but it's still fanfiction

hurt tonight.

baz feels empty sometimes.  i got inspired for this fic by listening to let’s hurt tonight by one republic. the lyrics of the song don’t really have that much in common with the fic, it’s more the feel of the song that inspired me. 

word count: 2k


Baz hadn’t been over for a few days. When Penny thought of it she realised it must have been at least a week since she’d seen Baz in the flat. Being busy with her homework had kept her ignorant to this, but now it was weekend and Simon was alone in his room. It was… strange. Baz often couldn’t stay away for longer than two days and the two of them barley ever spent time at Baz’ place.

Penny wondered if they might were in a fight. Even more so, she wondered if she should get involved with whatever was going on between the two of them or not. Her instant response to that would have been no, she was not involving herself in their problems. Though, after she’d thought it over again, she cared a lot more about their relationship than she would have preferred. They were both her friends—and she did not have many more friends besides the two of them—which meant she wished them the best they could have. Especially after all that Simon and Baz had already endured.

After a few moments lost in thought she decided that just asking Simon about it was the least she could do. Offering herself as a supportive listener was different from involving herself in their problems, she told herself.

“Come in,” said Simon shortly after Penny had knocked on his bedroom door.

She walked into his bedroom and saw Simon slouched on his bed with his laptop resting on his lap. He seemed relaxed, probably too relaxed for him to be in a fight with his boyfriend. Simon didn’t hide his emotions very well, you could basically feel any emotion radiating from him. Penny realised she would have known from more than just Baz’ absence if Simon and Baz had been in a fight. So… they weren’t in a fight?

“Baz hasn’t been around for a while. Why isn’t he here tonight? It’s weekend,” Penny asked, unable to keep the curiosity inside her.

Simon shrugged. “He’s been sick the last few days.”

Penny frowned at that. “But, Simon, he’s a vampire.”

Simon copied her frown. “I know… I guess it’s sick as in not feeling well. A vampire can still not feel well right?”



“But,” Penny was still a bit confused about it all, “you don’t know anything more than that? What did he tell you exactly.”

“He said he wasn’t coming by because he wasn’t feeling well.”

“You didn’t ask him what was going on?” Penny asked.

Simon stared at her for a little while. “Should I have?”

“Didn’t you want to know?”

Simon shrugged again. “What difference would it have made?”

“You would have known.” And maybe he needs you, she thought, though she quickly argued herself on that. Baz knew Simon and knew the way Simon worked. If Baz was in need of Simon he should’ve told Simon. You couldn’t expect from Simon to read everything between the lines.

“I guess I would have, but knowing he isn’t feeling well seemed like enough information. I told him I’ll wait for him until he feels better.”

“Maybe you could visit him. Don’t you miss him?” Penny pushed.

“I could,” Simon said and became quiet for a bit. “What if he just wants rest, Penny? He didn’t tell me to come visit him.”

“Did he tell you not to come?”

“… No.”

“You could just text him and ask him if he’d like you to visit him,” Penny encouraged him. Penny felt a little ridiculous for having to help Simon this way, but she knew that sometimes Simon just needed a bit of guidance onto the right path.

Simon nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” Penny said in satisfaction and she left his room.

A few minutes later Simon was at her bedroom door to let her know that he was going over to Baz’ place. Penny smiled to herself whilst shaking her head slightly. The two of them were a piece of work.

Keep reading

Epic Love - Chapter 8 - lajulie - Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 8 - Why Can’t It Be Beautiful?

Leia feels something catastrophic in the Force, and some long-held family secrets are finally revealed.

Author’s Note: I’m not gonna lie–this is going to be a tough chapter. As you read, I hope you will trust me and keep in mind these three things:

  • “TFA fix-it” still applies
  • “Eventual happy ending” still applies
  • Luke Skywalker keeps his promises
Kill Them With Kindness (or something like that)

For @craniumhurricane!! Happy Birthday, dear! Hope it’s a great one :)


Clarke can pinpoint the moment she realized subletting Miller’s room over the summer was a bad idea, and it’s the moment she gets woken up at five in the morning to the sound of someone singing in the shower.

And by someone, she means one Bellamy Blake.

It’s not so much singing as it is humming along to the radio and chiming in when he can guess the end of a phrase, but he’s enthusiastic and loud and obnoxiously awake for such an early morning.

She groans and pounds on the wall with the flat of her hand and he pauses, but it’s only a moment later that he’s cranking the volume up.

