#would this fandom even care to have more fanfics….. i feel like it’s just as dead as AGU at this point

[autistic-katara]

there r fics that make u insane (so amazingly good it’s removed ur sanity) and then there’s fics that make u insane (you need to fistfight the author for how they did a specific thing that caused u to rant for hours)

[chuckfinsta]

thinking abt bethan on this glorious day… oh the ideas i have for one shots…

[tennessoui]

Kit, there is a discussion if Obi-Wan would use the nickname Ani for Anakin. What do you think?

i don't personally like it and rarely use it in my fics because for me it sounds out of character for my interpretation of obi-wan, but i wouldn't want someone else to stop using it because they think people think it's out of character and that they're wrong for using it or liking it, you know?

#not my obi-wan, but also #but maybe yours

[hazmatmaid]

A simplification:

Level 1-upper 2/lower 3: "yeah i can see that happening."

Level 4: "where did that even come from? that doesn't make any goddamn sense/he would not say that."

it came to my realization that 99% of my fandom related headaches would be cured if everyone understood this

[ruyakasunshine]

F1 drivers rated on how likely they are to know what ao3 is

note : this is just for entertainment. I will also use this to make a general reminder not to get anything fanfic/rpf related outside of sites such as tumblr, ao3, or wattpad. Enjoy!

This is just the current grid, because if I had to do it with every driver that raced this season, I'd get a surprisingly high amount of drivers to talk about.

20. Fernando

Grandpa. Need I to say more?

19. Checo

In a recent GQ Sport interview, he revealed that he didn't even have social media on his phone. I'd be surprised to hear he has any ao3 tab open up there.

18. K-mag

I don't feel like I need to explain this one. But I also believe that if Haas got him to read a chapter of a wattpad fanfic out loud where he has to replace Y/N with his own name after every penalty point he gets, he would have stopped causing so much ruckus. Or he might even cause more, who knows what goes on inside his mind.

17. Nico Hulk

Hear me out, he doesn't know what a fanfic is, but if he were more popular with the writer, he'd read the shit out of those.

16. Valterri

I could pay actual money to hear him read a 'kidnapped by one direction' self insert story out loud. If there is any Sauber intern lurking here, please consider. Wattpad as a sponsor would bring you a lot of money, think about it. I promise you will see a rise in your fandom if the name of the team was "wattpad kick sauber". I would buy merch. You need the money the way the constructors are going. Think about it.

15. Lance

I don't know too much about him, but I will assume he doesn't spend too much time on social media, or googling himself with all the hate he gets. But maybe if he were to read a strollonso fanfic, we might get to see him have actual expressions on his face. Granted, that would be a look of horror, but I will take what I can.

14. Carlos

I think he might combust if he read any ABO fanfic. I might want to see that.

13. Max

He is too busy sim racing to care. Good for him, I wish I could say the same about myself but alas I am too busy reading the same fanfic for the 23th time.

12. Yuki

I believe if you pronounced the term "Y/N" next to him he might assume that's a car brand. Or, like, hello in a foreign language. Again, good for him.

11. Zhou

Hear me out, fanfics seem to be quite popular in China, and he has a sister, there is no way he hasn't heard of the existences of it. I don't think he has read any though, which is for the better.

10. Franco

Our dear Franquito hasn't been on the grid for long enough to discover the amazing word that fanfics have to offer, but let me tell you that if he hasn't found out stuff yet, he'll find some soon enough. Let the writers have time to write a little bit more about him, and soon we'll get an instagram live of him reacting to those.

9. Liam

I think he is young enough to have googled himself (he had to find something to do since he's been a reserve driver since like the year 2010), but he also hasn't been a permanent member, so he might not have enough material to accidentally stumble upon.

8. Esteban

He googles himself. He knows there are fanfics. And he fucking likes that. If there is a rise of pierresteban fics on ao3 after Brazil 2024, he will be the first one to know let me tell you that much.

7. Lewis

Okay you might be wondering why this senior citizen is up here, and the answer is simple : he is too famous not to know. Like COME ON. He's been here since 2007 (which is longer than some people who'll see this post have been alive for— that's a scary thought for another day), he has been in famous and televised rivalry, and he has to live with the existence of the quote "everything but a lover" about nico and him.

There is no way he hasn't READ a fucking brocedes fanfic. If he is willing, I will teach him how to use ao3 so he can look-up some "fix-it" fics. He might use some inspiration, and who is better for that than tired college students writing about their sad ass in between lectures?

6. George

He seems like the type to lurk a lot around the internet, so the chances of him finding the link to a fic on the third page of google isn't impossible to me.

If you find any comment of someone correcting your spelling, you know who did it.

5. Pierre

He probably googles his name too often not to have stumbled upon a "Reader x Pierre Gasly" wattpad fanfic. sigh.

4. Alex

Alex, I know that you are the second most likely to have tumblr (right after george who actually has an account). The chances of you knowing what a "lemon" is is way too high for my liking.

3. Charles

The C in Charles stands for Chronically Online. My boy was known for liking tweets about himself, and we know that fans talk about fanfics on twitter. He clicked on a link of a lestappen or sebchal fanfic at least once out of curiosity let me tell you this much.

2. Lando

Too chronically online not to have read fanfics about himself. I just know he typed in "lando norris fanfiction" straight in google at least once. Jail.

1. Oscar

Here me out : his sister is a K-pop fan. If you believe that she never yapped about a fanfic she read to her brother, you are strongly unfamiliar with sibling relationships. But the chances of him not listening to her are also very high, so maybe he shouldn't be so high up my list. But oh well.

He is also good at hiding his game, but he is as online as Charles (you thought you were sneaky but we caught you clicking on that link of Max playing air-hocket dear Osc.)

For my own mental health though, I will assume he hasn't read about his own self yet.

[deerspherestudios]

LATE FEB ANNOUNCEMENTS! 💖

Mushroom Oasis is now one year old! 🎉

And belated Happy Birthday to the skrunkly himself, Mychael! 🎂

His birthday was on the 15th this month, but I didn't have the time to draw something for it so I'm posting these two celebrations in one go! Clean version without the shadows + dev rambles under the cut:

I'd just like to say thank you thank you thank you!! as always to the community of this small silly game I'm making. I genuinely didn't think it would grow the amount it did. Like, it blows my mind to even consider it having a fandom?? ;;v;; It feels like it grew so much in one year and for that I'm eternally grateful <3!!

All of the fanart, fanfics, messages and questions and comments, and even donations!!? just blows me away every single time. Seriously, I wouldn't enjoy making the game as much as I do if not for you all giving me encouragement along the way and being excited for the game ;v;

((I feel like I oughta give a personal thank you to donators as well, you have no idea how much it's helped support me throughout the months during my studies. Thank you <3 Even a dollar means a lot!))

I won't ramble too much but for those who's reading here's an update for the game! Day 3 script is already done, but of course I'll be refining it some more over the course of coding it into Ren'py. I can't wait for March to begin as I'll have much more spare time to manage the blog and continue development on the game! In between irl matters of course, haha!

Anyways, that's all for now. Take care, fireflies! ❤️���

[sykoangels]

Taste

Pairing: fem!reader x spencer reid

warning: petty banter and toxic angry sex

author note: Hey everyone! I wanted to share that I'm starting a new fanfiction series inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's "Short N Sweet." This series will feature different fandoms, so there's something for everyone to enjoy! I got the idea from @thinkinonsense , so be sure to show her some love too! If you're not into Sabrina Carpenter, @thinkinonsense also created a fanfic based on Ariana Grande's "Positions" album, so feel free to check that out as well!

Next part: Please Please Please

Working at the FBI can be quite challenging, especially when you have a history with one of the top profilers in the field. Dr. Spencer Reid is like a walking supercomputer, brilliant yet endearingly dorky, which happens to be your type. There's something undeniably attractive about Spencer – perhaps it's his unassuming appearance as if he's never been in the presence of a woman, or maybe it's his intellect, which could put a dictionary to shame.

Either way, that’s what attracted you to him at first, and over time you guys developed more of a romantic relationship. But through this romantic relationship came problems and slight differences. Spencer always pushed you away no matter what it was so confusing every time something was going well. You guys would go three steps back. Unfortunately, you guys weren’t deemed to be together so breaking up an inevitable. What surprised you was that Spencer moved on fairly quickly with someone who is a carbon copy of you or at least tries to be. His new girlfriend Maxine was you in a different font. Your mannerisms were the same. The way she walked was the same compared to you the way she laughed. It was freaky. It was almost like she wanted to live in your skin like she was some creepy stalker living your life like somebody's body double.

As you started to pay closer attention, you couldn't help but notice certain things. For instance, when Maxine started accompanying Spencer to FBI events as his plus one, you began to feel uneasy. At a recent retirement party for a coworker, You spotted Maxine wearing a red mini dress with her hair slicked back, and she was even wearing a pair of heels that you had left at Spencer's house and never got back. The heels were scuffed at the bottom, indicating that they weren't new. What's more, You noticed that Spencer started repeating jokes and phrases that you had previously shared with him. These incidents made you increasingly aware of what was happening.

Anytime you mentioned this to anybody else they just called you crazy especially your coworkers like Garcia and JJ. They didn’t realize it until today since we solve the case in California Rossi was taking everybody out for drinks at the local bar down the street from the office. It was a casual thing he always did, but spencer decided to invite his girlfriend as a plus one . Nobody really cared and happily let him bring his girlfriend. It wasn’t a big deal. But you knew this was the perfect opportunity to prove a point.

