#sorting. measuring. listing. it comes naturally to me

[bdluejay]

what kind of autism is this one

[al-the-remix]

BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 2: nicknames and terms of endearment

thank you to the @bucktommypositivityweek mods for putting this together so quickly! please overlook any spelling/grammar errors...it normally takes me 5-7 business days to catch them all (if even) and I really wanted to write something for this event. Rated: E • 2K • Fluff, Romance, Humour, And some smut at the end.

Of all the things Buck thinks may prove to be a speed bump in his first relationship with a dude, (phrasing he’s still getting ragged for), like who gets to be the big spoon, if he was going to have to start buying his own shampoo (the bottle Natalie left in his shower had entered a critical state of near empty), the whole dick situation, none of them actually turn out to be much of an issue. 

As it happens Tommy is pretty indifferent when it comes to their sleeping arrangements (together, preferably); he offers to drop by the CVS and pick up more shampoo for Buck when he realizes he’s out (are you sure Herbal Essence is really what you want?); and let's just say Buck finds he takes to cock like a duck to water. 

In the end, he’s so busy worrying about whether Tommy would want to be the little spoon on occasion, or if his boyfriend now thinks he doesn’t know how to wash his hair, he completely overlooks one of the most obvious hurdles of them all: pet names. 

And the worst part is that it’s totally a one sided issue. “Sweetheart” slips out of Tommy’s mouth so easy and so smooth, his tone warm like butter sliding around a hot pan, just a little gravelly, especially first thing in the morning and late at night. The word rolls down Buck’s spine like condensation, gaining speed, to pool warm and liquid in the cradle of his hips. Tommy makes it sound so natural: a little cocky, a little, flirty, a little tongue and cheek, like the word was created to be formed by his lips and not the other way around.

Buck tries it out in the mirror one time, it’s clunky and awkward and he embarasses himself too much to keep going. He’d been surprised, maybe even a little underwhelmed (in a good way), by how few differences there really were when it came to dating men vs. women. Sure, he didn’t think any of his previous girlfriends would have been charmed if he tried one of his new grappling moves on them pre-fuck (but he bet he could proabally find a woman who did if he tried hard enough), and the stubble burn on his ass was new but not all that different from eating a girl out one week post bikini wax–the important part was the kisses felt the same, Tommy’s skin didn’t taste any different against Buck’s tongue, and his heartbeat still fluttered high in his throat when Tommy looked at him and smiled or reached out to interlace their fingers. 

The point was, the things that do stand out to him about Tommy: his strength, the way he carries himself, how he’s in equal measures serious and goofy and sarcastic in a way that has Buck bubbling fondness and unable to hold back his grin, makes it difficult for Buck to come up with an enderment he feels encompassess all of that. He’s probably overthinking it (he definitely is), but it wasn’t the first time Tommy had left him reeling and feeling slightly unmoored, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, so he better pull himself up by his bootstraps and get to work.

Buck decides the best way to feel Tommy out was to work it into casual conversation. An experiment of sorts. He’s already got a list of potential options on his phone; he leaves sweetheart off it because it just doesn’t sound right coming out of anyone’s mouth but Tommy’s. 

Tommy’s working in the garage when Buck decides to give his first option a go. The heat spiked around noon, and Tommy’s got a box fan blasting in the corner of the room. He’s still got a massive gray splotch on the center of his back where his shirt is stuck to his skin and Buck’s a little surprised (and disappointed) that hasn’t ditched it yet. 

“Hey honey, it’s smokin’ in here, do you want some water?”

Tommy jerks, bumping his head on the hood of the Charger. Buck winces. The look Tommy shoots over his shoulder is an incredulous one, rubbing at the back of his head. “I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”

Buck crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not backing down now. “Honey.”

Tommy raises a brow. “What, are you going to make me a sandwich too? Get me a beer?”

Buck throws his hands in the air because he can, he knows Tommy finds his dramatics charming, the poor sucker. He turns on his heel, a smile eating away at the corner of his mouth. “I was just trying to be nice, but if you’re fine–”

Tommy lunges out and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Buck’s shorts, reeling him back. “Whoa, wait a second. I didn’t go that far…”

Buck is very happy to let himself be dragged into the circle of Tommy’s arms, broad hands slipping into his back pockets. Tommy smells a little funky, like sweat and grease and the spearmint gum he likes to chew when he’s working with his hands, an old habit from quitting nicotine post-military. 

He slips his fingers under the damp cotton at Tommy’s waist, rolling the hem of his shirt up inch by inch. “Well, what do you want then?”

Tommy gives him a quick peck on the lips. “I can think of a few things, but water does sound pretty good right now.”

Buck leans in for another kiss, letting this one linger. “Mmm, alright.”

“What,” Tommy drawls, “No, ‘alright, honey’?”

Buck slaps him hard on the ass, Tommy letting out a full body “oof” a Buck steps out of the circle of his arms. 

“Maybe later if you ask nicely.” Buck wags a finger at him as he walks slowly backwards towards the door to the house. Pretty proud of himself when he doesn’t trip over the first step.

Well, he can scratch that one off the list. 

The next up is babe, which Buck regrets almost immediately. 

“Babe, do you know where my running shoes ended up?” he calls down from the loft, and gets in return: “Where you left them babe, right on top of mine!”

Tommy spends the rest of the day parroting him, “pass the remote, babe–do you need me to pick anything up on my way home, babe--don’t drop the soap, babe–” and Buck thinks it’s best to lay that one to rest before he goes insane. 

It becomes clear that the rest aren’t going to make the cut either and Buck decides to take the opportunity to have some fun with it instead. “Honeybun” makes Tommy snort coffee out his nose; “Gumdrop”, specifically employed in front of Eddie, makes Tommy glow, pleased and a little flustered at being razzed about it by his new friend; “Lover” makes the corners of Tommy’s mouth writhe and his eyes roll and his nose scrunch up like he’s sort of embarrassed by how much he likes that one, (Buck slips that information into his back pocket for later).

They all live within the sliding scale of reactions Buck expects from him: fondness and humor and affection. It’s not until he reaches the end, the one Buck had almost not bothered putting on the list it was so commonplace, that he elicits a reaction that makes him pause. 

Tommy’s in the kitchen, kneading pasta dough into a soft ball, they’re making handmade ravioli to take to a housewarming potluck at Bobby and Athena’s new place, when Buck asks: “Baby, what time are we supposed to be leaving again?” and watches the back of Tommy’s neck flush a vibrant red. Interesting. 

Buck doesn’t draw attention to it. He doesn’t push or tease. He just drops it into their conversations, here and there, not frequently enough to really give Tommy a reason to call him out on it, though Buck finds it telling that he never does. It’s obviously having some effect on him, albeit a silent one: high color rising in Tommy’s cheeks, his eyes casting quickly down and away. 

Buck waits for the right moment to really set the hook and see what he can draw out; it’s just chance that that perfect moment happens to be when they’re naked in bed. 

Tommy’s legs are hooked around his waist and his fingertips are digging white crescents into Buck’s biceps where he’s gripping him like he’s holding on for dear life. His eyes keep circling down to where Buck is spreading him open then back up to catch Buck’s gaze like a closed circuit.

The cling of Tommy’s body is slick and sweet, and he looks up at Buck like Buck's giving him everything he wants and he can’t quite believe how good it is. His eyelids droop like he’s struggling to keep them open and Buck swoops down to capture Tommy’s mouth in a kiss. Tommy moans into it and Buck can feel where his cock is kicking insistently against his stomach, wet and hot to the touch. Buck curls a fist around it, stroking him from base to tip and watches the way his eyelashes flutter and his mouth drops open in silent pleasure. 

Tommy’s other hand slips from Buck’s biceps to his back when Buck dislodges it so he can brace himself on one arm, get a little closer, suck wet kisses into the razor edge of Tommy’s jawline. He slows their rhythm down a little, grinding in with deep swivels of his hips. Tommy’s knees pinch tight at Buck’s sides and he manages to pry his eyes open just enough to sweep his gaze down to where Buck’s stroking him and his rim is stretched nice and slick and pink around Buck’s cock, and back up again. His pupils are blown wide and his hands twitch on Buck’s lower back, slipping down to the meat of his ass, pawing at him, pulling him in–

“You're going to come aren’t you? I can feel it,” he says right in Tommy’s ear. 

“Evan–” Tommy cuts himself off on a moan, his nails dig a little deeper into Buck’s skin, and Buck barely feels it; all of his attention narrowed down to jacking Tommy off and fucking into him at the angle that makes get all tight and twitchy, his muscle tensing up, panting all hot and heavy against Buck’s temple. 

“Common, I want you to,” Buck says, flicking his wrist tight and fast at the head in the way he knows will finish Tommy off quick. “Tommy–Baby–Let me feel it.”

Tommy’s brow crumples and Buck gets to feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his hand and around his cock as Tommy comes undone, slicking his chest with thick, white streaks. 

Buck presses his face into the damp crescent of Tommy’s neck and rabbits his final few strokes into the hot clutch of Tommy’s ass. He can taste the salt on Tommy’s skin as he groans against it, rolling his hips indulgently as his cock softens. 

Tommy strokes his back as he pulls away, arm falling to the side as Buck gets up to ditch the condom. He’s staring up at the pebbly stucco of the bedroom ceiling when Buck returns to bed. “No one’s ever called me that,” he says quietly, contemplatively. 

Buck shuffles closer till he’s pressed up along his side, draping an arm over Tommy’s midsection to anchor himself. Buck finds that hard to believe. He can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t want Tommy to be their baby, but he’s glad he’s Buck’s.

“Well, it’s only fair that I’m your first for something too.”

Tommy rolls his head to the side, a dopey smile on his face. He looks fucked stupid and Buck feels unbearably fond about it. 

“Sweet talker,” Tommy accuses softly, hooking two fingers under Buck’s chin and pulling him into a kiss. 

Yeah, Buck thinks, I like the sound of that.

[sitp-recs]

HII do u recommend any short/quick read drarry fics?? No angst please hehe

Glad you asked anon, I LOVE reccing short fic! I already have a few lists (here and here) so I took this request as a challenge to do a list with fics under 3k that I don’t see recced often. Hope you enjoy these!

The Department of Perfect Timing by americanmoths (T, 929 words)

It's very like Potter to try to adopt a muggle child at the end of Draco's shift.

Measure My Lordship With Thine Vulgar Aye by @starquestingfordrarry (M, 1k)

Draco buys some Muggle magnets for the office.

Snow On Snow by @tackytigerfic (T, 1k)

Harry and Draco were deep undercover in Europe, and had to pretend to be a couple. When everything went wrong, they got out by the skin of their teeth.

A Brush With Potter by @maesterchill (T, 1k)

Draco NEEDS to get his hands on the latest toy racing broom for Teddy. Trust a certain messy-haired Gryffindor to thwart his plans.

My tidings aren’t glad, they’re ghastly by @lemonlimelea (G, 1.2k)

“Potter, what are you playing at, sending me a bloody Christmas card?” A new tradition is born.

halcyon days by @the-starryknight (T, 1.3k)

Sleepy mornings caught while the sun rises are reserved for silly word games and soft touches and feelings.

Phoenix in the Fire by @fw00shy (E, 1.4k)

Their first time was an accident. "Sex pollen," Draco claims, though everyone knows it was too much Ogden's after Puddlemere beat the Tornados 240-230.