Obscenities spill from her lips as she drags herself out of bed and over to her dresser. It’s been less than one week of antagonizing each other and she’s already over it. Over him purposefully leaving the toilet seat up, over his derision when she tries to make conversation, over the energy it takes to argue with him constantly (because there’s no way she’s backing down).

She’s starting to wonder if job experience is really worth the hassle of rooming with Bellamy. As an intern, she’s underpaid and overworked, and often wants nothing more at the end of a long day than to come home and relax. She guesses the one perk is that if she gets to the office early enough she can catch a quick nap. Or at least get away from the asshole one door down the hall.

But of course, he catches her while she’s waiting for her coffee to finish brewing, ambling into the kitchen like he owns the place. Which he does not; Clarke is paying fifty percent rent, per her agreement with Nate. She has just as much right to be here as he does and she’s not about to let him run her out.

“Morning, Princess.”

She glares, which only serves to deepen Bellamy’s smirk. “Morning, Shakira.”

“It was Rihanna, thanks,” he says lightly, reaching around her and swiping the coffee before it’s even done trickling out of the Keurig.

“Hey, that’s mine,” she sputters, reaching for the mug. He jerks it out of reach, but the scalding liquid sloshes over the side and down the sleeve of his white dress shirt.


Keep reading


Imagine Roman having a habit of ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on you.


“You find a movie, Ro’?” You called from the living room as you sat on the comfortable couch.

It was one of the few days both of you had off from WWE, and it was getting late so you two decided to spend some time together.

As you waited for your husband to join you on the couch, you pulled your favorite blanket around yourself. The house you two lived in was so cold due to the harsh winter and where you were living.

“Yeah.” A few seconds later, you looked up as you heard Roman walking into the living room.

He was sporting a black tank top and gray sweats, while his long black hair fell past his shoulders. The tight shirt he wore hugged his body and drew your attention to his muscles. His hair was still damp as he just took a shower.

Roman took his seat right next to me after turning the lights off and setting up the movie. You were already nearly laid down so Roman easily got comfortable by situating himself next to you. As the movie was starting, you grew a little tired so you moved to fully lay down.

Since Roman wanted to be as close to you as possible, he shifted his body to lay his head on your stomach. His legs were intertwined with yours while his arms were hugged around your midsection. Roman sleepily grinned as he cuddled into you while watching the movie.

You smiled at how adorable your husband was before reaching down to play with his long hair.

You couldn’t care less if Roman’s weight was crushing you a little, you honestly loved it when he fell asleep on you. 

“You comfortable, Ro’?” You threaded his soft hair through your fingers while using your other hand to stroking his back.

You remembered that playing with his hair nearly puts him to sleep so you continued playing with the soft tendrils.

“Mmm..” Roman sighed in content as he nuzzled into your stomach. He was struggling to keep his beautiful brown eyes open as he grew more tired. His eyes closed as you started rubbing his shoulders and continued playing with his hair.

A few minutes later you felt Roman’s breath even out on your neck letting you know he was asleep. In those few minutes, Roman had shifted so his head was nestled in the crook of your neck and his arms were wrapped tightly around you.

As you looked down at him one last time, you felt your eyes growing heavy. The sound of the movie drowned into background noise as you found yourself falling asleep as well.


Tag List:

@m-a-t-91@roman-reigns-princess@luceromma4403@thebanksempire@damnbvcky@blessingz2x2@x-fivefoot@mrsamberlopezgoodanoai@caramara3@lilmisscrisis@bisexual-enzo@flowersandfilth@lip-sync@ii-love-roman-reigns@xxgilinskytesfayexx@delightfullyforeign@xxmaddhatter39xx@vivalavonvon@gingergirly41@lavitabella87@reigns420@shaddyytree@greatbreadwizard@thegoddessrileycarter@irenelove83@getusocrazy@msabrina1984@moneypowergloryfameliquorlove @thenameskaelyn@wwefoever70@2loveeverything2
You know what lowkey pisses me off?
  • Hamilton being a pissbaby in fan fiction. I mean yeah, okay, the hurricane was bad, but the character that you are describing went through hell. I don't think a storm would make him an anxious panicked little boy.
  • Or what the hell is this idea of TJeffs being suicidal. It's a lame thinking that every baddie has something he is hiding, or that his arrogance is fueled by his hate of himself.
  • Maybe this is simply not that good and it doesn't really piss me off, but GWash's ultimate dream is to lie in a hammock and drink piña colada, and not to be that always concrete boss.
  • You want to give to characters depth? Well don't make them weak, explain and depict their actions in a right way, and not the 'oh he must of lived through so much pain, and how bout I compensate my fears in my favorite character'

