#there's a lot of yelling in this chapter

[igotsnothing]

Beginning/Previous/Next ⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

[rookflower]

you see, i don't hate ivypool, but i also think dovewing should be legally allowed to kill her if she ever wants to at this point because come on

[buwheal]

Why'd you bring the PC to the dump instead of your shop, Spam?

[stinkrat-aleks]

I don't tend to read things with the tag Hopeful Ending, actually I AVOID them. But I decided to read your fic a few months ago since I really loved cherik and your art. IT HAS BLOWN MY MIND!! personally, I struggle and relate to a lot of the feelings the kids have so it's incredible to read my feelings into words. Also, I'm a HUGEEEE Erik lenhsher lover and apologist, I love the way you've written him and how hes a dad, like even with all his faults and all his mistakes, he's a man made of LOVE and SUCH A DAD!!! he is a girl dad through and through.

Ive cried a bunch of times reading your fic , it's really realistic and I've enjoyed every second and tear I've shed while I've read it. I think the way you've written Cherik is so unbelievably HUMAN and REAL, they have such realistic faults and they make so many mistakes that they would TOTALLY do in those situations! I think your characterization of each character is ON POINT, they all really feel alive . Anyways, I deeply enjoy reading your fic and the dysfunctional big cherik family, AND YOUR ART!! I LOVE SILVERHAIRED ERIKKK I LOVE IT.

THANK YOUUUUU FOR YOUR HARD WORK. I LOOK FORWARD TO READING ALL YOUR NEXT WORKS AND EATING YOUR ART!!

Omg….now I’M gonna cry!!!! 😭

Thank you for leaving such a kind and detailed message!!!! I get really insecure about my writing (these past two chapters especially), so you have no idea how nice this was to read. Especially since I tried writing cherik to be nearly-irredeemable-but-somewhat-sympathetic assholes in this AU, it’s good to know that it’s still enjoyable and not simply annoying to read them bicker so much </3

It’s also a really personal fic for me bc a lot of the themes revolve around either my own childhood experiences as well as experiences I’ve noticed working in special education here with kids Pietro/Wanda/Jean/Lorna’s age. So again thank you SO much for reading and seeing the vision as I hoped it would come across!!!

Take care my friend!! <3

[qserasera]

or as @apricotlipped puts it:

zhongli, punching a hole into the side of the mountain: it's free real estate

everyone pls read on fulfilment: where zhongli and childe go on the run some years after the post-liyue quest and has almost everything i've ever wanted to see in a zhongchi fic of all time like so:

Zhongli says, “I’m not a god anymore.” “Aren’t you?” Childe asks. “You take away a gnosis, but the earth underneath us is still yours. You summon meteors from the sky. All the adepti in Liyue answer to you.”  “You’re right,” says Zhongli.  “It doesn’t matter if you are or are not,” Childe says. He looks away to the towers down below, the ruins that Zhongli sealed, excavated from rivers of water. “I just know I want to be here.”  They sit in silence for a while, the sunlight heavy.  

[space-writes]

Chapter Thirteen

In which Kelran calls Rizeth out, and Ashenivir's past makes a painful appearance.

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Ashenivir slowly turned a page, the words doing little more than occupy his eyes. He’d come to the Font not to study, but to think. Much like the Arcanum library, the quiet ambience served to calm his racing mind—and lately it had done nothing but race. He’d replayed the conversation with Lord Stillgleam over and over since High Coin, and kept coming back to one singular point.

Did you know, in all that time, he’s never once brought anyone in a collar with him?

It had to mean something. Or did it? Maybe Rizeth hadn’t liked collars before, or hadn’t found an enchantment he enjoyed until now. Maybe Kelran was lying, toying with him in retaliation for his taking so much of Rizeth’s time and attention. Maybe, despite their history, he didn’t know Rizeth as well as he thought he did.

Ashenivir tangled his fingers in his collar. Rizeth hadn’t pressed him for details on what he and Kelran had talked about, for which he was greatly relieved. He didn’t want to lie, and though he wanted to ask—desperately—what it all meant, he wasn’t certain he wanted an answer. Because Rizeth had apparently told Kelran his collar was a toy, and something about that made him hesitate.

It was a toy. A toy he never took off, not for anything, and when he got back to Mythen Thaelas, was he going to keep wearing it? Even after he was done with Rizeth? His fingers tightened, the links pressing painfully into his joints. The thought of taking it off turned his stomach inside out.

