#ot3: comfortable

[drawyourblankas]

Draw your characters like this

[comfortyart]

Peaceful evenings 💕🌃

[mexashepot]

The 2012 Broadway Revival of Jesus Christ Superstar be like:

[greencheekconure27]

Post-canon Airk not feeling himself with his hair cut short and trying to grow it out asap and Graydon offering some magical assistance except he accidentally overdoes it and the hair grows waist-length or more and Elora braids it all prettily for him.

That's it that's the post.

(Kit teases him mercilessly of course. But the long hair also reminds her and Sorsha of Madmartigan)

[obizenyukii]

immediately smiling when zen enters the room <3

[happygirl2oo2]

Hardison (left) and Parker (right) definitely have at least one selfie that looks just like this picture and you can't change my mind 🤷‍♀️

Is Eliot the one in place of the kid in the back? maybe... 😌

[not-poignant]

Tradewinds Launch - A Fae Tales Novel - Jan 31st

FULL NOVEL RELEASE on JANUARY 31st - EXCLUSIVE to REAM & PATREON ONLY

In the dangerous, ethereal realm of the fae, alliances between the Seelie and Unseelie fae merchants are few. Some say impossible. Matan, a Seelie fae and peacock pheasant shifter with a talent for trade, must keep his Seelie alignment a secret as he embarks on a perilous journey to gather wealth and save a loved one from a terrible curse. He joins an Unseelie merchant caravan of fae who would surely eat him if they learned of his alignment. The enigmatic Udir, a paranoid Unseelie master of poisons and bearded vulture shifter, discovers Matan’s secret and threatens to blackmail him in exchange for vile favours. But Udir’s bravado and bluster hides a painful past and Matan isn’t as innocent or as naïve as he seems. Amid bustling markets, savvy clients, and travelling to new lands Matan has never seen before, Tradewinds is a story of love, found family, trust, betrayal, and the healing that can grow in the shadows of the vibrant, perilous southern fae lands.

Foxhall @ Ream (available on the Gary+Efnisien tiers or higher) Foxhall @ Patreon (available on the Gary+Efnisien tiers of higher)

[remyfire]

"Thank heavens none of us has to stand it alone."

[the-starry-seas]

fox has a panic attack during a thunderstorm, and bail and breha are there to comfort him

Fox tears awake with a scream, his back arching off the bed, fingers digging into the mattress, his back burning. Thunder still growls and grumbles overhead. He doubts they heard him.

Something moves suddenly at his side and he moves on instinct, rolling away, presenting his back to the thing and curling around the vulnerable parts of himself. His hands cover the back of his head, a feeble effort, but the only thing he can do. If they hit him there too many more times, the medics won't be able to do anything about the damage.

"What's the matter?" murmurs a soft voice.

His gaze meet Breha's in the hazy soft light of the moon. She looks half-asleep still, squinting against the light coming in through the window, no idea what's going on.

Kark, when something happens, she won't be awake enough to protect herself.

Lightning flashes and he flinches, a full-body shudder violent enough that the mattress trembles with him as a sob escapes his lips.

Breha sits up, turns away, fumbles with the lamp on the bedside table. It clicks on and casts a warm golden glow across the blankets.

"Oh, Fox."

She sounds so dismayed, and he curls tighter around himself.

"I'm sorry," he gasps out, not knowing what he's apologising for, only that it often makes the pain stop sooner. "I'm sorry, I'll be better-"

"Bail," she says instead. "Bail!" There's a rustle behind Fox. "Where did we put Fox's emergency medication?"

"Kriff, it's in his bag," Bail says, and there's a tug at the blankets over Fox's leg as Bail gets up in a hurry, rushing out to the foyer and barely stopping long enough to turn the light on.

Something crashes to the floor outside and Fox flinches again, begging anyone listening that it wasn't a shiny who did that. He can't protect them, not when he's broken like this. They're going to be punished, they're going to be hurt, and it's all because he's a failure, he's useless, he never should have let himself think otherwise-

Bail sits down on the bed next to her, where the light is, face gilded and grieving. The small plastic pouch in his hand is already open, the sensor inside blinking a slow orange.

"Fox, I need to touch the back of your neck," he says.

"No, Senator, please," Fox begs, already sick to his stomach with the knowledge that no begging will save him. It's not Bail, in that moment, it's just a faceless thing that grabs and pushes, and spares nothing in its quest to conquer him.

