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kvetchinglyneurotic · 18 hours
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Eight weeks and eight draws into his second season at Richmond, Ted meets with Jamie at the Crown & Anchor and tells him he can't come back to the team; it's not a good fit. The next day, he changes his mind. The day after that, he wakes up in the past.
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I LOVE IT WHEN ENDINGS CIRCLE BACK TO THE BEGINNING!!!
I LOVE IT WHEN CHARACTERS MIRROR EACH OTHER!!!!!
I LOVE IT WHEN CHARACTERS SEAL THEIR FATES IN THEIR FIRST SCENES!!!!
I LOVE IT WHEN CHARACTERS' GREATEST TRAITS ARE ALSO WHAT DOOM THEM IN THE END!!!!!
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utilising the gift of imagination to hallucinate moments of tenderness between fictional people
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i am. so sorry if i have ever used the phrase “i have an au where—” and led you to believe that there is an actual fic out there for you to read rather than, at best, a post where i explain the concept, and at worst it is simply something that lives in my brain
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my most unpopular stranger things related but not stranger things exclusive opinion is that i am very bored with how almost every story that has paranormal or scifi elements eventually evolves into a story about stopping the end of the world. and i do know that apocalypse media has its enjoyers however i am not one of them and i very rarely choose to consume it so you see why it would exhaust me that so often all my horror shows and podcasts turn into an apocalypse thing
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I finally decided that I'm going to post Wrong Answers Only as chapters rather than a long one-shot, and that I'm about 2.5 out of 8 chapters in.
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When I read a fanfic I like, the author becomes a mini celebrity to me. So when an author with a work I like kudos’ or comments on my own fanfic I just-
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i'm procrastinating so: if you had to rewrite one of your fics from a different pov, which one would you choose and why? (the original version of the fic still exists in this scenario, you're just making it into a rashomon)
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hold on sorry you're telling me the name of the boat was "the terror"?? i always assumed that was a retroactive name! did they WANT things to go horrifically awry???
obsessed with the implication that nominative determinism could have saved them
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I’m unsure how specific it is, but your writing tells me how intelligent and caring you are and also confident in yourself and your place in this world 🤍
Thank you, that's so sweet??
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attention this is your captain speaking chag sameach pesach to all celebrating and a reminder do not open the airlock to greet elijah the vulcan rabbinic council ruled that opening the door to the room where the seder is occurring is sufficient elijah can get on a starship just fine himself he just likes to be personally invited in to your seder we dont need another incident like last year thank you
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A persons fanfic tells you a lot about them, i , a fanfic writer, realize in terror
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Always the writer, never the reader.
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"We'll fix it in post" is a phrase from the film industry, but it is inherently funnier when it's spoken by a writer because--tragic--you are also the post-production team.
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🌹🌷🌹🌸🌹🌸🌼🌸🌼🌷🌼🌷
By the fifth tackle, Jamie was starting to lag, testing his weight gingerly before he took off running again. Ted hesitated, hand going up to his whistle — he’d been coaching long enough to know sometimes you needed to let the fellas sort it out among themselves, but Jamie wasn’t exactly known for having a long fuse and with each swipe (verbal or physical) he could practically see that clock ticking down to an explosion.
“Someone’s going to get hurt,” Beard said quietly.
“Maybe,” Ted agreed, watching Jamie pick himself back up again. He nicked the ball away from Dani, went for the goal. “But I figure we owe it to him to give him the chance to prove us wrong.”
“I meant physically.”
The ball sailed into the net, missing the tip of Zoreaux’s outstretched glove by barely an inch. Zoreaux stooped to pick it up — and whipped it hard at Jamie, who flinched back, arms jerking up a moment too late to protect himself. The ball collided with his face with a sickening crack. He swayed, stumbled, slumped limply to the ground. When Ted skidded to a halt at his side his eyes were closed, blood tracking down the side of his face from his swollen nose, pooling into the grass.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Zoreaux was mumbling somewhere in the distance, voice reaching him as if through a thick pane of glass as Ted raised a shaking hand to Jamie’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Found it, thready-thin, after a long minute. Jamie’s eyes were still closed, his body limp. How long could someone be unconscious before there was a risk of brain damage? A minute? Thirty seconds? He squeezed Jamie’s wrist, desperate and too hard.
“Come on, bud,” he said, voice cracking in the middle. “C’mon, Jamie. Go on and open your eyes, let us see how you’re doing; you’re fine.”
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Things that work in fiction but not real life
torture getting reliable information out of people
knocking someone out to harmlessly incapacitate them for like an hour
jumping into water from staggering heights and surviving the fall completely intact
calling the police to deescalate a situation
rafting your way off a desert island
correctly profiling total strangers based on vibes
effectively operating every computer by typing and nothing else
ripping an IV out of your arm without consequences
heterosexual cowboy
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