The dim, flickering light of the bar's coatroom cast long, dancing shadows on the walls, creating an ambiance that was equal parts intoxicating and intense. The air was thick with the rich scent of aged whiskey and supple leather, mingling with the faint aroma of stale cigarettes. You were seated at the table next to JJ, delicately sipping on your perfectly crafted peach mojito, while discreetly observing the movements of Maxine and Spencer throughout the room. Your keen eyes didn't miss a single detail, and your focus was unwavering, like a detective on a critical case. JJ, sensing your intense scrutiny, playfully rolled her eyes before speaking. "You know, taking a picture would last longer, Y/N," she admitted while sipping her own drink. "Knowing Maxine, she would probably try to extract my DNA from the photo, clone me, and create a skin suit out of it."

"I can see where you're coming from," JJ said, her touch gentle as she gripped your shoulder. "He did move on pretty quickly, but you have to let it go. I doubt that she's trying to be you." As JJ's words sank in, a heavy sigh escaped from the depths of your mind. Perhaps JJ was right. Maybe you had been letting your imagination run wild. But as the night wore on, the unsettling feeling of Maxine trying to imitate you resurfaced. You could sense her eyes fixed on you, and every time you glanced in her direction, she would meet your gaze with either a forced smile or a look filled with spite. Finally, the team gathered for a toast after a challenging case. Rossi expressed his love for the team, emphasizing that each member was a valuable part of the cohesive unit. As Rossi finished up the toast, Maxine stood up and proposed her toast, looking directly at you as she spoke. "I just want to thank you guys for letting me join you today. I can see why every one of you is a valuable part of the team. Well, at least some of you. I also want to thank my fabulous boyfriend Spencer for being my rock, especially when things are hard, and for loving me unconditionally even though there are a lot of bitter people in this world. Spencer will always love me unconditionally no matter what comes his way."

Maxine's words cut like a knife, a calculated and direct attack that made you glance over at JJ to see if she had also caught it. The look on JJ's face confirmed that she had. It was clear that Maxine's barb was aimed at you. JJ's expression silently pleaded with you not to react, but you couldn't help it. There was no way you were going to let someone who bore a resemblance to you but was less attractive talk about you like that, especially to your face. "Yeah, and knowing Reid and his eidetic memory, I know exactly who you're thinking about when he's with you, and it's definitely not you, Maxine. No matter how hard you try to wrap your head around it, you will never be the girl he thinks about. There will always be one degree of separation between all three of us, and you know why," you said bitterly before taking the last sip of your drink and getting up to retrieve your coat from the coat room.

Spencer sat there fuming but trying his hardest not to show it because he you were right unfortunately. The rest of the team awkwardly looked at each other then back at Maxine as she walked off to the bathroom to collect herself. Meanwhile, spencer was going to go look for you. He was annoyed with your behavior tonight and he needed to set some things straight with you well at least for right now.. You leaned against the cold metal of a locker ordering a uber when you heard footsteps coming from a converse sneaker scraping against the floor, making that weird squeak sound.

"Why do you keep doing this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar area. "Why do you keep pushing Maxine? What do you want from me?" You met his gaze head-on, your lips curling into a bitter smile. "What do I want? I want you to admit that she's just a poor imitation of what we had, Spencer. I want you to stop pretending that you're happy with her." Spencer let out an exasperated grunt you could see the vein in his forehead pulse he was fuming. "Stop playing games, Y/N. You left me. You walked away, and now you can't stand the thought of someone else being with me?"

You scoff in disbelief at his claims, feeling like he's trying to manipulate you. "I didn't walk away, Spencer. You pushed me out. You couldn't handle what we had, so you replaced it with a cheap knockoff." Spencer's eyes flashed with something dangerous. Before you could react, he locked the door to the storage room and placed a large step stool against it. Then, he turned back to you, staring into your eyes with a mix of yearning and regret. "Is that what you think? That I replaced you?" He said looking at you with that puppy-like gaze he always had.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Isn't it obvious? She's everything I was to you—everything we were together. But it's not real, Spencer. It'll never be real." For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you almost palpable. Then, without warning, Spencer's lips crashed down onto yours, rough and desperate. The kiss was a mixture of heat and fury, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. You responded instinctively, your hands gripping his shoulders as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to steady his breathing. "Is this what you wanted?" he gasped, his voice raw and slightly whiny. "To see if I still want you?" You pressed yourself closer, feeling the hardness of his arousal pressing against your thigh. "No," you murmured, your voice trembling. "I wanted you to show me." Spencer a breathy groan slipped out his throat, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, lifting you effortlessly until your legs wrapped around his waist. The cold metal of the coat rack bit into your back as he pinned you against it, the sensation both startling and exhilarating

"God, you drive me insane," he muttered, his lips grazing your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin. "I can't think when you're around." You laughed softly, the sound shaky and breathless. "Good. Maybe then you'll finally understand how it felt when you shut me out." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath the anger. "I'm sorry baby I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice reeked of forgiveness and arousal. "I never meant to hurt you."

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. All you could focus on was the way his lips felt against your skin, the way his hands roamed over your body with a familiarity that made your heartache. Spencer's hand slid under your skirt, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. You gasped, arching your hips into his touch, craving more. He groaned, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he slipped a finger inside you, coaxing you open with practiced ease. "Fuck," you moaned, your head falling back against the locker as he began to move his finger in slow, deliberate strokes. "Spencer..."

"Tell me what you want, I will do it I want to make you feel good,” he demanded, his voice soft and whiny but commanding. "Tell me how much you need this." You bit your lip, resisting the urge to melt into his hands when he whines like that. "I want you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you, Spencer. Please”

He obeyed getting on his knees and slowly gliding your panties off slipping them off in one swift motion. He looked up at you with his big brown chocolate puppy dog eyes with that submissive twitch in his eyes before circling your clit and kissing it. It was so obvious he missed you, especially by the way he was eating you out. “Fuck~ you missed me badly huh?” You say gripping his greasy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy.

You can feel Spencer nodding agreeing to what you were saying he started sucking on your clit before placing two fingers inside of you stretching a lot slowly something he used to do quite often when you guys had a hard day at work to at least help put a smile on your face. Your eyes roll back as his slender fingers stretch you out. You felt yourself get close to an orgasm until Spencer stopped and looked up at you his face all wet with a pleading look on his face. He motioned you to face the wall so you obeyed his request. Spencer's hands skimmed over your thighs as he positioned himself behind you. You braced yourself against the cool metal, your breath hitching as you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice desperate and hoarse.

You nodded, biting your lip as you prepared for the inevitable intrusion. Spencer gripped your hips tightly, aligning himself perfectly before thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You cried out, the sensation both painful and exquisite as he filled you completely. "Fuck, you feel so good," he muttered, his voice laced with desperation. "Just how I remembered." He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one hitting your spot with perfect precision. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the small space, adding to the intensity of the moment.

"Harder," you begged, your voice breaking. "Please, Spencer, harder." He obliged, picking up the pace as he slammed into you with renewed vigor. The friction between your bodies grew more intense, the heat pooling in your core as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax.

"Look at me baby," Spencer commanded, his voice whiny and desperate but with a hint of urgency. "Watch me fuck your brains out, baby” You turned your head, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. The sight of his face, twisted with exertion and desire, sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you. He reached around to pinch your nipple, twisting it between his fingers as he continued to pound into you.

"That's it, baby" he whimpers. "Take it. Take every fucking inch. You can do it” You screamed, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your muscles clenched around him, driving him over the edge as well. Spencer shouted your name, his release flooding you as he buried himself deep inside. Panting, he pulled out slowly, leaving you trembling against the coat rack. He leaned against you, his forehead resting on the back of your neck as he caught his breath.

"This changes nothing," he whispered, his voice raw and unsure. "We still have to deal with Maxine."

You turned to face him, your heart aching at the conflicted look in his eyes. “I don’t have to deal with anything you have to come to terms that you will never find a girl like me again Boy genius. You need figure out who you wanna be with. A botched copy or the real deal. I will see you at work tomorrow spencer and I will be expecting an answer. Just remember I leave quite the impression on men like you.

You quickly find your panties slipping them back on grabbing your coat and plants a kiss on spencer’s lips leaving a red kiss stain on his lips before walking out to catch your Uber

[rose-pearls]

hi idk if your still doing requests but can I request ( this is super angsty btw!) a Clarisse fanfic where the reader is the daughter of Poseidon and there like absolutely in love with eachother like soulmates but then the reader dies during the war and clarisse can’t handle it and dies too like Romeo and Juliet

Hi! Thank you so much for your request!! Hopefully you like it :)) My requests are also still open for every fandom I write for!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303

Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley, @abbersreads

Clarisse loved you and you loved her, it had always been as simple as that. It was a known fact around camp, that the only person that could calm Clarisse down or make her smile brighter than the sun was you, the daughter of Poseidon.

Being demigods was a challenge in itself, but when the war started it became even trickier, filled with losses. By the second week of the war there were more flowers surrounding camp half-blood then students in it, to honor the lost ones. Because even if they were forgettable in the eyes of the Gods, they weren’t in the eyes of their fellow half-bloods. 

It had been tough for Clarisse and you, juggling the war, your friends, your siblings and yourselves but you had gotten through it. Clarisse had been your rock during everything, and you couldn’t imagine a world without her, it would be like everything was wrong. 

