Y'all I will write a new chapter to my fanfic just please join😭 I made a whole discord and it's got a texting and social media section so we can be silly in character
Y'all I wanna start an outsiders rp group on discord. No ocs. I'll play whoever is left over if I can find a group of people. If anyone is down comment or like this. Or add me on discord theangrypinecone
Hi all, my name is Eurydice. I'm 23 and currently homeless with my dad and my dogs.
I've never been someone to ask for help but it's hit a point where I'm not sure what else to do. It's been almost two years and honestly I'm desperate for things to change. I start a new job in July that will help me get back on my feet but until then I just don't have enough to get us through.
Honestly not sure if anyone will read this or care, I understand if no one does.
Summary: Darry's only sixteen when his parents die, and after two years in the foster care system he makes it his goal in life to bring both of his brother's home. But what happens when Sodapop has spent his time in the system on the west side? And what happens when Ponyboy spent his time in the system in New York?
Chapter One: I Remember It All Too Well
Warnings: Very lightly mentioned hitting/abuse, lightly mentioned bruises and cuts. If I forgot anything, please let me know.
You can also find this on AO3
Darry hasn’t known much since the night his parents died, his life since has been a whirlwind of nothingness, a vacuum in space pulling him in and suffocating him. He’s only had one goal in mind since his sixteenth birthday, get his brothers home, keep his family together.
People told him he was lucky after they died, lucky because a kind couple in Tulsa had heard the news of his parents passing and wanted to take him in for the next two years, let him finish high school in the same place he’d grown up. They couldn’t take in his brothers, could hardly even care for him, not that they really tried. Their home was safe and warm, but they never cared much for him, only his grades, football and him keeping out of trouble. They said he was lucky when Sodapop got a placement on the west side, close enough to see each other at school and when Darry wasn’t busy working and Soda’s foster parents weren't parading him around town to show off what a good deed, they were doing by taking him in. They were lucky cause Soda’s foster father only hit him occasionally, lucky because he still had food on his plate and a place to sleep at night.
People tell Darry he’s lucky because he’s smart, a good football player, because once he turns eighteen, he has an out if he’s smart enough to take it. College waits for him, or at least that’s what Sodapop says when they sit in the lot together, looking up at the sky. There’s dirt covering the light blue polo shirt Sodapop wears, Darry has to walk him to the border between the east and west side to keep him from getting jumped, and then have Paul walk Soda back to his foster parents. Soda doesn’t look like a greaser anymore but he sure as hell ain’t a soc, he’s not safe on either side of town anymore.
Darry doesn’t feel lucky when he applies for colleges to keep everyone off his back and then throws away his acceptance letters. Doesn’t feel lucky when he visits his parents grave alone and wonders how the hell, he’s supposed to fill shoes that could never be his size. Doesn’t feel lucky when he patches up Sodapop’s bruises and cuts and holds his brother as he sobs.
Darry remembers the day the state separated them like it was yesterday, has nightmares almost every night of the feeling of his baby brothers being pulled out of his arms. Sodapop at only 12 had been screaming, he was always the most emotional, always the loudest.
“Get away from me!” Soda had yelled, fists flying into their social worker, Miss.Cowell's arms. Darry was the only one not crying, his eyes were trained solely on Ponyboy, the ten-year-old was shaking like a leaf in his arms, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. “Darry! Stop! Let go!” Sodapop had been the first to be pulled away from their childhood home.
Darry hadn’t been willing to let go when a different social worker, Mr.Fisher had stepped forward. “Come on Ponyboy, say goodbye, it’s time to go.” Pony had his arms wrapped so tightly around Darry’s middle the oldest could hardly breathe. He’d cried silently into Darry’s shoulder, and after only a minute of silence Fisher had stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Ponyboy’s middle, trying forcefully to take him out of Darry’s arms. It was a silent struggle besides Fisher’s repeated “Let go now boys.”
Darry swears it took at least twenty minutes for them to rip Ponyboy out of his arms, the struggle had felt like it lasted hours. As Ponyboy was dragged away, sobbing so hard Darry wondered how the boy was even breathing, he dropped his favorite bunny plushie, Boots. For years it was the only piece Darry and Sodapop had left of their baby brother. Darry didn’t cry until late that night, alone in a room that would never be his.
