"Torah! Torah! Torah!"
Warcry of the kamikaze rabbis.
"Concrit! Concrit! Concrit!"
Warcry of the fanfiction authors.
I think I was sixteen when I submitted my hundredth fanfic to this site, and the rest of the internet pointed out how horrifically lame it was to have written so much about characters that aren't even mine. I prayed that the next hundred submissions would come out slower, because there was no way in hell they'd actually stop, and now I'm twenty-two and I've gotten my wish and it sucks.
Please don't judge me by the list of my favorite fanfics. I worship heathen gods and also anyone that reads what I churn out. I'm learning how to save lives and not be a complete waste of human energy. Once, for a lark and a dare, I stopped reading books for a week. Once, for another lark and a different dare, I banged your mom in a brothel on the banks of the Styx.
That's right. I'm sorry. It's true.
I am your father.