As much as I desperately want my fics to be up to the same standard as a traditionally published work, I’m not a literary editor.
I’ve been an editor of professional copywriting for many years, but I’ve come to learn that there is a gap between the skills needed for professional/technical editing and literary editing. Maybe not a vast gap. It’s still there.
All that to say, fanfiction gives writers and editors an opportunity to learn new skills. We should always keep honing our craft, no matter what that looks like.
I hate that there’s a stigma around fanfiction writing because it presents such a rich opportunity to grow as writers and editors.
And I hate even more that such a stigma stems from misogyny. There’s a pre-conceived notion that writers who are women (often queer women) and young don’t have anything worthy to offer. Of course, it swings in every direction for women of every age. Misogyny is no respecter of age, but the way some folks talk about young women’s writing makes me want to throw hands.
You — yes, you, fanfic writer reading this — need to keep doing what you’re doing. There is no more noble endeavor than creating something you love in earnest.
Don’t stop. Please.
I have read fanfics that have left me in tears, both happy and sad, had me laughing my ass off, wanting to scream. Fanfics might be seen as weird and taboo (weirdly enough) but no one can say that some fics aren’t so well written it feels like you’re reading a best selling book!
So far my 30s have been like a second childhood.
I came out. I’m reconnecting with things that brought me joy as a kid. I’m rediscovering myself on my own terms and gearing up for the next phase of my life.
Really looking forward to my coming of age arc in my 40s ❤️
i think you can be 40 and have a coming of age narrative
Someone please remind me not to write descriptions of myself when I'm depressed
Talk about an unreliable narrator jeez
Omg the Dwarf is so cute I just wanna snuggle them~
As usual, they are all on my red bubble, ready to be stuck onto whatever your heart desires
Finally, I drew the other half of the cast, it took a long time and a lot of effort, but here they are. I might make a third post where they're rearranged to make more sense and sell those as prints on Red Bubble. This was a lot of fun, I'm not sure if I will, but I might do expanded if this gets enough traction
Previous post Commission info Red Bubble
Close ups:
And thats them all! Hope y'all enjoyed
Name: Untitled
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Ship: Jotaro/Kakyoin
Status: Unpublished WIP; unedited
Notes: AU where Kakyoin lives; post Part 3/ pre Part 4
Here's the thing about heartbreak: sometimes it's gradual. It's in the days of waiting for someone to come back, in the listening for a phone call, in the wishing and pining and knowing it will never work. Heartbreak is in the growing apart, the falling away in slow motion. It's in the sudden stop.
Kakyoin took the long way home.
He lingered in the cold, mostly barren streets, pausing often to look up at the few stars he could see through the streetlights. Heavy footsteps finally found him in front of the convenience store.
Perhaps it wasn't his brightest idea, but he bought a six pack. It didn't matter what kind of beer it was, really. As long as it worked.
The cashier rang him up, a knowing smile on her face. Or maybe that was just his projection. Surely unhappiness was plain on his face. Either way, he paid and went quickly on his way.
Down to the riverbank. Someplace as in-between as he felt.
He didn't want to go home and he couldn't really keep wandering forever. Sitting in the grass, he cracked open the first beer and sipped at it. The taste was sharper than he remembered. Not unpleasant, though.
The word that had been chasing him the entire way finally started to fade: engaged. Engaged. I'm engaged. Engaged.
Of course Jotaro's tone had been almost unreadable. But there was something strange and cruel wrapped up in his announcement. Why? That wasn't the Jotaro he knew… The man who tried to hide it but was kind down to his core. The man who was shedding his delinquent facade as he grew older, becoming a better version of his old self every day.
The one he'd wait patiently by the phone for in anticipation of their weekly calls. Who he'd reschedule his life around to make sure they could meet during breaks. The man who he was planning to follow to America as soon as he was fully healed and able to go.
His best friend.
The man he loved.
He was partway through beer three when things started to sting a little less. The idea of helping Jotaro plan a wedding and giving a speech praising the new union was painful. He was giving Jotaro away.
