Thanks again the @sparkleywonderful for the prompt. This is my first time writing for Elorcan as well, which I actually really enjoyed. Honestly, its all just a bunch of silliness.

Elorcan: You’re like, five feet tall. How you gonna reach me shortie? 

(note: I don’t imagine Lorcan actually saying the word ‘shortie’, so I changed the wording a little)

 “Lorcan, please… it looks ridiculous.” 

Elide stood with her hands braced on her hips, looking at Lorcan brushing out his hair, or rather what was left of it. He had been sparring with both Aelin and Rowan when he had been distracted. The burst of fire Aelin had sent at him had singed off most of the hair on the right side of his face. The sheer stupidity of the situation was beyond Elide’s rational comprehension. First of all why were they sparring with Aelin’s fire and secondly why hadn’t Lorcan just tied his hair back. And on top of that, it had been her stupid ankle that had distracted him to begin with. When Lorcan sparred Elide’s ankle was left without his magical brace, so when she stood the sudden pain had caused her to wince. And Lorcan, damn him, had heard. 

“It will grow out. I’ll just leave it.” Lorcan grumbled as he stood now, his hair free from restraint. 

Elide couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she looked at his hair. The shortest section now fell just below his right cheekbone then beyond that were messed lengths of hair burnt at the tips. Luckily Rowan had reacted swift enough to prevent the fire from catching and the left side remained entirely unscathed, resting on Lorcan’s massive shoulders.

“Why won’t you let me cut it?” Elide demanded. Lorcan didn’t respond and only took a step towards her and Elide kept her stance waiting for an answer. 

“I just don’t see the point,” Lorcan finally replied, “It will grow back.” 

“The point is you look ridiculous right now with half your hair missing.” Elide used all her control not to scoff at it. “Come on, it’s not like you’ve never had short hair before.” 

Elide looked up but Lorcan avoided her gaze. Then it dawned on her. “Lorcan, you must have had your hair short before. You’re centuries old… are you telling me you’ve kept your hair in this same style the whole time?” 

Lorcan nodded, “Long hair suited me, it just seemed pointless to try anything else. A waste of time and energy.”

“Rowan has his hair short, and it makes him look quite handsome,” this time Elide refrained from rolling her eyes as Lorcan gave a slight growl. “Granted I never did see him with long hair.” 

Silence now reigned throughout the room. Lorcan still wouldn’t meet Elide’s eyes, and she knew somewhere deep inside her gut that this was Lorcan being insecure. Of all the things she assumed Lorcan to be insecure about, it definitely wasn’t his hair. She loved his dark tresses and the glare she had given Aelin has caused the queen to apologise profusely. And Lorcan was right, his hair would grow back. But there was no need for him to look as stupid as his actions that had caused it until it did. 

“Lorcan if you don’t allow me to cut your hair willingly, I will do it regardless.” 

Lorcan closed the space between so that Elide had to tip her head back to look him in the eye. “You’re like, five feet tall. How are you going to reach me?”

A glint of mischief was in Elide’s eye, “Oh, Lorcan,” Elide’s voice was barely above a whisper and it made Elide smile when Lorcan instinctively lent closer. “You forget I have friends in high places. In regards to height and otherwise.”

Prompt list is here if you’d like to send me one

A very merry birthday to me!

Last weekend I celebrated my 33rd birthday! It was the first birthday in years I actually knew what I wanted to do; get myself a Christmas tree, and get my friends to help decorate it with me.  

I am a Christmas fan, and with the exception of last year (when I was moving to Detroit), I have always put up a tree, but always ended up decorating it alone, so this year I was proactive and asked my friends to join me on a grand adventure north to cut down a tree, bring it back to the city, and decorate it. 

We kicked off the morning with lunch on Main Street Unionville (#memories and fun fact, Unionville is where the pilot of Gilmore Girls was filmed, because it’s very Stars Hollow-y).  We then piled back into the car (and after a scramble to get a saw and some rope) we were heading north to find tree for my apartment. 

First things first, when we arrived we got ourselves some apple cider and hot chocolate, 

And then hopped on the wagon to head to the fields! 

My ultimate goal was to find a tree farm with a horse-drawn wagon, but the one we went to had a tractor wagon, which ended up being pretty sweet regardless. 