“We need to be careful,” Clarisse whispers in the early sunshine of the morning, running her fingers along your skin.

“We will, it will all be alright Clar,” you tell her, hoping to reassure the Ares girl, she had lost one of her half-siblings the day before and it had taken a toll on her. 

“Let’s hope our fathers will protect us,” she whispers, like a child scared of saying something, as if saying it out loud would jinx it. 

“They will, just like the Gods will try to help us if they can,” you whisper back, even if deep down you know that it isn’t true, that the Gods will turn a blind eye on everything that happened and on every child that lost their lives in their feud.

You don’t know how long the both of you stay there, lying in each other’s arms and whispering sweet nothings but you enjoy it, basking in the love that surrounds you.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but we need to go,” you suddenly hear Percy say, and you turn around to find your little brother looking at you with a sad smile. He looked so much older already then when you first met him two years ago, a part of you feels sad that he already had to go through so much at a young age. But he had his mother, Sally Jackson, who had seen you as her daughter from the moment she met you. 

“We’ll be there in five minutes,” Clarisse tells him, and he nods in agreement before softly closing the door and letting you change.

You do your usual routine, helping each other getting ready while exchanging kisses through it all and before you know it you need to leave to help the others.

The battlefield is a mess, people screaming left and right, monsters running after children who are far too young to be here. You don’t have time to take out your sword before Clarisse kisses you softly on the mouth.

“I’ll see you later?”, she whispers, and you nod in agreement, a loving smile on your lips.

“See you later,” you tell her before kissing her back and whispering a soft I love you. 

You see Percy in the distance but before you are able to go towards him a minotaur steps into your vision and you get ready to kill some more monsters, hoping desperately that these will be your last ones. It’s a long time before you get a minute to breathe, trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and looking around for someone you know. 

Percy looks tired, and there is a panicked look as he helps Annabeth to a safe place, the girl seemed to have gotten her leg cut. You start walking away, hoping that maybe Clarisse could be somewhere close but before you can turn around you see a Chimera starting to walk towards the pair, who still looked too busy with each other to notice anything else. 

You don’t think about it, you just start to run towards them, hoping desperately that you will get there in time and just as the Chimera gets ready to open her mouth to breath out fire you slice your sword into her leg, getting her attention towards you.

It wails in pain before turning her eyes towards you with a sick determination, you try to get your breathing right, but you hear Percy scream your name.

“Get Annabeth to safety, I’ll be alright!”, you tell him, and the boy looks unsure for a moment before giving into your pleading eyes and helping Annabeth to get to the other side of the road.

The Chimera doesn’t give you any time to think your decision through before it charges towards you. You manage to escape it a few times, burning a car or two and bruising your skin as you roll away from her attacks. But as you try to get another hit at her she hits you with her paw, making you land ten feet away, your back hitting an abandoned car. 

You try to breathe again, your back hurting from the hit but just as you try to reach for your sword a couple of feet away the Chimera is already in front of you. You try to move away, willing your body to move but you can’t move anymore and the only thing you can do is pray to your father. 

But even as fire hydrants explode around you, trying to scare off the creature, her paw lifts up and slashes right through your stomach making you scream in pain for the first time in your life. You wonder for a moment if this is it, before the Chimera disappears in front of your eyes, a heaving Percy looking at you with wide eyes. 

“Percy,” you whisper and your brother rushes to your side, blue eyes flickering between your wound and your face.

“We need to find you water, we need to heal you,” he whispers as he starts looking around the streets like a madman and as he tries to get up to go and find some sort of water you take his hand to stop him.

“It won’t help,” you tell him, but Percy shakes his head, always the hero, trying to work things out.

“We can find something, alright, we need to!”, he says, his voice wavering over the words and his blue eyes gets darker with the tears that are welling up.

“Percy, it’s okay,” you tell him, just like when he used to apologize for climbing into your bed after a nightmare. A tear rolls down his cheek and you take his hand in yours, only managing it after the second try.

“What about Clarisse? What about everything we had planned this summer?”, Percy says, and you feel pained at the sight of his tears, his pain. He had been through too much and you never wanted to be another pain that he had to bear, another loss.

“I’ll be there, somehow, with you. You won’t get rid of me that easily,” you tell him, and a sob leaves his lips, breaking your heart.

“How?”, he whispers as he holds onto your hand for dear life.

“Through the rain pouring down on New York, through the countless rivers and oceans surrounding you, through the blue food that you will see. I’m not leaving you Percy, I’ll always be there somewhere, cheering you on,” tears are streaming down your face, but you still try to reassure your brother.

“I love you,” he says and your heart breaks as you realize that this really is the last time you will hear that from him.

“I love you too little brother,” you tell him with a soft smile, squeezing his hand three time.

Before you can say anything else you hear your name being screamed, Clarisse. 

“What happened?”, she asks as she arrives, her hair all over the place after having fought some monsters.

“A Chimera,” Percy says, and she looks determined, but her hands are shaking, telling you that she is scared.

“Well, we can find some water, right? Fix you up,” she says, looking all over the place as if she is hoping that an ocean of water will appear, but you shake your head slowly.

“It’s too late,” you whisper and for a moment she says nothing, simply looking into your eyes.

“No, no, no, no, you promised me you would be alright, that you would be safe,” she says, her voice filled with desperation as she looks over you and you smile sadly.

“I’m sorry, I tried to beat it, but I couldn’t,” you whisper, and she shakes her head again, tears forming into her brown eyes.

“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault,” she says, and you smile softly before taking her hand into your other one.

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell her, but she shakes her head, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“It won’t, I can’t live without you,” she whispers, and you feel tears falling down your cheeks at her words.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, and she closes her eyes, looking pained at the words.

“I love you too princess, never forget that” she tells you and you smile at the words.

“Never, I’ll always remember,” you whisper, and she nods quickly.

“Good, now focus on Percy and I,” you nearly tell her that she has never called your brother Percy but you don’t, you can’t as you start seeing dark spots before your eyes.

“I think it’s time,” you tell them, and you just feel them squeeze your hand, Percy mumbling words you can’t hear but a kiss on your forehead makes you smile, you always used to do it to him.

“Clarisse?”, you whisper, and the girl kisses your forehead too, staining your forehead with her tears. 

“I’m right here princess,” you hear her say, her voice breaking over the words.

“I’m scared,” you whisper, and you hear a sob leaving Percy’s mouth, and a couple of tears fall down your forehead.

“It will all be alright, I’ll be right by your side,” she tells you and you let out a sigh at her words.

You want to say something else, but the darkness takes over, taking you with her as you hear comforting words being whispered, hands holding yours. 

--

Clarisse can’t stop crying as she feels her girlfriend’s pulse die down against her hand, the hand that was holding on to her so tightly is now laying limp into hers. Percy is sobbing into his hands, cursing his father through the sobs and Clarisse wants to do the same but the only thing she can do is sob louder.

She didn’t know how she was going to survive without you, she just couldn’t imagine a life without you. You had been her everything for the past five years and all of the sudden she was supposed to live without you, she couldn’t. Deep down she knew that she would never be able to live a life without you.

As more tears roll down her cheeks, she remembers the small drink that had been given to them before the war, making sure that if someone was to be captured, they could drink it and die to avoid getting tortured.

She takes it, her hands shaking as she opens it and for a moment, she sees Percy looking at her, a moment of realization at the sight of the bottle.

“Clarisse,” he whispers, he looks unsure, sad even as he understands what she wants to do but she shakes her head. 

“I can’t live without her; it wouldn’t be living. You know what I mean,” she says, and he nods slowly, she knows he understands what she means, he would do the same thing if he lost Annabeth. 

“Take care of her?”, he whispers, a stray tear falling down his cheek and she nods.

“I will,” she whispers before bringing the bottle to her lips and drinks it in one go.

She looks at you as the liquid goes down her throat and for a moment, she thinks that it won’t work and that she will have to live without you, but her eyes start to flutter shut and. Before she knows it, she is falling against you, her head on your stomach as her last breath leaves her lips. 

Rain starts pouring down on him and he knows it’s his father, trying to console him and the sadness that comes with losing a child. He stays there until Annabeth forces him to leave, trying to hold back her own tears as she watches the couple lying against each other. The monsters are gone in an instance, as if seeing two girls giving up their lives for each other was enough for the Gods to decide the war could finally be over.

He never forgets his sister, seeing her in the waterlilies blooming along the water on her birthdays, in the playlist she always used to blast in the Poseidon Cabin, in his father’s eyes. But the moment he sees her, and Clarisse again is at the last scene of Romeo and Juliet at the theater, seeing Romeo sacrifice himself to be with Juliet. The two of you flashes before his eyes as Annabeth holds his hand with a tight grip even as everyone leaves the theater, and they stay watching the closed curtain. As if it was symbolizing the end of your life too.

[moeitsu]

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Lore part 2 :)

Wow! You guys really appreciated my first post about Logan's backstory/lore and I'm grateful for all of your feedback!! Here's the link to part 1 if you're interested :)

I'm so happy to see all the love he's getting, its actually surreal to be a part of this fandom again and seeing all the new Wolverine content! The fanart and fanfics are literally my life-source rn. You don't even wanna know what my tiktok saved folder looks like....