Tidings of Comfort by @blamebrampton (G, 1.5k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

and another one by @nv-md (M, 1.6k)

Draco has a few too many drinks after a row with Harry, and Harry has to come to his rescue... sort of.

In The Wings by @cavendishbutterfly (T, 1.7k)

Ballet has been a path to healing for Draco after the war. Now, it's his final performance in the starring role, and his boyfriend is in the audience for the first time.

I Must Be Lonely by @sweet-s0rr0w (T, 1.8k)

Draco works nights at the Ministry security desk. Sometimes, he sees Potter.

This Time Again (Next Year) by @gryffindorhearts (T, 1.8k)

At thirty minutes to midnight on New Year’s Eve, Harry is buried under a mountain of paperwork. Only Malfoy, his long-time coworker and one-time lover, could have any hope of distracting him.

magic in the making by @getawayfox (G, 1.9k)

I didn’t see Malfoy for a year after the trial. When Gin told me that, according to Pansy, he had opened a little posh bakery in Mayfair, I thought she was joking, so I went to see for myself.

Nectar by @jtimu (T, 1.9k)

Draco's first Animagus transformation doesn't go as planned.

I, Ferret by curiouslyfic (T, 2k)

Draco's embraced his inner Ferret. Now it's Harry's turn. Starring Veela!Draco, mpreg, an old wives' tale, and a Weddiwizard.

Receipts by @moonflower-rose (M, 2k)

Pansy and Ginny have made a stupid wager and Draco may be the one who comes away a winner.

Willing Blood by @lqtraintracks and @the-starryknight (E, 2k)

Seven days together, years ago; seventy-four hours and thirty-eight minutes trapped in this house alone; and now one chance to stop himself from draining Potter dry. Will Draco take it? Will Harry let him?

Chicken Shop Date by @sorrybutblog (T, 2k)

Draco and Harry sit down for an interview. Or is it a date?

Almost-but-not-quite by @pineau-noir (G, 2k)

Immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts Draco Malfoy stumbles across the last Time-Tuner in existence. He had intended to go into the past to try and right his many wrongs, but magic sometimes does what it wants.

Thrice Bound by @skeptiquewrites (M, 2.3k)

Once by nature, once by fate, and once by choice.

The Art of Seduction by playout (M, 2.3k)

Harry and Draco are Auror partners assigned to go undercover at a muggle gay bar frequented by drug-dealing wizards.

Light Years Away by @lettersbyelise (M, 2.5k)

No one told Harry about the training courses young Aurors and Curse Breakers have in common, just like Harry never told anyone about his one-night encounter with Draco Malfoy two months prior.

like the sun came out by @academicdisasterfic (E, 2.8k)

Harry realises that Draco loves him, and it's like waking up.

Secretly, between the shadow and the soul by @teacup-tai (T, 2.9k)

The thing about surrender is that once you accept the unavoidable rhythm of change, the surprising uncontrollability of life, and the astonishing inevitability of feelings, it is easy.

Market Saturdays by @sorrybutblog (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love. Not an AU.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

A Court of Fire and Masks

Eris Vanserra x OC

Part 17

A Court of Fire and Masks Master List

Content Warnings:

Emotional manipulation

Verbal and emotional abuse

Power imbalances

Anxiety and panic

Mentions of sexism & misogyny

Dark themes of cruelty

Word Count: 3,587

Tagged: @mrsjna @lilah-asteria @ambivalence-is-me @rcarbo1 @aaliyahmorielle  @feyrfly

As much as Penelope wished she could spend the rest of the afternoon–and the evening–locked away in her sister’s company, reality had other plans. 

Persimmon, as always, had certain needs to attend to. One of which was getting cleaned up and changed before dinner. Even while Eris had left a foul taste in Penelope’s mouth, Persimmon still felt the need to maintain a sense of decorum with the impossible, brutish male. 

The mere thought of it–of sitting at that wretched table, enduring the thin veiled insults and Eris’s infuriating smirks–made Penelope’s stomach churn, her face twisting into a deep scowl. 

She wasn’t going. She had decided it, even as Persimmon made threats to come drag her from her room by her hair. 

Late in the afternoon, a maid had arrived at Penelope’s chambers, summing Persimmon away for measurements. 

Penelope had barely kept the loud scoff and look of disdain off of her face. 

She had no idea where Eris planned to produce a gown on such short notice, but she had a sneaking suspicion–a rather disgusting one at that. There had to be a room somewhere in this vast, gilded prison, one stocked with garments left behind my females who’d been ushered out in the early morning hours from the brothers’ quarters. The thought of it made her skin crawl. Filthy. 

Once her sister had gone, Penelope returned to packing. 

She tore things from the wardrobe, tossing them carelessly into trunks–scarves, gloves, silks she hadn’t even worn. There was no need to be methodical. She would sort through it all once she was home, aware from the suffocating weight of this manor, of the people inside, of its heir. 

She turned to grab another handful of clothing–and stilled. 

Her breath caught in her throat, her entire body locking into place. 

At the end of the bed, draped across the mattress as if it had appeared from thin air, was a gown. No door creaking open, no footsteps on the old, groaning floorboards. And yet–there it was. And it was magnificent, breathtaking. 

Made of rust-colored chiffon, it cascaded in delicate waves to the floor, pooling into a soft, flowing train that stretched behind it. The fabric was light as air, despite the sheer amount of material that held the entire piece together. 

The bodice was striking, its deep V-shaped neckline plunging daringly toward the waist, the pleated chiffon gathering at the shoulders in a way that softened the rather bold cut. Thin, weightless sleeves extended from the pleats, wrapping around to the back of the dress, where the same dramatic V mirrored the front, leaving much of the upper back exposed in a way that was neither scandalous nor modest–just perfectly, precisely balanced. 

But what set it apart–what made it truly mesmerizing–was the embroidery. Unlike the ostentatious golden filigree of autumn leaves that adorned nearly every garment of the High Family, this gown was understated and intentional. Tiny, intricate flowers were stitched with care into the fabric, woven in deep crimsons, rich greens, and soft winter whites. The embroidery was scattered, as if the flowers had grown naturally along the fabric itself, not placed by the hands of the seamstress but by the earth itself. 

It was undeniably stunning. A work of art. 

Penelope ran her fingers down the finely inlaid embroidery, marveling at the meticulous care and patience it must have taken to craft something so intricate. Every stitch, every delicate petal seemed to whisper of hours, days, perhaps weeks of dedication.

It would be a shame, she thought, to let all that hard work go to waste without even trying it on first. 

When she did, it felt like a second skin. Of course it did.

The female staring back at her in the mirror was unrecognizable. The rust-hued chiffon clung in places she had never drawn attention to before, draping over her grame in a way that spoke of elegance. She had always been told her figure was too lean, too straight, too “boyish”--a critique her mother had imparted with the sharp edge of disappointment. But this gown? It made her look refined, commanding. Every movement sent ripples through the fabric, the embroidered flowers swaying as though alive, caught in some unseen breeze. She felt powerful. She felt wholly, undeniably female. 

Penelope turned slightly, watching the fluidity of the gown as she swished the fabric in her hands, letting it whisper against the floor. For a fleeting moment, she felt like a child again–spinning in her mother’s gowns, pretending to be something grander than she was. Except this time, it wasn’t make-believe. This time, she truly felt it. 

But there was the annoying realization. Eris had chosen this gown. Had it sent to her chambers. Had anticipated her wearing it, as if some final, calculated stroke of control. Something to remind her that, even as she packed her things, even as she prepared to leave, he could still dress her, shape her, claim her in ways she didn’t even realize until it was too late. 

For a split second, she considered ripping it from her body, shredding the delicate fabric between her fingers, tossing it into the hearth and watching it burn. She could wear something simple. Something dull. Something that defied every expectation he had sent with that gown. 

No. 

She wouldn’t let him steal this from her. Not the feeling this gown gave her, even if it was him that sent it to her. Not the way it made her stand taller, look sharper, feel untouchable. She would wear it because she chose to. She would walk into that dinner adorned in the very thing meant to exhibit his control, and she would own it. 

She would give him nothing in return. 

No gratitude. No warmth. No satisfaction in seeing her wear something he had provided. She would wear it for herself. And she would watch as it drove him mad. 

Time ticked away, each chime of the clock ringing in sharp successions as Penelope ascended the back staircase into the main foyer. Persimmon had yet to return, but a maid had informed her that her sister would join her in the dining room shortly. 

As she stepped into the long chamber, bathed in the golden glow of fae-lights and the flickering warmth of the grand hearth at the far end, she immediately noticed the stark change in the room itself. The usual sprawling banquet table, adorned with an overwhelming spread of food, had been replaced with a far smaller, more intimate dining arrangement. 

And seated at it, a glass of something rich and shimmering in his hand, was the Heir of the Autumn Court. 

Eris looked up at her as she entered, his gaze catching her immediately. Slowly, he rose to his feet, absently smoothing down the simple maroon shirt he wore. There was no gilded embroidery, no heavy embellishments–just clean lines and an effortless elegance that, for once, made him seem…almost unassuming. 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his amber eyes dragging over the length of her gown, lingering. 

“You look–” he began. 

“Stunning,” Penelope cut in smoothly. “I know.” 

Her heels echoed against the polished floor as she strode forward, unbothered and unshaken. Eris remained standing, his gaze following her every movement. His lips parted slightly, as though about to speak again–but whatever thought had crossed his mind, he kept to himself. 

“Where’s Persimmon?” Penelope asked, her fingers curling over the high back of the chair as she came to a halt at the table. 

“She’ll be along,” Eris replied, though he hardly seemed concerned with her absence. His gaze never wavered from Penelope, devouring every inch of her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. 

Good, she thought, tilting her chin ever so slightly. Let him enjoy the sight. It will be the last time he ever lays eyes on me. 

Eris seemed to shake himself from whatever spell kept him transfixed, clearing his throat before motioning to her chair. “Please,” he said, his voice smoother now, more composed, “sit.” 

She pulled the chair out deliberately, lowering herself into it with a smooth, almost seductive grace, smoothing the fabric of her gown over her legs. Her posture remained poised, her gaze fixed forward at the empty seat across from her. And yet–she could still feel him watching her. Heat prickled at the side of her face, her lips barely restrained the urge to scowl at him. 

“I’m surprised you wore it,” Eris noted, settling into his own chair. 

Penelope flicked her eyes toward him, catching the way his gaze lingered, intent and hungry. She tilted her head just slightly, feigning indifference. “It’s a beautiful gown,” she replied coolly. “It would be a shame to let it go unworn.” 

“Indeed,” he murmured. 

Let him look, she thought, holding his gaze for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before turning back to her empty plate. Let him wonder. 

Finally, she broke the silence. “My things are packed. I’ll be leaving with Persimmon tomorrow morning.” 

She didn’t look at him as she spoke, instead reaching for one of the man forks lined meticulously beside her plate. So many choices. She tapped her nails against the cool metal, debating which would be best to drive into the thin, pale flesh of Eris’s hand that lingered within dangerous range. 

Eris exhaled slowly before speaking. “Look, Penelope,” he began, “I am truly sorry for how everything has transpired these last few weeks.” 

He paused, waiting–for what, exactly, she wasn’t sure. Her acceptance? Her forgiveness? Her understanding? No chance. 

