. Soda is almost seventeen, he has a job and is street smart in a way Pony isn’t. Darry doesn’t have to worry about him as much so he doesn’t, because Soda could survive on his own if he had to, whereas Pony couldn’t. It would also be harder for Darry to discipline Soda if he wanted to, given Soda’s age and his agency, but again, Darry doesn’t want to. Soda doesn’t need raising, because he’s already been pretty raised, and Darry couldn’t handle raising him. Darry can already barely handle raising Ponyboy, and Soda has a tenuous role in the house as he plays confidante to both of them. Soda and Darry’s dynamic is pretty solid because their dynamic is still that of brothers, there’s been no upheaval in their relationship, and so there’s no major friction either. Besides that, there’s the fact that Soda is helping raise Ponyboy, not being raised himself. It’s a joke I’ve seen a few times that Darry plays ‘dad’ and Soda plays ‘mom’ to Ponyboy after the Curtis parents’ deaths, but there's an element of truth to it. Soda handles Pony’s emotional needs, gives him advice, reminds him he’s loved, where Darry provides discipline and material needs. Now, we see clearly in the novel this creates an unhealthy dynamic in the house and in Pony’s relationship with both his brothers, making him ‘hate’ Darry and idolize Soda, but it remains true nonetheless. Darry doesn’t know how to parent, so he follows the traditional social ‘script’ of what fatherhood meant in the sixties, and the rest of the household molded to fit the new Darry into the mold he cast himself in. But despite Darry’s best efforts and Soda’s help, Darry proves over and over he’s not good at parenting, and definitely isn’t filling the role of Pony’s parent let alone his father- and it all culminates with The Slap. 

Now, knowing this, having read the book and seen, even through Pony’s biased narration, that Darry’s attempts at parenting Pony are a bit of a dumpster fire, it’s plain to say Darry isn’t playing dad to anyone else in the gang. If he was he’d be harsher to them, strict with rules he’d expect them to follow (Darry does not like to be disobeyed and he definitely doesn’t like his authority challenged), and cognizant of their whereabouts at all times. He doesn’t do this with any of them though, because he ISN’T trying to parent any of them, and even if he was no one in the gang would let him. Steve is too self-sufficient, Johnny is too independent, and Dally is too Dally for it to ever happen- even if the small age gaps between the characters wouldn’t make the attempt almost comical. Darry is, only ever has been, and only ever will be, a brother to them. It means he can offer up the couch and share food and look out for them while they look out for him in return, without ever being responsible for them. Yes, Darry is superman, he’s the oldest of the gang, seen as dependable and protective. He’s the guy everyone goes to when they get in trouble, a symbol of safety, but not because he can fix things the way a parent would. Dally didn’t call Darry from the phonebooth as a scared kid looking for a parent’s comfort, he called him as a reckless kid looking for a brother’s help to hide his misdeeds. Johnny doesn’t crash on the Curtis’ couch as anything but a kid staying at his friends turned family’s house. He looks at Darry as someone protective, but not as a father figure. In fact, he probably sees better than anyone (except maybe Soda) that Darry isn’t a great guardian, having heard Ponyboy’s rants and seen firsthand how the dynamic in the house has shifted. 

Darry Curtis is everyone’s brother, but no one’s father. He never will be. The only person he ever attempts to parent is Ponyboy, and he’s not good at it. That’s the whole point. Darrel Curtis is a dependable guy, a smart, cool, tough-as-nails gang leader, but he is also still a twenty year old kid, in over his head, who leans heavily on his friends despite his pride, and who is greatly unequipped for the level of responsibility that has fallen onto his shoulders. To portray him as a person who is able to parent a gang of delinquent teenage boys almost his own age is disingenuous and out of character.

A little one-shot to herald in the new year! Inspired by this post from @sparklingcid3r.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61872562

Because Soda and Pony fit together in a way that few people in the world would ever get to experience, like they were made from the same stuff, the same dust from the stars, the same Tulsa dirt pressed into their souls. 

They were both fiercely their own person. Soda was bright smiles and warm words. Laughter big and round, eyes that sparkled like gold, he made you feel sun kissed just by being near him. Pony was quiet and thoughtful, he spoke like each word was precious. He never filled a room to the brim, but had a quiet energy that people couldn't help but gravitate towards. He dreamed like his mind was spinning with constellations, he told stories like he'd drunk the moon. They were different. Opposites in so many ways. Yet pulled together by the very essence of who they were.

When Darry caught glimpses of them together, moments like this when they thought they were alone, it felt like they had their own world, their own universe. Loaded looks that held silent conversations. Inside jokes that sounded like another language to an outsider. To Darry. But left them doubled over and clutching their stomachs as laughter echoed off the walls. Even here, even now, with the stress of dinner hanging over their heads, the two of them were laughing.

Darry tried not to let that bother him. Tried not to let the ache in his chest consume him. The one that made him feel like a third wheel in his own home. It had been easier to ignore before, when his parents were alive to act as a buffer. When he had his own friends to hang out with. When he still had a chance to grasp onto something greater.

So when Darry said that he wanted to start playing, Darrel Sr taught him everything he knew. He had Darry up and running drills early in the morning and passing a ball at night. And Darry loved it. He loved the sport, but he also loved bonding with his dad. And he was good. He was really good. So, he went on to play in high school. And became a captain. And then he got a scholarship. When Darry got that in the mail, the first person he ran to was his dad. Because his dad was the reason he had this passion, this talent, and this joy, so he had to be the first to know.

He’s not gentle or kind or emotionally sensitive, he’s not someone who puts you at ease. Darrel Curtis carries himself like a man condemned, with blood on his hands and no conscience left to care about. He could knock you out with no effort. He could send you running with only a glance.

Darry is a 20 year old guy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. He drinks. He swears. He fights. He’s bigger than anyone he knows and he takes pride in it, in his power, raw strength simmering in his hands, his shoulders. He’s known and respected by gangs—not just a bunch of school yard buddies messing around with each other but real gangs, the kind with reps and rap sheets. Those same gangs form a line behind him at rumbles. They know him, and they rally at his back, pushing him forward to start their fights.

Darry is not a soc wannabe. He’s not upperclass, not even middle class, and he’s certainly not refined. He had potential to go far in life, but it was rough, uncut, the unmined earth of his intellect and the raw power of his hands. Uncivilized. Dangerous.

He’s a landmine waiting to be stepped on and a blade without a sheath. Control is his weapon. Stubbornness, his shield. He could mess you up at the drop of a hat but chooses not to, and that’s what’s really frightening, that terrifying self-control. A leashed dog. Rage simmering in his eyes, ice cold.

Darrel Curtis isn’t safe.

But he chooses to be.

He puts the collar on himself, and every day, in the shadow of that caged power, his brothers know his gentleness a little more. Violence is innate, animalistic; so is love. Darry fights dirty, and loves like a man facing execution. Teeth clenched. Fists tight. Eyes ahead, nothing left to see, no other goal than the thing he’s set his mind to. Darry loves like it’s a fight he’s not willing to lose. Darry loves as if he’s going to die tomorrow.

I'm trying to keep things moving but there's nowhere else to go.