And then the hunt was on! 

Eventually I laid my eyes on a beauty of a Douglas Fir. 

She was just the right height, had a voluptuous waste, and a bit of a battered skirt, but that wouldn’t matter as I’d tuck that side of her gently into the corner.  

We then got to work!

So thankful for these handy ladies. I couldn’t have done this without them! 

We then hauled the tree back to the wagon spot, and headed back to the “Munch House.” 

Next up we had to get our tree twined up for the ride home. 

Luckily Santa’s lumberjack elves helped us with that. 

Now. Now in hindsight it was obvious. Cars move forward, pushing wind from the front to back, so Christmas tress should always be stump facing-forward, but, ta-da! 

Because oops. We only realized this when driving back downtown. 

There was a beautiful sunset as we left and I was so thrilled to be driving a car with a tree on its top.  

I have no idea why, but I love seeing tress on cars so much.  I suppose it’s because the weirdness of it all; how humans bring trees inside their homes each year and decorate them with lights and memories and things. I just love it. 

Once back at my apartment we had tree-stand issues (every. single. year.) so we let the tree rest on the wall, cracked open the wine, and put some pizza in the oven as we cheered to a job well done. 

The ladies surprised me with decorations and a cake! 

How lucky I am to have friends who will do these types of adventures with me, and who will put in the effort to show me I’m loved *grins*.  

4 am confessions.

Min Yoongi; your overthinking boyfriend. 

Night air surrounded the early morning, light peeking from the curtains, shadows playing tricks on walls, white sheets mustered messily on the mattress, and two people so terribly engulfed in the shine of each other’s eyes.

The woman slept soundly, hugging a body pillow, bare naked, breathing evenly as her legs tangled possessively around the cotton. Her beautiful, smooth skin was painted with purple and blue, patches of rough love showing proudly as if they were her own trophies.

The man was sitting up, back facing her and his feet touching the cold wood, fingers cascading through his ruffled strands as his ribs rattled with shaky breaths. His face was contorted with thought, polished with a lovely pink and dark circles of sleep deprivation. Had he slept a wink, he did not know.

But he sat there with his lovely, pale skin, contemplating about something one would think silly to do so, but still he thought.

And then, he rubbed his face in utter frustration, slapping his cheeks as if to ready himself, and then faced you, hands lingering above your rising back. And he spoke quietly, carefully, but oh so lovingly.


His breath tingled your cheek, his raspy voice tainted with early morning haze automatically made you smile. You stirred from your slumber slowly, fingers readily reaching for his that were gently touching your skin. Your eyes cracked open when you mustered enough energy to do so, lazily staying still and breathing for a few seconds before rising, blanket covering your body strategically.

He waited in adoration as you closed your eyes again, sitting there with your head down and your hair splaying all over your face. You rubbed your face whilst sighing, curling your legs before moving your head side-to-side, the cracking sounds of your bones filling the air.

And then you faced him with a smile, momentarily adjusting your eyes to the sight of him sitting there in front of you, bare chested and smiling thinly, hands curled and expression taut.

You gave him a questioning look before reaching to unravel his fingers, slipping yours into his comfortably before your voice, a ringing fairy bell, pulled him back into earth, away from the clouds of his wandering mind.

“What’s wrong?”

Granted, it wasn’t perfect. Your voice was a bit raspy but Yoongi loved every pitch, tone, accent your throat had devoted itself to making. Because ultimately it was yours.

He trembled at your touch, trying to breathe as evenly as he could, staring at your knuckles and playing with your joints.

“So I’ve been thinking,”

You gave a little whisper of oh no, automatically making him chuckle and you quickly delivering a grin. “Go on.”

He cleared his throat, licking his lips tentatively before rushing up to face you.

“I love you.”

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, silence stretching out longer than Yoongi had hoped for.

“That’s,” You started out slowly, still a little taken aback, “That’s great, Yoongi, but why tell me at… four in the morning?”

You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of this man, but you could tell he had spent time going over this in his head, again and again and again.

“No, no, no,” He rushed, shaking his head as his eyes widened, “I love you.”