But, so what? He took another long pull from the can. I never planned on confessing or anything. I was going to keep the boat steady. This upsets everything, though. That bastard… we had a good thing going. Why waste it on a woman? On love?
Kakyoin made a derisive sound in the back of his throat.
"A good thing"? What good thing? A long distance friendship. Eventually going to the same college together. More of the same until they died? How would that have worked? Of course Jotaro would get married and carry on the Joestar line. Stupid to think that he would die a bachelor. Stupid to think that he would consider being with a man and losing the opportunity to have kids.
Kakyoin crushed the mostly empty can, the remaining liquid at the bottom spraying out suddenly. He barely noticed, his mind still wrapped up in his own thoughts.
They could have had kids together, damn it! There had to be options! Options that would be an uphill battle to obtain. And they could never get married, not really. Their families would be so disappointed. He imagined Holly's confused, upset face and it was too much.
He let the can slip out of his grasp and held his face in his hands. He was crying freely now.
All these feelings for Jotaro were wrong. He'd always known that this was part of his life he'd never be able to live. Stuck in a place that didn't understand or approve of how he felt. It was so painful. He had hoped moving to America would make things easier. It seemed so much more free over there for people like him. Maybe he'd even find out Jotaro felt the same way, eventually.
Not now.
He had to steel himself for the days ahead. The engagement changed nothing. He was still going to America. He'd still stay by Jotaro's side no matter what. Even if it meant pushing everything he felt so far down that he could never reach it. No matter what, he owed Jotaro his life and he would repay that at any cost.
His resolve strengthened a little, Kakyoin cleaned up his empties and pushed himself to his feet. The world felt fuzzy around the edges and his steps weren't the most steady, but he managed to make it home.
Once inside his apartment he collapsed on the couch and fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep.
My doc and I did some fiddlin with my ADHD meds and now I’m back in Executive Dysfunction Hell™
Forgot how bad it is down here fuckin get me out
people who dont experience it cannot comprehend how awful executive dysfunction is. I WANT to do the task, i have the resources TO do the task, i will feel better having DONE the task
but i cant fucking do the task
I haven’t been on tumblr for very long, so I’m a little thrown when I see classic literature posts. Like a lot of them. About the same work.
So I’m like did a new edition come out and everyone’s super excited or have these little freaks (affectionate) been doing this the whole time?
And y’all have always been here. Keeping the lights on.
I think that’s magical.
Me: Ugh, man, I feel awful. But not like sick. Like a little depressed maybe? So tired… I want to do something, but my eyeballs may fall out of my head if I do. My left ear hurts, too. Am I getting an ear infection?
My migraine, putting on brass knuckles: Yeah, probably an ear infection.
Adorable! I love this for him.
And relatable because this is the standard reaction I get from anyone I make listen to The Decemberists.
Hi, hello.
All this recent talk about Shane coded songs made me think about Harvey a bit. I’m of the opinion that he’d be a fan of the Decemberists, and from that thought came what has got to be the most self-indulgent little thing I’ve ever written.
Look below the cut for some SFW fluff.
Contains: domesticity and conversations best suited for those of us whose musical tastes crystallized in the 2006 indie folk scene.
Harvey had a vinyl collection. It was endearing, his dedication to physical media. Mostly jazz albums, smooth and smoky, all warm and rich through his speakers.
You weren’t much for jazz. He had some other options too, but you weren’t sure those were for you either.
“Why do you listen to music about dead babies?”
You’d asked it while washing the dishes. Harvey nearly dropped the plate in his hands. “What!?”
You shrugged. “I put on one of your records and the guy was singing about a dead baby.”
“You… what album?” Harvey’s eyes were crinkled in bemusement.
“It had a boat on it?”
Harvey thought for a second, then his face lit in recognition. “The Decemberists! They’re wonderful!”
You laughed. “Didn’t know your taste was so… edgy?”
