I know "60s housewives who invented slash fanfiction" has taken on a life of its own as a phrase, but Kirk/Spock didn't really exist until the 70s and THOSE WOMEN HAD JOBS. They were teachers and librarians and bookkeepers and scientists and they damn well spent their own money going to conventions, printing zines, buying fanart and making fandom happen. Put some respect on their names.
Honestly? Shoutout to those of you who are completely fucking lost in life. Those who don’t know what they want to do with life. Those who are stuck in a certain part of life and can’t get out. Those who are reaching for dreams they feel are impossible to reach. Those who feel like they’re accomplishments are being overlooked. Those who feel like their enough just isn’t enough. It is. You can make it. You will make it. There is an opening at the end of the tunnel.
More stories from hell (retail) today I was ringing up this lady and she goes oh I want to do part of this on a gift card and the rest on normal card and I go ok and then she hands me a folded piece of paper. I think oh OK it must be folded around the gift card, right? Wrong. It is a folded sheet of 8×11 printer paper with "$40" written on the inside in ballpoint pen. I go what is this. She says a gift card. I say this is not a gift card. She says yes it is. I say this is a piece of paper with "$40" written on it. She says "well it's a gift card." I say it absolutely is not. I am grinding my teeth. She says well I want to use it. I say you physically cannot do that bc it is a piece of paper. I cannot scan or swipe it. I apologize, as if this is my fault, and not because she is completely insane. I hate it here
Howdy pardners! We're thrilled to announce our rootin' tootin' new anthology title - Wild Blue Yonder: A Collection of Three MM Cowboy Romance Stories.
Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.
to you, it’s a shitty sentence. to some random bitch 500 miles away, it’s a fire line that’ll haunt them for the next 17 years.
you don’t know how impactful your writing is because it’s been in your brain for far too long now. you’ve stared at it for hours and repeated “this sucks” over and over again to the point that you killed your capacity to feel anything about your work.
but trust me, once you get your shit out there, someone’s gonna go over that paragraph you hate and go “jesus fucking christ” and put the book down to have an existential crisis.