He had gotten closer to you, stressing this fact, holding onto you with heightened strength. And you stared back, mouth slightly agape and eyes blinking in surprise before your lips cracked into a lovely smile. You slipped your hands slowly to shape his face, thumb rubbing over his cheeks with soft care, moving his fringe from his eyes that had watered down its intensity.

“What exactly were you thinking about, hm?” You hummed softly, moving to tap your forehead to his.

He breathed refreshingly, closing his eyes momentarily as you went to slide onto his lap, kissing the crown of his head as you stroked his noir strands.

“I was thinking about how,” He inhaled, fluttering his eyelashes against your skin, “How beautiful you are.”

You pulled back to give him an amused smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I thought about how, the expanse of your skin is the only place I find comfort in.” He said this before kissing your neck, a slow, adoring peck.

“I thought about how kind you are to me, how supportive and encouraging you’ve always been, even on the nights I don’t come home.” He whispered sadly, mindlessly messing with a strand of your hair.

“You’re understanding, and caring, and even though sometimes you throw a fit, you admit the wrongdoings you’ve done. You’re a good person, a lovely one, someone who has easily become such an important part of my life, I…can’t explain how much you truly mean to me.”

You sat there in silence, gazing at his lips that uttered poetry, before kissing him sweetly.

You didn’t understand why he was praising you so highly, but it didn’t hurt to hear once in a while. Your heart had done cartwheels and your mind exploded with fireworks. Yoongi was never one to openly express how he felt, so when he began with a love confession, even as you were filled with confusion, you fell in love with him all over again.

He returned the kiss softly, touching the small of your back to move you in closer before breaking it, the faint sound of your lips separating made his heart ache, because even then he had already missed it. You gave him an amorous smile, giggling before kissing his nose.

“Yoongi,” You began, raking your fingers through his tresses, “I love you too.”

He sighed, it being filled with so much pure ecstasy and infatuation, you couldn’t explain the amount.

Yoongi sat there regrettably as you kissed him again, arms wrapped around his pale body, that wasn’t shaking with anxiety, but with adoration and admiration.

He regretted not being able to tell you how your eyes resembled gems in the sky, twinkling always. How your skin was never cold, how your hair always smelled like morning dew, how the way you sang in the shower always reminded him of joyous children, how the way you loved was so sincere and affectionate he would never get tired of it.

He regretted not being able to tell you how your texts still give him butterflies, how your tears (though rare) always rained down on him with piles of guilt, because such an angel as you need not to cry, need not to feel sad.

But he can tell you all of this soon, and he will, but maybe next time, a ring will be hidden in a bouquet of roses along with the future of what’s to come.

Orphic Hymn 29 to Persephone

Persephone, blessed daughter of great Zeus, sole offspring of Demeter, come and accept this gracious sacrifice. Much honored spouse of Plouton, discreet and life-giving, you command the gates of Hades in the bowels of the earth, lovely-tressed Praxidike, pure bloom of Deo, mother of the Erinyes, queen of the nether world, secretly sired by Zeus in clandestine union. Mother of loud-roaring, many-shaped Eobouleus, radiant and luminous playmate of the Seasons, revered and almighty, maiden rich in fruits, brilliant and horned, only-beloved of mortals, in spring you take your joy in the meadow of breezes, you show your holy figure in branches teeming with grass-green fruits, in autumn you were made a kidnapper’s bride. You alone are life and death to toiling mortals, O Persephone, you nourish all, always, and kill them, too. Hearken, O blessed Goddess, send forth the fruits of the earth as you blossom in peace, and in gentle-handed health bring a blessed life and a splendid old age to him who is sailing to your realm, O queen, and to mighty Plouton’s kingdom.

eerielake  asked:

♖ renison pls 😘

  • ♖: Having their hair washed by the other

ahhh my first ever renison prompt, thank youuu <3 this veers off prompt a little (it’s a surprisingly hard scenario to write? or it is for me). also I’m not sure if I’ve got their dynamic down yet, but I hope this is okay? (I’m NERVOUS lmao)

please don’t send me anymore :)

Renee looked up from her book as the suite door opened and witnessed Allison backing inside, calling out, “I’ll see you assholes later!” down the corridor. She slammed the door shut then turned around, leaned against it and slid dramatically to the floor.

She locked eyes with Renee. “Why the ever-loving shit did I think it was a good idea to go running with Kevin and Neil this morning?”

