#i don't usually write meta (if this is even that?) but couldn't help myself

[ardent-fox]

Thinking about how differently Ian and Mickey were raised and how their families influenced the way that they love and show that love.

How Ian's had his siblings to fall back on his entire life, while Mickey's spent most of his time as an outsider in his own home. The way Ian's affection says "I have so much love in me to give, but I love you more than anything", and Mickey's is more of "I've never really loved anyone, but you're the exception" and both are equally valid and just as intense, it's never been about who loves who more or who fell for the other first.

Also, the fact that they are so similar, yet different - they both have an aspect of duality to them, Ian being soft yet tough and Mickey being rough around the edges yet sensitive, which provides such a solid basis for their relationship, yet keeps their dynamic interesting. Ian "I would do anything to make your life better" Gallagher and Mickey "I'll fuckin' obliterate anyone who harms you" Milkovich feeling free to just be themselves while protecting one another in their own unique way.

While I'm glad that Ian grew up with a support system in which affection was openly expressed, I can't help but think about how Mickey hadn't and has probably only ever felt truly loved by Ian. How he's had to hide so many facets of himself growing up and, while he's had some beef with the Gallagher siblings, seemed more relaxed and content living in their house than he'd ever been. He may have witnessed some arguments there from time to time, but it was never truly malicious or abusive, and their shared love of Ian has always made them push their differences aside and work together when he needs their help.

This is why, even though Mickey is a fence-sitter regarding him and Ian having kids, I feel like it could potentially be beneficial to him if they decide to take the plunge. It might give him a chance to create his own tribe of people who love him and who he loves back, his little supportive unit that he's never had before. He's had such lovely character development over the years and we see him open up more in the last season especially, and the way we're left with him and Ian working on their communication gives the message that they will carve their way out in life no matter its challenges.

Don't even get me started on what a kick-ass dad I think Mickey (and Ian) would be if he were to put his whole heart into parenthood. I imagine he'd continue to let his guard down even more with their kids, to the point where they'd stare blankly at Ian when he tells them how closed-off and defensive Mickey was in their youth, not seeing him that way at all. That's not to say that, even if they never come to be, the progress within himself and their relationship won't continue to be just as valid.

So yeah, I guess my point is that even though their families shaped them in the way they love and perceive themselves to some degree, they also get a chance to filter everything out and implement only the good parts when creating their life together now, which is honestly amazing all on its own.

[sybilius]

✍️🚀🔮 for the asks!!!

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

I like to sit on my bed with my laptop and write! Since I write a lot of wrestling fic lately and I like to write off the energy from matches, my ideal time frame is probably a 3-4 hour block after dinner in the evening. A 20 minute match, some outline and writing from that, a shower to mull it all over, and then write until I get tired or feel I'm done for the night.

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

Outline first, big time. I'm a planner by trade. I have to know what the coherent intention/themes I want to explore in a fic are – the most I can write on very little planning is probably 1.5k words around a specific moment that makes me feel feral. And even then I usually have to hook myself in with some kind of vague structure to get it done.

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

Honestly that's a tough one! As a planner what works for me is to find a way to catch the shape of your ideas without having to commit to writing them. I like bullet points for longer fics, with headings for plot, themes, occasional character meta and questions. A lot of these don't make it to fully written fic stages, but it's a way to let things stew and avoid the burnout cycle from chasing things in too many directions.

I also like having an "unmoored" document where I haven't necessarily committed to any kind of project, I just put in little dialogue snippets and vibes. I've got two on the go right now, for two different ships! Those help me play :)

I don't know if I consider that advice though, and it's definitely neurotypical advice– I've known lots of co-authors that write in passionate bursts in which they get one-sitting word counts that I couldn't dream of, so YMMV on this.

[mprimn]

2.1 update, and a dream come true.

Happy 1st Anniversary to Honkai Star Rail!

I'm so glad the update came a few days before my flight or else I'd be distracted from everything. Though, I already am distracted because I should be packing my stuff right now. I'll leave that to me in the future.

As someone who used to play Guns Girl Z it's nice to see how far miHoYo had come, especially HOYO-MiX. While I couldn't say much about the story (I unfortunately am a dialogue skipper), I've always loved their music. Sometimes I would boot GGZ up only to go to the OST section and listen to my favorite tracks for hours. Even after I dropped Genshin Impact from burnout, I still find myself checking out OST of newer updates from time to time. Heck, whenever my brain gets too loud at night, I would calm myself down with Liyue or Dragonspine playlist. Yet somehow, it's different when it comes to HSR.

