May 1, 2015
And for some reason Tumblr isn’t letting me send messages. Or fan mail.
reginaxsylva: I’ve seen the Avengers, yes! :D It was awe.some! What about you? ^^
enxredis: Heyyy! ^^,
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And for some reason Tumblr isn’t letting me send messages. Or fan mail.
reginaxsylva: I’ve seen the Avengers, yes! :D It was awe.some! What about you? ^^
enxredis: Heyyy! ^^,
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Name: Meren Age: Ageless as all of our kind, though it has been long since the carefree heart of a youngling has beat inside my chest. Do you like to cuddle?: No, but you do—insistently—so if you’ll allow me to grab a book then you might rest your head upon my lap for so long as it pleases you. Can we make-out?: Permission is sought now? It is a bit late considering what happened behind the pillars at the last summer solstice, but if memory serves me right then it is an experience I would wish to repeat. A night in or dinner out?: A night out, camped under the starts far away from responsibilities where our only obligation is to pay homage to the music of the night. Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: Strawberries, though I’d prefer if the melted chocolate were to come on the size. I will make sure it if a good quality dark chocolate. What makes you a good Valentine?: Because I am your wi—oh fine, fine I’ll indulge in this lunacy a while long then. A good valentine is one who will make you feel wanted and loved, there is no one in this life or in what ever might lie in the next that loves you more then me. Would you cook for me?: In this special occasion I am sure there would be time for such things, there is a dish of pastry dough filled with tomatoes and other roasted veggies I once saw prepared in human village. It looked quite appetizing. Perhaps I will prepare that for you. Would you let me cook for you?: Have the kitchens recovered from your last attempt?
[Blue eyes follow the sweep of the King’s robes but she remains still on the chair she has occupied since this questioning began.]
“And what sort of interrogation was this?”
not a word is given in response, even as he leaves a wife to be baffled for a while longer. perhaps the time spent in Dale would prove to be useful after all. still, he cannot help but smile, as he was prone to do when in the com- pany of his queen.
Starfleet Academy.
Three generations of his family went there: his father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather. All three who commanded their own starships and brought down a fair share of Klingon warships and Borgs. His father, Oropher, was known to have died in an attempt to destroy the former Borg Queen. A move that cost him his life and left his only son to grow up with his grandparents.
Needless to say, Thranduil came to the academy with a lot of expectations. Even the woman who guided him through the recruitment process visibly paused when she saw his name. He half-expected her to cry -- she didn't -- before handing him his uniform and the customary PADD.
The lecture hall was large enough to accommodate a hundred, but they were all separated into five sections, all based on their future rank and position. There were the medical officers, the engineers, navigators, tactical officers, and the would-be commanding officers. The sections for the medical and commanding officers were placed together,
Exhaling, he lowered his head, determined not to make any form of eye contact. He was there for ten minutes and already he dreaded it. If someone so much as made a single comparison between him and his father, he'd punch their lights out. The woman beside him seemed to have the same badge as he, which meant that she was eventually going to be part of his crew. He tried not to think about whether he would make a good commanding officer or not, or if he would even reach that stage of training.
When you get this, you must publicly post something nice about at least 5 different people you follow, then copy and paste this in each of their ask boxes. c:
Ah the Elves. These muses, whether ranging from Thranduil’s queen to Legolas and Tauriel, have become a firm fixture in his existence and in his ongoing story. The AUs, countless emotions, and amazing ideas have come to life because of these lovely people. I doubt I would even be here without them. Again, under a cut because of length.
reginaxsylva:
“Sober enough to be a smartass—”
She half mutters to herself. Rolling her eyes she opens her door so the young woman can enter.
“I assume you want me to cover for you?”
"You would be my saviour." It was not easy for Tilda to admitt such a thing, but she knew she could not go home like this. Carefully the young teenager stepped over the threshold. "Mom would kill me if she found out, and Tobi afterwards.
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five times kissed [send all things and clogs your inbox]
The first kiss starts like most first kisses do. With an an accident. A simple brush of the lips, but it is enough to make the elvenprince stutter like an idiot and grasp onto the jar of herbs that nearly smashed to the floor. A kiss that becomes something he thinks about for the next few days. Wondering if she felt the zing his mother spoke of. Of course not. A ridiculous notion. She is serious, dedicated to her work, and he just so happens to be the son of the king. A prince who so happens to be curious about her work. She can never feel anything but annoyance for him. The second was more poetic; a brief locking of lips under the stars. A more physical promise that what they feel is mutual. A vow to face any obstacle life throws at them. The beginning of something new between old friends, two soulmates. It is the third kiss that announces new life. A grateful husband to his wife for giving him a healthy son. A kiss that is shared with the crying babe shortly after, only for him to return to the familiarity of her lips and the loving rhythm these make against his own. The fourth is made before battle. A wife’s promise to keep well away from the fighting, if only to uphold her duty to heal. A husband’s reassurance that she keeps her word, a silent I love you between two people whose gestures matter more than words. A last kiss, their fifth and final, yet only one participates. Farewell my love. A phrase he never gets to say. Cold lips no longer respond, possessing none of the warmth he loves. The cries of the child in his arms break through his reverie, his waking nightmare, and he retreats. He can no longer see her, the darkness of the tragedy in his life claiming what emotion, reasoning, and feeling he has left. Until we meet again.
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[ They collide with a thump, and Thranduil brings a hand up to grasp her arm and steady her as the other holds his coffee out of the way to avoid it spilling on them. ]
Didn't see you there at all-- sorry.