Renee dropped her eyes back to her book and turned a page. “I’m pretty sure Kevin implied he was faster than you. And I’m pretty sure you were determined to prove him wrong.”

“Oh yeah. That was it.”

Keep reading

Hymn to Persephone

Persephone, blessed daughter of great Zeus, sole offspring of Demeter,
Come and accept this gracious sacrifice.
Much-honored spouse of Plouton, discreet and life-giving,
You command the gates of Hades in the bowels of the earth,
Lovely-tressed, Praxidike, pure bloom of Deo, mother of the Furies,
Queen of the netherworld whom Zeus sired in clandestine union.
Mother of loud-roaring and many shaped Eubouleus,
Radiant and luminous playmate of the Seasons, august, almighty,
Maiden rich in fruits, you alone are beloved of mortals.
In spring you rejoice in the meadow breezes,
And you show your holy figure in shoots and green fruits.
You were made a kidnapper’s bride in the fall,
And you alone are life and death to toiling mortals,
O Persephone, for you always nourish all and kill them too.
Hearken, O blessed goddess, and send forth the earth’s fruits.
You who blossom in peace, in soft-handed health,
And in a life of plenty that ferries old age in comfort to your realm,
O queen, and to that of mighty Plouton.

12 Days of SQ Christmas. Day 1


“SQ your favorite Xmas film”

A03 Version

In a very interesting twist of events my favorite Christmas movie is The Holiday which I already have a fic for and which I’ll be taking down in two days -karma, is that you? - So, I’ll be taking my second favorite Christmas movie out of this. The family Stone. I have -as I always do to be honest whenever I comedy-drama is involved- slight problems with some scenes on the story but it’s a film I enjoyed when I was growing up so… here is one of the scenes of the movie with some little tweaks.

“It was a disaster.”

Emma glanced at Aesop before scooting closer to her side of the table, eyeing Regina as the brunette raked her hands through her tresses.

“I love gays.”

Regina’s words made the blonde in front of her chuckle as she brought the beer up to her mouth. The brunette was nursing her own bottle and, for a moment, Emma almost asked the businesswoman if she preferred anything else. Her answer, however, came when Regina drank from the bottle, placing it on the wooden table softly before repeating her previous statement slightly stronger this time.

“I love gays!”

“I’m sure they know now.” Emma deadpanned while putting her own bottle away and leaning her weight onto the table’s edge. She wasn’t cold and the warm atmosphere of Aesop’s was enough to keep her warm but the way Regina fidgeted and pursed her lips at her own words made her think how she had found her stranded in the snow not so long ago.

Which, considering how the evening had go for the woman it didn’t sound strange. Emma knew that her family -the extended one- could be particularly… difficult. Cold to any new addition that could put their balance into jeopardy; thorny even to anyone who didn’t fit and, Regina with her crisp white blouse and vest didn’t seem like someone who would enjoy having anything to do with them. Or, Emma found herself thinking glancing at her faded jeans and red leather jacket ensemble, with herself. Not that Regina was here for her but… still.

“Robin, why in hell did you think that bringing her here was a good idea.”

“I didn’t intend to insult anyone.” Regina’s despondent tone made Emma focus on her again. “I just… Ruby hated me on the spot and I tried to…” She halted and Emma smiled to herself once again, at the beautiful woman who closed her eyes before sitting even straighter into the small booth she had been able to find in the comfortably dimmed-lighted pub. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

Emma hummed; she could understand that sentiment; it had been precisely that what, at the end, had made her the black sheep of the entire clan. She refused to let other people’s opinion get to her, she refused to be anyone but herself and as much as Regina’s pressed personality didn’t fit into the bohemian side of the group of people that called themselves family she, also didn’t fit. Far too chaotic, far too lone-wolf-type of personality. Far too much.

“Then stop.” She said, grasping Regina’s hands and moving away in the same breath. “Stop… trying. Try to relax instead.”

Regina shot her a doubtful look, her glance speaking volumes of what she thought about her. Emma actually smirked at it and rose her hands, crossing them above their head and relaxing her entire body into her seat’s back.