You guys asked for more so here is part 2! It's not as organized as the first part, apologies. I'm using both the movies and comics here. Some stuff isn't confirmed but generally accepted in the mcu.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Wolverine first appeared in The Incredible Hulk #180. He was supposed to be a mutated human/animal but the idea was later scrapped.

He was approx. 197 years old when he died in the movie 'Logan'

There's multiple different deaths in the comics but I wont get into that.

Logan is 5'3"- 5'5" (short king)

He has black hair and blue eyes

Before the adamantium, he weighed 196lbs (88kg). After the binding he was 300lbs (136kg)

His body is poisoned by the adamantium metal as it breaks down over time. Requiring him to be in a constant state of regeneration, which begins to slow down as he ages.

Without the metal he probably could have lived a lot longer.

Logan has a fear of water, or rather, drowning. It’s one of the only times can’t regenerate. It would cause his death.

The Weapon X program is also responsible for this fear since he was submerged under water for a long period of time for the binding.

The metal in his body also makes him so heavy it would be very difficult for him to swim.

In the comics Logan temporarily loses his healing factor due to a virus created by Dr. Abraham Cornelius. (Weapon X scientist) This event leaves him vulnerable for the first time in his life, forcing him to confront the reality of his mortality.

His healing ability greatly affects his mental state. Logan can quickly recover from physical damage, but he still feels all the pain. His ability to cope and endure despite the overwhelming suffering is central to his character.

Logan has an acute sense of smell. He can track people and objects across a great distance. It’s so precise that he can identify people’s emotional states such as fear or anger. Even when someone is lying.

Logan was sensitive, shy, and timid as a child.

The first person he ever killed was his biological father.

After killing his father he ran away from home with his friend Rose. (a hired companion to help care for him when he was young). Unfortunately, Logan accidently killed her during a fight.

Logan speaks several languages, due to his extensive life and travels. He speaks English, Japanese, Russian, Spanish, Chinese, Cheyenne and Lakota.

He’s actually an incredibly smart guy, don’t let him fool you.

Despite his love for alcohol, Logan’s healing factor makes it nearly impossible for him to get drunk.

Logan brews his own beer in the Origins comics. (we love a domestic husband)

On Logan’s birthday every year, Sabretooth seeks him out just to beat him up as a twisted "gift." Sabretooth calls this tradition "birthday beatings."

Spider-Man and Wolverine have teamed up a few times in the comics and they are a hilarious pair.

Logan's "berserker rage" is not just a result of his animalistic mutant powers. But stems from his deep psychological trauma. This side of him only emerges when he is pushed into extreme emotional or physical stress.

At one point before he escaped the Weapon X experiment, he was hired to kill Charles Xavier.

Logan's wife Itsu and son Daken were allegedly killed by the Winter Soldier, however it was later revealed that his son actually lived and had been consumed by hatred for his father. Logan was forced to kill his own son before he could cause more harm.

This act is one of, if not the most painful moment in Logan’s life, as it represents his ultimate failure as a father.

Logan blames himself for Jean Grey’s death.

He lived a majority of his life without his memories. Having no idea who he actually is.

Despite his involvement with the X-Men and his many close relationships he often feels like an outsider. Like he doesn’t belong anywhere. He isolates himself because loneliness is a familiar feeling.

Logan prefers the solitude and sanctity of nature. He loves the outdoors and has a lot of respect for the natural world. Often retreating into the wild for his own peace.

In one comic he baby sits Luke Cage and Jessica Jones daughter. Danielle Cage.

He can be quite playful at times with the younger mutants. For example, building a snowman with Jubilee.

Logan dreams of a normal life. He dreams of having a family with a wife and children and leaving the violence behind.

[feralforbeanix]

Wrightworth is not "Sunshine x Grumpy"

They are "Visibly Traumatized x Repressed Trauma", they are bitch for bitch, they are so many more interesting things than that overused dynamic.

Miles is not some sad boy who needs to be coddled, he is a grown ass adult who sent many people to jail. Some of which could have possibly been innocent. He's done some shitty things that are influenced yes--but not excused by his trauma. He can and SHOULD be called out on things he did, stop blaming all his bad actions on Manfred or Gant.

Phoenix is not a golden retriever boyfriend. Maybe he was in college when he was "Feenie" but that shit ended the day Dahlia was arrested (Hot take Feenie feels more ooc to the Phoenix we knew in the trilogy than Beanix ever did to me). Phoenix is a snarky bitch almost all the time, even thinking/saying downright mean things to/about people he cares about like Maya. He has massive big brother energy but not always in the "I'll take care of you" way but often in the "I'm gonna disgust/upset/annoy you on purpose because I think it's funny" way. (Like if you choose the fishing pole in Turnabout Goodbyes, he teases Maya by suggesting they use Missile as bait, which Maya takes as well as you'd expect).

Miles is not a princess who waited every day for Phoenix to save him. Miles was perfectly content to forget his past entirely as is his coping mechanism, and Phoenix has a savior complex that no one asked him to have. Miles never asked for Phoenix to reappear in his life, Phoenix just realized Miles was gonna ignore him, so he became a lawyer himself so that would no longer be an option for Miles.

This isn't to say Wrightworth is a bad ship by any means. This is to say that their characterization and relationship are so often blatantly misunderstood by the fandom. So often watered down to fit a basic mold. Which is a shame because their actual relationship is so much more interesting to me.

Sooo many fanfics get both of their characters wrong to either fit a dynamic they never were or because they want to give them less accountability than they deserve.

[chiocchi]

If you don't mind answering, why do you ship Tom Riddle and Harry Potter? Besides the whole issue that they are enemies, and the age difference, both characters are heterosexual. It's canonical fact. If it's the dynamic you like... Have you thought about Tomione's ship? They have a lot of potential together. And in the right direction, they would be a couple that could make it in the books.

JDKLJKLFJSDLKFJA This kinda feels like people knocking on your door and trying to get you to believe in their religion. It's pretty funny.

I don't know why are you calling issues to a part of the pairing's appeal lkajdsjfs (And Hermione is Harry's age and they are on the same side too?). And not sure about that canonical fact. Harry can be read as bisexual quite easily and Voldemort|Tom... idk he seems more obsessed with power, immortality, and Harry. But even if that's the case, I don't see why it should matter. We're in fandom after all.

I don't know if I'll be able to convey why I like this ship so much. For starters, I'm really into the unique connection they share. There was a piece of Voldemort's soul inside Harry's; they had a mental link; a whole language they're the only ones to speak (for the most part); Voldemort chose him and marked him; and there's even a prophecy that linked them together. There aren't two people more connected than them. They're soulmates, and the fact that Voldemort didn't intend it and Harry hates it adds another layer of complexity.

But not only that, they're like a broken reflection of each other, which I find fascinating. In his second year, Harry was worried about the similarities between them. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles, they both considered Hogwarts their first real home. I feel like they would have really understood each other in other circumstances. They would have been friends. Because one of their key differences is that Harry found friends and adults that loved him while Tom was probably bullied and, y'know, the whole Dumbledore thing.

Not to mention that Harry would die for everyone whereas Tom would kill everyone. They're insane in their own way. I love their similarities and differences, but more than anything else, I love when they're together. The fanfics and fanarts are awesome.

And the whole thing of being enemies feels quite gay sometimes klafjdlskfja. Harry can't help but think Tom is handsome and, despite everything Voldemort did, Harry wanted to give him one last chance to show remorse. I have no doubt Harry is crazy enough to actually forgive him.

I've thought about Tomione and I've come to the conclusion that I don't like it. pinktom has a really good post about it and I agree with it. Besides, Hermione liked Ron and had something with Krum, and they're nothing like Tom. Just because she's heterosexual doesn't mean she's attracted to any man, y'know? klajdlfkdjs I don't think they would have been a couple in the books, no matter the direction. If it's the dynamic you like, have you thought about Tomarry? More believable, more intense, and a wider range of wholesomeness to fucked up in the fics. It's really interesting. Unless you don't like men being together? Hmm? Suspicious (just kidding. To each their own. So no need to go to other people's asks to try to change their minds :kek:).

Also Harry is my favorite character and he's not replaceable. I kinda don't care about any other character tbh. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[fever-project]

I’m not DEAD, Daniel (2904 words) by FeverProject Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Wild (Linked Universe) Characters: Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe), the rest of the LU gang are also there but they aren’t important Additional Tags: This isn’t crack but it sure is silly, very much so for me, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Tired Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe) is a Little Shit, might be ooc hopefully not, Misunderstandings, just a little bit Summary: DPxLU crossover because I couldn’t help myself. Surprised I didn’t do this earlier considering gestures at my everything Wild has an encounter with the Ghost King. It is definitely an experience.

Uhhh fanfic, yeah. I’m going to explode. Art

Enjoy 👍

▼

Wild was bored. Which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but it was one that he hated. It was night time now and he was supposed to be asleep, just like everybody else in the inn. But he wasn’t like everybody else, he already slept for 100 years straight, sleeping was only useful to him if and when he wanted to be more healthy. And sleeping every night was generally considered to be healthy, but Wild didn’t care, he needed to move.

Out the window he went, quiet as a mouse. Hopefully no one would notice he was gone, and that he would be back before morning came. But there was an entire forest nearby to explore, and he felt like he could-no, should explore to his heart’s content. The wilderness called to him, beckoned him in. That’s what he kept repeating to himself in his mind anyway, as a way to reassure himself, that as a hero who had saved Hyrule, sneaking out at night and potentially worrying the other heroes wouldn’t be a stupid thing to do. Zelda would’ve thought otherwise, and he knew that, but tried not to think about it too much.