But before that let me slide one of my favorite tracks from GGZ here ;

There is something about older music that sounds simpler yet enjoyable when compared to what we usually hear now. A banger from the past. Not saying one is better than another, of course. HOYO-MiX always delivers.

HSR OSTs are really good. I honestly don't know why it didn't hit me as hard as the other two games. There is only one track so far that strike my interest enough to make me hunt it down on YouTube so I can loop it while laying on my bed as I stare at the ceiling (the one named "Stade du Miroir" if you're curious). I've also said above that I'm a story skipper. Then what exactly keeps me on hook? To be fair, I've always felt neutral about HSR.

Until he arrived.

Look at this man.

A beauty bestowed upon Xianzhou Luofu.

I was intrigued.

From that day on, my goal was set.

Meta or whatever.

If he isn't E6 I'm not pulling for anyone else.

It was a miracle that I managed to get Luocha to E2 on his first banner. I couldn't remember how much I pulledーNo, I'm not a whale. I'm but a little dolphin who purchased a couple of monthly passes. Welt also came home on one of the pulls along with Luocha. Maybe he's trying to stop this pretty blonde from reaching me. After all, his past encounters with similar looking men didn't end well. I had a feeling I got the 3rd Luocha on a solo a day or two before the banner disappeared too.

Charming new characters appeared left and right as the story progress, but I stayed strong (I didn't. I accidentally got Blade while trying to build pity, tried for Argenti and stopped before I hit 50/50 then lost about 50 pulls to Ratio LC). Sunday and Aventurine worried me because oh boy, how would I be able to resist those two. Thankfully, as I'm writing, Luocha's rerun came together with Acheron. I would've lost it if Aventurine was first.

Long story short, this is the final result after around 250 pulls.

I have 21k stellar jades left, so I may be able to save enough for Aventurine (or Sunday if he is confirmed to be playable). Though, I'll have to wait for guides to help me collect chest because my head still hurt after completing the main story. Penacony maps make me feel dizzy and somehow the main story makes it even worse.

Now I have an excuse to stop playing HSR for a few days so I can continue preparing for my flight.

Sigh...Can I skip every process and just warp there?

[freuleinanna]

postcards

Characters: Travis Hackett Chosen ending: The Hacketts are all dead except Travis, Laura survives Short summary: Travis is trying to cope with the trauma of losing his family as best he can (which is not good at all). At the same time, unsigned postcards start to arrive. Words count: 2595 (trauma, healing)

Tags: @b33barlowsstuff, @imperfectjam, @sera-wonderland, @strawberryoverkill, @hrefna-the-raven (tagging my Travis squad, though it's ok if this one's not to your liking)

(I don't pretend to write master psychology or trauma, so I'm sorry if you hate it, but a Travis!meta thought wrote itself into a fic, plus I'm still on my Travis x Laura enemies-to-slightly-less-enemies-with-connection bullshit, oops)

September, 26 This feels stupid.

(no date)

fix the fence

buy coffee

start those quarterly reports !

check podcast  nothing new

(no date) No, I know, it ain't it. I'll try tomorrow. Can't think of anything worth saying.

October, 6 Here's the thing. Chris used to keep a journal. He said it helped, and I owe it to him to try. Just gotta write whatever's on my mind or stuff that happened. So. Drank a beer. Took another patrol shift. Way behind on the quarterlies, really gotta start on them now. What else?

God, what a load of crap. Chris is dead. Bobby's dead. Caleb's dead. Kaylee's dead. Dad's dead.

That's what's on my fucking mind.

October, 7 Ma is dead. There, I wrote it. Feels good. Not that she's    I don't mean fuck

October, 19 Full moon yesterday. Didn't know what else to do, so I started packing. Unpacked around dawn. I don’t need silver bullets anymore.

October, 27 A postcard came from NY. Weird. Nothing but the sender's address. Threw it out.

October, 31 Fucking habits.

I was patrolling, and drove to the camp site. Didn't mean to, just sort of ended up here. Sat in the car like an idiot looking at the windows. Usually, one would be lit. I'd get out, come in, we'd crack a couple of cold ones. I can’t bring myself to //

A bunch of kids just tried to break in on camp's grounds. I think they were looking for a place to get wasted on a Halloween night, which I completely forgot about. One of them was dressed as a werewolf and kept howling. For a moment, I thought Anyway. Scaring the shit out of them felt good. Shouting, too. Disrespectful assholes didn't have any right to be here. Not here.