When she gave him nothing, not even a flicker of acknowledgement, he continued, “It’s been wholly unfair to you, and ultimately cruel. I have been cruel. And from the bottom of my heart, I offer you my sincerest apologies.” 

Penelope cocked a brow. “Funny,” she mused, her voice light but cutting. “I wasn’t sure you had one of those.”

His jaw tightened ever so slightly at the dig, but he swallowed whatever response had immediately come to him. Instead, he met her gaze, steady and unwavering. “And I would like to ask you to reconsider your position here.”

For a moment, she simply stared at him, considering all the things she could say. All the sharp, hateful, well-earned things. But she kept herself composed, lifting her chin slightly. “I appreciate the offer, Lord Eris,” she said coolly, “but I won’t be taking it.” A pause, deliberate. “As you’ve said yourself–you have been cruel, arrogant, and disrespectful. And I hold myself in too high regard to continue subjecting myself to circumstances where I am treated as such.”

Eris barely let her finish before he was speaking, urgency edging into his tone. “I understand that, Penelope, truly I do–” 

His hand slid over hers, warm and firm, grounding. And wholly uninvited. 

A sharp, electric jolt shot through her at the contact, and before she could think, her gaze snapped to his, burning with warning. 

“Remove your hand,” she said, her voice like steel, “before I drive a knife through it.” 

Eris withdrew, slowly. Not in fear–no, not Eris–but as though memorizing the moment. The way her fingers tensed beneath his, the way her breath hitched just slightly, the way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. 

Where she had expected him to retaliate with some biting remark–a jab at her reflexes, a smirk, a quip about empty threats–instead there was only silence. 

Then–soft, almost imperceptible– “I’m sorry.”

She kept her eyes locked on him, her gaze unrelenting as he slowly dragged his hand back across the table, away from her–and away from the knife that had suddenly appeared in her grip. She hadn’t even realized she had picked it up, but there it was, her knuckles white around the handle, her breath measured and steady. 

“Penelope,” Eris continued, his voice measured but intent. “I ask you to stay–not for my own wants, though I do want you here.” He admitted so plainly, so unapologetically she nearly rolled her eyes. “But I ask you to stay because the court needs you.” 

She placed the knife back down with a soft clink against the plate, then let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I think you’ve made it abundantly clear that the court is doing just fine without me,” she said. “Given that I’ve done no actual work in my time here.” 

Eris exhaled, clearly exasperated. His eyes flicked to the doors, as though ensuring no one was lingering nearby, and then he leaned in, lowering his voice. “It’s not about that.” 

Penelope did not lower her voice in turn. “Then what is it about?” she countered. “Other than you wanting to keep me around to torment a little longer?” 

His amber eyes flickered, and for the first time that evening, since she had seen him, something like true concern crossed his face. He checked the room once more, his posture growing stiffer. It was subtle, but she saw it–the way his fingers curled slightly against the table, the way his gaze lingered a fraction too long on the darkened corners of the room. 

His voice dropped even lower, just above a whisper. 

“We don’t have much time before your sister joins us,” he murmured. “But before she does, I need you to listen to me–and I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you is in the confidence of this room.” His eyes met her. “It does not leave these walls.”

Her mouth opened slightly and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head, “Look, Eris, no–I just–” 

Eris’s gaze bore into her, unwavering. “I’m asking you for help.” 

Penelope stilled. There was something in his eyes–desperation. And she hated it. Hated the way it made him look almost…small, hollowing, like a child seeking refuge in the corner of a dark room. 

He glanced around the dining room again, a careful sweep, before he continued. “I didn’t bring you here just to advise me.” 

Penelope scoffed, shifting in her seat. “Yes, that’s been abundantly clear.”

He ignored the bite in her tone, leaning forward slightly, her eyes scanning her face as though searching for something. “I brought you here because I needed someone who saw through the layers of bullshit that cover every inch of this court. Someone who wasn’t already entrenched in politics and with their own motives.” 

Penelope crossed her arms. “And why is that?” 

Eris’s gaze flicked toward the door, as if expecting someone to be listening, before lowering his voice. “Because we both know this trade deal isn’t what it appears to be. And I need another set of eyes to confirm it. I need evidence.” 

She frowned. “I told you not to trust Hybern. But you were so scared of not being daddy’s favorite that you weren’t going to say anything. We both know it’s a mistake but you’re choosing to not say anything.” 

Eris shook his head, slightly frustrated. “No, Penelope. It’s more than that. Without evidence, without reason, no one is going to believe me over my father.” His jaw tightened. “My father has been in talks with the High Lord of the Spring Court for months. I knew this deal was coming before the council even discussed it. There’s already talk of a ball of some sort here, in the Autumn Court. And Hybern will be sending Amarantha to represent them.” 

“Amarantha,” Penelope said, the name curling off her tongue like something venomous. She had heard of the female in her history lessons–a ruthless, cunning general whose bloodlust was only matched by her talent for manipulation. Within the Autumn Court she was a reminder of what would happen if a female rose to power. And a warning that females cannot be trusted with any amount of influence, even though she conquered lands with more efficiency than her male counterparts, even if she was brutal. “So what? You think she’s just going to willingly hand over information to me? If you think she’s going to confide in me like it’s gossip then perhaps you’re more like the other males than I thought.”

Eris pressed his lips together, as if choosing his words with extreme care. “Amarantha is…a master of controlling the room. She dominates every conversation, makes every male around her feel like they are the most important person at court–until she gets what she wants. She plays the doting courtier perfectly, and everyone in my father’s circle underestimates her.” His eyes darkened. “She uses her appeal to keep them distracted.” 

Penelope huffed a humorless laugh. “So you need a distraction for the distraction? That’s your grand plan?” 

Eris ignored the blatant sarcasm. “I need someone who won’t fall under her spell. Someone who can watch her, listen, and find holes in the games she’s playing. She’ll give information out in bits, it's part of the fun for her. She loves a grand reveal where she knows she's sprinkled in everything you need to know to unravel it, if you’re just paying attention.” He hesitated, and then added, “And she needs to believe that I don’t find her as appealing as she may hope. She needs to think my attention is elsewhere.” 

It took Penelope a half a second to piece it together. Her stomach twisted. “You want me to play the doting courtier for you.” 

His silence was enough. 

She let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “That’s absurd. It’s childish for you to think she would just let it all fall down because of jealousy. And you must think highly of yourself if you think you can sway her.” 

“It’s necessary,” Eris countered. “Amarantha cannot stand to be ignored. If she thinks I’m more interested in you than her, she will make sure to get my attention. And she’ll want to do it in front of you to prove she’s in control.” 

Penelope turned away, staring at the flickering fae-light candelabras along the wall, trying to shove down the rising anger in her throat. She had spent weeks being humiliated, treated like a decorative afterthought. And now he wanted her to lean into it? To play the very role she had been so hells-bent to fight against?

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Find someone else to play your arm candy.” 

Eris sighed. “Penelope–” 

“No,” she repeated. “This isn’t about me seeing through bullshit, Eris. This is about using me because you need a convenient female to wave in front of Amarantha like a dog with a new bone.” 

His expression tightened. “It’s not like that.” 

“Isn’t it?” she snapped, finally looking at him again. “You haven’t acted like you wanted me here the moment I arrived. I was a joke, an inconvenience. You couldn’t even fake being kind to me. And now, suddenly, I’m useful to you? What a miracle that once you need me you extend a fucking hand to me.”

Eris didn’t look away. “You’re right,” he admitted, “And I’ve already apologized for the cruelty, but it wasn’t real Penelope. I needed to build up the idea of your incompetence to draw attention away from you.” 

“And you didn’t think that it would affect me? That being publicly humiliated wouldn’t take a toll on me?” I shot back. 

“It needed to be convincing.” Eris replied. 

“You’re a sick fuck. Not to mention, possibly putting me in a dangerous situation.” 

He exhaled. “I had hoped it wouldn’t have come to this, and that the plans I made beforehand would have stopped it from getting this far. But those all failed, and this is the next one I have ready. You were brought here to help your court. You made that choice and knew the risks and now I need you.” He leaned in slightly, his voice quieter now. “I need someone who won’t fall for her trickery. Who will see what no one else will.” 

“Then why be cruel?” Penelope asked, her fists clenching in her lap. 

Eris leaned back, “Because you hating me means you can’t be used against me. If it all goes poorly, you’re free from being collateral because you don’t actually care for me anyways.” 

She hated that part of her did understand what he was saying. That part of her agreed. And she hated the small flame of excitement that ignited in her stomach because of it. 

For weeks, she had been seen as nothing but a girl in a dress. Dismissed, underestimated, and ignored. And now she had the chance to use that same ignorance against the very males who wielded it like a weapon. 

She had a chance to prove she was more than that. 

The choice sat heavy between them. 

Stay–and entangle herself further in whatever mess Eris was unraveling. 

Or leave–and abandon whatever warning signs might lead her fellow fae to a life without anguish or possible death. 

“And if I say no?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Eris didn’t hesitate. “Then you leave in the morning,” he said simply. “And I’ll figure out another way.” 

Penelope clenched her jaw, her stomach knotting as she glanced toward the grand windows, toward the darkening sky beyond. 

Her fingers curled into her palms as she looked back at him. 

“I want the truth, Eris,” she said, her voice steady. “No more omissions, no more half-truths. If I do this, I do it with all the cards in your hand laid out in front of me. No more games.” 

Eris’s expression didn’t change. But after a moment, he nodded once. 

“No more games.”

A Court of Fire and Masks Master List

[queenofbaws]

ooo how about "is everything okay?" "i just need a distraction.." from that midnight calls prompt list with josh n ashley :]

There was no excuse, really. She couldn't say she was 'in the zone,' couldn't say she was trying to get there, couldn't say she was lost in her thoughts, couldn't say she was attempting to find them...she couldn't even say she was asleep, or dozing, or skimming through which of her nine thousand fantasy universes she'd be using instead of counting sheep when bedtime actually did come around. Ashley jumped because jumping was, well, her body's natural reaction to most sudden sounds (and sudden movements, and sudden stops, and sudden realizations, and, and, and...); there wasn't an excuse that applied.

Didn't mean she had to tell Josh that.

She hit the button to answer her phone on speaker, dropping her head into her hands immediately afterwards. "Hello?" she sighed, doing her best to cover the adrenaline-quakes in her voice.

Now, a normal person probably would've noticed anyway. A normal person would've stopped and reconsidered. A normal person would've said something like 'Oh, is this a bad time?' or 'What's up with you?' or maybe even 'Augh, is it too late? Sorry, I didn't even think about that!'

But this wasn't a normal person.

This was Josh.

He blew right past her, full steam ahead.

"I think I figured it out. What ruined the whole thing, I mean. And before you say it, no, it's not even the choice to have the kid do all that rapping. I know that's hard to believe, but stick with me on this one, okay? I've put a lot of thought into it."

There went the spike of fear, deflated like a discount grocery store balloon. If there was any benefit of being in Josh's quote-unquote inner circle, she had to figure it was that; he could use his crappy Psych 101 powers for good sometimes (when he deigned to), finding the precise spot to apply pressure until you forgot all the stuff that was bothering you and you were left so flummoxed that your brain chemicals miraculously balanced out.

Still, that...didn't mean she had the first idea what he was talking about.