Bail sighs quietly, looking down at his lap. "You're going to have to move your hands."

Fox doesn't want to move his hands, but soldiers follow orders. He tucks them to his chest, every line of his body tensed in anticipation of another blow.

He whines deep in his throat when Bail leans over him, an instinctive reaction to terror that he can't hold back. It's Bail who flinches then, but his hand is cool and gentle on Fox's skin.

"I know," Bail whispers. "I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"

Lightning flashes again, and Fox is paralysed with fear. He chokes on nothing, gasping for breath, drowning on dry land, and worst of all, he hates himself for the look on Bail's face. Like Bail is watching something horrible happen to someone he loves.

It must be too much to bear, because Bail gets up. There's the sound of the curtains closing, but with the lamp there - with Breha there - the room doesn't seem much darker. Music starts from somewhere, the waltz that they first taught him to dance. It doesn't do anything to hide the thunder, but it's not the thunder that ever hurt him.

The medication in the patch works quickly, the sensor's colour changing to green as Fox's vital signs even out to normal.

"How do you feel?" Breha asks quietly.

He uncurls himself slowly, stiff with tension. There's a part of his brain that turns off in all the terror. That knows that with the patch, it could only have been ten minutes at the most, before calm returned.

It still felt like a thousand years.

He sits up slowly, fingers splayed across the mattress. The patches always make him feel a little dizzy - Bail and Breha will insist that he doesn't get up for another few minutes - but that's no price to pay. Without the patches, that would have lasted for hours.

"Thank you," he whispers, and with gratitude comes shame. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. I didn't mean to bother you."

"Fox Organa, I love you."

He's seen her in a professional capacity so many times, but for the rest of his life, Breha will never look more like a queen than she does then, in nothing but his shirt going down to her knees, her hair loose and messy around her face, her voice softer than silk and warmer than summer sun.

"I love you," she repeats, "and you will never be a burden to me."

"Or to me," Bail adds. He sets a hand on her shoulder, and she sets her own on top of it. His other hand, he holds out to Fox.

Fox clings to them instead, trying to lose what remains of him in the smell of Breha's hand lotion and Bail's shampoo. They say nothing until he turns his face to kiss Breha's cheek, then stands, unsteady on his feet, to lean into Bail and kiss him, too.

He sits back down and lets out a breath, reminding himself that he's safe here. Palpatine died years ago. Breha wrote clone rights into the planet's laws not long after. Bail oversaw the construction of this place. The lightning will never again touch his skin. Never, ever again.

"I'm better," he says finally. "Thank you." To prove it, he doesn't wait for them to ask. "I want to go back to bed with both of you here. I want you to touch the flowers."

They lay on either side of him, their breathing still a little more even than his. Breha leaves the lamp on. He's grateful for that. Their hands are gentle on his back.

Not the scars, he reminds himself, tucking his face into the oversized pillow that's somehow even softer than his sleep shirt. Not the scars. The flowers.

The palace medics had promised that the scars could be wiped away like they never existed. He'd thought about it, once. But those injuries had healed. The ones in his mind...

Foxgloves, Breha said, when he asked about the flowers almost as tall as he was, planted around the palace. He asked what they meant. Bail said that sometimes flowers don't have a meaning, they're just beautiful.

He had a foxglove tattooed along the length of his spine, over the scars from the lightning. To remind himself that sometimes things could be beautiful. To convince himself that when they look at his back, they're not looking at his scars.

Sometimes, when the bathroom mirror is fogged from the steam of a long shower, he can't see the scars in his reflection. He only sees the gentle lines of the blooms.

They'll fall asleep before he will. He won't mind staying awake to watch over them.

"I love you," he whispers.

They say it back in unison. He smiles a little at that. No matter what they do, they're always so sure of themselves. And when they saw him, when they wanted him, when they cherished him, they were so sure of that, too. It's the only thing he ever had any faith in.

As it turns out, they stay awake to watch over him, and they don't mind.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Miles G is afrogoth.I don't make rules because i'm not an authority figure but i do have facts

[v4visms]

[drawyourblankas]

Draw your characters like this

[khruschevshoe]

"You too, huh?": An Unhinged Ten/Jack/Martha Meta

Alright, so, Ten/Martha/Jack's dynamic has been rotating rent free in my brain all week. You have two people- Jack and Martha- who both admit to fancying a man who could never love them back, a man who is so embroiled in grief over a woman that Jack clearly once loved as much as he loved the Doctor, a man who showed them the stars and showed them the horrors of the universe. A man who directly leads to them both becoming greater and worse than they ever were before, a man who took their lives and twisted himself inside of every strand of them forever, a man who offered them a hand and kissed them and became the best and the worst thing to ever happen to them.

