One of your favorite old fics has been taken down. You can find it on Wayback Machine, but it’s only the original Geocities site. The font is Comic Sans and there’s a tiled repeating background of stars obscuring the cyan text.
You read a fic at some point in a fandom you no longer participate in. You want to re-read the fic, but the title and pen name of the author keep escaping you. You don’t even know where it was posted. You can find dozens of other fics with a similar concept but not that one.
An author you used to follow moved their work from their personal website to their friends-locked blog. You sent them a request three months ago. It is still marked “pending.” You wonder if you will ever get to read their work again.
You get a follower out of nowhere. Their screen name is familiar. It’s the person you RPed explicit chat logs with when you were sixteen. You’ve changed screen names four times since then and don’t know how they found you.
You forgot the password to your old FanFiction.net account. There are terrible relics of your past as a writer archived there. They must be destroyed. You can’t recover the password because the email account no longer exists, and the site isn’t answering your emails.
You were in this fandom when it was small and just getting started. Now there’s a whole expanded universe of new material, and you just want to read fics in your original fandom. Only the new characters are popular.
Three fandoms later, you run into someone you had fandom drama with five years ago. You wonder if they ever forgave you for your part in what happened. You’re too shy to ask. Interactions are tense and you go your separate ways. You travel the same fandom circles for a while, but never speak.
You have WIPs on your hard drive from years and fandoms ago. You want to finish them, but the fandoms are no longer active. You wonder if anyone would read them if they were done. You sometimes open them
and wistfully read their partially-finished stories.
some food blogger: My childhood home was full of wind and light. On a brisk Autumn evening, it often felt as if the outside was in. My younger sister, my mother, our favourite cousin, our dog, our other dog, our dog’s sister, and I would sit on the floor in the living room for hours, lit only by the moon and candlelight
me: *scrolls for several minutes*
some food blogger: It was at that moment, with my tiny hands clasped tightly around a mason jar filled with fireflies, that I realised the true value of family. My dog and my dog’s sister came and sat quietly at my feet. We stared up at the sky together, and I felt truly connected to both the Earth at my feet and the ancestors who shared the blood that ran through them, for the first time realising that
me: *scrolls for several minutes*
some food blogger: and when we finally made it home, our cheeks flushed with laughter and cold, there were warm mashed potatoes waiting for us. I will always remember their fluffiness, perfectly mirroring the light feeling I carried with me for the entire next week. This is my favourite cousin’s recipe from that very day, modified slightly to not be fucking awful. Boil an potato and smush it up with fork and botter. NOT A RAW, Salt, pepepr. In it
The crushing realization that you’re stuck between a generation of people who believed that hard work could accomplish anything and that you should live your dreams, while the generation that came immediately after you is living far better by being in the right place at the right time and having the foresight to study in newly developed fields, thus leaving you to tend to your hopeless, demolished expectations and dreams for the future
*has no plans*wow I’m wasting my youth away my life is a wasteland I wish I was like one of those busy people
*has two things coming up in the same week* omg ok no I can’t handle the pressure of this wow my anxiety is off the charts this is too much
notp: hold hands, kiss, hug, marry each other, have a house with a family of four children, a dog and a stable financial life
me: idk man… i just don’t feel like they’re in love? at most good friends, that’s all
otp: make eye contact
me: B ITCH!!!!!!!!!!!! DID YOU SEE THIS??? DID YOU??? THIS IS LOVE MAN!!!! TRUE LOVE IM TELLING YOU!!! THEYRE FUCKING MARRIED LOOK AT THIS IM Y O D E L I NG THEYRE IN LOVE
fivepercent 