Writing fanfiction is great because you get to channel all your brainpower into your absolute favorite characters. You get to take them and put them in a situation and think seriously and intensely about how they would react to it. You get to examine them and their thought processes and their insecurities and their values and you get to measure and weigh them and then you get to manipulate that situation literally however you want! You can test them! You can make them ridiculously happy! You can hurt them in ways that they’ve never been hurt before and then (if you’re like me and can’t stand unhappy endings) follow them through their recovery from that pain! You can write them into experiences that mirror your own or you can write them into situations that are literally impossible and you can write them into situations that would never happen in the source material. You can write endless AUs, pair your faves with literally any other character and explore their relationship dynamics (!!!!!!!!) and you can follow them through endless journeys because your interaction with them doesn’t end when the source material ends. You get to carry them with you. And your appreciation for that character and your understanding of that character can grow SO MUCH just by being in their head for a little while. 

tl;dr: FANFICTION is so COOL

Mobile Masterlist!!

Eddie Redmayne:

Missing You



Name Calling

Middle Names

Dreams and Freckles

Late Night Diner Shift

Bath Time


Loose Marbles

Geeking Out

The Passing of Time

Meet the Mother

I Thought You’d Never Ask

Valentino Baby Bump

3 a.m Birthday Cakes

Before the World Wakes

Televised Embarrassment

Try Not to Enjoy It Too Much


Lying to the Queen Herself

A Slippery Slope

Tom Hardy:


Kit Harington:

The Horny Philosopher

Reluctant Mornings

Reluctant Mornings Part Two

Sleepy Smiles

Home is Wherever You Are

KitKat and the Bean

Attention Seeker

Thomas Brodie-Sangster:

Camping Cuddles

Andrew Garfield:

About Damn Time

Shawn Mendes:

Promise for the Future

Pong Partner*

Past Life

I Shouldn’t, But I Do

I Meant It

Kids In Love

A Mile High

Light of My Life

It’s You


Sunday Morning

Shawn, What the F-

Prequel: Shawn, What the F-

Enjoy Your Stay Pt. 1

Enjoy Your Stay Pt. 2

Do Something Already*

Not Holding Back

Feel Good, Baby?*

Never Letting You Go Again

* = smut

It’s the middle of the night and both Shepard and Garrus are fast asleep when they hear a crash downstairs, although it doesn’t shock or frighten either of them, no. Not since they adopted their first child - a krogan. If only they had known earlier about the bonus feature that comes with young krogan and their sleeping routine.

“He’s sleep-raging, again. Go get him.” Shepard mutters, unwilling to move or even open her eyes.

“He’s your son, you go get him.” Garrus responds, just as unwilling.

You’re the one that suggested having kids in the first place.”

“And you’re the one that wanted to adopt a krogan of all species.”

“Because I’ve had experience, so you should go.”

Garrus pops an eye open to look at her, “I should go?”

“Oh, screw you, Vakarian.” Shepard groans, turning onto her opposite side so she no longer faced him, only for Garrus to huddle closer to her, his arm reaching around for her hand as he feels out for her wedding ring.

“Now, now, you’re Vakarian too, remember? So, who’s getting–”

“Oh, my God, shut up.” Shepard wails, pushing his hand away.

Garrus gets even closer, a sleepy smirk tugging at his mandibles as he nuzzles his head right into her neck, his mouth at her ear, “You love my voice.”

“Oh, my God, just–!” Shepard throws the blanket off the bed as she gets up, leaving Garrus to either go cold or to get up out of bed himself to retrieve the blanket, making his smirk dissappear. “All is fair in love and war.“

“There is no war.” Garrus sighs as he reluctantly gets out of bed to collect the blanket.

“Well, you married a woman who was already married to her job.” Now Shepard is the one with the evil smirk as she stops to look back at him before disappearing from the room.

Game. Set. [CRASH!] …Draw.

anonymous asked:

Could you please write some Jackcrutchie at Disney or something? Maybe with dealing with his disability in such a crowded place?

Sorry it took so long to get to this. I’ve got one month left in this semester and it is killing me. Ugh. Anyway, to all other anons, I am getting to your stories. Please, just be a little patient. They’ll be here. Anyway, Disney. Let’s do this.

