#mattdillon

how am i just now finding this

this means sm to me.

i have a type🙏😝

The 60s, Matt Dillon, s.e Hinton, vintage Americana, editing, fanficton,girl blogging

Hullo!! :D

These come from different aus!

Hunt

Ponyboy's breath catches in his throat, ragged and strained as he gasps, the Soc that'd managed to bring him down was laughing in his ear; loud and spiteful, harsh against his head that throbbed from the collision with the ground. He claws and kicks to try and gain some leverage, to escape, but he loses the ability to as another Soc grabs his wrists, the two working together to drag him back towards Bob, towards the fountain, but that's not what has fear shooting through Ponyboy.

No, it was the prickling sensation of being watched, the creeping feeling of being hunted, and every step back towards that fountain only made the pressure build.

And I bit my lip the Second you Sipped the Poison That was Mixed for me. - Hintonween story 1

Owl

Dally is hunched in the middle of the room, breathing heavy, deep breaths. He stands up slowly, uncurling to reveal he was taller than he normally seemed, taller even, by a few inches, than Darry. His dark hair now glowing a platinum blonde in the minimal moonlight coming through the broken door that hangs off the frame. He turns to look at Ponyboy like an owl, ice blue eyes piercing through the darkness as his head twists around first, followed by his body that unravels until it faces Ponyboy.

Think I'm Getting Butterflies, but it's Really Something Telling me to run Away. - Hintonween story 2

Blue

Crack! The sound cuts through the air, causing both Dallas and Tim's attention to snap over to the eggs, it's with wide-eyes and a blade still pressed against Tim's side that a small, blue, feathered birdlike creature comes stumbling out, feet too big for its tiny body and egg fluid causing a small shard of shell to stick to it's tail. "The egg is less leathery then I was expecting-" Dallas wants to listen to whatever scientific babble Ponyboy is saying, he really does, but he can't take his attention off the small Utah raptor that let's out a small chirp while looking up at them.

Every Word I say is Kindling but the Smoke Clears When You're Around. - Jurassic world au

Pacify

"C'mon hun, I'll make ya feel real good." Sylvia purrs in his ear, a hand on his chest, they'd fallen right back into their old cycle, as if he hadn't been gone for eight months, as if he hadn't spent all days trying to keep Ponyboy's eyes on him. He tosses his cards onto the table, he'd had a shit hand anyway, and stands up, his hands sliding down Sylvia's sides to rest on her hips as she guides him back towards the private rooms.

Of course, as soon as he gets his hands up her shirt is when Buck walks in. The barkeeper raising his hands to pacify him as he speaks up. "Got'a couple'a boys out here askin' afer ya." Dallas is about to tell him to fuck off but he swallows the words, any interest he might have had in Sylvia slipping away when Buck continues. "Said they was named Ponyboy an' Johnny?"

Come With me, I'll Show you how to Live for Free, Nobody got a Thing on me. - westernverse

Doe

Rusty-James attention is pulled away from Ponyboy as a doe steps into the clearing, it's much like the buck from the other day, except today the sky was coated in thick layer of dark clouds, and instead of walking straight this deer stumbled, head low to the ground and swaying as if drunk. Ponyboy's eyebrows furrow as he turns to look at whatever had pulled away Rusty-James attention and as soon as he looks at the doe it collapses to the ground, legs kicking out in the throes of death.

Rusty-James is right on Ponyboy's heels as he rushes over to the doe, but he wishes he hadn't followed so close when he catches first hand the look on Ponyboy's face upon seeing the body- if it could be called that, the thick layer of maggots crawling just under the doe's fur, every inch of skin moving and rotting, but Rusty-James couldn't peel his gaze away from the stricken horror on Ponyboy's face.

an: i am actually writing this half asleep and i am not good whatsoever but i wrote this for @cherrydipp

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

September 5th, 1967.

Entry #10

If there's one thing me and Trip had in common, it's that we hated that Curtis kid. But if we're being honest, I didn't always hate him. Back in the day, Ponyboy and I were close, more like brothers than me and Trip. We’d race through the streets, pushing each other to be faster, better.

But then things changed, and it wasn't just about running anymore. See, I’m a Soc, and Ponyboy’s a Greaser. Our social classes started getting in the way. People around us kept reminding us of where we stood, and the gap between us kept growing.

It wasn’t long before the friendly competition turned into something uglier. I started shoulder-checking him during races, making sure he knew his place. And Sergei was always ready to help me. I'd give him the nod, and he'd kick dirt at Ponyboy whenever he ran by.

It wasn’t just about winning anymore; it was about making sure Ponyboy knew he couldn't rise above his class. Every race became a battle of pride, and I was determined to come out on top, no matter what it took.

One day, after a particularly rough race, I saw Ponyboy sitting alone on the bleachers, his head in his hands. For a moment, I felt a pang of guilt, but I quickly squashed it down. I don't care for some low-life grease. We used to be friends, and now we were just enemies divided by the train track of social class.

Yet, I walked over, hesitating for a second before sitting down next to him. "Hey, Curtis," I said, trying to sound casual.

He looked up, surprise flashing in his eyes before they hardened. "What do you want, Melvin?" he asked, his voice cold.

“Listen-” I began, before I stopped myself.

As I sat next to Ponyboy, I could feel the weight of our rivalry hanging in the air. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "You think we can just forget everything? Just like that?"

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but inside, I was feeling the pressure. "I don’t know, man. It just feels like we’re wasting our energy fighting each other instead of doing something about the real problems."

He scoffed, crossing his arms. "You think I want to be friends with a Soc? You guys don’t get it. You don’t understand what it’s like for us." The anger in his voice made my heart race. I wanted to reach out, to bridge that gap, but I knew it was too late. The line had been drawn, and there was no erasing it.

"Fine," I said, standing up. "You want to keep hating me? Go ahead. But don’t expect me to sit around and take it."

With that, I turned and walked away, leaving Ponyboy staring after me, our friendship shattered like glass.

Sometimes, it felt like the world was determined to keep us apart, and no matter how hard we tried, we were stuck in our roles. The rivalry would continue, and neither of us was ready to let go. The tension hung heavy in the air, and I knew deep down that this wasn't over.