#also found on ao3!

[tolsunflowerboi]

MadaTobi Week 2023

DAY 2 - Teahouse/Teacher

One Lump Or Two - Find it on AO3 here!

Madara was on a mission. Madara was on an important mission and he will not get distracted. Not by the stage full of musicians and dancing performed by a handful of hosts at the far end of the room. Not by the sweet tasting alcohol being plied to every person who had a few spare coins to spend. And not by the quiet and pretty looking maiko who was currently serving tea at the table he was meant to be eavesdropping on. 

(The maiko was very pretty, with pale, jade-like skin and locks of silky white hair twisted into a simple but flattering style. Madara could see their long pale fingers as they peeked out of their sleeves when pouring the tea, before their hands returned to their lap. Maybe if he used his sharingan he could… No. He would not get distracted.)

Pulling his eyes away from the distracting maiko, he let his gaze drift around the rest of the room, taking in the other patrons. Madara was certain he wasn’t the only one staking out these particular targets; according to the Uchiha’s informants, the three men were journeying back from the capital after several meetings with the new Daimyo. They would be fools not to try and gain any information about the new Daimyo before their first summit at the Capitol. 

He was pretty confident that the two people at one of the front tables were Nara, based purely on the fact that one was face down on the table, seemingly asleep, and the other didn’t look too far behind. There was also a blonde dancer that passed frequently by their table that looked vaguely like a Yamanka. Madara couldn’t pinpoint an Akimichi; but where two of those Clans were, the third was never far behind. 

“May this one offer her guest more sake?” An older Maiko held a bottle, tipped invitingly, near his table, but Madara shook his head; the sweet flavour was nice but a bit too sickly for his taste. 

“This one can fetch an alternate flavour if her guest desires, or,” the Maiko tilted her head, drawing his eyes and bringing the other distracting Maiko back into view, “This one can arrange for a tea service if that would be preferable.” 

Madara twitched, catching the teasing smile on the Maiko’s face and felt himself flush. Apparently his, ah, appreciation, of the younger Maiko had not gone unnoticed. 

“Wh- I don’t- I…” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath to calm himself, while the Maiko giggled quietly beside him. Collecting himself, Madara nodded to the Maiko, “I’ll consider the offer but I’m content as I am for now, thank you.” Nodding in acceptance, the Maiko smiled and moved to another table, leaving him to focus back on his targets.

(The younger Maiko had disappeared, the table’s tea service obviously complete, and Madara tried not to feel disappointed. Maybe he could come back after his mission was finished and request a tea service for himself?)

Scolding himself for getting distracted again, Madara idly passed the time by watching the others around him, filing away the tidbits of information let slip by the increasingly loose-lipped nobles. 

There was a  group of young men near the stage drinking enough alcohol that you could barely see their table under all the bottles. (The new Daimyo already had ties with the Land of Iron through his first wife.)

The most-likely-a-Yamanka dancer had shifted their attention to a haughty looking pair a few tables over from the suspected Nara. Judging by the pair's long hair bangs, they were likely Hyuga; which made their stiff backed disdain for the blondes needling all the more entertaining. (There was talk of raising taxes on all imports and exports from the Capitol.)

His the Maiko was making their way over to his table with a tray of tea and settling down beside him, close enough that he could make out the pale eyelashes brushing the top of their cheeks when they blinked. (The Daimyo was offering more backing and money to the samurai, outsourcing more missions to them.)

There was a scuffle at the rear by the kitchen between some - wait WHAT?

Madara jerked his head round, staring wide eyed as the pretty Maiko prepared the cups of tea in front of them. “Wait I-” He stopped, clearing his throat and trying again, “I apologise, but I didn’t order tea, I think you’ve come to the wrong table.” As much as he wanted them to stay, Madara also didn’t want them to get in trouble with other customers for missing their orders. 

(The Maiko was even prettier up close, their beauty highlighted by their makeup; a light blush over their cheeks and their bottom lip an eye catching red. Their robes were flattering; the material tucked and layered to emphasise their slim waist, while the long, wide sleeves made their hands seem dainty and delicate.)