PS. Almost called Chris to tell the story and have a good laugh.

November, 14 Sent in the quarterly reports last week. WAY overdue. Things kind of  lose their importance, even I know it’s not a good sign. Everything that happens swooshes right through my brain, in and out, like a bullet. Maybe a bullet is what I need

That last part came out of nowhere. I'm not really thinking it. I mean I wasn't, but now that I wrote it, I obviously am. Shit! This whole journal thing is fucking my brain up. Great advice, C. Real nice. It should be helping, not making more mess. How am I supposed to figure it out?

No, fuck that. Ma raised us better than self-pity.

But then, Ma also raised us to protect the family.

November, 19 Full moon. I still measure time by calendar marks. Three moons ago they were all alive.

December, 18 Full moon.

December, 26 Another postcard came. Obnoxious Christmassy stuff, with one snowman sneezing the carrot out and another dodging it and shouting 'I'm okay!' Nothing more, nothing less. Someone must have screwed up the address. This had better stop.

Anyway, this past month. Nothing much to say, I was clearing out the house. Couldn't be there with all of the rooms untouched, so. Yeah. That's it. Done the job.

(later) No, I shouldn't lie, should I? What's even the point.

It smells empty now, the house. Desolate. Like a place where people haven't lived for a long time, even though I've literally been there. I can't seem to fill it up on my own. I'm not enough.

Many things there. Memories. Found Bobby's old book about horses. He fucking loved horses, that kid. Couldn't remember where he put his shoes but recited dozens of breeds by heart. He dreamt we'd turn the house into a ranch. It was that one year when our folks shut the Quarry down cause Bobby was getting bigger, and more and more different, and he needed more attention instead of less. He was obsessed with the idea for months, driving Ma insane. Chris finally had to step in and say, 'Hey, I'll do you one better. We'll reopen the camp, and you'll have lots of kids to play with, how's that?' Bobby almost shat his pants with happiness. Poor lonely kid. I was too grown-up and off to college, and Chris was too… I don’t want to say normal, but maybe he was. He had his own friends. Bobby was with Ma most of the time and Ma was… well, she was Ma. Out of us three, Chris was the only one who had his special way with her. So they decided to reopen. I don't know if Bobby ever remembered the ranch idea again because I think, from then on, he slept and saw himself with a bunch of kids playing together on the camp's grounds.

Spent half an hour on the floor with that goddamn book, nearly crying. We should have got the fucking horses.

January, 17 Full moon. Don't know why I keep doing that.

January, 27 Moved into the station a couple of weeks ago. With all that space in the house, there's just too much, well, space. I'm used to having a big family, that’s the thing. Another habit. Anyone who grew up with one would know, it sinks it teeth in and doesn't let go.

Even C. and I, we went away for college only to come back home. I think, by then it had already been late. That's how Ma rasied us, always keep close to your family and care for it as best you can. We learned it with Bobby, and then with Chris's kids when they came along. We had been a wolf pack long before half of us turned into wolves. The house is cracked in the corners and crooked all over, and we were, too, with our issues and complicated relationships. It was never simple. At least, I knew who I was when I was there. A son, an elder brother, an uncle, lots and lots of strings upon strings. I don't really know who I am now. A survivor, I guess. I survived my family. Any one of us would say that's worth a gold fucking medal.

February, 3 Apparently, in order for it to help, it's supposed to hurt. Catharsis.

Don't have much time to write, but I got on one of those websites for people who lost someone. There are therapists there, too, so you can talk to them if you need to.

Long story short, after a few false-starts, I found Doc Morgan. She was okay. Talked to me for a while about loss, about myself, too. How I’m eating, how I’m sleeping, agitations, fixations. There was, surprisingly, a lot to say. That’s when the catharsis thing came up, I was talking about how Chris was writing and I was trying, too, but it wasn’t working. Then she started asking questions about my family and how I lost them, when it happened (this I could answer) and how (this I couldn't), so I had to drop it.

Before that, she also said I 'harbor a lot of guilt'. No shit, Doc. I wish there was someone to talk about it with. Someone who knew the truth.

Catharsis, huh? Shit.

