#maccaillte

[foreverdaring]

“No! No such thing.“ the tiny godling proclaims. “I am most certain-“ she continues, her little arms crossed on her chest, as she sat among the soft grass, with her friend at her side.

“That my mummy is the prettiest!“ she argued. “No offence to your mum, of course.“ she added quickly - after all, ‘tis not wise to anger a goddess of he elements, even as one of her own kind.

“But! I have proof, you see.“ Spitha continued. “After all - daddy says so! Mummy is the most beautifullest of all~“ And she was convinced that what her father Ares claimed, would have to be nothing else but the objective truth.

“And other people, too! That Paris guy.“ she added - she had never had the opportunity to meet the mortal herself, but he seemed to have had the right idea.

@maccaillte 💖’d

[jericholeader]

I must show-of the gorgeous commission done by the one and only @faestorian.  They are incredibly talented and collaborative and brought exactly what I had in mind to life. Thank you again!! 

This is Human!Markus and Evie, his and Seven’s ( @maccaillte ) daughter. <3 Evie is one of their twins - Evie and Rian - that they have after they are married. Evie is a daddy’s girl and has ginger curls for days. 

[jericholeader]

@maccaillte​ cont from here

Their blood was on his palms, and his fingers curled at the feeling of it. This wasn’t fine. They weren’t okay. Coming home to find them pinned to a wooden surface and bleeding was the furthest from okay that the definition reached. He let them pull away and listened, even if he offered nothing except a tight, thinning of his lips. They had every right to be angry, at whatever twisted part of the universe decided they hadn’t endured enough hell already, and he’d weather any measure of it with them. But he was afraid. It made his throat tight and his chest tighter. They might have accidentally lacerated something worse than their palm.

“Let me get Peach settled, and then I’m going to clean and treat that, okay?” 

He stood, rinsed the blood from his hands and handed them a clean dish towel from the stack on the counter, “Apply pressure for me?” He instructed, and despite being gently said and phrased more as a question than a necessity, he waited until it was done, before picking Peach up from the floor where she was knocking her plush rabbit against the wood. 

“Hey, baby girl.” He murmured, and disappeared into her bedroom long enough to take off her little coat and shoes, and sit her in the playpen. 

He was back with the first aid kit in a minute. He held out his hand for theirs, “Please,” Markus breathed, “let me help you.”

[jericholeader]

@maccaillte​ | cont. from here

“Yes.” Markus’ voice was thin, scratching on a throat still dry from being intubated and exacerbated by the perpetual cold of the hospital. There was something to soap and water, and fingers through the hair. He’d done it for patients, countless times, and though there would be so much that alone could hardly fix, it helped. It always helped. 

“Thank you...” He murmured, grateful, tilting his head to try and see them over the edge of the hospital bed.  His curls were thicker than usual. His beard a bit darker. He hadn’t been able to do anything with either. Trying to lift his head seemed an in surmountable task let alone his arms, but he searched with his left hand, grasping at the mattress and then in air, for their hand. His fingers trembled, and he hated the weakness that crawled up, from elbow to shoulder, making his forearm waver. They said his strength would come back. It was medications and surgery and trauma weighing him down now, and he would recover.

“-.... Seven?” Asking if they were all right seemed a futile. Nothing about this was all right. But he knew them. Well enough to hear their silence. “... Sweetheart-”

[jericholeader]

@maccaillte​ || 𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐑𝐓  𝐎𝐅  𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘

“   i  just  can’t  believe  that  you’re  mine ,   now .   ”

Markus chuckled beneath them, the sound warm. “That I am.” He mused, passing his fingers through their hair. When the world imagined honeymoon it summoned Paris or Rome, or the glittering beaches of Hawaii at tide. Markus wouldn’t deny the beauty of those places, but when he had thought of honeymoon it was nothing more or less than this. Seven pressed against him smelling of soap. Sunlight and quiet and peace, without obligation, or the morning alarm. The location wasn’t irrelevant, but it less material. He would have agreed to anywhere, as long as they could have this.

He made a low noise of comfort in his throat, and tipped his head, enough to peer at them and hum a, “Why don’t you tell me all the ways I’m yours?” in a whisper near their lips.

[rkfinale]

“ can i rest my head in your lap ? ”

----

        “Yes, you may.” Nines appreciated the other asking for permission, though it was quickly becoming a trend that Nines was finding it near impossible to say no to them. “Is there something you would like to get off of your mind? Or do you just need close proximity?” Either way, Nines pat his lap, gesturing to them to get close. 

[negotiiator-a]

          “ -- have you ever considered retiring from the force? ”    connor hasn’t until recently. he didn’t have much need to consider it.  he cares for the people he’s come to know in the station, and the people of detroit, even if the care isn’t always nessiarily returned. but, as time moves forward, he’s forced to come to the realization that those people won’t always be here. seven would be.  that,  at least,  he could count on.  

          “ there’s a lot this world has to offer.  i’ve been --- thinking.. perhaps not sometime soon, but at some point, exploring other options. ”  @maccaillte​

[jericholeader]

@maccaillte​​ |  DIFFERENT WAYS TO SAY ‘I LOVE YOU’.

‘hey, good-looking.’

Markus had gotten up early, and was in nothing but a pair of pajama pants preparing an assortment of breakfast. Eggs sizzled in a pan, dusted with cheese, and he had pancakes on a near-by gridle. He’d sliced up peaches and oranges (no strawberries) to accompany the array, and had a fresh pot of coffee (not instant; the French kind with pressed beans) staying warm on the stove stop. 

“Good morning to you too, darling.” He hummed as he felt their arms around his waist. He left the eggs to themselves long enough to turn in their arms, nuzzle into their hair, and place a kiss to their forehead. “Sleep well?”