Blinking hard, she checked the time and pinched herself for good measure, ruling out all the obvious explanations. But no, no, she was awake and it wasn't even that late, so Josh's word salad was sort of just that - word salad. She ran through the greeting again, scanning it with the searching eye of a reading comprehension test expert, aaaaaaand...nothing. Narrowing her eyes, she stared down at her phone, watching the seconds tick, tick, tick away between them.

"...what?"

"I figured. It. Out," he repeated, proving once and for all that nope, nuh-uh, no explanation was forthcoming. He was leaving her high and dry, trusting that - sooner or later - experience or context or straight-up telepathy would bridge the gap between them. "It isn't the diaper to the face either. Again, not a choice I would've made, but it's not the heart of the issue, know what I mean?"

Gap? Had she said it was a gap between them? Screw that - this was the Grand Freaking Canyon.

"Josh," she sighed, pressing her fingers hard to the ridge of her eyebrows as if it would help organize her thoughts. "I have...no idea what you're talking about. Is this some weird new crank call you're trying out? Because I have to be honest, it's, like, not...good."

The nerve of him, he sighed back at her from the other end of the line, acting like she'd been the one to call him in the middle of the night. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't!"

"You do! The Visit!"

"The...what?" At that, she took him off of speaker, pressing the phone to her ear. Why she did it, she couldn't say, but hearing his voice concentrated down like that had to help something, didn't it? "What visit? We haven't gone anywhere!"

"No, The Visit. Remember?"

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. "I don't."

"Sure you do. The grandparents were dead all along?"

"I - what?"

"And then the kid rapped."

Squinting, she stared at her ceiling fan, her mouth tracing words her voicebox was too confused to push out, and - then it hit her. Ashley rocked forward where she sat, her body going slack as the connection was finally - FINALLY - made. "Oh my God...that movie?! That awful movie we watched?!"

"Uh, yeah, duh."

"Josh, that - " Shaking her head, she glanced towards her planner, feeling her confusion bubble right back up again. " - that was three weeks ago! Why are you still thinking about this?!"

"What can I say, it stuck in my craw."

"It stuck in your - " But before she could finish the thought, before she could tease him too badly for being weird or obsessive or weirdly obsessive, her eye caught something else.

The date.

And there it was, the experience, the context, the straight-up telepathy. In that instant, it all made sense.

How was it February already? How hadn't she noticed? How -

There wasn't any quiver to her voice that time. Honestly, she wasn't sure it had ever sounded as calm and even as it did then, her weight on her elbows and her eyes slowly shutting to block out tomorrow's date. (Today's, really, if you wanted to be pedantic, but, whatever.) "Okay, if it wasn't the rapping or the diaper thing or the grandparents, then, like, what's the problem?"

"The squandered potential. That's what it all comes down to: That twist could've knocked my fucking socks off, but it didn't, and you know why? Every. Single. Fucking. Plot beat. Was making it clear that a twist was waiting to happen. It was hardly even a surprise at the end! Could you imagine if the whole thing had been played straight right up until that revelation? Bam. Instant classic. Instead, we got, like, what, ninety minutes of winking and elbow-nudging like 'Aw shit, I bet a twist is coming any second now...' Ruined the whole fucking thing."

Another side-effect of being in Josh's quote-unquote inner circle: Sometimes the Psych 101 bullcrap rubbed off on you. Because of that, Ashley thought she could hear their real conversation, the true one, happening loud and clear, lost somewhere between the lines - "You doing okay?" "Nah, not really." "Want to talk about it?" "Nah, not really." "Is this about - " "You know what it's about." "What can I do?" "Help me not think about it. Just for a second. Just for a minute. Help me, help me, help me."

She could do that.

Ashley leaned forward until she rested with her arms on her desk and and head in her arms, the phone still tucked safely between her ear and shoulder. "How would you fix it then, Mr. Genius? Obviously you have some ideas."

"How would I fix it? How would I fix it? Ohoho, Ash, I don't think you know what sort of can of worms you just popped open...how much time you got?"

"For you?" she asked, closing her eyes again as she settled into the sound of his voice, pretending they both weren't fully aware tonight was the anniversary of the twins going missing. "All the time it takes, I guess."

[reality-shitting]

what kind of more mundane things are you excited about experiencing in your genshin dr.

for me its walking through windrise enjoying the nature and fresh air that surrounds me, spotting all sorts of animals and flowers i've never seen before, learning about different foods and traditions.

chilling in the library reading books i probably can't even read, warming up in front of diluc's fireplace, listening to diona's struggles with her father, helping barbara with cleaning the stained glass windows, jumping in puddles with venti, talking to mona about the stars, planets and everything beyond, collect overdue books with lisa, frolicking around with the elements and teaching everyone about my own customs in our world.

sorry if this is a lot but i feel like there are barely any genshin shifters that are still active ESPECIALLY those who really love diluc as a character (i love my autistic king(not romantically tho))

It's funny you say that, I am actually so sure he's on the spectrum, but I only realized it after we were separated so I haven't been able to bring it up -

I have so many things I want to experience that would be "mundane". Warming up by our fireplace, as you stated, but also waiting in bed for Diluc to return from his vigilante ventures. He usually returns around 4am, so also the exhausted asks of him to come to bed and rest instead of getting back to paperwork. The small domestic gestures, like giving him a massage after fighting for so long. Aside from Diluc, running through the fields of tall grass, dandelions and small lamp grass. Discovering firsthand what a sunsettia tastes like (I imagine it's tropical and juicy!). Sitting in the Favonius library for hours on end, reading about the history of Teyvat and the science of elemental energy. Reading with tea and snacks on the winery patio. Learning how to use a catalyst. Walking about the city streets during a busy shopping hour. Seeing the sunset from the heights of Starsnatch Cliff. Playing with slime secretions. Reading Fontainian teeny-bop magazines and investing in the modern gossip. Swimming in Cider Lake during a hot summer. Getting measured at the tailer's for my new wardrobe. The quiet hours of inactivity in the manor. The slow ascent into holiday atmosphere as the days creep closer. Going to the Cat's Tail and petting all the little kitties. Helping both Kaeya and Venti bother my partner at the Angel's Share because I know he'd never be annoyed by me 🤭 The awkward, clumsy stages of learning to dance properly. The hours I'll need to spend in the vineyard and frustration cries caused by all the math, economics and paperwork. The disagreements, the arguments, the new perspectives. I want it all. Every small, mundane thing to me, seems magical. I'm sure there's a million other things I could list, but I honestly want it all.

Also pls don't be afraid to talk to me, I would absolutely love to yap about my baby more.

[amayaonly1]

Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey

Eminem x Rapper!OC

Verse 14

About: Eminem confronts his own emotional barriers as he observes Genji's quiet resilience amidst the chaos backstage. Their conversation, filled with unspoken truths and mutual recognition of pain, forces him to reflect on his guarded nature and the shared burdens of their pasts.

"Verses Unwritten: A Rap Odyssey" Chapter List: Verse 1 | Verse 2 | Verse 3 | Verse 4 | Verse 5 | Verse 6 | Verse 7 | Verse 8 | Verse 9 | Verse 10 | Verse 11 | Verse 12 | Verse 13 | Verse 14 | Verse 15 | Verse 16 | Verse 17 | Verse 18 | Verse 19 | Verse 20 | Verse 21 | Verse 22 | Verse 23 | Verse 24 | Verse 25 | Verse 26 | Verse 27

Disclaimer: This work is a work of fiction, and any involvement of the character Genji is purely fictional and not representative of any real person.

The hum of muffled chatter and the occasional thud of equipment being moved around filled the backstage area of SEC Armadillo. The glow of stage lights spilt faintly into the corridors, casting long shadows on the worn carpet.

Eminem spotted Genji as he turned the corner. She sat quietly on a metal folding chair, her back straight and her hands clasped loosely in her lap. Her straight posture and loosely clasped hands gave off a composed stillness that contrasted with the buzz around her.

She looked up as he approached, her dark eyes meeting his with a quiet intensity that halted him in his tracks.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice rougher than he intended.

"Hey," she replied softly, her tone carrying a measured wariness.

He gestured toward the chair beside her. "Mind if I sit?"

She shook her head. "Go ahead."

He lowered himself into the seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the noise from the stage crew filling the silence between them. He hated how heavy it felt, like there were things he should say but didn't know how.

"You've been quiet," he said finally, risking a glance at her.

"I usually am," she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, I know. But this feels... different."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Does it?"

"Yeah," he muttered. "It does."

His eyes briefly flicked to her hands, noticing the way her fingers rested lightly on each other. There was a calmness in her that unnerved him, like she was grounded in ways he wasn't. He didn't know if it was comforting or unnerving, or both.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," he admitted, running a hand over his face. "About Hailie. And… other stuff."

Her expression remained calm, though curiosity flashed briefly in her dark eyes. "Other stuff?"

"Yeah." He hesitated, tapping his fingers on his knee. "Look, I didn't mean to be an ass back then. When you came by the house with Hailie."

She blinked, surprise breaking her composure for a fraction of a second. "I didn't think you were."

"Come on," he scoffed. "I was. I barely said two words to you. And when I did, I was..."

"Guarded," she interjected, her tone matter-of-fact. "I didn't take it personally."

"Maybe you should've," he muttered. "Most people do."

"Most people expect something from you," she pointed out gently. "I don't."

Her words landed harder than he anticipated. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's the thing. You don't expect anything, and I don't know what to do with that."

"You don't have to do anything," she said. "Just be you."

The simplicity of her statement hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He met her gaze, searching for some sort of a catch. There wasn't one.

"I saw that interview you did back in Japan," he said, his voice quieter now. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but she didn't interrupt. "I don't know why I watched it. Maybe I was just trying to figure you out. Or maybe I was pissed because you seem so... put together. Like nothing gets to you."

"Things get to me," she said, her tone measured. "I just don't let it show the same way you do."

He chuckled dryly. "Yeah, no kidding. You've got this way of keeping it all in check. Meanwhile, I'm over here losing my shit half the time."

Genji's lips curved in a soft, teasing smile. "I think you'd scare people if you didn't lose your shit once in a while."

The unexpected humour cracked his defences, drawing out a genuine laugh. The tension between them eased slightly, replaced by a tentative sense of camaraderie.

"Some people think I've had it easy," she said, her voice quieter now. "That I just sailed through everything."

He frowned, sensing the weight behind her words. But he remained silent.

"My divorce… it was ugly. Eight months in, I found out about his affairs. I wanted to handle it quietly. But someone tipped the media, and suddenly I was 'that woman' in the eyes of the entire country. 'The Fallen Rapper'. 'Wife of Infidelity'. They didn't even use my name. I stopped being a person to them."

Her calm delivery didn't mask the pain in her words. Eminem felt a pang of guilt for not realising how much she'd endured. "I didn't know," he admitted.

"Besides Dre and Snoop, nobody here really does," she replied. "After that, it was like every decision I made was under a microscope. I couldn't even walk down the street without whispers. And the worst part wasn't the headlines. It was having to face my family and friends. They didn't know how to talk to me. They either avoided the subject altogether or pretended it wasn’t happening."

She hesitated, her gaze softening as she stared past him, lost in thought. "Papa was the only one who was truly there for me. He didn't even ask a lot when I went home to him. But one night, I overheard him talking to his friend. He said he felt like he'd failed me. That he was sorry for not being a better father. And I… I didn't know how to process that. He was the one person who made me feel safe, and suddenly, it felt like even he thought he wasn't enough."

