Arthit: Kong likes to drink iced coffee and hes the type that likes to wake up very early. When he wakes up he likes to eat soy milk and patongkoh, he likes to eat the same things all the time. he likes to eat really bland food. he cant eat spicy food, when he orders food he likes to order egg omelet with ground pork. Noodles with meatball in soup, he eats very bland food without any flavours. even though he can make this stuff himself, but hes always burning it … even fried eggs. he’s such a prince♡… and about getting dressed, hes so slow at getting ready. hes spot on from head to toe. And when he goes out he never goes anywhere alone he always brings his friends along with him. he probably loves his friends a lot. he likes to act like a hero, he is always protecting his friends in the cheer room. he loves to get on my nerves♡.
“Alright kiddo,” Percy started, adjusting his sister’s weight in his free arm as he pulled riptide from his pocket. His eyes never leaving the ominous moving shadows that started to form around them. “I need you to hang on tight. We’re going to be ok, but if you promise not to tell Mom or Annabeth whats about to happen, I’ll buy you the best ice cream in all of New Rome.”
“Strawberry,” the three year old responded immediately, eyes darting around warily. “And I want triple scoop, like the, like the kind that you get.”
I had a dream the other night, and it involved Percy babysitting his sister and on their walk to central park, some baddies pop out of no where. Percy could take them out, no problem. But after a certain talk and a promise that he wouldn’t get his sister involved in any dangerous demigod shenanigans, Percy is more worried about the kid tattling on him to both his mom and his girlfriend. And if being an older sister has taught me anything, bribing with sweets works 9000% of the time.
Summary: Rhys leaves Azriel and Mor alone, returning to the Night Court. Both of them find themselves torn from sleep by ragged nightmares as their pasts return to haunt them. Together, they work through some of the horrors in their past and find themselves drawn closer together as a result.
‘“Morrigan, Morrigan,” she looks at him without really seeing him. “It’s not real,” he whispers softly, knowing that those words are thin and empty as what she witnessed in that dream had been real. But not now, not anymore, he found her, brought her here, saved her. “I’m here,” he breathes quietly, wondering if that can possibly calm her, “I’m here with you, Morrigan. I’m here, it’s all right now.”’
Familiar silence once again folds Azriel into its waiting
arms. The cabin around him is quiet. Rhys left a few hours before, taking the
healer with him; Mor, thankfully, still sleeps soundly in the other room.
No-one has intruded upon their peace since Rhys left. Azriel hasn’t budged from
the chair he obstinately settled himself in after his talk with Rhys. He had promised
her that he would stay close; that he wouldn’t leave her, and he has no
intention of breaking that promise.
The domestic magic of the cabin urges him to look after
himself, offering food and drink in abundance and providing pillows and
blankets. He ignores it all. But even his iron cast will isn’t enough to stop
him from dozing. Using his power to jump between the Night Court and Autumn,
his frantic, terrified searching in the snow and then the hundreds of miles he
flew at breakneck speed to get Mor to safety all without pausing or resting
have taken their toll on him. His eyes are heavy and, in spite of himself, he eventually
sinks into sleep, reluctant but irresistible, like drowning in thick quicksand.
His dreams are twisted and dark. The faces of his brothers,
horribly contorted, spring up all around him, pressing in, getting closer and
closer and closer all the time, the way the walls in his cell had done when he
had been a child. Blackness, deep and complete, obscures his vision as they swarm
over him, blotting out the world once more.
Flame blazes, a
horrifying light in the darkness that he wishes to extinguish. His relief that
his brothers do not once more turn that wild, roaring hunger upon him again is
short-lived. A moment later he notices Morrigan curled, helpless, on the floor
of his cell. Her body is covered in blood and bruises as it had been when he
had found her only hours before in the Autumn Court. His brothers are advancing
on her. Azriel cries out in panicked desperation, fighting to get to her, but
his wings are pinned once more, staked to the wall behind him and he is as
helpless as he was all those years ago. His brothers reach her, pulling her up
from the floor and bearing down upon her with the sick smiles he came to know
so well. Her eyes go wide and she stares at him, pleading, terrified, as their
hands leave more marks upon her delicate skin, they douse her in the same oil
that had once covered his hands, the scent making him convulse and strain,
trashing to get to her, to stop them but then they-
Her scream pierces his soul and tears him from the
Azriel jerks awake,
covered in sweat and panting. The echo of that cry is piercing and so full of
terror it cuts straight through his ribs, jarring his bones, and strikes
directly at his heart. It takes him several pounding heartbeats to realise that
it does not exist only in his dreams.
Azriel is on his feet
in seconds, diving for the door of Mor’s bedroom. The cabin was impossible to
find, impossible to enter, how could they have gotten to her? How could he have
Drawing the sword in a single fluid motion from where it’s
sheathed at his spine Azriel bursts through the door to her room, sinking into
a stance ready to attack in order to defend on instinct. He quickly realises
however that the room is empty but for the two of them.
Sheathing his sword Az berates himself for not having seen
this coming. Of course she would have nightmares following what she’d been
through. Shaking off the memories of his own he crosses the room to her, swift
and silent and kneels down beside her.
She’s thrashing so wildly on the bed, clearly petrified,
that she’s tangled herself badly in the sheets which have wrapped around her
body and pinned her like twisting ropes. This restraint only terrifies her
further, no doubt reminding her of her ordeal and she fights even harder to
escape, her eyes wide and horrified as they had been in his dreams.
Afraid that she’s going to hurt herself Azriel
catches her wrists gently but firmly in his hands, stopping her struggling so
wildly, making her notice his presence. “Morrigan, Morrigan,” she looks at him without really seeing him. “It’s not
real,” he whispers softly, knowing that those words are thin and empty as what
she witnessed in that dream had been
real. But not now, not anymore, he found her, brought her here, saved her. “I’m
here,” he breathes quietly, wondering if that can possibly calm her, “I’m here
with you, Morrigan. I’m here, it’s all right now.”
He murmurs softly to her, repeating her name and soft, vague
comforts until her great, brown eyes manage to focus on him. The moment he sees
her take him in and understand her situation he releases her wrists, severing
the contact between them. Shifting in a little closer Az works to quickly and
deftly untangle her. The entire time he works on her she sits unnaturally still
save for her uncontrollable, violent trembling.
As soon as he frees
her, dropping the blankets to the floor to reinforce that, her whole body
becomes boneless and she folds in on herself, sobbing, knees drawn up to her
chest, slender body shaking with the force of her convulsions.
Our dads are literally setting up John and Sherlock having to raise a baby together and be a family unit. Where else will the baby go? They will raise it together. As a family. The Sign of Three. They will be a family, Hudders will baby sit. That’s Johnlock if i ever saw it.