“This one’s guest is correct, however this one’s older sister insisted on this service, paid for by the house of course, for the enjoyment of the guest.” His Maiko’s voice was lower than expected, but fitting in a way he couldn’t describe. He flicked his eyes up while the other poured his drink, catching sight of the older Maiko who had been by his side earlier in the night standing across the room. She gave him a small smile and pointed look, dipping her head towards the younger Maiko at his side. 

(Any thoughts about the drunk nobles ceased to exist; he’d picked up plenty of information and the three drunkards were basically unconscious at their table. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in some time with his Maiko if they were offering, right?) 

Nodding in acknowledgment, Madara reached out to pick up his tea, “Of course I will gladly accept such a gift, but please, join me in drinking, there’s certainly enough tea for both of us.” And there was, the older Maiko had obviously prepared enough for two before sending the younger over, something Madara would have to remember to thank her for before leaving. 

Ruby eyes blinked at him, the colour stark against pale skin and snowy lashes, before dropping back down to the table. “If that is what you wish, then this one would be happy to provide company.” His Maiko picked up the second cup, cradling it between their hands before they sipped at it, humming slightly as they did so. Madara took note of their enjoyment; obviously jasmine was a favourite of theirs. 

(He wondered if it was just tea, or if jasmine was a favourite across other things as well. Some well made incense or maybe something sweet like mochi?)

(Madara definitely needed to thank the older Maiko; she’d picked the tea after all, and obviously she knew it was one favoured by the younger Maiko.) 

They made idle conversation as the night went on, Madara learning various things about the other as they drank. His Maiko had siblings outside of the teahouse; both older than them, though one was technically a cousin. His Maiko enjoyed learning new things; they had an extensive book collection that they added to every time they had the chance, about any topic that captured their fancy. Madara revealed his love of spicy things, which coaxed the admittance of fish and sweet things being his Maiko’s favourite flavours. 

(He’d managed to capture a few seconds with his Sharingan, while his Maiko was enjoying their tea; eyes half shut and a small smile on their face. It wasn’t exactly a smart thing to do but, well. Having a lovely memory like this that he could recall perfectly whenever he wanted was a very tempting thing.)

Eventually, once the tea was finished and the lanterns had started to burn out, Madara bid his goodbyes to his Maiko, offering some extra coins to the elder as he slipped outside. Both for her help; he could admit that he likely wouldn’t have ask for his Maiko to serve him if she hadn’t nudged things along, and also for taking up the rest of his Maiko’s night; they wouldn’t have earned as much as they could have by staying with him, so offering the difference was the least he could do. 

He’d try and come back, he decided, after his next mission. Maybe bring some sweets with him as a gift? Or look through some of the merchant stalls for interesting books? He doubted his Maiko had as many options to browse through as Madara did - his missions took him through the various neighbouring countries afterall. He was sure he could find something interesting in Lightning or Wind Country. 

(He couldn’t have known that he’d never get the chance. He’d taken up the mantle of Clan Head earlier than he’d thought he would; devastating the free time he had away from the Clan and their territories. By the time he’d made it back, his Maiko was gone.)

Madara sat stiff-backed at the table, face hard and serious as he watched the Senju opposite him. He could feel Izuna fidget slightly at his side, his own rival sat opposing him as well. Peace talks were going…steady. There were still arguments about specifics; back and forths that neither side wanted to concede. But that was good. The Clan would have been much more suspicious if there weren’t some clashing with the Senju over things. He would have been a lot more suspicious. 

Even so, tensions were higher at this meeting than others. It was the first meeting with both the Clan Heads and their Heirs; meaning it was the first meeting the Uchiha had with the White Demon attending, Senju Tobirama. 

Picking up his cup, Madara went to take the customary drink to open the meeting, watching Izuna, and both Senju, do the same. The tea was jasmine, a change from the green tea Hashirama had picked last time it was his turn to host. Ready to move things along, Madara started to lower his cup when he heard it; a small, pleased humming from across the table. Snapping his head up, he locked eyes on Tobirama, watching him sip his tea with an expression he knew. He remembered that expression, even after 10 years his Sharingan could recall it with perfect clarity. The hair, the eyes. The pale skin and the way he drank his tea. He couldn’t believe it!

“SENJU TOBIRAMA! YOU’RE MY MAIKO?” 

@madatobiweek

[gentil-minou]

Everytime I see posts like this I get filled with such profound sadness

Cause you know who has the same brainrot as you? The same unhinged feelings as you after you've read the fic? The person who always wants to scream about the fic with you?

