this has already been said a million times but ig some people never got the memo so here I am.
when a fic updates and it's been a while (be that a month, a semester, a year, multiple years, a fucking decade or maybe several of those) YOU DON'T SUDDENLY GET A FREE PASS TO BE AN ASSHOLE TO THE AUTHOR
some things for your consideration:
the fic author is not paid for this creative effort and also needs to spend time actually supporting themselves financial
the fic author is not a robot that cranks out creative material. breaks are needed, sometimes people leave fandoms and come back much later. it is human and it is natural. some people can't completely obsess over one single fic consistently and also write stuff for it, and thus cannot consistently give you chapters. sometimes, "consistently" also means not as soon as you'd like. please find your brain from the lost and found and realize that if someone is updating and has not abandoned their fic, that is an absolute win and definitely not a given
the fic author is a human being that just so might wanna engage in hobbies and relationships (platonic and/or romantic), which takes time
you should keep in mind that it takes a lot of fucking brainpower to have an idea, like the idea, decide to write the idea, find the time to write the idea, find the inspiration to continue said idea, ACTUALLY FUCKING WRITE THE IDEA, and find it in yourself to publish it
you are entitled to nothing. actually, since I'm a nice, empathetic person, I'll ammend that. the only thing you might be entitled to is an edit at the tags saying 'fyi next chapter is gonna take a while'. you deserve no explanation. I deserve no explanation. if the author comes back after years to update I will go to the comments and tell them how surprised and happy I am and then talk about the fic. be a bit more like that please
if you don't like the updating frequency, consider DOING IT YOUR FUCKING SELF (and talking about it with the fic author if you got inspired by said fic, and definitely giving credit).
if you don't like the updating frequency, consider NOT READING OR COMMENTING ON THE FIC or just maybe READING A DIFFERENT FIC (don't like don't read is always in effect babes, this is fanfiction, if i started saying shit under every fic with a premise that made me grimace I'd have made so many people and myself so upset)
this is not one of those cases where you can make it other people's problem. the author has every right to take as much time as they fucking want. I don't see you writing this exact fic in their exact circumstances, so kindly shut up
okay, for real, though. you can't know. the author could be going through anything, including but not limited to childbirth, divorce, grief, mental health issues, physical health issues, schoolwork (not everyone is an academic genius samantha, let people take their time), friendship/romance drama. they could also, fyi, just wanna take a break. nothing wrong with that. it's actually the recommended course of action to avoid burnout in case you hadn't heard. literally who do you think you are to take an issue with that? their fucking publisher? do you have a deadline to meet harold? is your pay based on this? what was that? no? okay cool then shut it.
how fucking dare you complain about how fast a literal human being with an entire life outside of fanfiction can write literally so many words about something new.
btw this is what inspired all of this
one of my favorite fics updated after... well three months maybe? and I spot this in the comment section as I go to drop my own comment. literally how dare you. do you understand how discouraging and infuriating it is to see some random person say this about your brainchild?? im glad you're liking the fic berryl but if you have an issue with the time between updates, keep it to yourself, read another fic, or write your own fic.
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The babysitters’ club, as the older members of the upside down crew have dubbed themselves, meet at least once a week. Sometimes it’s only a few hours, just long enough to watch a movie together, to confirm that everyone is still alive and coping. Sometimes it’s all night, and Argyle plies them all with good California weed while they attempt to work through their collective truckloads of trauma.
Sometimes, like tonight, they spend it goofing off and having fun like the dumb kids many of them couldn’t afford to be.
They’re gathered in a circle at the Harrington mansion, deserted as always, playing truth or dare. Nancy has just admitted to smoking weed in her freshman year, in the drama room with Barbara Holland, and she has set her know it all, meddling, journalist eyes on Eddie.
“Truth or dare,” she asks, a challenge clear on her face.
Eddie knows that, with most people, picking truth may be seen as the cowardly option. With Nancy, that couldn’t be more wrong. If he picks dare, he will be safe, but he will be mocked relentlessly by every single person in the room.
…
“Truth,” he sighs reluctantly.
“Who-” she pauses dramatically for effect, a theatrical detail that Eddie honestly respects, even if it fills him with dread, “-was your most embarrassing crush! And it has to be a person we know, no celebrities allowed!”
Shit.
He feels his eyes dart to Steve. Nancy smirks. Bitch. He can’t even lie about it then.
Time to face the music, he supposes mournfully.
“I would like to say, for the record, that I was in junior year, ok. And, in retrospect, with the knowledge I have now, it’s not even that bad, but at the time-“
“Spit it out, Munson,” says Robin, the fucking traitor.
“IhadacrushonSteve,” he says, all in one breath.
“What was that, dude, I didn’t catch it?” Argyle says, voice mellow. Eddie honestly doesn’t know if he’s in on this or not, but he glowers all the same.
Face red, he repeats, “I had a crush on Steve.” He resolutely does not look at Steve.
“No you didn’t!” Steve responds, immediately, aghast.
Eddie can feel his heart tearing in two.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Harrington, this was years ag-“
“You literally rejected me!”
Fucking what.
He knows he must look ridiculous right now, mouth hanging open, cheeks still red with embarrassment, but he does not have the capacity to care.
“Wh- what do you- huh?” he finally manages.
“When you were in junior year, and I was a sophomore? We were lab partners-“
And ohhh, hadn’t that just been sweet, sweet torture. Pretty, perfect Harrington had had to sit next to him all semester, where Eddie could see his freckles and smell his cologne, but-
“You spent the whole semester making fun of me!”
“What the fuck are you talking about, man?” says Steve, eyebrows furrowed in that way he does that makes Eddie want to kiss his forehead and- Fucking focus, Munson.
“You always used to make passive aggressive comments about my clothes, or my hair, or my books or whatever!”
Steve buries his face in his hands and groans.
“I wasn’t being passive aggressive.”
“You- what the fuck do you mean, you weren’t being passive aggressive! Why else would you have said any of that shit?”
“Because I meant it?”
Because he- what? Eddie played back as many of their interactions from that year as he could remember. I like your jacket, Steve had said when Eddie had started putting patches on his denim vest. Your hair looks nice today, he had said when Eddie had tied it back to beat the heat. Oh, that sounds interesting, when Eddie described the plot of the book he was reading.
“Oh my god, you were flirting with me.”
“No shit! I once told you you had really pretty eyes!“
“I thought you were bullying me!”
“How on Earth could ‘I think you have really pretty eyes’ be bullying?”
“I don’t know! It made more sense than it being flirting!”
“I asked you to go to the drive in with me! That is the most classic first date in the book!”
Holy shit, Steve Harrington had asked him out. Steve Harrington had asked him out and he’d said no. This was the worst day of Eddie’s life.
His face must have looked some kind of way, because Steve just groaned again. He sat there for a second before peeking up from behind his hands, a move that should not have been as cute as it was, what the fuck.
“If I tried again now, would you still think I was bullying you.”
Holy shit did Steve Harrington want to date him? This had to be a trick or a prank or something, right?
Except that he’d thought that in junior year as well, and apparently it had cost him a boyfriend, so.
“No- nope, I would definitely pick up on it, uh huh. Definitely,” he said in a rush. God, he was normally so good with words, fuck.
Steve emerged fully from his hands, face pink but expression determined.
“Eddie Munson, would you like to go to the drive in with me? They’re playing Jaws next saturday and I’d love to watch it with you.”
“Absolutely, Stevie. It’s a date.”
There are groans from the rest of their friends as they rifle through their pockets, each passing money to a very smug looking Nancy.
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