#her side profile is so pretty

[princessanneftw]

Princess Anne attending a reception at the Guildhall in London to mark the silver wedding anniversary of her parents Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip on 20 November 1972

[lyriumsings]

your honor they’re in love

[silverselfshippingchaos]

HELLO???

[scarlettjemily]

EMILY PRENTISS + HER PERFECT SIDE PROFILE

cm 2x14

[machonnes]

BRIDGERTON (2020-) 2.04 | Victory

[dailyeloise]

ELOISE BRIDGERTON 2.01 | Capital R Rake

[the-mystic-dragon]

speaking of the commander.... here is mine who im obsessed with look at her

[miciiq]

Happy Birthday Shinonome Ena 2024!

Reblog if use

Also here’s square jawline Ena as a bonus

[st4rsinthenight]

★angel.★

[terristarstrike]

a tiny kiss from a tiny human 🩷🩵

[mach1ne-g1rl]

sorry theyre all i care about

ughrh the concept / sketch i guess i think its interesting to see the progress

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Olena's pictures for her new Vogue Ukraine feature

[britneyshakespeare]

around 6 o'clock (east coast u.s. standard time) some guy from fucking australia, with no mutual friends obviously, friend- and message-requested me on facebook saying he hoped i didn't mind the add, but "you came up in my recommended and are the cutest ginger i've ever seen." and it like literally gave me chills because holy hellllll, how the FUCK did this guy find my profile? i have no public posts; i hardly ever comment on public posts; i don't post in large, active groups; etc etc etc etc so it creeped the FUCK out of me. sometimes fb puts ppl w no mutual friends in my "people you may know" but, creepily enough, they often are people i... know, if not have some sort of mutual connection with? like they might be old classmates or friends of friends creating new profiles (so no mutual friends yet), etc. and this is true for ppl who also don't have info on their profile saying they live in/near my hometown, went to my school at some point, etc. like THAT is very creepy how meta somehow knows that. but this guy from australia i am absolutely sure i have no connection to whatsoever. WHY WOULD I???? i have no connection to australia at all other than a couple of mutuals i have on here.

so anyway i took a screenshot of the message and showed it to my friends cuz i was freaking out about it and needed to get that off my chest and one friend was like "why dont you block him" (me reading that 4 hours later) and im like you know what i didnt think it was necessary but not a bad idea. and i go to check the message request and the message was unsent, and he also deleted the friend request. lmaooooo. maybe his girlfriend found his phone

[redbean-nom]

idea: on the other side of things, satine and jango also time traveled! they're both subtly trying to destroy death watch (satine is unraveling maul's end of The Sith Plot, and jango is dealing with dooku's part) without realizing the other is a time traveler. they have very different ideas of how to go about doing so.

at some point before they have the Time Traveler Discussion, mace and obi wan go on the mission protecting satine from death watch. jango shows up hunting death watch. cue all four of them attempting to hide the fact that they're all time traveling.

many years later, obi wan has the idea to go check on kamino/deal with dooku. upon arrival, he and the rest of the time jedi discover jango ran away with a bunch of his favorite alphas (because hey, free army!) and started another war. they go searching for jango around mandalore and instead find that the kryze sisters are temporarily allied for maul-killing purposes. jango (with boba in tow) keeps getting in everyone's way while attempting to rescue arla from the nite owls. bo katan keeps trying to kill him.

for extra fun, maul is also time traveling. he, too, knows most of The Sith Plan, and is also attempting revenge against palpatine & grievous, this time with an alive talzin, savage, and feral.

mace has a massive shatterpoint migraine. palpatine has a Bad Feeling About This.

📓 👀

(for the daydream plot ask meme) TIMETRAVEL, BUT MAKE IT COMPLICATED. Ok, so. Several council members are yeeted back in time at the moment of their deaths, mentally — ie. die, and then wake up back in the past, not body doubles or anything. Mace, Plo Shaak and Kit, all of whom wake up in the halls of healing and proceed to Freak Out very quietly, because, like, what the fuck but also oh my god the sith. They work out that the others are also time travelers, and then proceed to conspiracy theory very quietly attempt to fix, y'know, the whole sith plot attempting to genocide them out of existence.

Mace survived longest — I refuse to believe he died when he got shoved out the window, he was kicking about in the rebellion era for a little while with a cybernetic hand and is very thankful and a little weirded out to have both hands back now — so he's kind of their point man, when it comes to 'oh we need to fix that too, turns out it was part of The Sith Plot.'

This is complicated, somewhat, by the fact that Mace just took Obi-wan on as a padawan. He didn't mean to! he fucked up!! he's not sure what they did but Qui-gon — instead of taking obi-wan as his padawan, as they're all pretty sure happened in the original timeline — was wildly cruel to initiate kenobi, basically accused him of being half a second from a fall, and then made him cry. Which: yikes what the fuck how did they screw up the timeline that bad.

None of them really knew obi-wan until he was, y'know, Adult; prior to that he was qui-gon's padawan, and also, it was like fourty fucking years ago for them. They collectively remember…uh, obi-wan had some fucked missions as a padawan? maybe he went to agricorps on a mission? no one is quite sure, because, like, it was a weird thing that mostly resolved itself, whatever the fuck it was. He grows up to be Obi-wan Kenobi, though, so it's not like they could let him go to the fucking agricorps. Best case, general kenobi doesn't exist and the war goes badly — if they can't prevent the war —, worst case, general kenobi does exist, but like. evil.

Unbeknownst to them, obi-wan was also shot back in time at the moment of his death. And then, because that boy has never met a problem he didn't attempt to solve all on his own, decided he was just going to fake his death and go into the galaxy to, y'know, deal with the sith plot all on his own. He's been alone for twenty fucking years after the genocide of his people. He can handle being alone but knowing they're alive.

He's not about to raise suspicions, though, so he accepts when mace offers to be his master instead of what happened the first time around, with bandomeer and the suicide offer etc — he feels a little bad, because he's 100% going to fake his death at the first opportunity, bc, y'know, sith plot to end, but mace is a busy man who's on the fucking council, probably he's not even going to mind too much, really. Qui-gon certainly wouldn't have.

Thus ensues two sets of time travelers being like who the fuck is doing that as team council and obi-wan make changes to the sith plot. Mace would be tearing his hair out if he had hair; not only is the butterfly effect apparently way more complicated than logically makes sense — they fucked up the death stick trade on ryloth, and now somehow three outer rim planets are in revolt???? (it was obi-wan) — but also his new padawan keeps nearly getting killed.

Obi-wan, on the other hand, is losing his damn mind. On the one hand, goddamn, mace is the absolute bastion of kindness and steadfastness and everything he always was! he didn't know that mace and shaak and plo and kit were friends, but it's so nice to see them, and he missed them, and for all his appointment to the council was kind of tainted by the war it was a community of friends who he missed dearly.

On the other hand, please, he is trying to fake his death. Please be less attentive. Please stop rescuing him from seemingly deadly situations. He's fine he just needs to be a little fake dead, and also stop the sith, and also not let anyone realise that he is a sixty year old in a thirteen year old's body.

[plinchy]

Opened Photoshop to practice side profiles.

Ended the night drawing Thunder

[2tarbell]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y’hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)