March, 8 Thirty-five years on the force, and that’s the first time it happens. Got shot on the job. Nothing deadly, a bullet in the arm. Had to wear a cast for a month, so writing is more of an exercise now. Some punk was trying to rob the petrol station, things went south, and I got a bullet, that’s it. Guess hunting werewolves makes you cocky enough to underestimate an ordinary dick with a gun.

Anyway, the whole thing blew out of proportion, and I got handed an award and got my picture taken. Sweet fucking Jesus. I bet they knew there’s no other fool who’d agree to patrol this god-forsaken piece of land, so they were sucking up like hell.

Two new postcards came. This is getting annoying. Haven’t had a look yet, just noticed them in the mail box.

February 16 was the full moon. Still restless.

March, 9 ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.

The postcards. Almost forgot about them again, but went to take a look.

One looks kind of vintage, with two dogs sharing a bone and the ‘I don’t have a bone to pick with you’ phrase in a heinous font. The other is a goddamn get-well card sent by post.

I looked the address up, should have done that long ago (some cop!). It’s a dorm address, for the NYS College of Veterinary Medicine at Cornell University. A vet college.

I don’t know if I’m tired or pissed. Both. Pissed, more. Who does she think she is sending me postcards? Why? Is this a joke, does she think we’re friends? Why would I ever want to hear from her? What in hell are those writings? Got a hold of the previous card, the Christmas one. ‘I’m okay’. And now, ‘I don’t have a bone to pick with you’. God, and the get-well one, too. She must have checked the local papers to see that article. The sheer ARROGANCE. Should have left her right there in that basement with Chris.

(later) Got so wound up that I drove to the nearest post office. Picked the one white card there, the one you’re supposed to draw on to make it personal. Left it blank, wrote STOP IT on the back, and sent right away. This has got to end.

March, 18 Full moon. Up all night again. This, too, has got to end.

March, 26 Went patrolling again and drove to the Quarry by the end of the shift. There’s nothing horrifying on uneasy about it in morning light, just a bunch of wooden cabins with sun shining on the surface of the lake. Almost peaceful. Walked around for a while there, thinking. You’d never guess how close to the earth lie the dark secrets hidden all around.

I don’t know what to do with it. The main cottage is ruined, and I don’t exactly have the time or money to repair it. Even if I did, I certainly can’t run it on my own. Chris knew his way around, he loved it. Really, loved it. Spent hours designing improvement plans, or getting the best deals for food delivery, or talking with kids. He was a natural. I’m no Chris. I can’t really fill his shoes, never could.

I’ll probably have to shut it down or resell. The thought doesn’t sit right. I’m on the verge of the right, reasonable decision but can’t make it for the life of me. It’s all wrong.

April, 4 A postcard came. Of course. I guess I felt it in my guts that it would.

A profound-quote kind this time, the type that’s used for aesthetics, not for actual posting.

Stood by the mail box for a good minute. I think I understand now.

Catharsis.

April, 13 It’s time now, makes no sense to postpone it any longer. In order for it to help, it’s supposed to hurt.

I have always, all my life, tried to be a good person. Do the right thing, make the right decisions. I am a police officer, for God’s sake, have been for thirty-five years. I swore to protect people. But Ma also raised us to protect the family. What does one do when being a good person contradicts being a good brother, a good son?

I harbor a lot of guilt, Doc Morgan said. Damn right, I do. Good people, innocent people died, because I made a choice. All it takes is one broken oath, because once you break it, there’s no going back. There’s no clear path, nowhere to put your loyalty. All you can do is keep going, further and further into the woods. And along that road, there’s always a choice. People you don’t know, whom you’d sworn to protect, or your family, whom you love. Who do you protect? Whose life do you save? They don’t have answers in the police academy. It’s like that ethical problem where you’re riding a trolley without any sort of brakes, and if you keep on your track, you’ll kill a bunch of people, but if you make a choice to pull the lever and switch the trolley to another track, you’ll only kill one. They say the answer is often ‘don’t switch, don’t take that responsibility, let it ride’. Here’s where the catch comes in. What if those people are your family? One stranger seems like a reasonable enough sacrifice to save the ones you love. Here’s another catch. What if this situation comes up over, and over, and over again? And what if you pull the lever so many times that the pile of bodies grows out of control? Does a good person still do it? Does a good son?