“Now you.” She said and, for a moment, Regina almost seemed wanting to follow her lead only for her to shake her head and drink from the bottle with the kind of poise and grace Emma wasn’t even sure she was able to replicate. “Well, maybe don’t.”

This time Regina smiled a little and Emma replied to that with a small smile of her own. The woman, the blonde thought, was gorgeous and she didn’t truly seem like the bigoted woman Ruby had tried to paint her to be.

“You know what I think.” She said, sipping from her beer and drumming her fingers next to the other woman’s hand. “I think you aren’t the uptight woman you try to make us think you are.”

Regina narrowed her eyes, the shadow of a smile on her lips as she, almost playfully, replied with an. “You think?”

And Emma, knowing full well that she was already in murky waters, shrugged and clinked her beer against Regina’s.

“I know.”

anonymous asked:

Hey Evan, could tell us some stuff about trees, I've been really interested in trees lately.

E: Its Common name, Rainbow Eucalyptus, refers to the color of its rainbow trunk. Its trunk is colored so because it sheds at different rates throughout the year so the parts of the exposed wet trunk dry different colors. Ranging in colors from orange to purple. Its one of I and Jared’s favorite trees.

I uhm…I also really love oak tress.

{Evan M!A 1/5. Evan can’t lie about trees even if he wanted}

Villager Ref - Mimi

- Hello Kitty Dress
- Hello Kitty Hat
- Masquerade Mask
- White Socks
- Brown Pumps

- She’s super happy and energetic
- Is curious about everything
- Loves plants, tress, and just the woods in general
- Doesn’t like to be loud around plants
- Never had coffee so Brewster serves her Hot Chocolate or Tea instead
- Always up really late around the campfires
- Likes to spend all day in the camp grounds with Harvey
- Never takes her mask off

- If friends with everyone*
- Doesn’t have a bestfriend, she thinks
- Along with Rennic, she looks up to Da’Shawn as a big sister and likes to follow her around
- *Thinks Hana is man but tries to be his friend
- She chats with everyone but loves staying up late with Ganon and Lopaz around the campfire


KC AU Week: Day 4 || All Human.

↳Assassin/Scientist AU

Caroline Forbes, professional assassin and con-artist is hired by one of the government secret agencies to seduce Klaus Mikaelson, aspiring and successful scientist who has uncovered a series of discoveries that will change the whole world, and steal his progress.

Now, if only he wasn’t so sweet and adorable, then maybe she would have been able to get it over with and finish this task.

But of course, he had to have dimples and an accent. In short, her own custom made recipe for disaster.

How These Dolls Encourage Little Black Girls To Embrace Their Natural Hair

Where was this when we were growing up?

By Taryn Finley

Yelitsa Jean-Charles said she cried when a relative gave her a black Barbie when she was a little girl. “This isn’t the real Barbie,” she remembers thinking, upset that the doll wasn’t white. “This isn’t the pretty one.”

She didn’t truly embrace her beautiful features until she went to college at a predominantly white school, ironically. After heat-damaging her hair and getting advice from a friend, she said she “felt crazy that [she] didn’t know [her] own hair texture.” Understanding the extent to which black people — hair included – are misrepresented and underrepresented in mainstream media, Jean-Charles says she realized “how that can impact people [be]cause the toys we play with at a young age influence how we think, act and see ourselves whether we know it or not.”

The 21-year-old from Queens, New York  now proudly rocks her natural hair. She loves her tresses so much she launched a Kickstarter campaign to raise money to create a new line of natural-hair dolls she hopes will help empower girls of color.  [Continue reading article at Huffingtonpost.]

Let’s Enjoy Another Sunday Night And Talk About...

The Eighth Time It Happened

this is part 8/12 of the story of how Captain Killian-can’t-get-enough-of-his-daughter Jones can’t stop waking up in the middle of the night because he’s just too stinkin in love with his little girl, Leia.

Here’s a link to part 7. (In that post you’ll find links to the first 6 parts if you missed any of those) 

Enjoy this part! It’s one of my favourites! Daddy Killian is just too much :) 


The eighth time it happens, Killian just can’t help it. When he wakes in the middle of the night, he can’t keep the memories of the day from creeping into his mind. His littlest love had screamed so helplessly, her deafening cries laced thick with pain. He’d had to fight back tears himself at the sight. Simply terrible.