The forest was mostly quiet, save for things like the chirping of birds and crickets. The faint rustling of trees was like music to his ears. There was a light breeze, which felt nice against his face as he ventured further into the forest. He tried his best to walk in as straight of a line as he could, to more easily find his way back. He really wished his Sheikah Slate worked properly in this time, maps made everything much easier. But then he would have to go searching for those towers, and while as fun as they were to activate, took up far too much time, much more than he and his group were currently willing to spare.

Wild was suddenly on edge. That odd shapeshifting, Lizalfos-looking, portal opening thing was still out there. Not to mention the black-blooded monsters that thing infected. Wild sighed as walked, now paranoid and frustrated. After a few moments of that, he finally gained enough brain cells to figure out that he should probably head back. With another sigh, which was more of a groan, he spun on his heel, turning around to make his way back to the inn.

Soon enough, something in the air…shifted, he couldn’t tell what. An oddly familiar yet unnatural feeling enveloped his senses as the sky started to turn into an odd shade of pinkish purple. The few clouds up in the sky, only a slightly lighter shade than the sky itself, swirled around above him, as the space in front of him split. Wild felt his heart drop and his breath leave his body as the rift continued to grow. Green glowing light bleed out from it, lighting up the trees and grass and him. Something was happening, something bad, and it was targeting him. He stumbled back, he had to, he had to get away and yet. And yet. It was calling to him. It was scaring him, the world behind the rift hated and loved him all the same.

Wild had to escape.

Wild tried to breathe, in and out, slowly, calmly, he looked for a way out. Trees, there were only trees and more trees and bushes and grass and even more trees-slowly, in and out, his breathing, his breath. He was alive, and he was going to make sure he would stay that way, bright green portal notwithstanding. The portal was growing bigger, quickly, but not as quick as Wild’s mind was when it was panicking. Maybe that meant that panicking was a good thing. Wild almost stopped panicking completely once he realized how stupid that thought sounded. His panic swiftly returned when a white boot stepped out of the portal. When matching white gloves also came out, Wild went to get out his sword and shield, fumbling with his slate as the person emerged from the rift, it closing behind them soon after.

“Excuse me?” The person asked, their words 

echoing, despite the conditions for that to logically happen simply not existing here. Wild stiffened, having only gotten his sword out. But he knew deep within his soul that it wouldn’t be very effective against the higher being standing before him. Yet his grip tightened despite that. He wouldn’t run away, not now, he would try his best to fight this being off if he had to. And if that failed, he would retreat, tactically.

The being was dressed in an odd black and white outfit, having tan skin and white hair. Their bright green eyes, glowing body, and their crown that was literally on fire were very clear signs that this person wasn’t anything he’s seen before. Not to mention the hovering. And the portal they just came out of. And the weird voice-and Wild needed to start focusing on the situation at hand.

The being raised their hands up defensively, “Hey, put down the sword, I’m not looking for a fight,” they said, “I’m just. Looking for someone, yeah.”

“Uh huh,” Wild dumbly nodded, keeping his eyes on them.

“Right, okay, let me just-“ they looked around, suspicious at their surroundings, “-okay, don’t tell anyone you saw me, or that you saw this. Actually, it doesn’t matter, forget what I just said.”

Wild nodded again, watching as a ring of light came out of their waist, enveloping them as they donned a more hylian appearance. They had even odder clothes on in this form, baggy and worn. Their skin was paler and their hair was pitch black. They looked like death in the form of a teenage boy.

“Are you Death?” Wild asked blatantly. Listen, he was curious, he need to know this. The being raised an eyebrow at him, confusion evident on his face. “Like,” Wild scrambled to rationalize his less than rational thought process, “I don’t know, you seem scary? And corpse-like? Are you dead? Am I dead-well, no, I can’t be dead, that would be silly, ha. But are you?”

“Well I am the Ghost King, king of ghosts,” they said plainly, with a shrug, “Name’s Danny, Danny Phantom, and that’s really all you know about that. Listen-“

“Aren’t you like, twelve?” Wild knew they probably weren’t twelve, but this ‘Ghost King’ guy looked pretty young.

“What? No! I’m not twelve, I’m like-“ they pouted, like a twelve year old, snapping their fingers in thought, “older than you!”

“Oh yeah, I’m-“ Wild stopped, wondering if it would be smart to tell the Ghost King that he’s technically one hundred and seventeen years old. “I am at least seventeen! And I look like it as well.”

“You’re the same height as me.”

Wild looked at the ghost, glared at them, walking a bit closer to them. He placed his hand on top of his head and moved it forward, towards the Ghost King’s head. His hand brushed against their hair, but it clearly didn’t reach the top of their head. Wild grinned, well, wildly at the sight of being taller than them. They looked unimpressed.

“You’re the one acting like a twelve year old you know,” Danny scoffed, pouting.

“Says the pouter.”

“Look, can you just help me find this guy, since you’ve clearly calmed down now.”

“And why should I?”

“I’ll make your afterlife terrible otherwise.”

“Fine, I’ll help, gosh,” Wild was probably going to help anyways, he liked helping people. He just wanted to be annoying. “So, who and why?”

“Great! So, I’m looking for this guy named Link,” oh no, “Clockwork-he’s a time ghost, don’t worry about him-told me that he was hoping around other times with other guys also named Link.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well-okay, you’re annoying so I’m just going to ignore that-“

“Time isn’t real.”

The two stared at each other, and Wild both wanted to punch himself in the face, and thought he was the funniest man alive. Danny seemed to think the same way too, with their bewildered expression suddenly turned into one holding back a lot of laughter.

“Al-alright, that was good I’ll give you that,” they chuckled, “Anyways, I’m looking for this specific Link because they’re supposed to dead, and I’m supposed to like-do something about that. I think I have a picture of this guy that Clockwork gave me, hold on.” They stuffed their hand through their goddess forsaken chest, and rummaged around like their own body was a mere storage container. Wild was instantly jealous of them. Sure he had his Sheikah Slate, but it wasn’t a part of his body.

Wait, Danny had a picture of him. Oh no, they were going to kill him. He didn’t need them to say word for word that they were going to kill him, but Wild didn’t know what else they could do to him. He needed to be on his toes and hone his quick reflexes in order to survive this ordeal.

“Annnd-nope, that’s my thermos-here it is!” They pulled out a piece of folded paper, and just as they started to unfold it, Wild snatched it from their hand and shoved it into his mouth.

“Wha-WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Danny shrieked, hands on the side of his head, horrified.

“‘Cause,” Wild responded in a muffled voice, chewing the paper. Tasted inky.

“Okay, you are definitely the weirdest person I’ve ever met, an I know a ghost who whole personality is boxes, just boxes. Actually, I don’t think he’s that weird compared to some other fruitloops I know of-but that doesn’t matter, spit that out!”

“No.”

“You are acting like a twelve year old-no, even twelve year olds wouldn’t do this, you’re five.”

Wild gasped, photo smushed to the side of his mouth, in between his cheek and teeth so it wouldn’t fall out.

“You’re just mad I’m right.”

“Nah uh!”

“Then how about you spit that out, like a normal, seventeen-you’re seventeen right?” Wild nodded, “Right, like a normal seventeen year old would, or I’ll phase it out of your mouth by force.” Wild did not like sound of that. So he spit out the photo, the slobbery mess falling onto the grass. Even Wild was grossed out by what he had done. Danny clearly was.

“You’re going to have to unfold that yourself, I’m not touching that,” Danny looked sick.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I’ll do that,” why wasn’t the paper metal, then he could use his Sheikah Slate to pick it up. Good thing he had some spare gloves stored in it, so it was fine, it’s fine. He started to unfold the paper, Danny peering over his shoulder, both with matching disgusted expressions. Wild was right about the contents of the drawing. His face, blast scars and all, was right there. Wild looked at Danny. Danny looked at him. Wild wanted to punch them in face and run off, but they are a ghost. But Wild still slowly raised his free hand into a fist, retaining eye contact.

Danny began to speak, “So-“ Wild swiftly punched them in their face, and skittered backwards, trying to look for a way back to the inn safely. The ghost had stumbled back, clutching their face in pain.

“Huh, so you can punch ghosts,” Wild noted.

“You can definitely punch this ghost,” Danny rubbed their hurt nose, “Didn’t even get me a chance to speak.”

“Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Oh.”

“Bet you feel stupid now, don’t ya?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Danny sighs, pinching their nose, not in pain this time, but annoyance. “So,” they started again, “what I’m trying to do is get you on the ‘Supposed to be Dead but Came Back Anyways’ census. Basically, the name’s a work in progress.”

“And…I’m supposed to do something about it?”

“Kinda? Look, just sign here, and I’ll get out of your hair.” They pulled out another piece of paper out of their chest, with already had a few other names on it in neat little boxes. Wild couldn’t read any of those names, but Danny probably could.

Wild’s face scrunched up, trying to think about what he should do next. They hadn’t really explained their reasoning for any of this, so he still didn’t trust them too much. Maybe this was some elaborate ruse to kill him.

“Will me signing this ‘census’ give me any benefits-will it give you any benefits?” Wild pointed accusingly at Danny.

“Well, are you dead?”