THE PERSON WHO WROTE IT

I never used to leave comments but since I got into the habit of commenting on everything i enjoy it's been incredible. Especially when the author gets back to me about it and we get to have a discussion of what other ideas they had. One writer replied to my comment with a 5 paragraph essay detailing the Floorplan of the building the characters lived in and it was incredible

Anyways this is all to say that if you find a fic that just makes you want to scream from the rooftops, leave a comment saying that to the author and maybe they will join you and you can scream incoherently together

[bolithesenate]

What happens when a Jedi Initiate dies?

It cannot always be prevented, the galaxy is a dangerous place, especially for children, and the Jedi are still only mortal.

Accidents happen. Illnesses exist.

Tragedies do too.

The Crèchemasters are highly trained to prevent that, of course, but they too are only mortal. They too can fail.

The death of an Initiate is a heavy burden, for the entire Temple. It doesn't happen often, but when it does it is a heavy burden. It is from that burden that one of the Order's most sacred traditions stems from.

They may die an Initiate, but they will not join the Force without guidance.

When an Initiate dies, they automatically gain the rank of Padawan – no matter their age. They will posthumously be taken in by a Master and be gifted a braid and a lineage. If they already found their crystal and built their saber, these too will be taken care of by their new Master.

Some Masters of such Ghost-Padawans, especially those who had a bond before their passing, will live the following years as if they had a living student. They will not take on another until the Force or they themselves deems them ready, at which point the High Council will hold a honorary Knighting.

Because while the Order might lose an Initiate, no Initiate will ever be left alone.

[rollercoasterwords]

like yeah obviously legality does not correlate to morality and i personally do not think ip laws should exist. however the reason i find it relevant to emphasize that selling fanfiction is illegal is not to make some moral stand about the sanctity of ip so much as to be like. hey this is the way it fucking is and if u break the law by selling fic u run the risk of creating larger legal troubles for entire communities of fic writers who just want to share their work for free. also more to the point the reason selling fic is so shitty is that it is a question of labor exploitation. i spent hundreds of hours creating something which you are now packaging and selling to make a profit without compensating me for my labor, which is not only exploitative but spits in the face of the spirit in which this fanfiction was shared—as a labor of love, meant to be free to anyone who wanted to read it. and the gag is that if u did want to fairly compensate me for my labor it would literally be thousands of dollars (assuming i’m charging even minimum wage for time spent writing & editing) which is why it isn’t fucking possible to sell fanfiction for a fair price!! all that on top of the fact that i (and many other fic writers) explicitly say “don’t sell or buy bound copies of my fic” just makes it flat-out undeniable that this is a fucking shitty thing to do, and i genuinely have no sympathy for people who go “wait what i’m not supposed to sell or buy fanfiction 🥺🥺🥺” like shut the fuck up i hate u

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Different first meeting au where Xie Lian became a shrine priest for the ghost king Hua Cheng in hopes that if Wu Ming somehow survived, he doesn’t think he did but he has hope okay??, he would be protected and cared for in ghost city. And Hua Cheng, who doesn’t take care of his own prayers and instead foists them off on Yin Yu because that would cut into his time to search for Xie Lian, doesn’t find out for centuries.

[averydedicateduck]

Anyone wanna bet how long i have to live after convincing my mom to watch yet another thing where her ship does not get a happy ending?

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

when you mentioned in your tags that there was hardly any laughingstock i didn't believe you at first, but holy shit ur right. YOU AND @krasytoonz MADE ME INTO A LAUGHINGSTOCK BELIEVER. I WILL PAY TRIBUTE TO THESE SKRUNGLY FUCKERS SOON, MARK MY WORDS *shakes fist into the void*

no yeah Seriously though its just us out here, fighting for our lives in the fucking Trenches. in ten years someone is gonna use the word 'laughingstock' casually in conversation and im gonna have War Flashbacks

[theeluvian]

Under His Spell

2k words, a little snack for you all, no spoilers, just Rook and Emmrich on his desk, so beware this IS smut.

Ring after ring they come off, placed carefully in a small jewelry box that fits perfectly in one of the drawers of Emmrich’s desk. His fingers are long and slender and always move with such grace and dexterity, no matter what they’re up to.

