#my skin matches greens and browns and earth tones

[omglaurashutup]

i really wanted to go 100% glinda style, but pink doesn't go well with my skin tone 😭

[notapradagurl7]

Ties That Bind. Part Two.

Terry RichmondBillionaire! x Black Fem! Plus Size/Reader.

Summary: Planning your wedding with Terry was incredibly stressful. You had to manage missed calls from family, which you eventually had to block, you talked with your cousin and then Terry’s uninvited family showed up. Once you met them, things got chaotic, and Terry noticed that you were feeling overwhelmed, so he chose to help you cope with the stress in his own manner.

Word Count: 3,536k

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, dark!Terry, toxic family drama, arranged marriage, fingering, protective!Terry, consensual for both parties, stressed out reader, Use of AAVE, oral sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, confession, violence, threats, Terry putting the his family in place, use of the n-word, Terry’s POV.

( Series Masterlist ) ( Part One. )

A/N: Here is part two and Terry’s POV is included, let me if you want to be added to the taglist, Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, or you can always ask for a request, Enjoy! ❤️

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @babybratzmaraj @becauseimswagman1

@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz @uniqueoutlierblog

@dxddykenn @dpennedit @secretlifeoofmarpessa

@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert @aquarising03

@5starr-staciii @pickuptruck01 @henneseyhoe @irlvampfairy @browngirldominion

——————-

You.

Terry’s fingers fit seamlessly with yours as you stood together on the beach, where the dark sky transformed into brilliant shades of pink and orange. The orange-ish sun illuminated your dark brown skin and the glimmering ring on your finger, while the chilly waves lapped at your well-groomed feet, anchored in the sand.

Your eyes flickered toward the golden ring on Terry’s finger, you smiled at him.

The past few weeks were incredibly stressful; the colors were off, the caterers prepared steak instead of homemade pizza, which added to your frustration.

It was a series of mishaps from the wedding, but Terry was resolute in improving the situation, so he invited you to his private beach at his home close to Louisiana.

“You good, baby? Talk to me," Terry asked gently, turning to face you.

You sulked at the tall man dressed casually yet fashionably in sage green, which matched your own sage green dress and sandals.

As you turned to look at those green hazel-ish eyes that bore into your soul deep, feelings of anxiety and uncertainty began to invade your thoughts.

"Terry, it's been overwhelming lately, with everything that is going on in wedding, it's moving so fast, baby." You admitted with an unsure tone, your hands snaked to his muscular arms.

Your eyes looking into his eyes searching for clarity, and reassurance. His face softened at your expression, he pulled you close.

And you forgot to mention the multiple missed phone calls from your family about not being invited and calling you selfish, you were only close to your cousin Jayla. She was one of the only sane that you can talk to.

“It's okay, honestly I've been feeling overwhelmed too, my family called and said they are showing up without telling me shit,” admitted, his voice low and husky, his hand gently cupping your face.

Your phone buzzed, and you fished it out of your pocket. It was Jayla. Your thumb pressed the button and held it close to your ear. “Hello? They're doing what? How the fuck did they even get the address?”

The conversation concluded with the press of your thumb, your lips tight in frustration. Why on earth would they show up after you had severed ties and declared you didn't want to see them anymore?

No, no, not them. Was this punishment? Nope, no you're talking nonsense, you didn't deserve this. Nobody does.

"They're coming tomorrow, Terry. They're driving down from Chicago." You blurted out, shoving your phone in your purse.

His eyes hardened, a dangerous glint flickering in them. "They are?"

You nodded, "Jayla called, she said they wouldn't take no for an answer. They even booked a room at the hotel far away from your house."

Terry's jaw clenched, his grip on your face tightening slightly. "They think they can just show up uninvited? In my fucking house?"

You saw the anger simmering in his eyes, a primal instinct that made you both afraid and strangely aroused.

"I know, Terry. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen."

Terry shook his head in disagreement, not wanting you to feel like it was your fault. He kissed your forehead lovingly and looked down at you in concern.

“It’s not your fault that all of this shit is happening, don't worry princess, I’ll handle them,” he reassured with a firm tone.

The two of you walked quickly back to his black Cadillac XTS hand-in-hand, you heard Terry’s breathing increase but then suddenly it stopped. You were getting worried about everything.

If there wasn't one thing, it's another thing after that.

You approached the vehicle, and he opened the door for you like the gentleman that he was, you settled in, and he gently closed it shut. He circled the car and got into the driver’s seat, closing the doors and then locking it.

Thankfully, the windows were tinted and you had some privacy. He turned to you, his voice low and seductive, "But first, let's forget about them for a while."

You nodded in agreement, your fingers gripped his chin and leaning in to the scent of his cologne, black cherry and sandalwood. Kissing his lips passionately before pulling away.

He pulled you closer, his hand slipping under your dress, tracing the curve of your hip. You shivered, a wave of heat washing over you. You climbed into the backseat with him quickly.

"Let's focus on us," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

He guided you towards the plush cushion, his hand firmly on your lower back, urging you to lay back. You obeyed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Good girl,” he praised.