Carefully he extricates himself out from Emma’s embrace, quickly pulling up the covers to keep her warm in his absence. He gets up quietly from the bed, retrieving another blanket from the chest, just for good measure. He tucks it around her, scrunching a bit of it up near her face, just how she likes. He can’t help but lean in and press kisses against Emma’s hairline, his fingers threading through her tresses. “I love you, Mrs. Swan-Jones,” he whispers, before leaning over to click the monitor off. He steps back carefully, watching Emma to ensure she doesn’t wake as he exits their room.

He tiptoes down the hall to his princess’s room, pushing open the door quietly. It’s toastier in her room than in the rest of the house, which is the fault of the space heater Killian insisted they place in her room for this particular night. (Because of what happened earlier, Leia was only allowed to wear a legless onesie, instead of the footed pyjamas she usually wore to bed. Killian had worried she’d get cold, so he’d argued with Emma about the space heater and won.)

When Killian makes it over to the crib and peers into it, he can’t stop the sad frown that creeps onto his face. His little Leia has 2 small band-aids on each of her thighs, covering up the places where the doctor pricked her with the infernal “shots” Emma insisted she needed.

“I don’t like this, Swan. I don’t think I can handle it.”

I told you you wouldn’t be able to handle it. That’s why I told you you didn’t have to come.”

Killian’s heart is racing, his eyes locked on the innocent, wide-eyed little girl in his wife’s arms. He bites his lip and furrows his brow, trying not to think about the fact that Dr. Whale is preparing to stab his daughter repeatedly.

Emma watches him carefully, and spies a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. “Killian. Do you want me to poof you home? You’re not going to like this. I can just do it by myself, it’s okay.”

Killian pries his eyes from his happy, oblivious daughter’s face to look at his wife. He sighs. “As much as I’d like to accept that offer, Swan…” he drawls, his gaze floating back to Leia as he offers her his fingers to play with, “…I want to be here incase she needs me for anything.”

Emma bites her lip to keep from laughing at her overprotective-Daddy-pirate. “Okay,” she says, her tone one of warning. “This isn’t gunna be any fun for anyone, is it? You don’t even know what’s coming for you, do you, sweet girl? Are you gunna be a brave girl for Daddy, Leia? Hmm?”

Leia is toothlessly smiling, totally captivated by her Mommy’s pretty voice. Her pudgy hands are wrapped around Killian’s fingers, squeezing against the cool metal of the rings he wears. Dr. Whale comes in then.

“Ready?” he asks.

Emma rubs the back of Killian’s hand soothingly. “As we’ll ever be.”

“Okay. Emma, if you can put her down on the exam table, that’d be great. We’re doing four vaccinations today, two in each thigh. If you guys are comfortable holding her down, it’ll go as fast as possible.”

Emma nods, and gently removes Killian’s hand from Leia’s grip so she can get up and move over to the exam table. Killian follows closely, and a nurse joins them, band-aids at the ready.

Emma lays still-oblivious-Leia down on the table, the paper that covers it crinkling loudly underneath the squirming baby. Emma has a focused expression, and she pins Leia’s arms to her sides. “Are you okay to hold her legs, Killian?” Dr. Whale asks. “We’ll go right leg, then left.”

Killian nods nervously, and Emma sucks in a breath. She knows Killian’s on the verge of freaking out and she wants Dr. Whale to just do it now and get it over with.

“Okay, right leg,” Dr. Whale orders, and Killian wraps his hand around Leia’s tiny leg, holding it out straight, tightly.

“Three…two…one.” Killian watches in horror as Dr. Whale aims the syringe at Leia’s leg, and the scream the baby emits when the needle touches her skin is the loudest noise she’s ever made. It shatters Killian’s heart into a million pieces. Somehow, the noise she makes when the second shot comes is even louder.

“Left leg,” Dr. Whale orders after the nurse has the first two pokes bandaged. Killian switches mechanically, the lump in his throat humongous and threatening.