Crutchie took his place in the line to get churros. That’s all Katherine had told them to do: eat the churros at Disneyland. No rides she recommended, no shows. Just churros. Not that Crutchie would complain. It was a fabulous excuse for a cinnamon-sugary treat. 

The line had queued up rather quickly and, though Crutchie wasn’t stationary for very long, the line certainly wasn’t moving faster than a crawl. Some large man in a sweat-stained gray shirt was demanding the employee give him a free churro because he had already bought the “goddamn tickets to the park and didn’t that come with a godforsaken churro?” Crutchie sighed. It would be a long day in the Happiest Place on Earth.

As he stood there and waited, soft whispers from behind him caught his attention. “No, it’s to get passes. You fake a limp or something and then they let you skip all the lines.”

“That’s stupid. Just stand in line with the rest of us.”

Crutchie bristled at the comments, but was saved from having to comment by the woman in front of him taking her churros and leaving. Forcing a smile onto his face, Crutchie greeted the worker kindly. “Can I get two churros, please?”

Behind him, Crutchie heard, “Bet he tries to get them for free, too.”

The worker must not have heard, because she simply smiled, handed him the churros, and accepted the money. Crutchie turned, glaring at the whisperers behind him. Both were teenagers, probably just barely in high school. “Just a pair of idiots,” Crutchie muttered to himself. He just needed to get back to where Jack was watching their stuff, eat the churros, and forget all of this had happened.

Just as he edged past the two teenagers, one of the boys stuck his foot out, catching the tip of Crutchie’s forearm crutch. Crutchie tried to maintain his balance with his other crutch, but the other boy kicked at that one as well. Crutchie hit the hot cement hard, the churros flattened instantly between his chest and the ground. He lay there for a moment, wincing in pain; he hadn’t been able to catch his fall quick enough and his chin had taken the brunt of the impact. There would surely be a bruise, Crutchie realized as he tenderly worked his jaw and tested its movement. 

As Crutchie refocused on his surroundings, he noticed a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered around him. Someone kept asking if he was okay and Crutchie finally managed to push himself up into a sitting position. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he grunted, rubbing at his jaw. He glanced at the two snickering teenagers, who didn’t even have the decency to look away guiltily.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” some old lady was asking. Someone had produced a wheelchair and Crutchie waved it away.

“I’m fine.” He stuck to the two words because he was worried that if he kept talking, the embarrassment and pain of it all would catch up to him and he’d be unable to keep the tears at bay. He wiped the crushed churros off of his shirt, dismayed at the waste of money. They had been expensive and he had just wanted to try one. Was that too much to ask for? One churro? One for him and one for Jack?

Jack. Where was he? Crutchie glanced up and blinked in surprise at two churros in his face. “Here, you can have these,” the good Samaritan offered.

“No, I’m fine,” Crutchie bit out, standing up. He wobbled slightly as his head spun at the movement, but he would be fine. When the man kept persistently trying to press the churros into Crutchie’s hand, Crutchie muttered in irritation, “No. I’m fine. I don’t want the stupid churros.”

He just wanted Jack. Where was Jack? “Let me through,” Crutchie tried, pushing through the people. He hated crowds. Why did he ever even agree to come to Disneyland? This all sucked and Crutchie just wanted to find Jack and go home. “Let me through,” he repeated and the visitors must have noticed the fire in his eyes, because they parted, letting him pass through.

Across the walkway, seated on the bench was Jack, scrolling through his phone. Crutchie quickly crossed over and collapsed on the bench next to his boyfriend. “Hey, you got churros?” Jack asked, looking up. Crutchie merely shook his head and Jack glanced at him in confusion, noting cinnamon still clinging to his shirt, the red scrapes across his chin, and the faint glimmer of tears held back in his eyes. Much softer, Jack asked, “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I just want to go home. This place sucks,” Crutchie muttered. “You can stay, but I think I’m going to go back to the hotel.” Crutchie shifted, as if to stand up, but Jack tugged him back down.

“No, wait. What happened back there?”

Crutchie shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter, okay? Now, can I get the hotel key card? I think I left mine in the room.”

Jack started stuffing a map into his backpack. “You wanna go, we can go.”

“No, Jack, the tickets were expensive. I don’t want you to miss out just because of my stupid leg.”

“I’m not missing anything because of your leg,” Jack pointed out. “Did someone say something?”

