#editing hell

My loves,

I have just finished editing Lewis Ford's Kinktober fic.

I am absolutely feral over this man. 😭

October feels approximately twelve business years away because I need to throw this story at all of you immediately, and the universe has unfortunately invented "waiting."

And now... I'm editing John Walker's post-serum Kinktober fic.

This is an alternate universe from Fault Lines. This is not our John. This is not the soft, patient, worship-you-like-you-hung-the-moon John who would stop to check on Em after every kiss.

This version exists in a completely separate universe where the serum twists everything, and you're going to see a side of him that Fault Lines John would probably fistfight on sight.

I am having too much fun challenging myself out of my comfort zone.

So, I’m in this creative writing workshop at uni. My professor accepts fanfiction as a final project. Sounds like a dream, right? WRONG. It’s a trap.

The rules: You have to follow the canon rules, keep everyone in character, and—the cherry on top—you must pick something the character would never do "even under threat of death" in Chapter 1... and make them do it by the end.

Enter: No Coincidence But Fate. I really went and made Mira destroy the Honmoon. Voluntarily. Why? Because apparently, I wake up and choose suffering as a hobby. (it actually got approved as my final project, so… I guess the suffering paid off)

Anyway, I had three drafts rotting in my folders:

1. The Forbidden Spice: Locked in a digital vault. If my professor reads this, I’ll never be able to look her in the eye again, and I need those credits to survive.

2. The Safety Net: A cozy comedy. My "stay in your lane" plan.

3. The Recursive Nightmare: An AU of my own AU where everything is exponentially worse. Basically, the "No Coincidence But Fate" universe but if it tripped and fell into a meat grinder.

ACT OF TREASON: My provisional beta reader—who is a villain in disguise—sent Draft #3 to my professor. WITHOUT ASKING. He didn't just snitch; he handed her the keys to my mental asylum. And of course, she loved it. She approved the darkest, most difficult project possible. I’m currently oscillating between fighting him in a parking lot and crying on the floor.

His Excuse? "You made my life hell when you wrote 'We Fucked Up,' so now the professor can deal with you." He also claims my Little Inner Clown actually listens to her feedback but treats him like a final boss in a Soulslike game. Which... shuts eyes... is unfortunately the most accurate thing anyone has ever said about me.

The Punchline: She just failed my Chapter 1. 💀

And the absolute worst, most disgusting part? HE TOLD ME TO FIX THOSE EXACT ISSUES WEEKS AGO. He was right. My clown was just being a stubborn brat and ignored him, and now I have to rewrite it while swallowing my pride (it tastes like copper and regret).

I hate it.

…and unfortunately, this is still the project I’m most obsessed with. Which feels like a personal attack.

My provisional beta, five minutes ago:

“you’re putting more effort into this fic than the other one.”

Language tool... Language tool what do you mean SQUINCHED? Might as well as suggested scunched oh my good god.