“Shhh, I know honey, Mumma sorry,” Emma is saying, and tears are pouring out of Leia’s eyes, and her face is contorted in pain like Killian’s never seen. Emma pinches her eyes closed and hisses sympathetically as Dr. Whale starts on her second leg. The third and fourth shots elicit even more shrieks, and as soon as the 4th bandage is in place Emma lets go and Killian picks Leia up without even thinking, holding her protectively against his chest. She’s crying so hard that he can feel her little lungs expanding and contracting against his shirt. At the moment, Killian is too horrified to form words; all he can do is hold her, pressing her tightly against his warm body, and the baby moves her head back and forth, nuzzling against him as she cries. Emma puts her hand against the part of Leia’s back that Killian’s hand isn’t clutching at, rubbing soothing circles. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s all done, Leiabear. It’s okay. We’re sorry, Leia. Your daddy has you, honey. It’s all done, little love. Daddy’s got you, yeah. Oh, Leia. I’m sorry.”

Killian starts bouncing instinctively, swallowing hard against the lump. Emma watches his Adam’s apple bob and she can sense his agony. “Are you okay?” she asks him, keeping her hand in place.

He takes a deep breath, and shakes his head no, hoisting Leia higher so he can press her cheek against his. Emma can see the tears in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. She doesn’t really know what she can say; she totally gets it. She knows how protective Killian is when it comes to Leia, and unfortunately this is a type of thing he can’t protect her from. And it’s killing him. Emma knows that every second Leia cries increases the intensity of his pain and she hates it.

A few more minutes pass, and much to her parents’ relief, Leia begins to calm down. “Ready to go home?” Emma asks quietly, the doctor having already left and given them the all-clear.

“Aye,” Killian says, finally finding his voice. It was quiet and raw. “Aye, my little love,” he says gently to Leia, who is still red-faced and breathing irregularly, pressed against him, “It’s okay. It’s okay, sweet princess. Let’s get you home.”

Now, Killian can’t help but lean down and skim his fingers gently over Leia’s soft, bare thighs, being careful to avoid her bandages. “We had a hard day, didn’t we, little love?” he whispers, finishing his traced patterns and plucking the sleeping little girl up from her bed. He hoists her up so she can lean on his shoulder, her little head nestled against his neck. He tilts his chin sideways so he can kiss her ear before whispering into it. “Are you alright? Daddy’s so sorry, little Leia. I wish I could’ve taken those pricks for you, my sweet love. Daddy didn’t like watching his Leia get poked, no. That was very hard. You were such a brave girl.”

Leia stirs in her sleep, and Killian watches her little mouth stretch as she yawns. One of her arms flail out, and her hand just so happens to come to rest against his jawbone, her little fingers brushing gently against the scruff of his beard. Killian chuckles, swaying with her. “Are you just like Mummy, sweetheart? Do you like Daddy’s stubble too?”

“Of course she does,” Emma whispers from the doorway, where she’s leaning against the doorframe, watching Killian sway.

Killian spins around, keeping his swaying rhythm as he turns to look at Emma. An apologetic look takes over his face. “I’m sorry,” he tells her earnestly.

Emma just smiles at him. “It’s okay. It was a hard day.”

He nods and she steps toward him, reaching up on her toes to kiss his cheekbone above Leia’s hand. He turns his head, leaning down so he can reach her lips easier. They kiss slowly, Emma swaying with him, her hair splaying over her shoulder and probably tickling Leia’s head.

“You were brave today, Daddy,” she whispers when they break apart, “you held it together pretty good. I’m very proud of you.”

He smiles at her. “Thanks. It was truly awful.”

“Ugh, I know,” Emma agrees, rubbing the back of her hand against Leia’s hair, “Our poor little baby. You’re such a big girl, Princess Leia.”

“No she’s not, she’s little!” Killian insists, his tone scolding, “Tell Mummy you’re little, Leia. You aren’t going to grow up, are you? You’ll be a good lass and stay little for Daddy, right?”

Emma laughs. “Okay, okay, she’s little,” Emma agrees, touching her fingertip to Leia’s nose. “Can I have a turn?”

“Oh. But methought she had to sleep in her crib?” Killian teases, and Emma gives him the look.

“Hey. I had to watch her get poked too, you know,” she reasons.

“Yes, you did,” Killian agrees. “How’d you handle it so well?”