Crutchie sighed. “It was just these two teenagers. They were idiots. Kept saying things about me faking for passes, and… After I got the churros, they tripped me and… I’m sorry,” Crutchie finished. 

“For what?”

“For crushing the churros.” He hesitated before adding, “For holding you back with my leg.”

“Okay, for one thing,” Jack began quickly, “I don’t care about the churros. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Crutchie shrugged. “I broke the fall with my jaw. My hands were full. It still stings a little.”

Jack gently leaned forward, kissing Crutchie’s jaw. “There. Now it’ll get better soon.” Once Crutchie had smiled at that, Jack continued, “Second, I don’t want you to ever think you’re holding me back. I don’t care whether you have one leg, two legs, or three. I love you, Crutch. Not your limbs.” He waited once more for Crutchie to smile shyly, before adding, “And, third, who tripped you, because I’m going to knock some sense into them.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Crutchie waved Jack’s concern away. “I’m fine. They’re just idiots. Let ‘em go.”

“On one condition,” Jack agreed. 

“What’s that?”

“Well, two conditions, I guess.”

Crutchie laughed a little. “I don’t know. Seems a little steep, to me,” he teased.

“You don’t even know what my conditions are!” Jack cried out in indignation.

“Fine, what are your conditions?”

“I won’t go after them if you let me go get us some churros because Katherine will kill us if we don’t have any. And, if we go ride Space Mountain first.”

Crutchie studied Jack for a moment. “I don’t know… Those are pretty hard to agree to… Space Mountain?”

“Fine, what do you suggest?”

“Make it Tower of Terror and I’m yours.”

Jack frowned. “That’s in the other park,” he complained.

“Oh, shut up. We have those park-hopper passes.”

Jack relented, kissing Crutchie. “Only for you. Now come on, we’re running out of daylight!”

“It’s 9 in the morning!”

“Yeah, and this kid,” Jack said, gesturing to himself, “ain’t getting any younger!”

Title: Sith Lords Don’t Sunbathe
Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader
Genre: So floof, SO FLOOF, but also a lil spicy bc i was feelin it
Warnings: Language
A/N: Just some cute but also zesty fluff for the soul. It was really nice out today and I freakin LOVE spring (it’s basically spring here now ok) so this happened lol. Happy Valentines Day! :-)

Originally posted by theworldisworthagif

Originally posted by coolfayebunny

The sun above you warmed your bare legs, giving the skin there a subtle glow. You flexed your toes and stretched, lifting your arms up above your head and letting them fall backward into the grass. It had started out soft but now you were beginning to feel the underside of your legs sweat, and you bet that if you looked, there would have been thousands of tiny, grass-shaped imprints against your skin. A breeze floated by, carrying the scent of the flowering tree above you on the wind and filling your nose. Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes, letting the air roll over your skin. While it wasn’t exactly warm, it wasn’t cold, either; it felt like the weather couldn’t make up its mind on if it was still winter or late spring. It was the perfect temperature.

Keep reading


pairing: hamilcast x reader angst

word count: 1700

warnings: death

prompt/request: “I wanted to request a platonic cast fix! Could you please do one where you play Angelica/Alex and you find out just before you go on for It’s Quiet Uptown that a family member has passed away? And after the cast help you out maybe xx 😘” from an anon!

a/n: i tried really hard, anon, i did, but i struggled a lot writing this one. i did want to get it out for you, though, so this is it - i really hope that it doesn’t disappoint. enjoy!  

Text from Mom, 9:12 pm

Your dad passed.

He had been sick for years, your dad; always in the hospital, always plugged into one machine or another, almost always asleep. You visited him as often as you could, but with a life as hectic and as busy as yours, how could you find the time? This is what you told him when he first got sick, you said, “Dad, I won’t be able to see you when I’m working all the time.” You had even tried convincing him to let you quit your jobs and spend every day with him. You said he mattered more to you than any role. But, as always, he fought back, saying that you had dreamed of being on Broadway your entire life and your happiness mattered more to him than his own. You argued for three whole days until eventually you gave in. 

Keep reading

The Oracle

A/N: I bring you the thing I had wanted to write in like forever: the saltiest reunion yet. But come on, did you really think I’d leave this character out? Not a chance.

Based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan. AU by @doodledrawsthings. Enjoy.

Part 1

Part 2 

“He is awake.”

“So soon?” Jheselbraum casts a look at at dimension 46’/, where Mabel Pines reaches to shake the hand of the monster they defeated only a year or so ago. “I would have expected at least a few more centuries.”