Her voice faltered for a moment, and for the first time since he'd known her, he saw the crack beneath her composure.

Eminem looked away, the weight of her words sinking in. "I didn't know," he repeated, softer this time.

She gave a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Not many people do. I've learned to keep it together in public, but inside... it's different. The aftermath of everything — the divorce, the media, even my dad's guilt... it still stays with me. It doesn't just go away. I don't think it ever will."

He felt a pang of recognition, the words cutting too close to his own scars. "I get that," he said quietly. "People think they know you because of what they read or see. With me and Kim, it was a fuckin' circus. The tabloids, the fights… It felt like every piece of me was being chipped away." He hesitated, the words harder to form than he expected. "That's why I am the way I am. I don't trust easy. And when I do, it's like I'm just waiting for it to blow up in my fucking face."

Her gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "We're not so different, then."

"No," he said quietly. "I guess we're not."

The silence that followed was less heavy, tinged with understanding rather than tension.

"Maybe the trick isn't climbing over the walls," she said softly. "Maybe it's letting someone in through them."

He scoffed lightly, but her words stayed with him. The air between them felt heavier now, carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts and shared understanding.

A voice called out from the far end of the hallway. "Genji! We gotta start packing up. Sound crew's waiting."

She turned her head toward the voice, her shoulders visibly tensing before she gave a small nod in acknowledgement. Standing, she glanced back at him, her dark eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary.

When her hand brushed his briefly, an accidental, fleeting touch, it was enough to send a ripple through the guarded stillness he carried. Something had shifted.

"I'll see you around," she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet certainty that somehow felt like a promise.

He watched her walk away, her silhouette blending into the chaos of the backstage crew. A part of him wanted to call her back, to say something that would keep her there. But the words stuck in his throat, too tangled with the weight of everything he wasn’t ready to unpack. The faint echo of her voice, and the subtle brush of her hand, lingered long after she disappeared into the crowd. Watching the empty hallway where she’d been, he couldn't help but wonder if she was right.

And for the first time in years, he felt the walls around him begin to crack; not from force, but from a quiet willingness to let them fall.

[suffarustuffaru]

I'd love to hear more about Otto and Natsumi Schwartz if you have anymore thoughts on them

hah once again ty for all the cool asks its been fun answering them :o !! and arghhhhh otto and natsumi......................................... i have many thoughts.

ive been planning on making a comprehensive otto queer analysis post for a while - just bc i think my thoughts on reading otto as queer are kinda spread across different posts of mine HAH and i dont normally write very formally with proper grammar in most of my analysis posts, even (...i normally save that for my school essays...... </3) but id love to make an actual formal analysis just for the topic of queer otto bc i have been Gathering Evidence!! making theories!! otto's whole judging attitude towards natsumi is definitely part of it.

and also i do have fic wips in the works abt these sorts of topics!! i am publishing one sometime this month or early next month!!

anyway i went over like my theory on otto being a little fixated on normalcy in asks like this one.... which is yknow due to being an outcast his entire life so then he ends up overcorrecting a little (see: him insisting on wearing green bc he thinks itll help him look approachable) but then he never fits in anywhere Except for the emilia camp anyway so :,))

that, and. you would Think that otto wouldnt give a shit bc of his dp. like animal biology is soo widely different between different animals, biological sex can be a little complicated at times (like. snails. for example) and of course animals all work Really differently, but also sometimes animals will have sex with other members of their species with the same sex (like bats. or giraffes.) so its like. Yes, human sex and gender and sexuality and human concepts of these things are Not comparable to animals but its still like - these are natural things, you know? and ottos talked with lots of animals and probably seen a bit of shit, so you would expect him not to be homophobic or transphobic or anything right?

and i think on one level he would recognize human sex, gender, and sexuality as natural things, bc they are, but i also think otto still has internalized shit going on from all the times hes struggled with learning social rules and how human connection works as he was growing up, id say. i remember how in my. um. "how homophobic would rz characters be" tier list i had to move otto UP a tier into the same tier as FERRIS AND SUBARU.... in the DEALING WITH INTERNALIZED SHIT tier..... yes. i have reasons for doing that yep!!

so. in three idiots goddess statue episode, garf otto and subaru of course crossdress to go to this party with roswaal for Reasons!!!! and ottos got a bit of an attitude about the crossdressing ok. just gonna leave some excerpts from there regarding otto's feelings on natsumi and crossdressing:

She is a thin woman with wavy gray hair and beautiful ornaments. She has a neutral face, but the lightly applied makeup enhances her good looks. She looks so good in a dress that exposes her thin white shoulders that it is a shame that she walks with her head down.

Natsumi: “So, how long are you going to keep your mouth shut? Don't you think it's time to make up your mind?” Audrey: “I'm more curious as to why you're so adamant about this!” Natsumi: “Oh-ho-ho-ho” Audrey blushed and yelled at Natsumi, who put her hand over her mouth and laughed loudly. However, in no time at all. Audrey immediately covered her face with her hands, as if ashamed of herself. Audrey: “How could this happen? If I knew there had been two other people besides me, I wouldn't have had to resort to such emergency measures! I've been tricked!"

Needless to say, it was Garfiel who was dressed as the blonde woman, and Otto as the gray-haired woman. And the last one, Natsumi Schwartz, was the one who… Subaru: “So she's the temporary form of Natsuki Subaru, as you know.” Otto: “Um, how come you're so smooth and perfect? Even your voice has changed, hasn't it?” Subaru: “Actually, I failed once before because I couldn't change my voice. Ever since then, I've been practicing for a chance at revenge.”

Subaru: “Did you actually have a secret desire to dress as a woman? So you took this opportunity to......?” Otto: “don’t look at me like you've just found out the terrible truth!” Otto spat and screamed at Subaru's shocked face. Then, while he was breathing hard. Otto: “Your crazy prediction is way off! I really only did what Ram asked me to do. I thought I was doing the camp a favor, and this is how they treat me!” Subaru: “Wow, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, calm down. Look, you're ruining your pretty face....…” Otto: “Shut up”

With the men calling out to her one after another, Audrey left the crowd and took a breath. She wanted to sit on the balcony and enjoy the cool breeze to cool down the heat of the party. To be honest, since we entered the venue, the men have been constantly coming at us with no time to rest. Audrey had heard that this was a place to meet people, but the hunt of a hungry wolf is insatiable. They are so hungry that they are even blinded by the gender of the person in front of them. If they don't develop a better eye for women, even if they do meet someone, they will probably end up unhappy. Or is it that "good"?  Audrey: “Hmm, makeup is scary. I can see how men can turn into....…”

Audrey glanced toward the center of the hall. There, as usual, Natsumi was having a good time chatting with many of the participants. She was so excited that she could be heard shouting over and over again. Garnet: “Captain...... No, not so much as a lady” Audrey: “I really wonder what's going on with that guy....... I'm worried that he won't respond to me calling him Natsuki-San anymore.”

Gwain: “No, no, no, enough is enough. You ladies are beautiful, especially that dark-haired girl, Natsumi Schwartz. She's got the youngsters by the balls. She's a bad girl.” Audrey: “Ha-ha-ha.” Audrey couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh and failed to look feminine.

Then, smiling with her hand over her mouth, is a woman with distinctive mean looking eyes. With her unusual black hair and jet-black dress, she exudes elegance in her demeanor. Perhaps it's because she's a good talker and a good listener, but she seems to be able to swim through the social scene with ease, laughing and creating a friendly atmosphere even when surrounded by several men.  I couldn't decide whether I should be impressed or dismayed by her versatility. A short distance away, a sharp-looking blonde woman silently waved away the men who approached her, creating a stark contrast between the light and dark of the people involved. And to those of us on the sidelines, watching the scene…

anyway so. thats a whole lot of excerpts and theres probably at least a little bit more in that ss that i didnt put in this post hah.... and i know that you could definitely interpret these scenes in a few different ways, and also that when youre writing about gender, your feelings on it are likely to bleed into the text a bit and so some of stuff like otto being a Bit of an Asshole in this ss might just be tappei's tappei-isms also (which is most likely the case for stuff like this entire ss tbh :,)) ) but. but i do think theres Something here to be analyzed in regards to otto!!

bc like. lbr. i really doubt that otto is Straight. i really really doubt that hes straight, and i feel like theres just so so much possible gay subtext behind whatever the hell ottos feelings for subaru are thatre scattered across side content and the main story HAH...... this isnt even my ottosuba bias talking, its genuinely what i think could be happening here. and lbr if otto was female everyone and their mother would be shipping ottosuba more i think haha.

but yeah anyway otto shows up being a little...... wack..... about crossdressing??? HM. hmmmmmmmmmmmmm. but also the rezero fantasy world seems to be rather Judgmental about these sorts of things anyway so. :,)))

but i am squinting HARD at "I'm worried that he won't respond to me calling him 'Natsuki-san' anymore".............. and the hungry wolf part......... im squinting at it for multiple reasons (tappei being tappei) (.....but also WHAT is going on in otto's head...)..... "I couldn't decide whether I should be impressed or dismayed by her versatility."............

anyway. i think this could be several possiblities....

otto is once again focused on what's considered "normal" and is focused on trying to at least Attempt to fit into societal ideas of normalcy so when he sees subaru whos this absolutely chaotic and bold person whos also like Queer In Every Direction, otto's brain basically shortcircuits. hes like "wtf how are you doing that. you cant do that. thats not allowed. youre so confident about this too. wtf" (ie: ............otto is transphobic.) (this is 1ooo% the most likely option)

otto is gay for subaru and subaru dressing as a woman gives otto a little bit of a bi crisis. natsumis a bad girl thats got youngsters by the balls, you see. also bc subaru called otto pretty and otto was immediately like "SHUT UP" like T^TT

otto is gay for subaru and subaru dressing as a woman gives otto a tiny itty bitty crisis bc if subaru's sex was female and if subaru was 100% a woman then liking subaru romantically would be a million times easier bc then its societally acceptable

otto, being a bit of a manipulative asshole, goes "hm. subaru-as-natsumi effortlessly charming the room? interesting. i approve of the political maneuvering."

otto is being an asshole, once again, to complain, once again, about all the work he Willingly Does for his friends

................................................gender envy???????

or feeling off bc hes uncomfortable crossdressing just bc of that mismatch between his gender presentation and his gender yknow

otto is feminine/androgynous, so could he have been made fun of for this in the past?????????????????? does he ever get uncomfy about that?????????????????????? not being traditionally masculine??????? bc otto easily passes as a woman when hes crossdressing?????????

a mix of a few of the above options!!!!!

but yeah like. ottos clearly ashamed and embarrassed to be crossdressing. he's also been mistaken for a woman in the past (in subaru's pov) bc yknow hes very androgynous. and also otto gets Really Fucking Defensive when subaru insinuates that otto couldve wanted to dress as a woman also this entire time. the "youre ruining your pretty face..." "shut up." exchange is SOOOO.... T^TT