Emma widens her eyes at him. “Oh, I hated it. I hated it so much, I wanted to cry and beat up the doctor and run out of there. But I could tell you were even more shaken up. So I knew I had to be strong for you.“

Killian smiles gratefully, and carefully holds Leia out for Emma to take. Emma cradles her gently in her arms, rocking back and forth. Leia’s sleeping face is on glorious display for her father, and he shakes his head as he looks from Leia to Emma.

Emma rolls her eyes, reading his mind. “Just say it. I know it’s on the tip of your tongue.”

He says it. “She looks EXACTLY LIKE YOU.

“Mhm, so you’ve mentioned. Approximately one zillion and four times.”

“Emma, she does. Her nose, her little chin dimple, the way her lips rest just there. Exactly like you. I love it so much.”

“I love you so much,” Emma counters, a playful expression on her face.

“And I you, my love,” he says, stepping forward to embrace both her as well as Leia, “always and forever.”

And that was the eighth time. 

empresstress13  asked:

Hello lovely friend! I'm sending you a message with lots of hugs, kisses, and love! ALSO, I wanted to just tell you again that I really adore your art style. I'm so happy every time I see one of your pieces! I hope you have a lovely, lovely week! ♥

tress ima say it again, you are a goddamn treasure!!! such a wonderful friend with the kindest soul. i love you so very much!!! thank you for this bby n.n

Nothing more than dreams, my love

My contest entry for @angbangmarchmadness. I went off the prompt for ‘nightmares.’

Mairon’s eyes flickered open, his half-asleep gaze roving across the room. Something was amiss. He looked about as best he could from his place in the bed, not wanting to move from the warm embrace of the bed covers and his husband. His senses stretched beyond the bed, and though something had woken him, all seemed fine. He shrugged it off, resigning that all was normal, and settled in to go back to sleep.

He had laid there no more than ten seconds before he heard an almost pained whimper echo around the room. His eyes snapped open as he half-way sat up, turning to look at his husband.

Melkor let out another whine, his face contorted in a grimace. Irmo’s dreams plagued him, and they had only gotten worse recently. Mairon turned and leaned over him, feeling his laboured breathing and erratic heartbeat. Strange things they were, he thought at times. How simple functions of a mortal body are so easily disturbed. He brushed the hair out of Melkor’s face, feeling a slight cold sweat on his brow. Melkor flinched at the touch, not yet waking from his nightmares.

Mairon leaned down, whispering soothing words into his ear , “Shh you’re fine, my dear one,” he whispered whilst rubbing his head, “It’s just a dream. Listen to my voice, I’m right here.”

Melkor unconsciously shifted closer to Mairon, his his mind subliminally comforted by his husband’s voice. Mairon held him close, willing the nightmares to leave his lover alone.

Melkor jerked awake, his hands grasping at Mairon’s body learning over his. His eyes roved wildly about before settling on the Maia’s face, a deep sigh of relief leaving his lips as he relaxed back onto the bed. He gathered Mairon in his arms, burying his face in the bright copper tresses he loved so much, his shaky breath disturbing them every few seconds.

Mairon laid in his arms, waiting for Melkor to pull himself away from his nightmares enough to talk. After a few moments of silence broken only by shaken breaths, Melkor’s grip relaxed enough that Mairon could move enough to see his face. Mairon gazed into his husband’s far off dark eyes, fear still lingering in them. “What is it, my love?” he asked softly, running his fingers through the Vala’s wild, raven hair.

Melkor let out a shuddering breath, his dark, sapphire eyes finally re-focusing on Mairon’s shimmering gold ones. “I.. I saw you..” he stuttered, “Laying on the battlefield… Eonwë standing over you, your hair crimson with blood… I tried to call out to you, but you wouldn’t respond…” he took a shuddering breath and pulled Mairon back down into an embrace, “Don’t leave me, my precious one.”

Mairon wrapped his arms around his husband, feeling the fear and pain coming from him in waves. He levered himself back up to look into Melkor’s eyes, “Dear, these dreams mean nothing. I’m not going anywhere.” He pressed a kiss to Melkor’s forehead, “Go back to sleep, I will stay by your side all night and unto the end of the world.” Mairon kissed him again “Good night, my dearest one.”

Melkor pulled Mairon down into a kiss, “Good night, my precious lover.” He settled back into their bed, Mairon tucked against his side, his nightmares held at bay for a time.