“I’m sure you know that time is relative.” The is a tone of amusement in the Ancient’s words. “It has been a lot longer than that.”

The Oracle takes that in, watching the events in Stanford’s home dimension play out, and hums in amusement, “‘A different form’,” she repeats to herself, “You couldn’t resist the irony, could you?”

The Axolotl chuckles, “Rather fitting, considering the many times humanity was deceived by him.”

Keep reading

Do you ever just read your own writing and

Appreciation for Series Authors

I’ve seen these for authors of longfics, but man, writing a series is a whole new level of crazy you don’t even realise until you undertake it. 

If you read and love fanfiction series, make sure you’re letting the authors know you’re still engaged as the series goes on. Kudo/favourite the later stories. Reblog chapters of the later stories. Send them an ask about how you hadn’t expected this twist in story 3 and what will that mean for story 4. 

Writing a series is hard work. It’s easy to get burnt out after living in this universe for so long. You can help by showing the authors that our hard work is appreciated.

And to you, series authors:

  • If you’ve charted out your series and stared in mute terror at how long it will be before you finish this bloody thing, you are not alone.
  • If you realise you have three stories to get through before a part you’re really excited to write, you are not alone.
  • If you’re on story 2 and it feels like no one is reading and you’re really excited about story 5 but does it even matter because see above about no one reading, you are not alone.
  • If people only ever comment on the first story in the series when you know the writing gets better as the series goes on, you are not alone.
  • If you were excited by the idea of a series because it meant you didn’t have to stop the story when your OTP got together, but could actually show them in a relationship… and then no one seems to care about reading once they’re together, you are not alone.
  • If you feel like you’ve disappointed readers by taking the series in a direction they didn’t expect/want, you are not alone.
  • If you’re really tired of writing the series, but you’re afraid people will forget about you if you let it lay fallow for a few months, you are not alone.
  • If you’re wondering if anyone would notice if you did take a hiatus, or just dropped the series altogether, please believe me: You Are Not Alone.

This is what it’s like, being a series author. This is why series get abandoned. It’s hard work and a slog sometimes, with not nearly the amount of feedback and excitement coming from readers to keep us going when things get rough. It often feels like people really only care about the first story, and then maybe sort of read the rest out of habit, but not real interest.

Here’s my challenge to readers: Pick your favourite series, and then think of your favourite thing in that series that isn’t from the first story. Now go tell the author about it.

Series authors: You’re amazing. Keep up the good work.

Not a single indication! Not an iota of disclosure! Not a hint, not an inkling, not a single nod in any of those benighted speeches to the near and queer amongst us! You’re just going to tell me this now, after the fact, and expect me to believe he was simply walking around Hogwarts, gay as a bird, that whole time?
—  Draco Malfoy on Albus Dumbledore in “What We Pretend We Can’t See” by  @gyzym, Ch. 6

Okay but let’s not talk about the best, because yes I assure you that for every piece of popular culture I’ve consumed in the past ten years, there is a fanfic that is better written, more engaging and overall superior to the sourcework, but about the worst, because that is where we notice the true discrepancy.

There are as many pieces of terribly crappy fanart as there are of terribly bad fanfic, both equally cringe worthy. But why is it that bad art is viewed as ‘endearing’ and 'progress towards something greater’ while bad fanfiction is either publicly ridiculed or considered too shameful to speak about at all? Shouldn’t we encourage both content creators equally to keep improving? At the end of the day, they do it for fun, and sucking at something is definitely the first step to greatness.

Horror movies in Amity Park weren’t the same as they used to be.

Originally they were no different to the horror movies in any old town, most of them sucked, but were still fun for a cheap scare, some of them were genuinely terrifying and had even the toughest of the tough clutching their friend’s hand on the way home, and others were just a gory, badly acted adventure that you’d go see with a bunch of friends on Halloween for a bit of a laugh.

But after you’ve just spent the past hour hiding under the gum smeared underbelly of a Nasty Burger booth table holding your breath and knowing that the hand of a monster could drag you out straight through the metal surface at any given moment… an axe-toting guy in a mask jumping out onto the screen just didn’t have the bite it once did.

People used to see horror movies to add a bit of spice to their average everyday lives, they were fun because they were something unimaginable, something that could never happen to you. It was all just a work of fiction to get your heart pumping and adrenaline surging, there weren’t really monsters that could drag you out of bed in the night, there was nothing to really be frightened of.

But in Amity Park there was.

Keep reading