Wild groaned, “I’m not DEAD Daniel,” Wild threw his hands into the air in frustration, “Just use your stupid ghost words to explain to me what I need to do and why.”

“Okay,” Danny squeaked out, “But first off, name’s just Danny.”

“Uh huh.”

“And secondly, I’m doing this because there’s a bunch of ghost legal jargon where your name was already listed on both the ‘dead,’ and then also the ‘not dead’ list after you came back to life. You signing this will help fix that.”

“…Aren’t I time traveling right now?”

“Yes, but it’s still good to note down who had came back to life. Please just make my life easier, this is themost stress inducing part of my job I’ve ever done.”

Wild was starting to feel a bit bad now. So now, with a better understanding of the situation, he took the paper from Danny’s hands.

“Here’s a pen to write with,” Danny gave him a pen from their chest.

“Can all ghosts store stuff in their bodies?” Wild asked as he wrote down his name in the next free box, adding on his title of ‘Hero of the Wild’ in the same box, just to specify things.

“No, but I sure can,” they said with a big smile.

“That’s so cool.”

“I know.”

The two laughed a bit as Wild returned the paper and pen to Danny.

“Well, sorry for not explaining my motivations fully, I’m a bit…tired, ha ha,” Danny rubbed the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed.

“Yeah. Sorry for punching you.”

“Now I’m going to go take a nap. Or sleep for once.” A ring of light enveloped Danny yet again, returning him to his more ghostly form. Then he turned around and held out his hand, before cutting the space there, opening the bright green portal.

“See you in the Ghost Zone, Link! Eventually!” They waved as they stepped into the rift.

Wild waved back, “That sounds pretty ominous, but okay!” Danny laughed at that as he went all the way through, the portal closing soon after. Now Wild was left all alone in the woods.

He needed to get back to the inn.

It took him some time, but he eventually found his way back to the inn. In through the window, as quiet as a ghost, he was back in his room. He flopped down onto his bed, mentally exhausted. He would’ve rather been bored than have had dealt with…whatever that was. Not really, but Wild was certainly ready to go to sleep now, and pray that he wouldn’t have to meet that Ghost King ever again. Not because he was scared, but because he was a bit embarrassed about what happened. He acted a bit stupid there. But none of that mattered now. All that Wild had to do now, was to sleep.

ー

“Has anyone seen the champion yet?” Time asked, looking over the group that were all hanging around the inn’s dining room.

“Nope,” Warriors said with a pop, “He’s likely still asleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” Wind whined, “Captain, do you know how to cook?”

“I know how to make things edible and nutritious,” Wars plainly answered, receiving a few groans from various Links.

“We could just have the food they serve here,” Twilight suggested.

“Champ’s better,” Four retorted.

“How about we all wait a bit longer,” Time said, “It hasn’t even been half an hour since we woke up after all.”

They all muttered their agreements, and choose to occupy themselves with taking count of their resources for the time being. A few more minutes passed before Legend noticed something.

“Hey guys, I think I see the champ coming down right now,” Legend pointed at the staircase, and the other heroes scrambled to see their resident chef stumbling down the stairs.

“Are you doing alright?” Hyrule asked.

“You seem exhausted,” Sky added.

“Ye-yeah,” Wild yawned, stretching his arms, “Ghost problems and all that stuff.” He set out to make some food for his companions, who were looking at him with confusion and concern.

“Ghost problems?” A few of them asked at once.

“Is this place haunted?” Wind looked around with an excited grin on his face.

“Nope, but I sure got haunted in the woods out there,” Wild waved in the vague direction of where the forest was, “Now I’m going to make something to eat, want some?”

Of course they wanted some, food was important. They continued to ask questions about the ghost, but Wild didn’t answer, he didn’t feel like it. Maybe in like, two days he would. But for now, he just wanted to eat some Vegetable Risotto, maybe with a few Endura Carrots thrown in as well. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to deal with that Ghost King again anytime soon. At least, hopefully not before this time traveling adventure ends.

[some-pers0n]

I'm gonna be blunt and say that I really don't think a lot of people kinda get these two characters. Sure, yeah, there'll be people like "Psshh no?? Me?? I know exactly who these guys are" and like, yeah maybe you do. Maybe you'll read this while nodding your head and whatnot. Maybe you won't.

Either way, I think there's a decent amount of people who don't...get Qibli and Winter. I mainly see it in shipping stuff. I know it's kinda idiotic to go looking for character stuff in shipping-- you know what?? No. I think it's perfectly sound logic to try and look for meaningful character writing in ship stuff, especially with fanfics. I've got that aroace mindset where I can only comprehend a ship if it has a clear and exact thematical and character-driven purpose.

Anywho, I think there's something to be craved with how Qinter is talked about in the fandom. I think there's something in general to be desired when discussing Qibli and Winter in general (or, hell, most of the characters) or other ships they're in, but I want to discuss Qinter mainly as a means to view them through the lens of a relationship. Some sort of duo and pair. Two young dragonets trying to survive.

Winter and Qibli come from incredibly similar backgrounds. That sounds ridiculous at a first glance, but when you think about it, they do. They both were raised with terrible parents who held them to an unrealistic standard that neither really wanted to be.

Winter was forced to become a child soldier and be the best of the best, despite his best rightfully not being absolutely perfect and having a ton of heart and soul in him. Ironically enough, his sheer loyalty to his friends that he displays later would be commended in the IceWing army, but is only looked down upon because he's showing anything other than pure apathy at existence and disgust when confronted with the other tribes. Winter is a kind soul who was shaped and twisted into becoming somebody far meaner to fit the idea of what his parents wanted him to be. It's a mask he wears to fit in. To be at least be tolerated by the dragons he only wants the approval from.

Qibli was raised in the slums of Scorpion Den. The back alleys and dark, seedy streets that are avoided. He had to fit the build of a thief. A petty pickpocket that lurks around like his family, doing nothing more than swiping whatever goods they could get their hands on. Qibli was kind and sweet, which obviously was a terrible sin in the eyes of his family. Like Winter, this planted a seed of wanting to be loved, although to a significantly larger extent than Winter felt. Qibli became obsessed with the idea of being loved as he hated being seen as nothing. He wanted nothing more than to be praised and admired because of just how neglected he was. So, he pretends to be somebody likable. Somebody who others care about. A mask to conceal the dragon he feels can never be loved.

Because of their backgrounds, they feel at odds when they're introduced to one another. Qibli is the laid-back jokester type while Winter is snarly and angry. Thanks to Moon's powers though, we get a look into them even before their book.

We see that Qibli is paranoid and his brain is constantly trying to predict others. He's always in a state of stress and fear, putting on a performance to try and be liked and see which dragons are the biggest threats to him. He's never gotten used to living outside of the crime-filled Scorpion Den, and the memories of childhood where he had to lay awake thinking that some dragon who his mother stole from will murder them all in their sleep remain. He's scared and afraid.

Winter managed to convince himself that he is this mean and nasty dragon, but really he's not. There's moments of hesitancy in MR from him. He's also just. generally not really that much in the wrong in the book. Sorry my Winter Apologist side is coming out but y'all hate too much on a character who was just kinda mean for some random dragon he only knew for a couple days at most by then doing stuff that was very suspicious. Yeah obviously Moon is the protagonist and we like her and know the full context, but Winter?? He doesn't know anything!

I digress however. They're in. not the best of states. Sure, yeah, Qibli had ran from Vulture and Cobra and was now Thorn's adoptive son of sorts, but he was obsessed with Thorn to the point of almost blind worship. He hailed her as some grand dragon because he had never been loved before. Being loved by somebody felt incomprehensible. He wants to repay it since he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

Winter on the other hand has just gotten away from a terrible situation, where his family more or less just hates him. They hate him so much it's not even funny. Winter had gotten Hailstorm, somebody who Winter loved and admired, was stolen away by the SkyWings and presumed dead for years because of him. He blames himself. He constantly thinks that he should've been the one taken away instead. He doesn't see himself worthy to live, especially not compared to Hailstorm. Hailstorm is charming, smart, strong, and better in every capacity to Winter. How could he ever live up to that?

Their shared flaw is that they feel inadequate. They feel as though there's something inherently flawed with themselves, something that they need to hide away. It was shaped because of their similar backstories, where they were neglected and abused and put down because of them never being able to meet the unreasonable expectations placed on them. Because of this trauma, their personalities in the present are shaped to try and fit in.

It's only by being with the Jade Winglet do they begin to unlearn those habits. I would imagine that, in moments where they chat with each other for the first real time (not fighting or anything), they...notice how alike they are. Like holding up a mirror to themselves. Despite how differing their personalities are, they feel one in the same. The other side of the coin.

It's why I think Qinter really works as something more than a cheap means for comedic relief. They bounce off each other really well and in an interesting way, which makes for their interactions feeling a lot more meaningful when they put away the act and show and are genuine. I honestly think that they would want to help each other out. They see themselves in the other and don't want them to feel like they have to do this, but they can't even save themselves.

It's only with time however. Healing is a process. It's sure as hell hard to do it all alone. It's why I love a lot the themes of friendship and togetherness in arc 2 especially. All of the POVs learn how to be more confident and sure of themselves through their friends. I just wish that Qinter was talked about in a more intellectually stimulating way than "yellow boy laughs at blue boy for being angsty teen"

[dreamsinmoonlight]

Dude, you could do a fic where the reader goes looking for Yandere Alastor at the end of the battle with Adam (where is he mad? Insane?... You know in the last ep)... The reader was worried about Alastor, but found him At the worst moment, maybe Alastor will collapse and go crazy... Maybe because he saw that the reader is also hurt? Or there is a revelation for him where he discovers that he is in love with the reader...

