#but it was about my fics and Void and well

[abubblingcandle]

I would love to hear more about your thoughts on Jamie’s loan being terminated

You do not know the box you have opened my friend. I've been talking about this a lot today as fic may be coming but the one word summary is that it is all about the ✨optics✨

Because if we step outside of the AFC Richmond bubble and just look at the sequence of events that goes on, it looks so bad for our boy.

He fights with his teammate on the pitch over his treatment of another teammate. They are both booked for this fight. Jamie is then yanked in the first half of the game very close to half time. This looks like disciplinary action. It looks like the blame is being placed at Jamie's feet and he is being pulled off the pitch as 'punishment'. Because if it is a tactical change, if it is a problem with the play on the pitch then you wait until half time so it can be a more thought out decision. And looking at the quality of Jamie's play during the match, he's not playing badly so it can't be because of that. So it must be disciplinary.

Then, in the press conference post match Ted makes the comment "Jamie knows what he needs to do". Which is just so Ted but I'm not going to get into the Jamie side of that now because that's not relavent to this argument. SO from a press POV, that sounds an awful lot like this being a recurring problem, internal disciplinary action had been threatened and Jamie continued with this behaviour and so it would be taken further. It also places the blame for problems squarely on Jamie's shoulders.

Next couple of days, Dani Rojas. Dani would be plastered all over social media about his return. Running around training, scoring goals, being hugged by his teammates. And who's missing from these scenes ... Jamie Tartt. The striker brought in when Dani got injured who has been walking a fine line. Whispers will start proper now, where is Tartt? He wasn't injured at the game, Kent didn't even touch him. Is this disciplinary as in being barred from training in which case that is ten times worse than anyone thought or is he choosing to miss training in which case that shows a major break down and potential breach of contract. Bad news.

Then ... Jamie's loan is terminated. Now from all the vagueness about Ted not being told, no one knowing if it was City that called him back or Richmond that terminated it that likely means there was a vague as fuck statement likely just saying "Jamie Tartt's loan has been terminated, all of us at Richmond wish him well". Which screams (say it with me now) disciplinary issues. The rumour mill would be going a mile a minute but what conclusions do we expect them to draw with that being the image that was painted in the lead up.

Jamie then barely plays for City the rest of the season which doesn't fill anyone with confidence that Jamie has been 'forgiven' for his transgressions.

SO - the point being, if any other team looks at Jamie during the summer loan/transfer window after S1, his record screams DISCIPLINARY ISSUES which for basically every team out there is a deal killer. Why would you want to spend premier league salary and transfer fees for a player that might come into your team and be hostile, refuse to train, fight within the team ... you just wouldn't.

Being returned from a loan for disciplinary issues is a career killer and it adds so much to beginning of S2 Jamie because what if he had looked for a footballing way out of Manchester but no one wanted anything to do with him for the money that Man City were asking and so ... what else was he to do? But then in running away to LCA ... he just proved all of those issues right and gave Man City a real opportunity to void his contract

... for ... disciplinary issues

[oneluckydragon]

Started writing a fic back in early October and had to abandon it for a while due to IRL situations. But I've started working on it again little by little, and I am so excited to eventually share it with my mutuals and followers. I hope you guys enjoy it (I am trying my best to get it done)!

TBH my only motivation anymore is thinking about my friends having a good time reading it when it's finally posted (I love all of you very much). I cannot wait for all of these ideas to be fleshed-out on paper at last.

Over 16,000 words and I am nowhere near satisfied yet. I feel like I can write WAY more. Stay tuned!

[lapinneok]

tgothpp fanart

[finniestoncrane]

i think tomorrow perhaps i am going to sit in the cupboard or ask my husband to make me a den or something i need to be enclosed and safe i need to be shrouded and TIGHT

[windwardstar]

Fandom really really really needs to get with the program that trans mascs exist as like both a concept in the first place and the as like real people who actually exist

How the fuck. Do people. Think. Trans men don't count as mpreg?!? It's the one scenario that is actually not only possible in real life but happens regularly!

And. If. Your first??? Explanation for why a guy could have a vagina is that it's omegaverse? Or magic? Or that in an au of Mulan where a girl dresses up as a guy... but the canon character is a guy... you jump to omegaverse rather than Trans guy. That is literally the easiest explanation here.