Rook has always watched so intently whenever Emmrich would calm the spirits or perform necromancy like it’s as simple as writing a letter; pure poetry in his every movement, and she always wondered what they’d feel like against herself, dancing across skin, guiding her like she’s one under his spell.

“Come here, darling,” he says, standing next to his desk that has been cleared of any and all papers, gesturing for her to join him.

She only wonders briefly why that is, and walks over to lean against the wooden table per his suggestion.

And barely has she gotten there before his hand is upon her, caressing her cheek before cupping her face with both ring-less hands and leans down to kiss her. His kisses are always just like his self; kind, gentle, thoughtful, caring and attentive to her wants.

There’s only ever tongue between them when he is the wanton one, and this time seems to be such an occasion, as his tongue now asks for permittance into her mouth, and she gladly obliges with a delighted hum.

Emmrich then steps in front of her, both hands on her hips as he kindly suggests for her to sit on top of the empty desk, and it is as she suspects; he cleared it for her - for this.

Then from her hips he moves up, freeing her shirt from where it is tucked into the form-fitting pants she wears, and the excitement in her soul builds in those mere moments before his bare hands are on the skin of her waist.

He doesn’t move further at first; holds her in place with an ever so slightly firm grip, squeezing her agile body beneath the clothes, as if he’s taking note of every inch of her as those adept hands move up and up until they meet just the underside of her breasts, and Rook’s breath hitches then glides into a quiet moan as his thumbs run across her nipples.

It is a brief touch, but there’s more to come as he pulls the shirt over her head and drops it to the floor by their feet.

“My word, as splendid as ever. Your beauty always captivates me,” he hums, gazing first at her breasts then up to meet her eyes.

“And you are quite the charming looker yourself.” She smiles at him and chases him for a kiss, but he leans away faster than she.

Instead he leans further down, tall as he is, his lips meeting with her collarbone, gliding across it with numerous kisses, and as he moves further down, Rook’s breathing increases in fervor, as much as she always tries to remain composed with him.

Emmrich gives a few brief kisses around on her sensitive breasts before bringing forth that expert tongue to lick across one budding nipple, making Rook lean her head back and place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing there to encourage him to continue.

And he does, bites a little, nibbling on her skin, gently pulling at the nipple with his teeth, his right hand working on the other breast, pinching and rubbing it in synchronicity with how he treats the left one. It is a perfect combination that sends shivers down Rook’s back, surging through her chest and down into her crotch that starts warming up like kindling to a fire. 

“Oh Emmrich,” she whispers and it catches his attention enough for him to come up to kiss her with sudden and unbridled passion, but it isn’t an unfamiliar experience, for once he gets going, he’s as much of a loving expert as he is a gentleman. It probably came with age and practice, but she doesn’t dwell on that.

Because all of the past doesn’t matter when he clearly hungers so desperately just for her, burying his face now in the crook of her neck, kissing and breathing in the scent of her like she’s a flower in bloom.

As Rook moves her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, so does his hands move down to hook onto the waist of her pants, and she of course knew where this was going all along, happily.

Knowing from their past experiences together, her pants are too tight for him to get where he wants to go, so with both hands placed on the surface of the desk, she lifts herself up from it as he tugs both her bottoms off of her, shoes as well till she’s all in the nude and he’s still all dressed.

“Pure perfection,” Emmrich compliments as he takes all of her nudity in.

Soon his hands are on her thighs, high up and squeezing the flesh, massaging her muscles that rarely get to rest; this moment already an exquisite relief from the lives they both lead currently. Cautiously, as if such a thing is still necessary between them, he moves his hands inch by inch, higher and higher till he’s by her hips. And with his hands there, he pulls her closer to the edge of the desk, then lets one hand, guided by the thumb, draw nearer to the center between her thighs, and upon touch Rook inhales in a delighted gasp. The digit there starts drawing circles with her clit, tentatively slow and obsessively accurate with every motion. By now he knows her body, how it works, what it likes, what she likes, swiping his thumb like a conductor to the rhythm of her light moans.

It is, as always, a pure delight to be touched by him, even just being in his presence when they’re alone urges forth a lustful feeling and likewise a sensuous string of thoughts and images in her mind. He once said he chooses his words carefully, and so does he with his actions undoubtedly, rubbing his thumb against her whilst kissing up and down her neck, his otherwise free hand massaging and pinching at her breast.