He does, it turns out, because no one ever says: enough. Not one damn person. Dad didn’t say it, Ma certainly never did, not even Chris. The good son, the golden son. I can’t hold it against him, really, we all loved him. He was the kind of person who made everything better simply by showing up with his broad smile and stupid jokes. It just so happened, that the choice was mine, and there were always switches, and Chris was always on the tracks. His children, too. Ultimately, all of us. And once I stopped making that damn choice, the trolley rode right through.

‘Guilt is a ravenous creature,’ that’s what it said, on the postcard. It is, indeed. It’s the never-ending tear between ‘what if I never pulled the lever’ and ‘what if I pulled it just one more time’. It’s people you swore to protect but didn’t, and family you were raised to protect but didn’t. The guilt of not being a good person and not being a good son.

I’ve split myself over it so much I can hardly feel the halves, so I’m saying: enough. I’ve done enough. I’d loved them and protected them as best I could but the truth is, the most important choice is to stop sitting in a crashed trolley contemplating your choices. One person with a rope can’t pull everyone else back from the well. At some point, you’ve got to decide to cut the rope. I’m doing just that. I’ve spent enough time being a good brother and son. Maybe I can try being a good person again now.

April, 14 Went to send a postcard. I don’t know what she’s gonna make of it and if she understands at all. The whole thing is just too hard to explain. Catharsis.

For a second, I even thought of tearing out the last entry and sending it as a letter, but shit, the drama. So I went to the camp and took one of the Quarry postcards instead, from the souvenirs stand. Didn’t know what to write. Then just wrote THANK YOU. Maybe it helps her guilt, too, the one that’s been making her send those cards.

I hope so. God, I hope she understands.

April, 17 Full moon yesterday. Slept through it.

May, 1 The answer came. LIKEWISE. She did understand.

//

//

//

P.S. July, 7 I didn’t plan on writing anything else, but then another card came. A happy-birthday card, an absolutely idiotic one, with printed cake, and candles, and confetti.

I’m not even gonna ask how the hell she knew.

But then again, I could always send a postcard and find out.

[olderthannetfic]

I've been low key obsessed with your blog. You've managed to cultivate a lot of interesting conversations and topics, so I wind up always coming back to scroll anything I may have missed. So, out of curiosity, what motivated you to create this blog, and what kinds of conversations and responses do you enjoy the most?

--

Heh. It's just my personal blog. I couldn't get my usual username, so the name is a random joke about some 1990s fandom wank I was reading about at the time. I don't really do side blogs or themed blogs usually. I just have a personal account wherever fandom has moved most recently.

What motivated me to join tumblr specifically was a promise I made to myself back in like 2003 to not be an embarrassing grandma next time we were all switching platforms and to try to be an early(ish) adopter of the next big thing instead of kvetching about it and needing to be dragged by my ear.

By now, I'm much more used to Tumblr, and Dreamwidth feels awkward and unfamiliar, which is pretty funny. I wouldn't have predicted that back in 2011.

--

I enjoy meta. I like it when people have long text comments about how they see a fandom or a trend in fandom. I love it when people post about bits of fandom history I don't know about. I like hearing about fandom outside of English. I like people posting personal impressions and anecdotes as much as harder facts, but I don't like appeals to emotion. I like people celebrating their rare fandoms and underappreciated fannish interests but not guilt trips.

If you really love the thing, go make the thing happen! Don't bitch about nobody else doing it for you! In fact, that's the root of a lot of what I like in fandom: the DIY, can-do attitude of community and infrastructure builders that we see in niche subcultures. I think it's been diluted a bit as fic fandom has become more accessible and mainstream, but it's still around.

Basically, I like an oldschool Livejournal and mailing list vibe. I'm in fandom for conversation and discussion and longform text.

I want that oldschool style but without the depressive wangsting about being left behind or the full dose of 'offa my lawn' that sometimes goes along with it in the genuinely oldschool spaces. I want to see younger people picking up bits of that LJ vibe because they enjoy it and it's a cultural style that can be applied to any community, not because they think they were born decades too late.

It's never too late to go consume old media or research an interest or pick up a hobby! It's never too late to create new communities, using what we like of the old and discarding the shitty bits. Somebody made a Miami Vice discord not so long ago. I was shocked but pleased.

I like it when fans who build things tell me about their cool projects, whether it's a little discord or something as ambitious as bobaboard. I like it when people ask me for help with their research or tell me the results of research they've already done. I love those "how do I find fandom history thing X?" questions that let us dive down a rabbit hole of figuring out what platform the thing would have been on and if there are any wayback links.