Like. Please. I.m begging you. Realize trans mascs exist.

Also while I'm at it. Where are the trans people in omegaverse stories????? Like this is supposedly a genre for deconstructing gender and playing with it but it really just seems like a way to dive headfirst into biologic essentialism and completely ignore that trans people exist? (Because trans tags and omegaverse tags seem to have like no overlap.) (Although the intersex tag sees plenty of use with omegaverse but I'm guessing that is a fetishistic hot mess given the other rampant problems I've noticed and general awareness that intersex topics aren't handled well by society in general)

Like. Idk. I just. The fact trans men and mascs are just like apparently lower on the thoughts that occur to writers for why a "girl" would be dressed as a guy, why a guy could be pregnant or have a vagina than magic or gender essentialism: the au. Is just.

[beedreamscape]

Scenes of Iomene and Oscar in the time after.

I have no excuses for why I wrote this except [screams]. PURE SELF-INDULGENT HEADCANON. It takes place over a long, undefined length of time.

Iomene wraps her arms around Oscar's shoulders by the back and at her firm embrace, he leans into her.

His shoulders are broad so she's not able to envelop him completely. They stand at roughly the same height -either by design or some trick of the eye, he's got the impression she ought to be taller- and she's strong enough that he leans without worry of pushing her back.

She rests her chin on his shoulder and looks at the subject of his attention, the storm going outside the tall windows. Behind the curtain of rain, the thinner trees bend under the force of the wind, branches lashing against themselves and on the studier trunks, leaves sway like clothes on a line.

Their eyes cross on the faint reflection on the glass. In contrast to all that is fair in him, his eyes are like two dark marbles, a brown so deep and dark it's almost black; hers resemble her skin, an inhuman ambar like brandy on fire. Whenever she holds his stare to hers, he has the unsettling thought that she can or might be reading his thoughts.

Taking a break? He asks.

Thought I come see you.

He breathes out a laugh. You didn't have to.

The first time it happened he asked if it was her doing, the rain. It wasn't without reason, she had told him this place wasn't entirely real, the mansion -or palace if you lived in the places Oscar had- was almost a personal limbo, between veils, not outside of the Fairelands but not in it either.

Close enough it influences what happens here, she had told him.

If it rains there, it rains here?

She had shaken her head. No, fluctuations in Bleed cause this. I lived in flood and pain when war was at its highest, then in waist-deep snow as it died down.

He had also told her it reminded him of the accident and she held him steadily for what must've been hours if those had any meaning there.

Her breath has a complex rich scent, never bad but never something recognizable; a new, intriguing smell.

I don't have to do anything.

I know. He rubs the back of her hand in a resemblance of reassurance. I'm alright, I promise.

I miss having someone to care for.

He takes her upper arm, his large hand almost wrapping around it, and brings her to his side so he can look at her --- she's beautiful in a way he's not used to, though he's not quite sure what was he ever used to anymore. Her skin is bronze like copper and her hair darker than any black his eyes could register, she only looked human when she stood very close.

You already care for the whole of the Fairelands. Besides, I'm literally the last person that needs caring for.

It's different. And yes, you do. Dying is not the worst thing that can happen to a person and we both know it.

He smiles, not with teeth but broadly. Darling, I'm painfully familiar with oblivion. Though I've only skirted the edges of madness.

I've dabbled in madness a fair share over millennia.

He points lazily towards the window.

Could we walk out on it? Not in permission but in safety. Every now and then I heard of toxic rain back in Newfair, especially right after the war.

It's bleed-induced, but I don't believe it's toxic. I think we could.

And without another word, she takes his hand and leads him out.

He had asked her how far the land around them stretched on the first night he had woken up in the house --- she had kept him sleeping for about a week or maybe a month, a while to dream of death, a while to adapt her world for his presence, to be shared after hundreds of years of solitude.

For as far my legs will carry me, she told him.

Are there other buildings? Other houses?

I never felt the need for them.

You build them?

With enough will and vision, I could.

So you built this? She nods. A bit big for just one person.