“Oh no no no.” Harvey was blushing. “That track… not a good representation. Here.” He dried his hands, grabbed yours, pulled you into his hobby room. You leaned against the door, trying to control your smile as he rifled through his albums. He made a small “ah” sound as he pulled one out. “This is a better starting point.”
Strings filled the room, and you settled in on the floor to listen. You liked this one a little better, but…
“Is this a song about a couple jumping off a cliff together?”
“…yes?” Harvey ducked his head, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips.
“I mean, I like it better than the dead baby one…”
“Hmmm…” Harvey fiddled with the player again. “They’re known for this one. Might want to sit down, it’s long.”
You appeased him, doing your best not to knock into the model that was drying on the table next to you. Harvey joined, picking up a bit of sandpaper. He worked away at a few small pieces of wood as you spent the next nine minutes trying to follow the action of a rambling nautical tale.
“So let me get this straight,” you said as an accordion reeled through its outro. “This dude bankrupted the kids mom and gave her an std or something, so the singer took to sea to kill him, but then they both got swallowed by a whale, but he’s still gonna kill him?”
Harvey nodded, keeping his eyes on his project. “Yup. That’s… that’s about it.”
“Huh.” You sat and watched him for a moment as he smoothed away at a rough edge. The track transitioned, a gentle guitar picking, the lead singer’s lowing tenor sliding through a simple melody.
You recognized it.
“I think I know this one?” You tried to place it. It sounded a little different in your head. Softer. Hummed.
Harvey was blushing again. “I get it stuck in my head sometimes. It’s one of my favorites. ‘Of Angels and Angles.’ Makes me think of you.”
“Awww…” You couldn’t help the slow smile. That was exactly it. Harvey would hum it sometimes around the house, or, now that you were thinking a little harder, when you were in bed, head on his chest, the melody rumbling beneath you as you grew up warm and tired and relaxed.
Harvey’s lips were moving, singing without singing as he brushed away a bit of dust from the wing he held.
There’s a swallow
There’s a calm
Here’s a hand to lay on your open palm today
You stood, wrapped your arms around his shoulder, buried your face in his hair as the song wound its way to its end. “Alright,” you said. “That was a lot better than the first one I heard. What else you got?”
Harvey tilted his head up at you. “Ever heard the story of the crane wife?”
You hadn’t, but now you couldn’t wait to hear all about it.
I’ve gotten a friend into A Stain and I cannot overstate how fast I texted her about this update!! Like I saw the post and my consciousness beamed directly into hers basically.
AND GODDAMN WHAT A CHAPTER
It nourished my soul ❤️
Title: A Stain that Won’t Dissolve Rating: Explicit Pairing: Alex/Sebastian Tags: Hurt/comfort, aged-up characters (mid 20s), minor character death, angst, injury, grief, miscommunication, bullying, enemies to lovers, dubious consent, internalised homophobia, closeted character, past child abuse, dyslexia, antagonist farmer, unrequited love, pining, acceptance, top!Sebastian, bottom!Alex, power dynamics, happy ending.
Summary: Alex hates Sebastian – which is great because Sebastian more than returns the favour – and what starts out as revenge fantasy turns into unironic lust, which evolves into unrequited love. Alex gets a job, Sebastian marries the farmer, and both of them lose almost everything before finding each other again. A story of two mutual bullies who learn how to messily grow up.
A Stain that Won’t Dissolve - Chapter 57 - End a Fight With Flowers
In which Sebastian finally gets Alex to talk to him, but not without some pressure first, and Alex reveals a lot more than he meant to. At the end of their conversation, Sebastian presents Alex with something unexpected.
So excited for this!! And I have some of my pairs picked out 👀
* Fake Relationship: Shane/Sam
* Close Proximity: Leah/Abigail
* Opposites Attract: Shane/Elliott
* Forbidden Love: Caroline/Jodi
* Free Day: Haley/Penny
Still noodling on Enemies to Lovers and Second Chances. The inspo will surely come… maybe. We’ll see!
We have been teasing this on the server for a while now, so I am excited to announce the prompts below.
Happy writing everyone!