heya, don't know if you're still doing prompts, but... you write uliro so so good, any chance you could do something happy and tender? (it's been a rough week)
Anon I am so sorry I didn’t get this to you last week! Here’s a little blessing for your Monday. Hopefully this week is much better for you. <3
ETA: name credit for the aliens goes to the amazing @gitwrecked, who helps me with these entirely more often than she should :) she is the best.
“Have you seen Shiro?” Ulaz asks.
The planet of Thuresh is small, a glorious little place near covered in auburns and coppers thanks entirely to the abundant forests and fields the Thureshi carefully cultivate. The Galra were after the healing properties found in the stunning garnet leaves of their sacred plants; Voltron’s liberation had come not a moment too soon.
The Paladins and all the inhabits of the Castle have landed on Thuresh after the space battle had been won, spending the afternoon replanting and rebuilding. Somewhere along the way Ulaz lost track of time. He’d started the afternoon somewhere near to Shiro, helping to plant new trees brought in from farther greenhouses. At some point Shiro’d drifted away so Lance could show him something; then Ulaz had assisted Hunk in lifting large structural components back into place; then Pidge had wanted his assistance. Now four vargas have passed and Ulaz has no idea where his Black Paladin could be.
“I saw him,” Lance offers, when Ulaz finally tracks him down. Most of the Thurseshi natives dress in pure white wrappings, with intricate splotches of color bold against their shoulders and elbows. It’s a beautiful garb, but frustrating when one is trying to locate a second specific set of white-uniforms-with-colored-markings. The Blue Paladin is standing near one of the reconstructed buildings, chatting amicably with Hunk (who also grins knowingly at Ulaz when Ulaz poses the query. Ulaz still is not used to that sort of smile from Shiro’s friends).
“He’s that way,” Lance says, gesturing. “Think he took his helmet off. Want me to go with you?”
“No,” Ulaz says. “I will find him. Thank you.”
“Tell him I’m starting dinner,” Hunk hollers after Ulaz’s retreating form.
yo kinda unimportant but if y’all could please pray for me! i’m coming down with a sore throat it seems, and my big formal is this friday. last year the same thing happened and i ended up losing my voice that night. so just please pray that there’s no repeat and that this passes quickly!
"I'm sick not dead. I don't need this many flowers." Any ship
“I’m sick not dead, I don’t need this many flowers.” Morality uttered throatily, but smiling.
It wasn’t a bouquet he was talking about. Oh no, there were flowers Everywhere! It was on his desk (you wouldn’t think there was a desk,) all over his floor -except for a small path leading to Morality’s bed, and even some on his bed (half of it was covered!)
Prince grinned sheepishly.
“I know but my boyfriend deserves the best!” Prince said handing him a Hawaiian Hibiscus. It was white at the edges and pink in the middle.
“Aww, Thank you! You remembered!” Morality beamed at the flower, the other flowers were mostly Roses, Dordils, Lisianthus, or Carnations, which apparently either showed how much Prince loved/admired Morality or showed How Prince saw Morality as; “Gorgeous, Good looking, Couragous, honorable, and courteous with a willingness to help the weak- like a knight!”
“Of course I remembered! You’re my boyfriend!” Prince said putting his mouth on Morality forehead.
“Is there a reason for this flower?” Morality asked. He knew Prince liked to do his research about romantic gestures and often loved giving flowers as his romantic gesture.
“The gesture means, I noticed that my boyfriend loves this flower and I wanted him to have something to enjoy while in his suffering.” Morality smiled at that comment. “Do you want to watch Disney movie and snuggle?” Prince asked. Morality coughed, but nodded. “Sweet! I’ll put in Frozen for you and then we’ll snuggle!” Prince was beaming with excitement and Morality couldn’t help falling harder for him.
Morality just nodded his head in agreement, throat too sore to say any more.