One needs a variety of spaces even when living alone. I thought of rebuilding the whole of Oldfaire in the beginning, I went halfway through with it, but seeing my city with none of its people really hurt me. I did replicate the shore of Seasway, not the whole ocean, but enough that it might trick the eye into thinking it's endless.

Wow... I might need a map one day.

Yes, yes, I never thought to do so, it can be a fun project if you'd willing to tackle it. But that's for later. I reshaped some quarters and cleared space so you may shape them to your liking.

I wouldn't know where to start.

I would suggest you start with your bedroom and then the library, browse through my catalogue and pick out the ones you need to assemble your own.

Why can't I use yours?

She smiles that mischievous smile of someone who knows more, who'll always know more. You'll understand when you walk in there.

He went days without moving much further than the clearing surrounding the house, went on not exploring the library and its secrets, went on trying to ignore the grief over Cosmo, and on one of those days, returned with bloodied and torn fists.

I thought I'd hurt less in here, he told her. She gestures to the water-filled bowl in front of him and he dips his hands in, and sighs at the soothing cool of it.

That'd be easier if it was like that. I'm constantly in pain, I just learned to live with it.

I assume because of the Bleed.

Yes. They both go silent and watch the blood colouring the water red. She waits for him with a towel after five minutes. I'll put ointments and bandage it, but it'll heal regardless. It'll heal as if you had never broken your skin.

Can I even die here?

You'll have to try really hard for it and even then you'd return. The magick here... This place is electrified with both life and Bleed, its own reality and limbo combined.

Oscar went around three days without seeing Iomene before daring to enter her private quarters and look for her.

She lied pale yellow on the floor of her study, cold at the extremities, not breathing. For a second he wondered if she had succeded, but just for a second --- if she had died three days ago, her body would've begun to rot and he knew they don't have that luxury.

The bleed permeated the very air he breathed but at that moment, it flooded out of her like a broken fire hydrant, it made his skin break in goosebumps upon touch and something within him to stir.

He took her in his arms and layed her inside the gold bathtub of her bathroom, clothes and all, and ran a hot bath.

Then he sat on the floor and waited for her to return.

After a quiet period of days of studying, on her part, and reading, on his --- inside the library, he understood, rows of books that the biggest library in Newfaire would never be able to comport, knowledge so old it no longer had surviving records in the world of the living, no place traversable in search of a casual read at least not in short notice ---, she invites him for a walk.

The weather was nice, not too hot like in days of excessive magick nor cold like in days of Bleed, and Iomene wore clothes shorter than any he'd ever seen her in, considering he'd only ever seen her in long pants and gowns.

She walked with a purpose for about five minutes before reaching another clearing, not a random grass field, but a perfect cone with grass cut to perfection and familiar lines.

She walked forward towards the perfectly cut circle at the head of the field while he stood stunned.

I know this means very little without peers to play with but I thought we could think of something for two or at the very least it could bring forth fond memories.

He held back tears. Yeah, we can think of something. But we'll need-

The bats and balls are right over there, she says pointing to one of the trees where beneath is an open crate with the equipment. Needless to say, I'll need some training, I'm afraid just watching didn't make me a partner up to par.

He laughed out loud, the first time she heard it. Well, if it'll be just the two of us... He studied the contents of the crate and he picked up a ball. First of all, I think I'll need you to perfect your throws.

And shooted the baseball her way.

The rain feels both exactly like it always did, but also more real, much colder even through his dress shirt, especially through it, the intensity of the rain soaking the fabric until the clothes cling to his skin.

Yet he stands under it, proper vision of his surroundings impeded by the water except that of her, standing near, long dark hair dripping and a face that could only belong to an empress.

I haven't stood in the rain in decades, I think, she shouts. There's something jovial to her in this very moment, to her smile and the way she faces the rain as it pours over her face.

With her, there is always a dichotomy --- real or fantastic, a mother or a partner, a goddess or a woman.

He ignores every restraint and every assumption, and gives in to the feelings he's still allowed in this moment: the cold making his skin prickle, the fear brought by the intense sound of the storm hitting the trees and the house's roof, but especially the searing hot draw towards the woman who doesn't flinch as she looks at the abomination of his existence --- his only equal.