Darry spent the next two years going to school and working as much as he possibly could, saving every cent with a promise to get both of his brothers home the moment he turned eighteen. On his eighteenth birthday, only two months before graduation, he moved back into his childhood home, saved by the state and his parents life insurance. He hadn’t shed a single tear as he cleaned the thick layer of dust off everything in the home, as he avoided looking up at the pictures hung loosely on the walls, as he set Boots down carefully on Sodapop’s old bed. Darry got a full-time job roofing houses, graduated early and three weeks later he started the process of bringing his brother’s home.
It was time consuming to say the least, the constant home visits and paperwork, not to mention the cost of the court visits. The most ridiculous part in his opinion were the two months of supervised visits and overnight stays he’d had with Sodapop. As if they didn’t spend every spare moment they could together. But that was the deal, the state wanted him to get Sodapop home first, to make sure he could handle the responsibility before he could bring Ponyboy home.
Sodapop is halfway to 15 when Darry finally brings him home, bruised and tired but still wearing a smile brighter than the sun. On Soda’s 16th birthday Darry isn’t able to give him much, but what he can give is a small party with the gang, Steve, Two-bit and Johnny. Darry makes chocolate cake that is devoured in seconds, and carefully wraps a gold chain from their mother’s jewelry box in an old newspaper.
Sodapop already has tears in his eyes, hands carefully holding the gold chain, when Darry delivers the news, his biggest present. “Ponyboy is coming home Soda.”
There’s a pause, everyone’s eyes on Sodapop, and then suddenly Soda is slamming into Darry, arms wrapped tightly around his older brother, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Darry holds his baby brother just as tight, running his fingers through Soda’s greased hair as he continues. “We’re skipping the supervised visits, since Pony’s placement is so far away, they're letting us go straight to weekend stays. Miss.Cowel says if all goes well then it should only be a month before he gets to come home permanently.”
Darry and Soda spend the next two weeks getting the house ready for their brother to come home. Which leads them to now. Darry doesn’t know much, hasn’t since his parents died. But he knows the 13-year-old kid in front of him is not his kid brother. This boy's eyes are too cold, gray storm clouds glare at him underneath bangs that are a little too long and covered in a thick layer of grease. The kid has his hands shoved deep into the pockets of an oversized leather jacket, there’s bruises blooming along the boy’s jawline, his left eye is red and surrounded by black and blue. The kid's shoulders are hunched, his jaw clenched, he looks ready for a fight.
There’s an awkward silence as Darry, Soda, Miss.Cowel and Ponyboy all stand on the Curtis front porch on a sunny Friday afternoon. Darry isn’t sure what he was expecting to happen when he finally saw his kid brother again, but tense silence hadn’t been something he prepared for. Miss.Cowel, never one for wasting time, hands over a trash bag that doesn’t even look half full. Darry feels like throwing up when he realizes this bag is Ponyboy’s things. “I’ll be back to pick him up on Sunday.” She says and then without another word she leaves the brothers alone, Darry watches as her car disappears down the street and wonders how anyone could ever think he was lucky.
Sodapop is the first to speak and Darry doesn’t need to look at his brother to know he’s on the verge of tears. “Pony?” Soda steps closer, reaching out for their baby brother. Darry’s fist tightens around the trash bag when he looks back at his kid brother just in time to watch as Ponyboy flinches away. Sodapop’s hand freezes between them and then drops lamely to his side, the kids’ hands are shaking. “Baby what happened to you?” Soda tries again voice hardly above a whisper.
Darry’s suspicion that this is absolutely not his brother is confirmed when the boy rolls his eyes and in a thick New York accent he responds. “I ain’t a baby.”
Hiiii! Weve never talked but I just searched logan sanders on the tumblr search bar and u showed up, would u maby be intrested in joining a sanders sides rp server on discord? Were missing a logan :") sooooo
There is this a peculiar set of reasons and biases when it comes to NOT commenting on AO3.
They are all false, but here they are:
Do not comment on old fics
Do not comment on each chapter of a multichapter
Do not comment if the author left the fandom
Do not comment if the author doesn’t respond to comments
It can be summoned up as DO NOT ACT LIKE YOU ENJOYED THE WORK AND YOU LIKE THE AUTHOR.
It comes from the idea, that if you leave a comment on my old work, or leave too many comments, I will think you are strange, clingy, and gross.
Readers are imagining it as commenting on an old Facebook photo — only your granny and creepy strangers do that.
That is not the case with AO3.
Writers put their works there for long-term storage, and we expect, wish, and hope that you will like our works and tell us about it.
This all very interesting, not, but why should I care?