Keep Reading - AO3 / Dreamwidth / Neocities

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso @notwritinganyflufftoday (ask to be +/-)

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

if you title this you could post the first few chapters already!!! (for the wip ask game lol)

WIP Ask Game! tw: abuse implied

But Christian isn’t looking at her face. His gaze is currently fixed on Satine’s wrist where��Satine notices as if in slow motion and with a lurch of her stomach—the sleeve of her coat has ridden up and a nasty purple bruise is on full display. Unable to adjust her sleeve with her hands full of coffee cups, Satine rotates her arm but it’s too late; the damage has been done. “Are you alright?” Christian asks, reaching for her arm. His touch is as warm as Satine remembers but she flinches back from it as if it’s scalding hot. “I’m fine.” “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” Christian asks, searching her eyes. “Not at all,” Satine hastens to reassure him, realizing too late that she probably should have taken that excuse when it was offered to her, that flinching away from something that didn't hurt is suspicious while flinching away from something that did is reasonable. “Nothing to worry about,” Satine tries next, “just one of the hazards of live theatre. The show has a lot of lifts and I bruise easily. You’ll see tonight—the dancing is incredible,” Satine says, trying to get him back on topic of opening night.

[everyryuujisuguro]

[jamiesfootball]

Please tell me more about gender flipped Jamie because that seems like So Many Thoughts that I would love to hear

I have so many thoughts and yet they are so ephemeral and unspecific and this has been languishing in my askbox and this isn't technically what you asked for but here's what I wrote instead:

Chelsea sent Roy into retirement the way you sent an aging dog to be euthanized. Slowly and gradually, an inescapable march towards a day you knew was coming. Roy's agent gently broke the news to him that they wouldn't be renewing his contract, but there was no gently breaking Roy.

The retirement itself was an underwhelming affair; he stayed numb throughout the presser, answered questions, and left the spotlight. No bang--not even a whimper.

That was months ago. Now Roy Kent, former Chelsea star, was daydrinking at a bar in Richmond at half-three in the afternoon, wondering if he could convince the matron of the house to change the fucking channel.

"Rough season our girls have had," the proprietor, Mae, explained in a tone befitting a bartender cleaning a pint. In reality, she'd joined Roy at the bar with her own glass of chardonnay. "Lot of shake ups. New owner, new gaffer. Still, it could be worse. This new coach of theirs might be from the States, but we're sitting higher up on the table than we have in years. Does your lot keep up with the Super League, then?"

It was one in a series of loaded questions. Roy couldn't imagine you could be a bartender in London without knowing who Roy Kent was. Sheer wasted optimism, he'd had, moving out of Chelsea and assuming anything short of leaving the country would get him away from the haunting specter of his own fucking jersey.

"Yeah," Roy answered reluctantly. "Yeah, some of us keep up. All the teams in the Premier have sister teams, don't we?" Except for Richmond. The one outlier--the only team in the league without a big brother to speak of.

"Mm. Then you heard about the scandal?"

Roy grunted. Of course he heard. Everyone knew about Rupert Mannion ages ago; it was about bloody time someone did something. Awful for his ex-wife that it'd fallen to her to do it.

Mae topped off his chardonnay before pouring the remainder of the bottle into her own glass. "This new gaffer though, he's one of the good ones. He hangs around here sometimes, and you can tell just by listening to him--he respects those girls."

Since retiring, Roy had gotten used to living in a fog. He spent time with his niece, met with the yoga mums, let old ladies in bars talk his ears off to their heart's content, but anything he did between those events was a drudgery--a slow painful effort to drag one foot in front of the other, metaphorically and physically.

So he couldn't have said what it was about Mae's offhand praise for the Richmond Whippet's new gaffer that rankled him into talking back.

"Is he any good though?"

"What was that?"

"Their new coach," Roy gestured with his wine glass at the television in the corner. "The American. Is he any good?"

Mae shrugged one shoulder. "He's gotten better."

"So not really then."

The look Mae gave him could've scoured paint from a wall. "Well, talent isn't everything. Is it, Mr. Kent?"

She left under the guise of check on the three men in the corner. Regulars, by the looks of it; and the three of them the only ones aside from Mae wearing supporting colors for the local team.

He hadn't watched a match in ages. Oh, he'd caught highlights--it was impossible not too--but the few times he'd tried, unfairness ballooned in his chest like an atom bomb, and he gave up.

He hadn't bothered to watch anything from the women's league either. What difference would it make to try watching a different league. Sure, he didn't know any of them the way he knew the men in the Premier League, but football was football and envy was envy.

From what little he'd seen so far, he didn't envy Richmond at all. Everton had them on the ropes.

Roy winced as Number 14 knocked one off the crossbar. It'd been a good attempt. A solid cross from Number 9 had put it in the path, but with no one else nearby she'd gone for a risky shot.

From what little he'd paid attention to, only 9 and 14 were making any actual progress on the pitch, with 9 working double time to cut up the field. Every time the ball dropped back down the center, Richmond lost possession. Every. Time.

It was Number 6 that was the problem. McNally, that was it. Red-head, center-mid, captain. Roy knew her by reputation. A tough, seasoned player, who'd gotten her fair collection of caps for England. She had the experience; it didn't make any fucking sense why she'd be the weak link.

Roy looked away. He took a gulp of his chardonnay and relished in the unpleasant way it stung his nose. It'd be masochism to keep watching.

He kept watching.

Within five minutes, he'd cracked it.

Number 6 refused to pass to Number 9.