Oscar closes the distance, holds her face with the scraps of gentleness he still recalls and kisses her with the ferocity of a creature fearless of death. Iomene responds with the hunger of a prisoner fed comfort and warmth, holding onto him with nails dug deep as a captive holds onto freedom.

He pulls away with blood seeping through the cracks of his lips, blinking through wet lashes.

You taste like mints, he shouts through the rain.

She's serious when she responds, I considered your preferences.

This takes him by surprise. You knew I'd kiss you?

She smiles with her eyes.

No. But I've been hoping one day you would.

[phereshift]

Lonely Avatar Tianlang-jun, absolutely inspired by @rippedorigami's tma x svsss fic 'prosopagnosia, alexithymia, arachnophobia' !!

[authenticcadence18]

I miss the person I was a year ago. two years ago. more social. happier. doing more creatively.

[bejeweledmp3]

computer how do i stop feeling insecure on my writting so that can i write. computer please

[desperatepleasures]

guhhhh i am struggling so much with ch3

[ljf613]

I've spent almost two months trying to get the first chapter of this HTTYD fic written. Some of these characters and scenes just do not want to cooperate. In the meantime, here's a scene that did come pretty easily.

"Are you sure about this, Gobber?" Stoick asked, for what had to be at least the fifteenth time.

"Yes, Stoick," said the blacksmith, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "They'll all be fine."

"But did it have to be him? Is he really prepared to handle this? Does he have any idea what he's doing?" Stoick waved his hands, clearly agitated. "No offense, but has he ever even killed a dragon before?"

Gobber considered this, and realized he didn't actually know. Best not to mention that part.

"Of course he has!" Gobber replied. "But that's not important. The important thing is to make sure that the kids learn how to survive, and to do that, they need to know their enemy. And no one knows more about the beasts than he does-- he's practically a modern-day Bork!"

Even Stoick couldn't deny that.

"And why can't you do it? You know, the way you have for years and years." He didn't appear willing to give up on this point, so Gobber just sighed and admitted the truth.

"I'm not getting any younger, Stoick," he explained. "And between my regular duties and training the new apprentice, I just don't have the time or energy to also handle dragon training. I'd think if anyone would understand that, it would be you."

"Aye," said Stoick. "I do understand. I suppose I'm just worried about... you know."

Gobber did know. That was the problem. 

"Mhm," he grumbled noncommittally.

"Speaking of your new apprentice, how is he doing?" Stoick seemed to have decided changing the subject was the best course of action here, and Gobber would not complain.

"Oh, a right terror he is," said Gobber, sighing. "Always touching everything and knocking things over and getting into trouble. Not so different from the last one."

"The last one, eh?" Stoick smiled.

"And just as clever, too," laughed the blacksmith. "I have high hopes for the boy. I have a feeling that when I finally do get around to retiring, the forge will be in good hands."

- Excerpt from “A Better Version of Our Best”

[jeysbvck]

guess whose considering writing a buddie fic hahahahhaahahahahahahaha

[marsvs-thesun]

I am once again thinking about a creepypasta human!AU with time travel so I'm gonna put it out there:

Basically, the creepys' canon events(tm) haven't happened yet but theyre rapidly approaching (for example, Ben already has a bad home life, but he's still, yk, alive), except instead of being isolated by their circumstances they end up finding each other before that's meant to happen, and the probability of them turning to murder starts to decrease as a result of the sudden appearance of A Support System.

So things are sightly better except the universe/slender/whatever-force-needs-teenage-murderers seeks to right itself and that leads to the ACTUAL creepypastas (their future selves) showing up to try and convince them that murder is good, actually. And, since they're not great at debates, convincing here stands for the occasional kidnapping and/or murder. (And that's not counting all the creepys who would leave everything behind for another chance at life, revenge, or whatever else).

There's SO much I want to say about this that I cant articulate it's just,,,, betraying your younger self. Being face to face with your own inhumanity. Finding love in the most hateful places. I'm a little insane about this.

Anyways, I've had this thing in my head for YEARS now. Don't think it will ever be a thing. But it's fun to think about!

[wolves-in-the-world]

On the basis that I like this bit a lot but it didn't fit the fic I ended up writing, please have a slightly different approach to Parker and Hardison finding Eliot's sealskin, beginning after the con in San Lorenzo.