And it's not just the Year That Never Was- it's more than that. It's Jack dying for the Doctor and then being cursed with eternity and yet despite a century of being tortured by Torchwood/waiting for the Doctor, he never lost hope in the Doctor being able to fix him. It's Martha going through some of the worst shit any companion has had to in a single season (the racism/hopelessness she had to face in Human Nature/Family of Blood, being stuck in the 1960s for months and having to get a job with no guarantee that she'd ever make it out, having to walk the dystopian earth for a year with the weight of the literal world on her shoulders, nearly burning to death due to a living sun, taking on the psychological weight of keeping the Doctor steady- hell, the Doctor's purposeful ignorance of her feelings isn't even at the top of the list and yet it still did damage) and yet managing to find the strength to respect herself and leave.

It's the way that both of them have their images of the Doctor irreversibly cracked at the end of the Year That Never Was. They still believe in the Doctor, would still go to the ends of the earth for the planet, as we see in Journey's End, but they don't quite fancy him anymore. They can't. Jack was tortured and killed over and over again by the Master for a year straight and Martha was forced to walk the burning earth for a year straight while her family was tortured and yet at the end of it all, the Doctor didn't comfort them. He cradled the Master in his arms and begged him to regenerate and sobbed when he didn't.

It's the way that Martha and Jack are the ones to make the initial threats to Davros in Journey's End. (Yes, Sarah Jane helped with the warp star, and made threats of her own, but Martha and Jack opened up the comms. They looked the creator of the Daleks in the eyes and said do you hear me?) Martha and Jack walk off at the end of Journey's End holding hands, because they're so similar, at the end of the day, because they understand each other, because "you too, huh?"

But it's also the Doctor looking at them both and seeing Jack and seeing something wrong with the man he once loved (don't tell me that Nine didn't reciprocate his feelings, I've got a whole post on the Rose/Jack/Nine dynamic) that he can't ignore, because he's the last one of his species and he's the only one left to pay attention to the laws of time. It's the Doctor needing a doctor of his own, someone with a better grasp on themselves than he does, and completely ignoring the damage that it does to her to keep him steady.

It's the Doctor being unable to love Jack while Jack over and over again coming to his call. It's the Doctor coming the second that Martha calls him in the Sontaran Stratagem and maybe, just maybe, realizing that he got something wrong. It's about Martha being a doctor being a soldier and the Doctor being a soldier who never wanted to be a soldier but won't admit that he's a soldier and Jack being a con-man who was fixed and broken by a doctor and so became a soldier to find his Doctor.

(It's about the fact that after Journey's End happened and the Doctor lost Donna and Rose, he really should have realized what he could have had waiting for him. Maybe gone back and groveled and maybe gotten slapped and then gotten hugged. Or kissed. Or they slept together, if that's your jam.)

[lockwood-fic-recs]

and the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love

by thethinkingcloth on ao3

Rating: T | Category: F/M, M/M, Multi | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy/George

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Lockwood says. “Don’t suppose you’d like to join me for a bit? Take our minds off tomorrow?”

George turns to Lucy, splayed out on the couch, her legs across his lap, and raises his eyebrows.

Lucy shrugs in return as she shoves herself off the couch. “Might as well, right George?”

“I’m not getting anything else out of this rubbish,” He says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Might as well.”

A cot3 rewrite of the scene in book 5 where Lockwood brings Lucy to his family's graves.

[mother-shipper]

Y'all know your boy is a multi shipper to the core and will always find the solution to a love triangle to be polyamory. So is it really that surprising I want Akane and Ryoga to hold BOTH Ranma's hands at the same time and watch his brain short circuit?

[leverageficrecs]

Leverage Fic Rec:

The Principle of Least Action by newt426 on AO3

Summary (from the author):

After having a meltdown in front of the team, Parker is worried that she is "too much" for them. Hardison and Eliot make sure she knows that this isn't true.

Why I recommend it: I adored the portrayal of Parker’s POV and found the story very tender and comforting. I love when fics explicitly portray her autism and her experience of being autistic, as this fic does.