All of it a symphony of stimulating notions.

Then his lips brush against her ear as he gently asks, “May I?”

And breathlessly, she answers, “Yes.”

The rhythm then changes as he twists his hand around enough so that he can run his fingers through her slick labia, thumb still on her clit as he teases her wet hole with his index and middle fingers, making Rook hum and bite down on her lip, brows knit together in expectation of forthcoming ecstasy. 

“E-Emmrich,” she pleads with him.

“Ask me, then,” he whispers with such a sweet smile for what they’re doing.

“Please.”

“Your wish is my command.”

In one swift plunge he drives his fingers into her pussy and moves them inside of her, making her moan out as he finds those deliciously perfect spots that his long, immaculate fingers can reach. It sends sensational lightning through her body, swirling around in her abdomen like a typhoon of pleasure with his every move, and as he starts thrusting ever so gently, thumb still circling her clit, she cries out.

Ahs and Ohs fill her mouth, one hand on the desk, the other on his shoulder, and even with her eyes tightly closed, she can feel him staring, knows his smile is there.

Soon he adds a third finger, unmistakably sensing that she wants more from the way her body clenches around his digits. It’s all too much, all too wonderful, and it builds in her gut, warms her up hotter than the sun, and her voice grows in pitch as she nears orgasm, muscles tensing up, thighs quivering and hands trembling. Even with his gentle touches and intentful motions so deep inside of her, slow and practiced, he makes her cum with incredible force as she stills, letting out one long moan, legs instinctively closing in around his continuously moving hand as he massages and lets her ride out the pleasure till there is barely a breath left in her lungs.

And ever the gentle man, he draws his hand away softly, and when she opens her eyes to look at him again, she catches sight of him licking his fingers clean of her. When he then kisses her next, she can taste herself on his lips and tongue, and she hums in delight of it, still ever so turned on and needy for more than what he just offered. 

Calm and collected as ever, he steps away from her just enough so that he can take off his bracelets, the vest, his shirt and all their accessories till his torso is bare and naked and shaved cleanly. He’s slim, fit, aged like fine wine and Rook drinks all of it in every time like it’s their first time together.

He then, with expert practice, undoes the belts of his tenting pants, slides them down together with his underwear just enough to release his lengthy, perfect cock, then steps toward Rook once more.

Who in her turn grabs on to him with gentle hands and strokes it with the same temper and temptation that he offered her just before. Into their kisses his breathing is heavy yet tactful, and in her hand he twitches whenever she runs her palm across the tip, smearing his precum across the heated, pulsating flesh.

She guides his cock to her hole, then leans backwards to rest her elbows on the desk, chased by his lustful kisses as he places his hands flat next to her elbows, leaning in over her as he slowly slips inside. They share a moan and the air belonging to one another as he sinks deeper, inch by inch into her pussy.

He breaks their kissing only for air briefly before diving back in to meet her lips with ever the fervor, starting to move in and out with lascivious intent. Their every time together is filled with just as much splendor as their first, like lovers discovering each other over and over, a sensation neither will grow tired of.

Especially Rook, moaning louder with every thrust, every inch, every time he fills her completely, to the bottom of his shaft and the bottom of her cunt. No words can describe their time together, only labored breathing, gasps for air, moans in unison as their souls entwine. 

And slowly, like he’s afraid to break her if he let all of his lust free at once, Emmrich thrusts faster, harder, every plunge as deep as he can go, hitting every sweet spot inside of her sensitive pussy, still so fully ignited from her first orgasm, and the second one won’t be far away now.

One arm at a time, she wraps them around his shoulders, careful as to not touch his precious hair, even as strands of it have come loose somewhere along their tryst. This close she can moan and whimper straight into his ear, and she knows it drives him mad with lust for her with every extended vowel coming from her parted lips.

He brings up one hand to press their bodies closer as he again moves faster, each motion becoming more and more erratic, and she can tell by that that he’s getting close.

That and his, “I’m close, darling.”

Rook then lets a hand massage her clit so that she can finish faster, and it truly barely takes a touch for her to tense up and clench down on Emmrich’s cock, making him grunt out in a rather brutish manner for what he usually does, and her tightness surrounding him urges him to cum inside mere moments into Rook’s orgasm, and after a few quick thrusts, he stills, buried deep and comfortably.