Prince got up, trying careful not to step on most of the flowers(and failed because they were every-freaking-where), and plugged the DVD in. When he came back Morality had scooted over.
“Thanks for the flowers.” Morality croaked smiling shyly. “No problem my Darling!” Prince kissed his head, “now hush the movie is starting.” Prince said pulling Morality closer.
1. The fourth time they meet, she is dying. After the arrival of The Book (in her mind, it is always capitalized – The Book that set off the chain reaction leading to her curse’s downfall), King Henry and his soldiers had not hunted her down at her farm. Instead, her days had become slightly monotonous, and as time went on she became complacent. The townsfolk had left her alone, and life was moving forwards at a brisk pace.
She had just finished her chores for the day, returning to the house to make dinner before collapsing into bed, when a high-pitched giggle interrupted her thoughts. ‘It took me a while to find you, dearie,’ Rumple cooed behind her, and the world had gone dark. When she awoke, it was to the gloom of his dungeon and the powerlessness of a magic-restraining bracelet.
This world’s Rumple is far more unhinged then she had ever dealt with before – it is as if seeing the actual proof of Belle’s death has snapped his last link to humanity. He is angry, so angry, and wants someone to pay. And pay she does, day after day. He knows she is not this realm’s Queen, but he just doesn’t care. After the last session, she is thrown back in her cell, where she can barely drag herself onto the mattress on the floor.
Rumple’s face peers down at her. ‘It’s almost too bad,’ he smirks, inspecting his handiwork. ‘I was hoping to give you a slow death, like my Belle endured. But my success here today – well, I don’t think I want to undo this. It’s just too perfect. And I’m sure it will be a painful enough death for my purposes.’ She gasps as one of his fingers presses hard into a wound in her abdomen. ‘I’ll be back later to watch the end, dearie,’ he snarls, and then she is alone.
She doesn’t know how much time passes. Pain threatens to overwhelm her brain, and she has to concentrate hard to remind herself: breathe in, breathe out. The cell is dark enough that she barely knows if she can still see or not, bar the light glinting from underneath the door. She turns her head that way, staring transfixed at the one sunbeam that dares enter her prison. Her hands clutch at the wounds across her stomach, and she can feel them become wet and warm with blood.
She must have lost consciousness at some point, because the next thing she registers is an angry commotion from somewhere on the other side of the door. Loud voices are shouting at each other, and above it all comes the Dark One’s distinct shriek. ‘We have him captured, You Majesty!’ someone calls out. ‘Excellent,’ a familiar voice sounds, but she can’t focus enough to place it. ‘Blue, take your army with half my men and make sure he gets properly locked away back in his cell.’
The voice continues, and she strains to hear what is being said. Her breath is starting to stutter. ‘Dark One, you won’t be escaping to wreak havoc on my people for the rest of your miserable life; we’ve made some improvements to your “home” from last time.’ Rumple voice is muffled, as if something has been placed in his mouth, but some curses filter through. ‘Take him away,’ the mystery person orders. ‘We’ll search the rest of this place for his poor prisoners.’
Numbness has set into half her body now, and her hands no longer have the power even to try and staunch the blood flow. Noises carry on in the background, but she doesn’t have the energy to care anymore. Suddenly, the door to her cell crashes open, and she winces against the abrupt surge of light. ‘I’ve got this one – help the rest!’ the voice calls. She can’t remember where she is any more. What happened to her? Where’s her family? Were they fighting someone?
‘You!’ the voice exclaims, and sudden Henry’s face comes into focus. She sobs weakly in relief. ‘Henry,’ she whispers, digging deep inside herself to find the energy to lift her hand and grasp at his. His hand is so much larger now than she remembers. It seems only yesterday that she was teaching him how to walk, his little fingers gripping tightly to her as he toddled about on unsteady legs. ‘Henry darling, don’t be afraid. Emma is going to be here for you, and Snow and David too.’
