'Teen Wolf' has such a die-hard fan base, which we're all so

When Arden Cho proclaimed, “‘Teen Wolf’ has such a die-hard fan base, which we’re all so grateful for. It’s amazing to have that kind of support because, without the fans, we wouldn’t have this show,” she revealed a truth as ancient as art itself: that the bond between creator and audience is a sacred covenant. The actor, the singer, the storyteller may bring forth the work, but it is the people—the listeners, the watchers, the faithful—that give it life beyond the stage. Without those who gather, remember, and return, art remains a whisper lost in the void.

The die-hard fan base is more than a collection of admirers; it is a community bound by shared devotion. They hold aloft the banner of the story, keeping it alive when the lights dim and the cameras rest. Arden Cho, in her humility, honors this truth: that no show, however brilliant, endures without those who breathe life into it by watching, cherishing, and defending it. Just as a fire cannot burn without air, so too a performance cannot endure without an audience.

The origin of this truth can be traced to the ancient days of theater. In Athens, the dramatists like Sophocles and Euripides composed tragedies of gods and kings, but it was the citizens—filling the amphitheaters under open skies—who gave these works immortality. Without the chorus of voices, the applause, the retelling of lines by ordinary folk, the plays would have perished with their authors. What we now call classics survived because audiences carried them like torches through time. In the same way, Cho recognizes that ‘Teen Wolf’ lives because its fans refuse to let it die.

Consider also the story of Charles Dickens. When he wrote his novels in serial form, the people of London would gather at the docks, awaiting the ships that carried his next installment across the sea. Their devotion was so fierce that crowds wept, shouted, and even begged him to spare beloved characters. His words had power, but it was the support of his readers that elevated him from writer to legend. So it is with all art: the artist gives birth, but the audience ensures survival.

Arden Cho’s gratitude teaches us the humility of the artist who knows she is not the sole architect of her success. To acknowledge the fans is to acknowledge that the work belongs not just to the creators, but to all who love it. This is the alchemy of art: the transformation of something private into something shared, something owned by the many. And in this shared ownership lies the true immortality of stories.

The lesson here is timeless: never take for granted those who support you. Whether they are fans, friends, family, or community, they are the foundation upon which your dreams are built. Without them, effort collapses into dust. To honor them is to keep the bond of gratitude alive, to remember that success is never solitary, but always communal.

Practical wisdom flows from this. If you are an artist, give thanks often to those who follow your work; speak to them, listen to them, cherish them. If you are not an artist, but someone supported in any endeavor, remember to honor those who lift you up—your teachers, your colleagues, your companions. And for those who stand as fans or supporters, know this: your devotion matters. Your voice, your encouragement, your presence—these are not small things, but pillars that sustain the very works you love.

Thus Arden Cho’s words rise beyond the world of television. They become a teaching for all generations: that art, like life, is a circle of giving and receiving. The fans and the artists are not separate, but bound together in a shared destiny. Without one, the other cannot endure. And so let us pass this truth to the future: be grateful for those who stand beside you, for it is with their strength that your light will shine.