This has awful consequences. Fanfic authors feel constant pressure to create more and crippling fear of being forgotten, useless, and being literally kicked away from fandom.
I’m online friends with a few great fandom authors, who wrote storied with thousands of kudos, but ALL of them at some point expressed this fear. Very talented people told me, “I’m not sure if I should have ‘writer’ in my bio. I didn’t post anything new in the last half of a year.”
Some young or entitled readers might say, “Hm, well, they are right. They should create MORE to be relevant. Isn’t that a good thing to push authors to write more?”
For better or worse, life doesn’t work like that. We are talking about real people, who go to real schools, have real jobs, families, and all the other important things outside the fandom. Some of them might push to create more from that fear, but most would only get more frustrated and depressed about the whole fanfic writing.
So, please, if you like the work comment on it.
Even if it’s old, even if it’s a multichapter, even if the author doesn’t have time and energy to interact. Especially in all those cases.
Encourage your authors, and show them your support.
UPD:
my previous post How to start writing comments
explanation about fics from 70s by olderthannetfic. Thank you so much for it.
I’m not going to see two posts by the same person on two different fics and think “o no, they’re stalking me!” I’m going to think “Yay, someone *finally* read that admittedly very niche thing I wrote!”
If I see a comment by the same person on two fics, it’s the best thing in the world! They liked my story enough to read a second one. Thank you, commenter. You’ve made my day. More than that, it will probably improve me whole week, if not longer.
There’s an extremely specific and special sort of feeling that comes with seeing the same commenter name in your inbox as they methodically make their way through a story or your AO3 page and it is somewhere in the neighborhood of if glee/pride/disbelief had a baby.
So let me take a stab at this, for folks who are accustomed to only social media:
Think of AO3 like a library. Comments or kudos are like checking out a book from a library. Do you ignore books that look like they’ve been in the library for a while out of fear they’re too old for you to check out? Of course not! Same thing applies here.
AO3 is literally an archive. The intent is not for you to only look at the newest stuff. Its purpose is to hold on to works over the course of time so we can find them again later. Writers wouldn’t put their stuff in the archive if they didn’t want people to be able to find it after a while - that would defeat the entire purpose.
Reblogging to shoutout AO3 user NatashalieLumley who is currently making their way through the Toasterverse, because it always warms my heart when people read the dumb little side stories, too. Blessings on you, you kind soul.
Also, they are pacing themselves. the only time I get concerned about comments on old fic is when it is clear that someone has just read a decade’s worth of my fic (literally) in 36 hours (also literally) and I am like please sleep. Please. Too much crack fic at once is gonna cause brain damage.
the day my mom died, I woke up to 3 or 4 comments on old fics. really nice, whole paragraph comments that highlighted lines the reader liked and praised the concepts they enjoyed, and gd, it was so nice to cry over something joyful and kind instead of just. mama.
There is a special kind of joy, for an author, in watching somebody comment on every chapter of one of your multi-chapter fics. If you’re lucky enough to get the notifications while they’re still reading it’s especially good, but even seeing them after they’re done is nice. You get to read along with them, watch them react to story twists and plot elements in real time, see their little comments like “ooh I hope X doesn’t find out” and then when X finds out 3 chapters later “OH FUCK”. It’s like recommending a book or TV show to a friend and getting to watch them experience it.
At no point will an author ever think you’re clingy or creepy for commenting too much. We put the fics out there because we want you to read them, and we want to know what you think. Comments make the writing feel like meaningful communication instead of throwing thoughts out into the void.
Hiya everyone, I know it's been a while but I wanted to make a post.
I'm DMing a Homebrew D&D game that will be Saturdays 5pm est. Starting February 6th or 13th (Depending on personal things)
18+ Not for any reason other than there's a bit of horror to it and swearing.
Idk how long the game will be, I'm a first time DM. First time players are 100% welcome :) also if you're really into the specific rules and such of D&D this game isn't for you, I don't know the rules all that well and I'll probably bend rules here and there.
Voice is required but video is 100% optional.
I'll be using Discord voice and Google Chrome for beyond20. So if you're interested and can meet up at set time let me know :)
Roman took his sweet time chopping that carrot cus as soon as he saw Remus he knew he was going to ask if he could help. The food was good by the end of it but Remus attempted to poison it atleast twice
Just a quick creativitwins comic bcus ive been inactive a bit. I also saw some hcs about Roman being the one who cooks for the sides so i wanted to make a quick thing for it.