She feels him kneel down, his fingers curling tentatively against hers. ‘What do you mean?’ he asks softly, and she moves her other hand slowly to pat his cheek. She accidentally leaves a streak of red on his pale face, but can’t bring herself to care if this is going to be the last time she sees him. ‘Your family is going to look after you,’ she reassures him. ‘I’m sure even Zelena will be there. And-and you talk to Archie if you need to, OK? OK?’ He frowns, but nods at her insistence.
‘I want you to know that I love you very much,’ she manages to continue. ‘Being your mom was the best thing that ever happened to me.’ It is too difficult to speak after that, and she closes her eyes against the pain, her hand going limp in his grasp. She can hear his heavy breathing beside her, but she’s relieved that he’s managing to hold himself together well. She hopes Emma or Snow will arrive soon, to take care of him.
Suddenly, she feels fingers scrabbling against her wrist. A weight lifts off her arm, and she can feel her magic surging through her again. ‘Heal yourself,’ she hears Henry demand. ‘You can do that, right?’ She doesn’t have the heart to tell him healing demands energy she no longer has. But then she feels his grip tighten on her hand, and it’s as if he’s sharing power and the will to fight. She takes as deep a breath as she can, and tries to find the strength she needs.
After a few moments, white light flickers feebly at her fingertips. It is not much, but enough for her to channel into the deepest wounds, trying to heal the broken parts of her body that are threatening her life. Eventually she stops, worn out completely. Breathing comes easier, and with it the fog lifts from her brain. She is in the Dark One’s dungeon, and she almost died. But it is all going to be alright now – Henry has come for her. But then, how did he manage to find this realm?
She turns her eyes back to her son’s face, knowing the truth but not wanting to accept it. As soon as recognition shows in her expression, King Henry lets go and leans back. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you in here,’ he says, rubbing his brow with his forearm, his hands covered in her blood. He unhooks a leather flask from his belt, and pushes it towards her, before standing up and turning towards the door. She wants to ask him why he wanted her to survive, but her voice catches in her throat.
‘I’m going to help my men with the other prisoners,’ he tells her, still facing the door. He sounds too grown up for his age, too much like a King. ‘When we return to this cell, it’s best if you were gone.’ He leaves, and she takes a shaky sip of water from the flask. Luckily, her home is stocked up with medicine and bandages, if only she can get there in one piece. Bracing herself, she transports away.
AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO GOOD. Like, I don’t have the superlatives to tell you how good this is. I am once again blown away both by your generosity and by how amazing these fics are. He’s her little boy. He’s always her little boy, and it’ll never change.
Prompt: Dyeing Easter eggs and getting dye everywhere. Then taking a long leisurely bath together.
“Ugh,” Shirayuki groaned, lifting her hand out of the water to inspect her poor digits. “It’s not coming off.”
Obi’s larger hand cradled her small wrist, his calluses rough against the soft and delicate skin. Golden eyes inspected the damage, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her pulse point. Lifting her stained hand up to his mouth, he planted a kiss against the backs of her dyed fingers. “Yet,” he murmured against her knuckles. “But it will.”
Shirayuki leaned her head back against her husband’s strong shoulder, her back pressed against his sturdy chest, allowing him to lace their fingers together before watching them submerge beneath the blue tinted warm water of the bathtub. She sighed contentedly at the soothing smell of the oils in the water. What could she say; the man sure did know how to draw a nice bath.
The house was quiet at long last. After a rather hectic evening, it was nice to bask in the calm stillness. This was her favorite part of the day, when the chaos and noise had wound down, when she and Obi would find a moment to decompress and enjoy each other’s company in peace.
Their son was asleep in his bed, his own skin having been scrubbed clean little over an hour ago. Shirayuki smiled fondly at the memory of the dyes splotching up his bare chest and little tummy, his fingers a rainbow of colors as he’d fished his eggs out the cups with glee.