It's up to you, I just want to see a fanfic about it!!

(Here we go, I was thinking a lot about this one because honestly I love me a good old fashion insanity moment because of invocation of the "berserk button is hurting that person" trope. Mmmmm~

Modifying it a little just because I lean into the going insane because someone you care about is hurt (also I have another ask involving finding Alastor after the battle). So instead of being when he gets to the radio tower...

How about we rewind and let it be, oh, during the battle? Hehehe~

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: yandere!Alastor, reader, Adam

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Genre:

Summary: The fight is raging but all you can think about is one very dangerous deer....)

Reckless Abandon

Hazbin Hotel was not falling without a fight, not if the residents and their friends had anything to say about it.

There were exterminators everywhere, angels everywhere and anywhere you looked. It felt, to you, as if the sky itself was falling, was being torn asunder, and though you knew that there was a shield, a barrier you believed in more than you believed in anything else, still something in the depths of your gut couldn't help but worry.

Someone screamed your name and you narrowly avoided a sword coming at you from the side, the mad flickering face of the angel who had tried to kill you so close you could almost make out each pixel in the mask they wore. By instinct you struck out and punched them, though some part of your brain understood it would likely do little; still they didn't seem to expect it from you and it connected, throwing them for a loop and to the ground for a moment.

"Good job toots!" Angel called out with one of those friendly grins of his that you could never help but return; he leveled his tommy guns and continued to shoot away, trying to bring down as many of the flying monsters as he could.

"Thanks Angel!" you called back and looked around; Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Cherri Bomb, Sir Pentious, even Nifty was running around stabbing admittedly already downed angels. But everyone was doing their best, fighting and honestly there seemed almost to be a chance, a small possibility, they could survive this. You could survive this.

You never meant to die and come to Hell, but no one ever did. Still in the years you'd been there you'd only ever felt actually happy at the hotel; Charlie was such a good kind person and Vaggie's devotion to her was heartwarming. It was never boring, never uneventful, and never anything less than a trip from the very day you came to their door, looking for a place to stay to get away from the far worse denizens than yourself. And somewhere deep down you'd admit, only to yourself, that what made you feel the happiest was the presence of one demon in particular.

You glanced up as you thought about him and almost immediately wished you hadn't. That shield that you believed so in, you saw with your own eyes it crack, you saw it break, and you saw the figure of the scariest of them all: Adam. He'd broken it down, he'd broken...

"Alastor's shield," you whispered, as the others saw it too, as it dawned on them what happened.

He was supposed to be able to keep it up, give them enough time to thin the herd more. No one expected Adam to be so powerful to be able to break something created by the Radio Demon, the Radio Demon. Alastor stood up to Lucifer, to the Vs, to other Overlords, he was the monster in the dark, the grinning Cheshire Deer Cat of Terror, and Adam had punched one of his barriers into nothingness as easily as he could have been punching a marshmallow.

That feeling of worry returned and it tasted of blood. You licked your lips and looked around. The others were worried too but all recovered, getting back to work, not letting this stop them. You tried to do the same, to remember the plan: if the shield went down then Alastor would take out Adam, keep him out of the fight largely so you all could handle the exterminator angels better. He was the most powerful of you, the most dangerous, the most vicious, he could handle this, he could do this, he...

He....

You looked towards the roof of the hotel, towards where you knew that cannibal Overlord was, where Adam had touched down and was now fighting him.

He was....he was too important. To you at least. You ripped a sword from a dead angel nearby and used it to cut through any other that got between you and the entryway to the hotel. You knew you were being stupid and reckless and silly because this was Alastor you were thinking about after all. But still, still, that bloody taste of worry had you and you couldn't get it to go away no matter how much you swallowed.

By the time you reached the roof things had reached a major head. Tentacles, shadows, a split second in which maybe, just maybe this would go better than the dread inside you predicted. But that colossal angelic asshole known as the First Man just had to be a dick and you stepped out in time to see him attack Alastor, breaking his staff and the confusion that filled you was matched by the unfiltered sound of the Radio Demon's voice. "What just happened?....Fuck."

"Alastor!" you called out and moved to try to get over to him.

What could you do? You were just a sinner, another of the souls trapped in Hell, prey to the angels, prey to the Overlords, prey to everyone. You weren't anything special, anything important, just another person who failed to be good in their mortal life and ended up down here instead. This was the greatest demon you knew and the most dangerous angel you knew of, and you, you were nothing.

But seeing Adam slash at Alastor, the Radio Demon go flying, be hurt, you narrowed your eyes and gripping tight the angel blade you'd stolen, you snarled with an intensity you weren't used to, an aggression you didn't know from within you. He stepped closer to Alastor, smirking, gloating, and not paying any mind as you came at him from the side, moving swift and deadly.

The blade dug in deep and the blood came a golden hue that should have beautiful if not coming from him. The grunt that came from Adam was less pain and more annoyance and he looked down at you like he might an ant. "What the hell bitch, you really want to fucking die first? Cuz I can totally do that for you."

For someone so big he moved quick. And his hand gripped around your throat tight, cutting off air and circulation very quick. Sinners shouldn't need to breathe, that was stupid, but you knew this sensation, you knew the feeling of choking and as he lifted you off your feet you struggled, let go of the sword to claw at his hands, to try to free yourself. His mask showed no more mercy than his troops did, the cruelty and sadism of beings who didn't even deign to show their faces when they came down to kill you; you reached out, wanting to at least see if you remove it, maybe scratch out his dumb eyes before he kills you. Give Alastor the time to get something done, to recover. At least you'd stopped this monster from hurting him.

Blood rushing through your ears as consciousness started to wane, you could have almost sworn you heard a chuckle, dark and familiar even without it's filter. Good. He was okay....

Adam was seconds from snapping your neck when a shadow tentacle lurched out and pierced his arm, forcing him to drop you. Already out like a light you fell limply but were caught by Alastor's own shadow that carefully held you in it's arms before returning to his side. The Radio Demon chuckled still, through the blood, through the pain, through the madness threatening to come forth as his form started to twist and deform, taking on his more demonic state.

"Have to disagree with you there," he hissed and smiled, feeling the changes, feeling the crawling of the Winter under his skin, the creature hungry, always hungry, and the chain that held him in place; the shadow moved to cover both of you as he continued, "Radio's not dead, but it is ending this broadcast."

Adam laughed through his own pain as the two of you were teleported away to safety and Alastor groaned as you reappeared elsewhere, hand over the gaping wound on his chest, trying to hold back the madness, the insanity, the Winter. His eyes slipped towards you in the process.

You should have not been up there, you were supposed to be out on the battlefield with all the others, with the fodder and the ones that mattered. You were a fool and an useless pawn, barely entertainment; you were not a monster, you were barely a sinner. You showed up at the hotel looking for sanctuary; you got along with them all and he found your presence....

Not unlikeable. Because you seemed to like him, knowing what he was, knowing who he was. You never treated him as anything less than a terror among demons but it didn't escape his attention how you perked up when he turned his usual gentlemanly facade towards him, as if he could ever be anything but to one of the fairer gender. But you never seemed like the type to try to face Adam knowing it could only be your death and the image of you moving at the much larger angel, sword in your hands, and your expression, it was burned in his chest.

You were not supposed to be there and you were not supposed to anything but something to throw at the angels to distract them, in hopes that Charlie would survive another fight. But the way you called out his name and the way your smile would shine when you looked at him, when he'd pet your head, when he'd tease and torment the other hotel residents, when he made all sorts of silly comments and puns. You, this stupid little sinner who didn't even really belong because what redemption was there for someone who wasn't even really a bad guy? What was your sin?

Alastor realized he didn't even know that one. It never mattered. You never mattered. But now you did.

The realization made his skin crawl more and he started towards the hotel again, arriving back after the battle, to his tower destroyed, to the rubble and debris and his own mind screaming.

He was a monster and he nearly died. He, the great Radio Demon, almost destroyed. For saving his friends. His friends. And then there was you and his mind raced more. No this could not be, no this would not be. The Winter and hunger under his skin crawled more and approaching his equipment he dug sharp claws into the metal, leaving gashes in his wake.

No.

No.

Not him.

But yes. And there you were, still asleep, still hurt; he turned to look at you and saw the bruises on your neck and thought of you clawing at Adam, ready to go down fighting. There because of....

Him.

An emotion he didn't recognize crawled up alongside the hunger and he tilted his head before reaching out with those sharp cruel claws to draw them, all too gently, along your cheek. His smile twitched, his eyes narrowed.

" 'Altruistist Alastor, died for his friends'," he mocked himself, "I'll find a way around this damned deal, just you wait. But tell me little one, what is this emotion I feel creeping up inside me? If you created it I expect you to explain it."

You didn't answer. Of course not. He took you from the shadow and cradled you carefully in his own arms.

Whatever it meant, whatever it was, it made his madness feel both better and worse. The hunger was dispelling a bit but now all he could think about was you.

How strange.