Together they heave for air, sighing blissfully with every exhale, embracing one another as they stay like this for a few prolonged seconds, like they are one now and forever.

[soulless-bex]

i think Tim deserves to do a little fratricide. as a treat.

(edit: link to the fic)

[turnipoddity]

not the indonesian government planning to ban twitter 💀

[nopeleavemealoone]

so i just saw a video by Danny Motta on instagram where he says he agrees to react to Epic the Musical if he gets to 1million followers BUT if he gets there BEFORE 2025 he will react to ALIEN STAGE. It has been 2 weeks and he has gone from 850K followers to 900K, potentially because of this video. If you there are an alien stage enjoyer, GO FOLLOW HIM JUST FOR THIS MAYBE :D

Link to insta reel: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DB66790Kjwm/?igsh=N3B0ZDI5NHpyNTZj

[zelda-daily]

Announcement: GOAL!

Hi! So we finally made it to day 100 - the goal I set out to do from the start but had no idea if I could actually reach lol.

I made this blog in the middle of dealing with art block. I hadn't really been feeling inspired to draw or create much for about a year.

The longest I've ever lasted on a daily drawing challenge before this was day 3. Now that I've made it to day 100 and I'm finally starting to get ideas and inspiration again, I'm satisfied :]

This is NOT the end of the blog. Just a hiatus until the next art block, which (let's be real) will probably be sooner than later lol.

Thank you to everyone who's been following along so far. I really, genuinely appreciate all the tags and comments and familiar faces.

Until next time! <3

[sagaubeloved]

I don’t know if this is something I READ or something I thought of in passing and just kept forgetting about, but the basic idea is that the things the Creator comes into contact with (mainly literature) is recreated within Teyvat.

But it was more in the sense that even if the Creator hadn’t read the book it would still appear. However, those books that weren’t read would be faded, barely there scribbles that are not discernible and thus not as important to the Creator in comparison to the things they have read.

In that way, I thought how funny it would be that if-and-due to the Creator being a college student there are all these various poems, post-colonial literature, plays, biology, communications, etc just popping into existence and the people of Teyvat believing that the Creator really enjoyed knowledge and the arts.

(Maybe that can cause a long standing argument between Sumeru scholars and those who prefer the arts?)

Would this include the things the Creator writes? Essays and such? Yes, because it is something the Creator interacted with, and no less created themselves!

For me I really like essays, but it also depends on what it is the essay is going to be about, that’s where it can turn from an essay of 10 pages easily or a trudging essay with blurbs. (Just imagine seeing your school essay glorified somewhere as fact and your just there trying not react because you wrote that one thing while sick, and high as a kite at 3 am on a school night; wtf is it doing in that glass casing for all of Teyvat to witness??)

Similarly, if the Creator enjoys reading in general, all those things come into existence even if those things existed by way of technology only, ie. Fanfiction.

So imagine when the Creator descends they are at first confused and then upset because I still have so many things to read! I still have so many things to write! I had a project due in a week! And then stops in bewilderment because —

Wait, isn’t that… isn’t that the novel they had in their To Read list?? Wait isn’t that a story they already read?! Oh no, everyone is witness to your reading habits!!

[i-may-be-an-emu]

hi apparently my latest brainrot is two side characters who barely interact so here you go bon appetite :D

flash + movement warning

audio credit: “I wanna feel calm” by bears in trees

video credit: shoot from the hip (@shootimpro) improvised play #22 - The Milkman

[ezziemagpie]

Fanfic authors, please, I implore you, from one writer to another, DO NOT DELETE YOUR WORKS. Change the account ownership, make a different pseud to put it under, anonymise or orphan them, it doesn't matter, just please, please, PLEASE, do not delete them. Please. Even if you think they're badly written, or out of character, or a decade old, or 'cringe', or whatever, there will be some poor schmuck out there who loves what you've written and will cry over its deletion because they forgot to download it. - Sincerely, some poor schmuck who loves what someone wrote and has spent the last ten hours trying to track it down because he forgot to download it.

[ao3screenshotss]

why be heartbroken when you can just be hard?

- ao3 commenter