(and also quick side note but i think ottos stance on queerness is "i dont think its personally wrong. except that i think its wrong Societally bc society will be a bitch about it!! too much Trouble and Work For Me!!!! " :,)))) fucking bitch. thanks otto </333)

and im sure the "I'm worried that he won't respond to me calling him 'Natsuki-san' anymore" line is a dig at subaru passing so so strongly as natsumi that ottos like "urgh hes more of a Woman now" or smth :,))))) however!! its also interesting just bc "natsuki-san" is like. otto turned it into a pet name. basically. like at this point. even though he and subaru have grown closer during and after arc 4 otto Still uses "natsuki-san" - its kind of special, yknow? dude turned that into a fond nickname. so its like..................... if you squint.... why is otto basically saying "will subaru being natsumi drive him away from me..." like im gonna slap otto across the face i swear HAHA. but also otto Does use "natsumi-san" towards natsumi as well but im still. squinting hard at that. "natsuki-san" is The original pet name, after all.

and also the hungry wolf lines... like i know the intent of that is like. otto as audrey keeps getting hit on by guys at this party bc shes attractive, right, with her dress and makeup and styled hair and all that. insert tappei's tappei-isms here. but ottos musing on this like "mm.... men can be so hungry in their romantic pursuits that they'd be blind to the true gender of the person theyre hitting on...... makeup can really do such a thing huh... turns men into Animals..." and its like. hm. otto. you know. i Wonder. i really wonder my guy after hearing about you be obsessive over subaru for like three arcs!!!!!!!!!!

as for ottos gender like. dude is cisgender in canon im sure. though i definitely think its fun to explore genderqueer interpretations of him - and even then, i think even if he isnt genderqueer, i think there might be a bit of shock or even envy, if you squint, at otto seeing subaru so flamboyant and way more confident about crossdressing while ottos over here ducking his head and red with embarrassment while natsumi is absolutely OWNING it. despite the judgment otto and other people are giving!!! otto could Never. it completely blows ottos mind a little, from the looks of it. "how come youre so smooth and perfect?", the defensiveness at subaru saying otto couldve secretly wanted to dress as a woman, "i couldnt decide whether to be impressed or dismayed", and of course it all goes back to subaru being in the spotlight and otto watching from the sidelines. in the Darkness, you could say. hahahaahahahah................. subaru who gets easily into trouble and seems so so shameless about things while ottos so distressed about it.... about every little thing................

but also i do have another running theory that subaru's masculinity issues and otto's androgyny do clash a little just bc. well subarus judged ferris a bit before - "what part of you is like a man?" iirc is the line from arc 4 wn that subaru said to ferris. and subaru can feel more confident bc hey.... im more masculine than a guy like otto, right? otto, who can easily be mistaken for a girl? but im sure subaru would be a little jealous, even. maybe. bc woah. i want to pass as a girl when i decide to dress as one. and then yknow ottos being a dick abt it. maybe its a "im a man and Not a woman" (cisgender man who is uncomfortable dressing as a woman and knows this is not for him) thing too or maybe its a "im a man and Not a woman, so doing this is stupid and beneath me" (internalized/not internalized transphobia????????????) thing???????

yeah so idk i feel like theres different ways to read this fr especially when. haah..................... otto is Not Straight for subaru. thats for sure.

so why are you being an asshole about your crush crossdressing????????? why does it kind of threaten you a bit???????????????????????? why are you behaving this way????????????????????

but if you think about it i do think that maybe. at the heart of all of this. otto is just upset at the Impossibility of him and subaru being together (in any sense of that word) bc theyre so similar but so so different and it makes them clash in every way. :,))))

[prettysweetprettysweet]

it's so befuddling when ppl get pressed about other people finding a lot of joy in a piece of media. first of all, when it comes to enjoyment you're always gonna lose in some way if you go into it intent on comparing and contrasting it to other pieces of media as your primary objective. if you found Cherry Magic seriously lacking in ways that matter to you, that's valid, but also don't try and dismiss people who list aspects you don't like as reasons they love it because that perspective is valid as well.

i know, for example, that CM would not work for my roommate because there isn't a lot of critical conflict and her attention thrives on juicy drama. for me, the absence of that is why i love it so much - with OCD and anxiety playing a role, I struggle to make it through a lot of media and usually don't succeed if it's not mind-blowingly captivating and impossible to separate from (which usually only ever happens if it's significantly relevant to me and my experiences [and significantly gay]). that's why a lot of stuff I watch, like Cherry Magic, serves more to wash over me like a calming wave. i love the neverending stream of love and all the attempts at productive and empathetic communication. i love how the actors portray that love. i love the exciting localization to a place i'm deeply interested in. i LOVE the pacing, which is slower/calmer. that makes it perfect for me to enjoy the media in whole episodes bc it doesn't demand steadfast attention or hyper awareness. that sort of pacing might even allow me to be completely invested from start to finish because it takes the pressure off.

more often than not, i don't want to agonize over tragic missed opportunities, unrealistically bad communication, and frustrating character flaws. i know a lot of people would respond with 'but then what's the point?' the point for me is that i want to see situations resolve how I would probably resolve them in my own life. effective communication is very important to me and one of the things I'm best at. i love seeing it in others. it makes me feel so good! and when it comes to CM, i love that it's all slightly tinged with a hint of madness, simply by the nature of Karan's intense love and devotion, in equal measure with Achi's near-instantaneous instinct to receive it all like a river carrying him on a direct route straight to all of life's most memorable and significant experiences. and of course the general idea of 'put that boy in situations.' i love the characters and i love seeing them respond to their environments and to each other. that's vapid to some but for me its my primary framework for joy/deep enjoyment of media given how my brain works.

[whumpfish]

My latest acquisition! And a PSA for first-time wood cane users

This lion design is from CG-Artis, the carved mermaid cane you can kinda-sorta see in the background is from Asterom. Both of these are Ukrainian artisan companies, I found them through their respective Amazon storefronts. The biggest difference between them is that CG-Artis canes have a fixed height (36") that either matches you or doesn't, and Asterom canes are custom-made to your measurements. Also CG-Artis uses ash, which is considerably lighter, so if you're nervous about wood being too heavy for you, they're good for that.

The Asterom mermaid was my first wood cane, and I'm so glad I found her, because all the other "mermaid" canes I found were like. Starbucks mermaids. Just a bust, and you couldn't see any tail to speak of except a vaguely-scaled handle (which of course is obscured by your hand, so what even is the point.)

Actually you know what I'm just going to sit here and plug both companies.

For any HR Giger fans out there, Asterom is here for all your Alien needs:

One other thing that distinguishes them is their metal accents (this one is on my bucket list)

Were I a more rootin'-tootin' sort, they have something from deep in the heart of Texas: the rattlesnake

And if you just want fun colorful resin, they've got you covered there, too, ergonomic handles in bright opaque blue and purple, and even some marbled combinations.

CG-Artis, not to be outdone, coming in with a T-Rex (And a smaller reptile kissing a flower. Mwah.)

A bucking bronco and a bull

This really cool cutaway style I haven't seen anywhere else

And more feminine nature designs like sparrows, flowers, and an angel that tumblr won't let me show you on this post because of the image limit.

[thetruearchmagos]

WIP Questionnaire

Thank you kindly for the Tag, @theprissythumbelina !

1. What is the first part of your WIP that you created?

Well, the Setting, probably, which as an answer works for just about any of the WIPs I could name. In theory you could argue Gustav and the Magician, individually and as a 'set' of sorts, technically predate my coming up with the 12 Worlds, but the form they took then has only passing resemblance to their current incarnation.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Ooo, well, I've been thinking I'd probably see about getting something original made, or making something myself as a side thing. I mean, I kinda envision a lot of my WIPs as serial animations in my head anyhow, so I've put more thought into this question than reality is ever likely to require.

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

Well... You know how big this list could be. I love all of them, and at any moment which forces / allows me to dig deeper into any single one of them makes me love them even more. Still, my final choice is an obvious one: Gustav Johann Schmidt, who's been in it since the very start, and who's voice has by now almost become my own whenever he comments on some facet of his world in the same way I would.

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fan base would share?

Hmm, well, I've always thought this would go down two tracks. First of all being the classic 'Techno Thriller' crowd, the sorts who like tanks going boom and spies under deep cover: I'd go with things like The Hunt For Red October and Red Storm Rising, both being stalwarts of the genre which have absolutely been personally inspiring. The second track goes down the wider book / writing community, or at least those looking for 'genre fiction' and all that, who might discover the 12 Worlds more on its fantastical or worldbuilding grounds than for its techno thriller nature: I don't really 'understand' what I'd mean by this cohort myself as much, but I guess it could include series like ASOIAF, possibly.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Well... If we're speaking in the past tense, as far as things that have already happened go I'd put forwards "making sure the worldbuilding exists and isn't utterly contradictory", since there's too little writing down so far to count for a big struggle. Dates are hard, and measuring things on the order of decades to a century leaves me with a lot of uncomfortable dead space on one hand, and a bunch of events clustered together on the other. Untangling this has to happen before the writing does, to me, and it's gonna be hellish.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Uhh... Technically, Snake In The Sandbox (Gustav's third and least brought up WIP) features two animals! One's a snake which literally scares G's shirt off when he finds it in his tent, and the other's some sort of desert lizard the 18th Corps adopts as its mascot.

7. How do your characters get around? (Ex. Trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Oh, probably their respective combat vehicles more than anything, though long distance stuff gets done by plane / aeroship, and getting between Worlds means ships for everyone. Non military types might get their own car, or plane.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

Technically brought this up already, but the answer's worldbuilding. It's always worldbuilding. Though within that category, I'm technically supposed to be writing up a piece on the UC' policy towards Goilac / Nouvoulouis pre SSAW, but... I have been having a lazy weekend.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe) of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Big flashy boom booms and cunning military tactics, strategy, and leadership on the one hand for sure, but I'd like to think the depth, history, and life that exists within the 12 Worlds might have some appeal to readers.

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

Published novel, or really a few considering how many there are already for the 12 Worlds. Then... Well, I think I've got a few ideas in me for the Setting yet.

Anyone fancy a boardgame?

And that's that! Tagging @athenswrites @hessdalen-globe @caxycreations @sanguine-arena @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @thatndginger and anyone who'd like to take part!

[nspwriteups]

Locking Eyes at Thirunallam

@harinishivaa 's Enadhuyire part 1 enabled me to reimagine AMV & Vanathi's first meeting at Thirunallam…hope you'll like it

 Arulmozhi closed his eyes and enjoyed the light breeze that ruffled his hair. Maybe coming to Thirunallam was a good idea after all. He was riding his elephant after a refreshing bath at Ponni. This was the only breather he could take before his family and the royal council bombarded him with marriage proposals. Why couldn't they understand that he didn't wanted to marry a girl right of the bat but needed time to understand that person before making such a critical decision. It was not only about the future of the Chozha Nadu but also about his future. And the future of the girl he was marrying. But apparently the council only cared about securing their positions as inlaws and strengthening their own status. He let out a deep sigh. No use getting a headache thinking about all this now. He came here to distract himself from the royal politics and to be with nature. Be with his Ponni. 

"Oh Yaanai Paaga!" Hearing a female shout he turned his head around and saw a woman standing near a big tree, waving her hands at him. "Come here, quick!" She called him over urgently.