I guess I prefer happy things overall. We all need more happiness in our lives. But I'm not someone for whom pure squee of the "So dreamy!" *swoon* variety works very well: I express my love by analyzing and making things, and I like other fans who do the same.

I keep meaning to go back through the BTS a/b/o fic I've read and pick out all the weird gender roles and fun worldbuilding ones and write some meta about how this style of fandom led me to liking a/b/o where before I hated it. That's the kind of happy + navel gaze-y fandom thing I most enjoy. When I find someone else writing this kind of thing, even for fandoms I don't care about, I love it.

I dunno... I think it's pretty obvious what I enjoy from what I spend my time on: longform text, intellectualism, history, telling sanctimonious bullies to stuff it.

[threewaysdivided]

as a fellow painfully slow writer, i'd just like to say—i feel you; i understand you, and you are not alone atop the Word Glacier. stay strong, and if it comes down to it, don't be afraid to rant to the wallpaper! it can't exactly talk back, but i've found getting spoilers into even just the open air can help soothe the ache—either way, i wish you an untroubled pen.

(referring to this post)

Aww, thanks anon! And all the very best with your project as well 💜

I suppose this is the double-edged sword of the planner-writing style.

On one hand, having the story already planned out in depth is great! The path is already there so I don't have to stress about pantsing myself into a plot-hole I can't get out of. I can look ahead and remind myself of future things I love (and know that I've already done some of the prep-work for them when the time comes). I can move up and down the timeline to work on future scenes if I'm not feeling the immediate upcoming chapter (I've been playing around with some Conner stuff recently). And sometimes I can take a break from the storytelling altogether to play with thought-exercises and meta-analyses (hence those posts about The Light and Martian Prejudice). NGL I would love for Deathly Weapons to get a TVTropes page once it's a little further along, so I can see what other people are making of the meta-side. It's fun to be able to plant foreshadowing when I know what it's pointing to - both a little secret for me to enjoy now, and a treat for other people to find later.

But on the other... they say "write for yourself", and in some ways for me this story has already been written. I'm still relishing the details and having fun tinkering around adding new flourishes, little elaborations and rediscovering things in my upcoming notes, but most of those big emotions and moments of discovery are experiences I've already had in planning. It's not in prose, but most of the substance is already there for me - if someone asked me to make a Deathly Weapons wiki, I could probably do that and do it faster than actually putting chapters out. You can probably tell that I usually engage with fandom via meta and reading more than writing. I’m proud of what I've made and I want to get it written up and posted, but the experience of discovering what that story is is definitely something I'm creating to share with others.   DW started out as the fanfic I wanted to find but couldn't, and as the one writing it I can never experience what that blind-read would have been like - it's why I love it when commenters/ reviewers stop by and give me a glimpse of their experiences with it.

(Also, let it not go unsaid: I massively overcommitted with this one. Deathly Weapons has 11 planned missions alongside intervening character chapters. I think YJS1 captured lightning in a bottle and I wanted to reflect some of that in Arc II, but amidst the throes of creativity I kind of jumped in feet-first and ended up setting myself the task of solo-writing a half-season as my first major fanfic project. Whoops.)

Besides that, I think fandom is a very community experience. I got into writing fic through reading it and finding fanart (which I think is the same for a lot of people). I don't really like the word "engagement" these days because of how overused and corporatized it's become but there is something to be said for reciprocity - being part of that shared community and creative energy. It's kind of like mutual gift-giving but the main gift is time.

Being a slow creator is kind of hard in that space because fandom is so ephemeral. There are some series which have unusual staying power (A:TLA and B:TAS are considered classics for good reason and Danny Phantom is infamous as the fandom-which-does-not-die) but most of them will ebb and flow, and age out and sometimes haemorrhage when canon backflips off a cliff over every shark in existence and fanworks are kind of at the whims of that. It's the price we pay for piggybacking off someone else's work and audience. I thought I was safe, I thought I had picked two series which were finished or at least over but nooooo...

It's one of the reasons I'm incredibly grateful to have found some discord friends who were willing to let me share major DW spoilers with them, as well as to @cryxdraws and @doodly-doop for making and sharing their lovely DW art pieces. Not only was it really generous for them to give me their time like that, it's been amazing to know that there are people out there for who this little hobby project means something, and who also think it's worth seeing through to the end.

So, until then...