It had been Obi’s idea to color Easter eggs in the first place. He’d looked so excited as he’d dropped the dye tablets into the cups, ruffling their toddler’s hair affectionately as the young boy had leaned over to watch the pellets dissolve and turn the liquids into brilliant shades. His squeals and shrieks of enthusiasm mixed with Obi’s gentle laughter had left a residual warmth swirling in her chest, and she couldn’t help but sigh again as she snuggled into her husband that much more.
The resulting mess from their activities had left the kitchen looking like an art studio disaster zone, however, and Obi had looked contrite, offering to bathe the child before pressing an apologetic kiss to her forehead and offering to do the dishes.
He was going to be doing the dishes for the rest of the week.
Shirayuki drew her knees up, watching the soap bubbles slide down the skin peeking through the surface of the water. Obi’s long legs rested on either side of hers, with ample space for him to stretch out and relax. She wonders if he’d had this in mind when he’d insisted on the large antique tub, back when he’d first started re-doing the bathroom. She wonders if he’d had visions of them bathing their children, bubbles and toy boats floating upon the water’s surface as little giggles filled the air.
Hell, there was probably enough room for at least two more children in here with them.
She preferred this, though. For now.
Obi had wrapped his arms around her middle earlier as she’d stood at the sink rinsing the dyes down the drain, his lips pressed to her ear as he’d informed her that their child was asleep, and that they should probably get cleaned up themselves. The bath was ready, if she didn’t mind some company? Shirayuki had bitten her lip in consideration; it had sounded like such a good idea, and who was she to turn down a hot bath?
Feeling relaxed and drowsy from the warmth of the water and Obi’s body heat pressed so snugly against her, Shirayuki watched a familiar scarred hand gently trail along her thigh, fingertips touching her pale skin with a soft reverence as she giggled lightly.
Obi hummed questioningly and she could feel his eyes watching her as she laced their soapy fingers together. “You’re fingernails are pink,” she teased, giggling at his light chuckle. “Was it worth it?”
A kiss was planted against her temple, Obi’s arms wrapping around her tightly as he murmured “Absolutely.”
I love period dramas. Like most things in my life, I blame Xena for that. This past week I was able to watch a special screening of The White Princess through Refinery29. It was an interesting watch. I am not a fan of Phillippa Gregory’s interpretations of the women involved in the Wars of the Roses. However, I do often enjoy these types of shows because, despite it all, I know there are good acting and eye candy. The White Princess was no different and while I was watching it and listening to the Q&A after, I was thinking about how we tell the stories of women in history. Specifically as to how they choose to portray empowerment. This got kinda long, but I hope all my other history lady loving nerds will see where I’m coming from. I’m enjoying the show, but I just gotta call something out…
finished famous in love a little while ago! and I actually do recommend it. it kept my interest the whole time, lots of drama, kind of cliche, but we all need something like that in our life every once in a while !!
carey-pricemas said: Hello! I love your writing omg… can I be one of many to request part three of Leon??????
Anonymous said: Leon part3 please!!
Anonymous said: please do another for the leon #2
A/N: thanks for the love guys!!! hope you enjoyed this next piece to the story, sorry it got pretty long but oh well *also im aware i kinda changed the time this drabble is written around, i threw it back a few weeks so it fit with making the playoffs sorry* also i have another and possible final part to this story already played just say the word people!!!
Word Count: 2,703
You weren’t sure why you had been so nervous. It was yours and Leon’s third date now, and joining the two of you were Patty and his girlfriend. Double dates weren’t supposed to be nerve-wracking or anything. Especially when you were throwing axes at a wall.
“From here on, I..! From here on..! Y'hear me?! I’m gonna… beat you all! I’m going to become the number one!! Enjoy your win. It’ll never happen again! Dammit!!!” ↳ ♡Happy Birthday to my angry hot hero ♡| Bakugou Katsuki | 04.20 ♡ ٩(╬ʘ益ʘ╬)۶