A million thoughts passed through his mind. Who was this woman? She did seem familiar, judging from her clothes and jewelleries, he assumed she must be one of his Akka's companions perhaps. She didn't visibly seemed to be in any sort of danger but her face held an expression of fear and anxiety which made him hurry his elephant over to her. "Yes, what is the matter Devi?" He asked, giving her a reassuring smile. The woman blushed and seemed to be tongue tied, merely pointed her finger towards the upper branch of the tree. Arulmozhi followed the direction of her finger and saw a nest consisting of what looked like woodpecker fledglings, crying out as the nest was lopsided on the branch. "A wild cat attacked the nest" He heard her again, and couldn't help but note how sweet her voice was "I shooed away the cat but the nest got lopsided. Could you help fix it?" She looked at him with pleaded eyes. 

He nodded and touched the elephant's forehead and pointed towards the nest. The elephant, his constant companion in expeditions, understood his intention and using its trunk, slightly nudged the nest upright,the fledglings ceasing their cries immediately. The task accomplished, he looked around for the girl, only to find her missing. Has she gone already? He didn't even had a chance to talk to her properly, he was surprised to find himself so disappointed. 

"Penne, where have you gone?" He called out for good measure and was surprised when he heard a reply "I am here" He found her standing near the lotus pond, flashing him a friendly smile. "You have my infinite gratitude Yaanai Paaga" Ah, so she truly believed he was a mahout! No blame to her, since he was wearing ordinary clothes, ditching his princely attires so no one can report his wanderings to his Akka. He decided to see how much he could keep his act. "Don't I get a reward Devi?" He meant to lightly tease her, for what he didn't knew. The woman regarded him "Of course. I'll ask my uncle to appoint you to the highest position in the mahout regiment of the Kodumbalur army" She said genuinely and he felt his smile fade. Kodumbalur? And she mentioned her uncle. So Is this Vanathi Devi, the niece of Periya Velar and the Kodumbalur Kula Vilakk? Not to mention the first candidate in his Akka's list of potential brides for him. He allowed himself to look at her properly this time. Her purple saree complimented her complexion well. She was beautiful, no doubt, with an even more beautiful smile and big, doe eyes. She spoke with confidence although her cheeks were tinged red from nervous or shyness. Arulmozhi felt his heart beating out of his chest, afraid the Kodumbalur Ilavarasi might hear it. Nevertheless, he managed to keep his composure. 

"I'm truly glad to serve Arulmozhi Ilavarase, Devi. But thank you for the offer" He said and prepared to leave.

"What's your opinion of your Ponniyin Selvan?" He was pleasantly surprised by her question.

"Why do ask, Devi?"  She looked embarrassed. "I heard he has arrived at Thirunallam and I just wanted to know. Beyond the usual description of him as the Surya Kula Manikkam and Ponniyin Selvan. About his likes and dislikes and his pasttime activities and his favourite thevarams." 

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Yes, now he was eager to talk with her and imagine her shock when he reveals his identity.

"Maybe I will" She said, saying more to herself than to him, gaze fixed on the lotus pond."I cannot marry someone unless I understand them as a person" 

"I was thinking the same" He realised he said that thought aloud when he saw her face him " Why? You're marriage is also fixed?" She asked genuinely.

"Ummm….yes Devi. Now, excuse me. I have to leave" He guided his elephant to turn around and walk, not before hearing her call out "Oh Yaanai Paaga, don't tell Ponniyin Selvan I asked about him" 

He suppressed a laugh and turned around to see her "Why would I tell him when he himself knows?" 

She gave him a puzzled look "What do you mean?"

"You'll know" He shouted back "Now let me go back to my Akka. She is very persistent, being the Ilaiya Piratti" 

He enjoyed seeing her confused look turn into utter shock and embarrassment and flashed her a grin.

Can't wait to hear from you guys….Like, Comment and reblog 💜

@ramcharanobsessed @dumdaradumdaradum @vibishalakshman @harinishivaa @hollogramhallucination @kovaipaavai@rang-lo. @willkatfanfromasia@thelekhikawrites@thegleamingmoon@deafeningflowercat@yehsahihai@whippersnappersbookworm@itsfookingloosah@gemsmusings@chiyaanvikram@elvenladysakura. @matka-kulfi. @madatdisney@bumblebeeskywalker@vahnithedreamer@nkarti@dosai-maavu@utterlynotperfect@winter-birds@happy-bookworm @tumbledout @anabanana4115 @freeunknownwasteland @bhataktiatmacore@rapunzels-stuff@celestesinsight@mairablue@rationalelderberry@existenceiswhateven@arachneofthoughts@spider5884fan11 @cara-2003 @nirmohi-premika @stella12 @thereader-radhika

[synnthamonsugar]

i don't know how tumblr works so forgive me if i made this prompt in the wrong place

so uhh.... a fic based on number 43 from the intimacy prompt list for mara/shaxx 👉👈

43. Falling asleep with their head in your lap Woe, my very specific headcanons for Mara/Shaxx (and by extension, Mara/Sjur) be upon thee!

Queen Mara Sov drapes against the arm of the blue silk divan, a book of ancient poetry open in her right palm, the stubbled and scarred jawline of  Lord Shaxx beneath her left fingertips. He rests his head in her lap, atop the smooth leather of her cuisses, dark eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Through the high windows of the quarters, a twilit blue-purple sky, stars flickering through the vast dust and debris clouds.

In his role as liaison to the Reef in the Great Hunt, Shaxx had come to Mara to report on the lightbearers' progress across the myriad rocky bodies where the wish-dragons had roosted. Off-duty, he stayed to get caught up on the happenings in Mara's life and share his own. The conversation avoided matters of Reef or City news, which Mara appreciated; the Hunt and its attendant diplomacy with the capricious guardians and her own restless subjects wracked her nerves. To talk about the latest productions of the Ghost Community Theater Company and her recent library acquisitions was a welcome reprieve from the grim day-to-day. 

"'A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnard cried," she recites from an old Earth poem telling the story of a roguish man, a married woman, and a love triangle that ends in a deadly duel. "'To put these lovers in; but lay my lady on the upper hand, for she came of the better kin.'"

"Is this your way of issuing a warning, Queen Mara?" he asks with good-natured incredulity.

She huffs stiffly. "Unless one of us is a disguised ahamkara, we needn't fear the wrath of the Tempest."

Mara pictures herself and Sjur as two planets circling a star in slightly irregular orbits. Sometimes, celestial mechanics draw them to blissful conjunction, and other times they drift into peaceful divergence. They will always reunite, so there is no sorrow in the matter, no more than Terra mourns Mars when he surpasses her. With the awareness that others may track in and out of their lives like passing comets, there is no jealousy. And no sense of possession over that which cannot be owned.

"I cannot speak for you, but the twinkle in my eyes is merely joy at spending time with you," he assures, right hand idly stroking her bony knuckles. She flips her hand palm-up to lace with his. "Still, I wouldn't decline a rematch. In all my days as warlord and crucible-master, I've never before encountered a fighter of such skilled ferocity. You are fortunate to have her, and the ahamkara are unfortunate to stand in her way."

She trusts Sjur will stand strong against the dragons; she has conquered foes more fearsome and less familiar. Still, Mara anxiously awaits transmission for confirmation that the Queen's Wrath has endured another day unharmed. 

"I do not think another living soul would volunteer to stand opposite Sjur's bow," Mara smirks.

He smiles. "We guardians are an odd sort. You know that."

"I do," she says, not finishing her thought: but you aren't, and that's why I like you so. 

In a world of reckless children afire with the power of gods, Shaxx is measured, empathetic, diplomatic. Worthy of the trust she so carefully meters out. The lightbearers would do well to be more like him.

She almost says so, but finds his eyes closed, breath slow and steady. Setting the book on the arm of the lounge, she shifts so that her arm tucks around him, and her head rests on his chest, accompanying him in slumber.

[avengeclintasha]

avengeclintasha's fic masterpost

I've finally done it and created a fic master post for everything I've written all in one place!

These are sorted by paring/fandom.Each also has a mini blurb about it. Some of them are a part of series and that's noted in their descriptions with the word counts.

full list below the cut and more to come soon :)

Wheel of Time (Moiraine Damodred/Siuan Sanche) 

Research Methods (in more ways than one) (words: 23,100/part 1 of fishwives take on academia): “I think they’re onto us.” “You think that about all the students every year.” (five times the dragon reborn kids think Siuan and Moiraine are together and one time they find out if they’re right) 

come home to you (words: 1,111/part 2 of fishwives take on academia): Moraine comes home to find Siuan cooking dinner after a long day at work. They enjoy their night together. (or a prequel/sequel to research methods but can be read as a stand alone)

Pivotal Discoveries (in more ways than one) (words: ??/part 3 of fishwives take on academia) **in progress and updating now!** : There’s a soft moment where Moiraine realizes Siuan has built a place in her life and in Lan’s. And she knows in that moment, she never wants it to change. (or six pivotal moments in Siuan and Moiraine’s lives as they go from friends to lovers and an epilogue for good measure)

tea for your thoughts? (words: 3,460): “It must be a bad day.” “What makes you say that?” “You order our mint tea when it’s a good day and when you’re having a bad day you order the lemon and ginger.” (or Moiraine experiences gay panic when she realizes she’s in love with Siuan)

The Nature of the Job (words: 752): “Do you ever think of not throwing yourself into danger?” (or Moiraine gets injured and Siuan takes care of her)

Agent Carter and Captain America (Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers)

Support System (words: 13,548): Steve Rogers has been a single parent since he moved into his house just a few blocks from his mother and he’s made friends with his neighbors. So, when Peggy Carter moves in across the street, they bond over being single parents and form a support system, of sorts. (or a single parents modern AU set in four seasons)

and i’ve always been a daughter (words: 2,388): Their kids are all grown up and out of the house, so when it's after nine and there's a knock on their door, Peggy expects the worst. Instead, she's met with her oldest daughter with tears in her eyes, still in her work clothes (or Sarah comes drives to her parents house after a bad day at work and Peggy and Steve make it better)

keep my eyes open so you could get some rest (words: 2,656): To say that Steve Rogers was sick would have been incorrect. (or Steve isn’t feeling like himself and Peggy takes care of him)

Madame President (words: 3,838): “Madame Secretary, you’ve been chosen as tonight’s designated survivor.” “What’s a designated survivor?” (or a retelling of the show designated survivor where Peggy Carter becomes president) 

Beautiful Like Your Mother (words: 2,150): When Sarah Carter-Rogers gets detention, she doesn’t want to tell her parents what happened in the slightest. She locks herself in her room, and refuses to talk about it. (or Steve points out that Sarah and Peggy are more alike than she thinks)

My Best Girl (words: 3,383): “What would Cap say if I left his best girl behind?” “He would say, ‘do as Peggy says.” (or the origin of both “my best girl” and “do as Peggy says.”)

Promise You’ll Smile Off a Memory (words: 1,665): Steve comes home late to find Peggy still awake, and they reminisce over basic camp training. (or what it says on the tin)

pull me tight and close your eyes (words: 3,653): Steve comes home from a mission worse for the ware and Peggy takes care of him (or years after Peggy and Steve are recovered in the Valkyrie crash, Steve has a flashback)

i’ve got a living room floor (and i got it deep down in my soul) (words: 9,698): Though Peggy Carter doesn’t realize it, some of the most significant moments of her life have occurred in the living room, most on the floor. (or a series of moments in Peggy’s life told in three parts)

i might look a bit older now (but i’m still the same kid i’ve always been) (words: 2,765): Even though Sarah Carter-Rogers is older now, there are still nightmares that plague her, and her parents are still there to comfort her. (or a two shot of Peggy and Steve taking care of Sarah as a kid and in her teens)

Power and Compassion (words: 45,316): “It’s really thought provoking, isn’t it?” Peggy looked up from the sculpture. Her eyes met those of a man who's eyes were the brightest blue and his dirty blonde hair was combed back perfectly. “Yes, it really is quite something." (or Peggy Carter is a pre-law student at SHIELD University, and Steve is a history major with a passion for art)

Peggy’s Orders (words: 3,585): “You can’t give me orders!” “Hell I can’t, I’m a captain!” (or five times Peggy gives Steve orders and one time he gives orders to her.)