—

"Any luck so far?" Hardison says, checking out the nearby surveillance cameras on his phone.

"I don't believe in luck." (Why doesn't that surprise him? Aside from the fact that she's so good at what she does she doesn't need it.) "Just some diamonds."

"I feel like you should be more excited about that."

"It's a matching pair of necklaces," Parker says, over the comms, "stolen by a team two years back. One of them got shot doing it."

That makes him pay attention. Not that he was just watching the feed of the stray cat nosing around on the other side of the building before. "Shit. Someone you knew?"

"Not really." He hears a low scrape, like boxes being moved. "I'll take them, of course-" of course "-but I'd like to find something a bit more..."

"Interesting?" Hardison supplies.

"I guess."

She doesn't sound enthused. Hardison frowns at that, wondering if this trip had been a mistake. Eliot's walks are long at the best of times, but they could have gone with him - except he'd seemed to really need that time alone. If they headed back now, they could be there to greet him when he gets back.

On a whim, he checks the time. Winces. Yeah, no, he's heading to bed the moment he gets back. He didn't exactly get much sleep what with preparing to send all those emails last night. Shit, is this what getting old feels like?

He realises, suddenly, he hasn't heard any noise over the comms for a little while. "Parker?"

"...He has a sealskin."

"That's messed up." Hardison feels a stirring of unease in his stomach. "Still, I mean, he seemed like the type. Rich people and their exotic curiosities." He raises his free hand for the air quotes.

"I don't think it's that." She sounds firm. Urgent, even. Hardison automatically straightens in his seat, checking the camera feeds for company. None.

Parker goes on, "I've seen the ones people have in private collections. They're old, I mean they're kept in good condition, but you can tell. This one doesn't look like that."

"What does it look like?" It shouldn't matter. Some poor schmuck lost a part of themself to Moreau, is all. Most likely they're dead already. It doesn't feel right to be curious about it.

Parker's voice comes through after another short pause. "Grey. Pretty beat up. Scars."

So they're looking for someone with scars. That doesn't narrow it down much. Doesn't even mean it can't be one of Moreau's victims.

He thinks, unbidden, of Eliot. Nevermind that he just needs to think of the pool for his stomach to twist, that the talk he and Eliot had about that was not nearly enough to put it all to rest, it's pretty clear to him that Moreau wasn't exactly good to Eliot either.

He pushes the thought away again. Today is for celebrating, he reminds himself. They had all been together for that, him and Parker, Sophie and Nate, Eliot so bright and so light and willing to laugh with them, even to dance a bit. Then Eliot had said he needed a walk to clear his head, and it had felt like the right thing to do to let him go alone. When Hardison got back to the hotel bar Sophie and Nate had disappeared, and Parker had gotten itchy.

Ribera wouldn't be checking out his new villa until the morning. There was time enough for a brilliant thief and a top-tier hacker to take a look around.

It had been easy to find someone willing to lend them their car - there are a lot of people out celebrating today. It's no Lucille, drab and beige and at least twenty years old, but he paid them well for it anyway. He'd like to leave them something extra, when he returns it, depending on what Parker finds.

He leans back in the chair again, frowning down at the screen of his phone. It's gone blank, undisturbed for too long.

"I think there are organisations," Hardison says, putting confidence into his voice he doesn't quite feel, "that deal with this sort of thing. You know. Sea burials and the like."

"Hardison." The uncertainty in her voice makes him go still, eyes on the dashboard, listening intently. "I think you should see this."

What? He gentles his voice. "Parker?"

"What if they're still alive? The person it belongs to?"

"O- okay, good point, we can't be sure-" 

"You need to see this, Hardison."

"Parker-"

"You need to see this."

[microwaved-cheese-sandwich]

just had the saddest and best idea for a humanstuck calliope. shes the only daughter of this fundamentalist survivalist cultish family living in the mountains in colorado probably and her older brother caliborn is shitty and abusive and she is so lonely and confused and eventually makes friends with roxy and the boys on scary trips to Town and they help her get an education and eventually escape her family for good. also she is lesbian. this is the most part

[starw1sh]

Staring at my published AO3 fics like Narcissus staring at his reflection