The gameplay split off like a branching tree. Either 6 got possession, crossed to another player, and they lost it to Everton's deep defensive line; or 9 got it herself and took it up the field, at which point the entire Richmond side narrowed down to the actions of 9 and 14.

What the fuck was going on?

In the aerial cameras showed two Everton players marking Number 9. Number 6 crossed to Number 24, and 24 took it to the net only for a defender to block her out easily.

A close up lingered on Number 24. She couldn't have looked more upset with herself. Young thing. Good talent, bad nerves. Fixable with the right support.

Number 6 got into Number 9's face and shouted. So where's her fucking support?

The camera panned in on 6 and 9 as what looked like a shouting match took place between the teammates. There was McNally, red-haired and red-faced and openly swearing even if the mics couldn't pick it up, and then there was Number 9. A cut of a girl, strong featured and iron-jawed, with her forehead set down like she intended to ram McNally like a bull if the captain came any closer.

What a fucking mess.

The camera panned to the gaffer, who stood with his hands in his pockets and a frown under his mustache. He called neither player off.

The match went back into play and almost immediately Number 9 took a foul. A blatant hit, tackled before she could grab possession again. Everton had singled her out just as clearly as Roy had.

Number 6 stood off to the side while 14 and 24 argued with the ref. The captain watched in open annoyance as Number 9 levered herself off the ground with a wince, her left side stained with grass and a limp.

Some fucking captain.

Number 9 took position for a free kick, and her name finally flashed across the screen in a font large enough for Roy to read. Jamie Tartt. Tartt lined up for the kick, for all the good it would do when she was a good forty meters back--

Tartt walloped the ball cleanly into the net.

A frisson of electricity ran down Roy's spine.

The lads at the end of the bar broke into cheers.

Half of the Richmond Whippets descended on Tartt. The other half shuffled around in discontent.

Number 24--Obisanya--nodded at Tartt, who nodded back. They didn't hug.

Extricating herself from (half) of her teammates, Tartt threw an arm around the only person she'd passed to all night--14, Rojas. Heads pressed together, headband to matching headband, they looked furtive and serious in their two-person huddle.

The camera panned back to the gaffer. He clapped but he didn't celebrate.

The whole thing was bizarre.

No, Mae was right; talent wasn't everything. Because Richmond had talent--what a spectacular fucking goal--and they were a fucking mess, like nothing Roy had ever witnessed before in his career.

If Mae was willing to put up with him, he might have to come back for the next match. Who knew, maybe he'd try swinging by on an off-match day to catch their gaffer and give him a piece of his mind.

Finally, something to look forward to. His sister would be so proud.

[reading-writing-dying]

Having a job is really cutting into my fanfic writing productivity because apparently I'm most capable of writing when I should already be in bed sleeping to prepare for a 13 hour workday the next morning

All this to say next chapter of The Other Me is written and ready to be edited over the next few days as I find time

[calamitoustide]

i was bored out of my mind and found out the total number of words all of the comments on ydgttmas take up (as of now) and. 17735. i'm. flabbergasted. (although probably more than half of that is quotes, but eh). idk what you'll do with this information but i wanted to share!!!!

THAT'S FUCKING CRAZY OH MY GOD?!?!? i cant wait for the total when the fic is over it's gonna be insane

[northern-passage]

adding some potential romance lockouts this chapter 👀

[purgaytorysupremacy]

i just hit 2,000 total kudos on my ao3 account and considering I posted my first fic in July 2022 and am the furthest thing from prolific/consistent, i'm feeling very grateful for the people who still read my nonsense

<3

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

I swear, this is the last ever New Year that I ring in with people who don't value me or my time and efforts. This is the last year that I spend the holidays etc feeling utterly despondant and miserable. This is the last time I spend the 2 weeks that encompass Christmas, New Years, and my birthday with my cunt of a mother and sister. They have had almost 25 of them in some way or another, and this is their last. I'm done.

[ssreeder]

bro i swear ara might be one of my Favorite characters she makes me so sad but i also like girly get a grip 😭 i love the way u write everbody especially sokka because hes so different but still has his yk quirks and tbh when ppl write him romantically they kinda leave it out

heres ara cuz i am this 🤏🏻 Close to just giving her a playlist since shes so ..woman. yk what i mean??

anyway i kinda Imagine her cut to be simliar to zuko and very uneven cuz bro Zhao will not acutally give a fuck to at least make it nice

this is just a fall from grace even tho its Basically the best thing right now since shes away from all that crazy shit

OMG ITS THE GIRL! The one & only Ara!!! I love how you did a before and after, girl thought she had her shit handled! Only to have her shit handed to her. She has serious sad girl energy but you’re so right she needs to handle it haha.

Thank you so much for this I am squealing with joy you’re amazing!!!

[anachronistic-falsehood]

RAGHGGHH i want 2 keep reading but. i want 2 write. i have so much i want 2 write rn. pd villains......... tidalwave..... start jrwi mini bang fic...... so many options