25 Days of Christmas (words: 13,743): A Christmas One-Shot Collection about Steve, Peggy, their cute kids, and a bunch of other cool characters around Christmas time. (or what it says on the tin)

Slow (words: 4,759): A mini collection of modern Steggy one-shots. (or what it says on the tin)

a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss (words 8,086/part 1 of without a single string attached): Starting out set in New York, 2021 and Toronto, 2011: Peggy and Steve both experience life altering events and help to take care of each other across contents and timelines (or a two timeline modern/no powers AU about grief and falling in love with your best friend)

I will love you without any strings attached (words: 8,760/part 2 of without a single string attached): Set in 2010 and 2023: Peggy and Steve go to a high school dance together and they also get married  (or a sequel to a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss about high school dances and weddings, set in two timelines)

Agent Carter/Captain America/Agents of SHIELD (Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers)

and the sun won’t resign until you’re by my side (words: 2,967): Daisy finds Steve in the gym. Peggy’d gone on many missions without him, and when she comes to train in the mornings, she shouldn’t be surprised to see him at the punching bag—and one already on the floor (or five times Steve misses Peggy more than he thinks featuring the OG AOS cast)

Hold My Hands When They’re Shaking, Run Your Fingers Through My Hair (words: 2,278): After a long mission with a few ups and downs, all Steve wants is to be home because missions are exhausting, even when he gets to go on them with Peggy. (or another fluffy AOS/Steggy/Strike Team Delta crossover)

A Place to Call Home (words: 2,595): After the Triskelion is gone and the hellicarriers are dead in the water, Coulson’s team is given coordinates to go to by Nick Fury. It’s only after they land that they realize they’re not the only agents Fury gave these coordinates too. (or an Agents of SHIELD/CATWS/De-Aged Peggy Carter/Strike Team Delta crossover set at the end of AOS season 1)

You’ll Know Peace When You Hear It (words: 2,616): Sarah Carter-Rogers hated when her parents went away. She couldn’t understand why on earth they had to leave all the time, but they did, and Sarah missed them a lot. (or Peggy comes back from a mission injured and Sarah worries, Steve tries to help as best he can)

Thank you to everyone who reads my fics! I appreciate all of you :)

You can find me on AO3 @/avengeclintasha as well where all of these are posted!

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

Want to be on the tag list? Have an idea for next chapter? Clicked the wrong option? Reblog or Comment with 'tag me'! New? Check the very bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is below the cut!🔥

~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 9~

Obi-Wan watches the end of Maul's translucent fins disappear beneath the water line, and scrubs a hand down his face. The jedi turns away, and plops down in a mediation pose next to the magma ball.

He hadn't quite realized the extent of it before, but the sith's mind was not… whole.

It had come out in the dips and flows of conversation. In questions about concepts that were common knowledge. Odd moments where yellow eyes would twitch off to the side, or stare into the distance. He expected any sith to be a little crazy, driven halfway to madness by the darkside itself, yes, but... this was something more.

Maul the dragonfish was a very different man from the unblinking, uncompromising apprentice he'd faced at Theed. Was it the… transformation? Was this clever, curious mind underneath the expressionless assassin all along? Was the sharp wit and quick tongue natural, or new? Obi-Wan didn't think he'd ever find out for sure.

And none of that really changed his most startling realization yet: that Maul was strangely good company when he wasn't being psychotic.

All the kidnapping and such aside, Obi-Wan hadn't… he hadn't played like a youngling tussling on the floor for the fun of it in... years? Hadn't curled up with someone to sleep next to since… well. It has been a bit. Bless him, but Anakin is a handful. Adults-only time for training and private pursuits had perhaps not been as common as they should have been these past six years.

It did not help that being on-world and free at the same time as his usual partners for casual assignations simply didn't happen enough for his, ah… tastes. Bant was a prodigious, in-demand healer, and Kit was always hairing off on another adventure.

Actually, the dry spell might explain why he couldn't stop wondering about…

More importantly, it didn't help that for being the prisoner of an evil, insane sith, Obi-Wan finds himself ever more comfortable. That was surely a bad sign. There was some sort of prisoner psychology thing… stackhold or some such? Yes, his experience was probably being colored by that.

He finds himself a bit concerned that such a thing could set in so quickly. His stay at the bottom of the sea thus far was measured in days, not weeks or months. Was his mind prone to the… stackholding?

Obi-Wan regrets not taking more psychology classes as a knight.

The jedi master hums, leaning closer to the black stone to soak up it's radiant heat.

“I need to stop enjoying myself when he picks on me,” he tells himself. “He's being a bully, and just because I like it doesn't mean it's okay to encourage him.”

Obi-Wan resolves to stop rising to provocation.

“I need to stop responding with humorous rejoinders when he is being a smart ass,” he affirms as well. “It only provides him openings to be entertaining and establish… rapport, and rapport leads to regard, which leads to…”

He resolves to be more bland in conversation.

“I must find a way to free myself. Anakin needs me. My duty is to the order, and to the people of the galaxy at large,” he states the obvious. "Though Maul seems... really quite lonesome, actually. Hmm."

His meditative self reflection continues, turning over those thoughts.

Yes he needed to go home, and to go home he needed to escape… but how? Plan Aurek had been a supreme failure.

Obi-Wan knew of a fair few animals, had connected with hundreds of different species in his lifetime… but rarely did he encounter one that was capable of prevaricating. The octopus he had called for aid had come… but it had been sentient enough to lie. To cunningly send him feelings of curiosity and friendliness under false pretenses.

The gorogoro had betrayed him. It had died horribly for it, but that was no comfort.

Obi-Wan sighs. That really had not been a good result for anyone. He still needs help though. Down, over, that way, something like a hundred yards off, he could feel the faint twinkle of his kyber. He assumes -hopes really- that his rebreather is there too.

With a heavy heart, he reaches out into the seas with the force, very careful to avoid the nexus of darkside that is Maul, and the glimmer of other gorogoro. He does not want a repeat of the previous situation, but he will not simply give up.

‘Hello?’ Obi-Wan calls, in feelings instead of words.

‘I’m friendly. I'm safe. I need help,’ he sends.

His gentle energy reaches plenty of creatures, but nothing so dexterous or intelligent as an octopus. Little fish swarm by the water’s edge, excited enough to make little plips and plonks of noise. They can't help him, but the sweetness is heartening nonetheless.

After a little while he gives up. Nothing else with enough force signature to be large or smart was nearby at the moment, but surely something with potential would happen by at some point?

What he does not sense, because it is impossible and so he is not paying attention, is the panicking flare of his padawan’s force bond. Thirteen some odd sectors away, his tiny call for help had been heard by a fifteen year old. One who had been worrying and wondering where his beloved master was.

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New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

[batsplat]

what are your thoughts on casey’s career being regarded as a what if…..specifically when it comes to his retirement in 2012. personally, why would anyone want casey to stay knowing how his relationship to the sport was? seems like it could actually only get worse if he stayed longer. plus it’s just kinda unfair no?

yeah I think people love it because it's an interesting hypothetical, which I did explore here wrt the marc teammate dynamic... but well, my conclusion there was basically. y'know. it'd go badly wrong and casey would retire soon after anyway probably and I'm kinda glad he didn't go through that experience. I also don't think treating all of this as a straight up 'what if' is properly contextualising his career and what he went through to achieve what he did. the extensive list of physical and mental health issues, battling with chronic fatigue syndrome while being an active motogp rider, the undiagnosed anxiety disorder... it is insane that he managed to have the success that he did, even accounting for the ridiculous amount of talent he had. casey in 2012 was still of course an excellent rider in an injury-affected season, but like... he was clearly done with it. at a certain point he'd just burned himself out. it feels like it was the right time to retire

I think people are really into the romanticism of the whole thing, like it's this sort of... oh, youthful, fragile genius taken from us too soon (sometimes I can still hear his voice), if only we'd been able to see him fully spread his wings. and where it does actively begin to bother me is I feel like a few too many people are engaging with the idea of him more than they are with his actual career. like, he raced for quite a few years! he had a lot of great races and a lot of success! sure, it's a massive pity he was constantly dealing with all these hardships and were ultimately limiting him to some extent - but also, you can swing too hard the other way and treat his entire career as one big hypothetical. casey is more than his potential... he achieved that potential, he was a fantastic rider. let's talk about it! this isn't a story of unfulfilled promise, never has been

the other place where this comes from imo is that people have internalised how massively talented casey is - basically right up there with the great of greats, the valentino's and marc's of the world, if not more talented than them still... an assessment valentino at least wouldn't necessarily disagree with. and it's almost like... if he had all this talent, then surely he should have won twenty titles - so the fact that he didn't is in some way underachieving. but idk man, I just don't think that's how anything works. sports would be literally unwatchable if it were a straight conversion between amount of talent and amount of success. it gets really weird when people frame the valentino/casey rivalry as a contest between this delicate waif of a prodigy on the one hand and this cunning quasi-fraudulent brawler - one completely relying on talent and the other completely on brains (which I suppose is 100% nurture not nature). now, to some extent it's an interesting distinction they lean into themselves, as discussed here, but like. at the end of the day I'm never going to be massively into talent as a concept and a lot of this stuff mostly just annoys me. you don't deserve to win more because you're more talented, and casey was more than his talent. is it too much to ask for to simply discuss a career on its own merits without constantly measuring up to some illusory idea of how much someone was SUPPOSED to have won

so, like. yeah. he would have been miserable and I'm happy he got out. posted these quotes from journalists from the time of his retirement a while back, also this from 2014 which kinda got to me:

like, man, he's been racing since he was four years old. for most of his life it was a profoundly joyless experience. it would be far worse and far more depressing if he'd felt the need to keep going because it was the only thing he knew how to do - which is part of the reason why he soldiered on throughout this process, despite his realisation when he was still in his teens that this wasn't really his dream at all. that it was a dream others had pushed onto him, and he was now stuck with. at a certain point, you just kind of feel trapped, right? he knew the sport wasn't heading in a direction he supported... and while you can agree or disagree with his specific complaints (I think with the benefit of hindsight we can probably conclude the introduction of crt bikes did not in fact permanently ruin the sport), at the end of the day that's really his choice to make. and he had the strength to walk away. he doesn't seem to have had any regrets about it, so why should anyone else? I understand why people like the idea of watching casey and marc race - and, like, I do get it, I'm a fan of the valentino/casey rivalry which was unquestionably pretty miserable for casey a lot of the time. as a fan of the sport and of him as a rider and thinking about how much fun it would have been to see him and marc compete, of course a part of me wishes casey could have stuck around a little longer. as a fan of narratives and conflict and tension and what an interesting guy casey is when he's confronted with something he hates! as a fan of casey the rider, of course I would've liked to see more. but on a more personal emotional level, I'm glad he left when he did