[highhhfiveee]

mint

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: you’re abby’s mint chocolate-loving babysitter. mike takes notice. wc: 1.3k tags: suggestiveness, swearing, fluff. *minor movie spoiler that isn’t a spoiler fr but kind of is* a/n: oi. this is my first official piece of fanfic on tumblr and i'm excited but also super nervous. i never knew what characters i wanted to write for as most of my fandoms are obsolete tbh (teen wolf and maze runner, i'm looking at you 💔) but after watching the fnaf movie and falling in love with j hutch like i'm 14 again, i wanted to try to write for mike!  i'm sorry if this story sucks tbh. i wrote it pretty quickly, did not edit it in any way (watch for grammar and spelling errors!) and i'm still trying to establish characters and plot and do all this silly billy worldbuilding, but i'll get better! i'm also taking requests for both fluff and smut, so if y'all would like to send anything for me to write, i'll def accept! like i said in my last post, i think i'm gonna redo my tumblr layout so i can feel like a true fanfic/misc blog lmao so ignore its under construction phase ((: i hope y'all enjoy this though bc i've been thinking ab mike schmidt all night 

i have sooo many ideas, but between last night and this morning, i’ve been thinking of abby’s babysitter!reader (bc fuck max). 

you’ve been channel surfing in the living room since you put abby down, working with her to lock down a nightly routine. ideally, she’d bathe, eat dinner (god willingly), brush her teeth, and then you’d be able to get her to lay in bed and doze off. some nights, this required dessert. 

“you just brushed your teeth though. it’s gonna taste gross.”

“not if it’s one of those mint chocolate things you always have.” you straighten up, eyes squinted at the child before you; she meant the small, sometimes melted, squares of Andes mint chocolate you always kept. they’d always been your favorite, a guilty pleasure in this fucked up world. 

you hadn’t been babysitting abby for long, and you didn’t realize that she'd been watching you crush the chocolates like it was light work. they were easy to eat, and once you had one, you found out how easy it was to eat another one, and then another one, and then another one until there was a mountain of crinkled foil next to your phone and chocolate smeared on your face. 

"please, y/n. just one," you didn't exactly know if it was a lie. abby was convincing, able to break you down with her eyes, pleading and puppy-dog like. "please." 

you cave, leaning down to brush her hair back from her forehead and place a gentle kiss on the skin. with pursed lips, you whisper, "fine, but tomorrow night. i have to get some more." 

abby does nothing but smile, eyes fluttering closed. you stay with her for a bit like you always do--watching the way her chest rises and falls, and how her features twitched with slumber. features scarily similar to mike's. 

of course she'd look like mike. they were siblings, no shit, but the resemblance occupied your brain. there was sweet abby, with her colorful clothes and scribbled drawings and persuasive aura, and then there was mike. 

you shake your head, giving abby another kiss before exiting her room. you didn't need to think about mike. he wasn't what you were here for. you'd come to abby's school as an aide and after she'd privately confided in you about her home life, you knew you had to help her. you would do anything for her, even if that meant taking care of her while suppressing the overwhelming school girl crush you had on her older brother.

mike was a bit older than you, which didn't scare you at all. guys in their early 20s were rarely mature, doing anything they could just to fuck; but guys in their late 20s, mike specifically, had only ever shown you couth, surprisingly. 

for nearly two months, five mornings a week, the sound of the door being unlocked would ring out. you'd turn to see sunshine pouring into the living room, enveloping mike's brooding figure in a radiant golden glow.

he'd hang his coat on the wall hooks, drop his bag down to his feet, and give you a small but warm smile. you'd try to not to embarrass yourself as you two made small talk, packing up your things.

you always left unscathed, but recently it'd been hard. you were always thinking about him, dreaming about him even; how his hair would feel between your fingers, how his hands would feel on your face, how his face would feel between your thighs. 

the thought is washed away, drowned out by the sound effects of a loud infomercial when the door opens, and you're turning and squinting against the wash of pale yellow on your face. mike steps forward with a, "hey, y/n" and you meekly raise your hand to wave. 

he hangs his hoodie up to reveal his shoulder blades flexing under an uncharacteristically tight navy blue sweater. you can't help but stare.

"just wake up?" his voice is raspy, but he's still facing the wall, rummaging in his bag for something. 

"um...yeah. brain's still turning on," you lie, tossing the thick blue blanket off your body. you didn't sleep at all, kept up with your thoughts and the last of your Andes mints (though you loved her, you couldn't give abby your last ones).

"hm," he mutters, finally turning to you but keeping his hands behind his back. something crinkles in them and you raise your eyebrow at the tired yet amused expression he takes with you. it's enough to make your body hot and you awkwardly pull at the collar of your shirt, fanning yourself off.

"hot?" the gravelly tone sends you into a giggling fit, shaking your head as you shoot to your feet. you have to leave before you do or say something you regret. 

"uh, yeah, it was s-super hot under that...um...blanket. i shouldn't have worn sweatpants to s-sleep," you stutter, nodding your head along with mike as he steps closer to you. this couldn't be the moment something happens, right? it'd been so casual between you too, very friendly, and he'd never shown any signs of trying to do anything with you before. why would he choose right now, so spontaneously? 

he stands before you, the slightest bit taller than you. you're able to see every pore, every freckle, every microscopic detail in his eyes and lips.

you open your mouth, hoping your heart doesn't fall out, to ask what's happening, when he reveals a bag of Andes mints, one bigger than you've ever seen.

your mouth stays open in surprise. "wh-"

"abby's been talking about them. i wondered where she found out about them but--" he nudges his head towards the coffee table, where a small mound of green wrappers lay. you swear under your breath, cursing yourself for not throwing them away like you usually do. 

"i'm sorry," you whisper, blushing beyond measure as you begin to frantically pack your things. "i should be more careful with that stuff."

"god, y/n, you're saying it like it's coke," mike chuckles. he sets the bag down on the couch and reaches out to you, placing his hand on yours as you shove things into your tote. "hey." 

his voice forces you to stop and look up. you melt under his stare just like you do with abby. the puppy-dog thing must run in the family.

"i feel bad about not being able to pay you yet, and i really appreciate all you're doing. abby told me that you loved those mints, so..."

"thank you, mike," you say over the sound of your pounding heart. you didn't care about the money, you didn't need it. being appreciated by someone who made your heartbeat resonate throughout your body was payment enough. "this is really sweet." 

"thank you, y/n. you don't know how much this means to me." You scoff, throwing your tote over your shoulder and looking down at your feet. 

"i'm always happy to help." you and mike stand facing each other for what feels like hours, the air as thick as molasses between you. his eyes were squinted, low and dark and intriguing.

you wished you could read his mind. what was he thinking? did his heart do the same thing as yours, wacking against his ribcage with no end in sight? did he stay up thinking about you when he was supposed to be sleeping, imagining how you felt, what you sounded like, how you tasted---

"see you later tonight?" his voice rocks you out of your trance. he's not thinking about you. he's tired, wondering when you'll leave so he can fall into his bed and doze off. 

"yeah. tell abby i said i'll see her tonight." your smile is tight as you exit the house, cursing at yourself as you get into your car. 

you didn't know how long you could go on like this. 

ya, i know this sucks and it isn't really anything but we're gonna work our way through these fics and blurbs to really develop a cute relationship (,: i will still be writing other fics for mike, and possibly using another babysitter!reader in a different universe, but as for now, we're gonna be rocking with these two (: (thinking that we’ll label her as 🌱🍫!reader)  all notes are appreciated (: thanks for reading!

[olderthannetfic]

Maybe it's because I'm neurodivergent, but something I don't get is when people bring up that it used to be that nobody got comments, we use to post in formats where no one could comment, it used to be that people posted fic and you didn't even know how many hits you got, etc. and seem to be proud of how much they don't care about comments and hits.

And I get it. It's unhealthy to like comments or hits. But I don't know if that means it's inherently more healthy to not like them. I certainly don't think it's healthy to see people say, "I wish someone commented on my stuff" and go, "back in MY day we weren't PARASOCIAL LOSERS who used fandom as SOCIAL MEDIA! We understood that fandom was about TRUE ART and TRUE ART doesn't involve others!" because... it just feels like, to me, it shouldn't bother people? If you're really, truly happy with your fandom experience that didn't involve talking to others, why would you then talk to others, even to tell them they're wrong? If silence is golden, why would you ruin it?

And before anyone goes "typical stupid Gen Z kid, wanting fandom to be social media": I quit writing three years ago, I'm not parasocially attempting to use fandom to talk to people.

--

Is this something people in general say, or is it something that one True Art anon with serious emotional issues says?

There's nothing parasocial about commenting on people's fanfic. The only way that would be true is if you're so influencer-poisoned that you think popular fic writers are internet celebrities totally separate from their audiences. In fact, fanfic writers and readers, popular and unpopular, are peers. The people who try to give themselves airs suck and are best avoided.

In oldschool spaces, we most certainly talked to people whose fic we liked so that we could make friends with them. Actual friends. Not some weird cult around a youtuber.

It's also not at all unhealthy to like comments and hits: It's unhealthy to obsess over them.

People who've been in fandom for decades will confirm that the ratio of hits or zine sales or whatever to good feedback was always terrible and so fixating on stats like that will just depress you. Trying to "fix" it is futile. That doesn't mean you shouldn't have an emotional reaction. An emotional reaction is inevitable. It's just that realistic context will make the situation feel less personal.

--

Anon... true fandom olds bitch about modern social media bullshit because it represents a loss of community.

Actual community is the opposite of parasocial.

You need to hang out with better people if this weird shit is what you're seeing.