Terry knelt in front of you, his eyes burning into yours with desire. He reached between your legs, and rolled your panties off with the flick of his wrist, his fingers sliding their way between your folds. “Mmm, I've been waiting to touch you gently,” he whispered, his tone deep with a hint of rasp.

“You don't have to be gentle, just touch me please,” You

You gasped, arching your back as his fingers began to go in and out of you, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your essence trickles down to his wrist, making his black Rolex watch glisten, “Oh fuck..Terry…ugh,”

He looked down at you, and hovered over you, his eyes dark and intense. "Your pussy is already gripping my fingers, feel so good," he murmured, his voice rough yet audible.

Terry loved the feel of your pussy gripping his long thick fingers, he couldn't wait for his dick to be hugged so tightly, his bulge grew bigger and harder in his pants, he groaned raspily at the squelching sound, Terry desperately wanted to feel that love that he is feeling right now.

It was almost as if you felt the same energy from Terry, he was upset but he didn't want you stressed out about anything. You had to talk to him about it until his thumb flattened on your clit and thrust his fingers faster, “Ah! Oh my god! Terry!”

Your hands held on for dear life on the armrest of the seats, your hips rolling with that torturous pace, your walls clenching around his fingers, the metal his of gold ring inside you sent shivers through you, “Give me more of that good shit, doll,” he coaxed seductively.

His fingers curled at that sweet spot, you cried out wildly and clutched your breast in your hand, “F-fuckkk! Terry! More please! Baby!” You screamed loudly, he pecked your clit and then sucked your nipple roughly, tears falling down your cheeks.

Those green eyes of his watched your pretty face contort in pleasure, your essence wetten up his seats but he didn't care, it would get cleaned up anyway, his mouth sucked roughly around your areola, and his thumb flickered your clit, “This is all mine?” he asked.

“Yes, all yours..so gooddd,” you babbled with neediness, he continued to pleasure you, his fingers moving in a rhythmic pattern, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth trailed kissed along your dark brown skin, moving your box braids out of the way. Kissing your lips again.

"Terry," you moaned, your voice hitched and body twitched weakly. "I'm gonna—"

He silenced you with a kiss, his lips moving over yours with a possessive hunger. He continued to pleasure you, his tongue swirling with yours, his fingers hit that spot and curled up in a “come here” motion with quick precision. Biting down on his lush lips, making you cry out his name. “There you go, my beautiful wife,” he soothed with a devilish smirk.

He called you his wife, those words made you bust a nut quickly, your back arched over the seat and stretched out your feet.

Your essence poured onto his fingers, as you came undone, your body trembling beneath him. Terry watched with a smile pulled his fingers away, leaving a trail of moisture behind. He leaned back, his eyes filled with a primal satisfaction.

"That's it, baby, Let me see that beautiful face." he said, his voice husky, his hand gripping the back of your neck, pecking your lips passionately.

You opened your eyes, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Terry smiled, a slow smile that sent a shiver down your spine. Licking his fingers clean, he hummed softly, “You taste amazing,” he told you.

He leaned down and kissed you again, a long, slow kiss that tasted of salt and sweat, your essence.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good tonight," he whispered against your lips. "You won't be able to think about anything else."

You knew he meant it. Terry Richmond was a man of his word, and you were about to experience the full force of his desire.

Or were you? You had to face his family and your family at your house, tonight was gonna be very different and difficult.

The air hung thick with tension as you stepped into Terry’s family home, the cacophony of laughter and shouting nearly drowning out the thumping of your heart.

His family was a swirling storm of noise, each voice a stark contrast to the calm you'd found in his embrace just hours earlier.

Terry’s father, Theo, he stood there in a black suit beside his wife, and his dark brown eyes bore into you, his face twisted in anger, his slim loafers clicked on the marble floors. His light brown skin shone underneath the lights. He was 5’9.

Terry’s mother, Tiana stood in between his father and Tristan, her brown skin and dark brown eyes, dressed in a light purple dress and sandals on her feet. Standing at 5’5.

Tristian, he was slim yet not muscular like Terry, same complexion as his younger brother, his green eyes locked onto the woman who stood next to Terry,

As the man turned around, a loud voice boomed, “Terry, you decide to rush into the family business with this stranger? Let me guess she wants all our damn money?” It was his father, contempt dripping from every syllable.

“Don’t call her that. She’s not a stranger; she’s my fiancée,” Terry snapped, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the room like a storm brewing.

Your heart raced as his mother stepped in, her eyes pleading for peace. “Terry, Theo, please. This is about family.”

“He doesn’t get to dictate who I love!” he shouted, defiance etched on his face.

You felt out of place because of the volume getting louder and louder, you needed a place to mute

You glanced around, feeling the weight of their scrutiny, the judgment clouding the air until Terry’s mother’s eyes landed on you, as if she was calling out to you.

As you walked alongside Terry’s mother and pushed the doors open, the turmoil of their dispute faded into silence; their voices grew louder as you moved outside to the backyard, feeling the soft green grass beneath your sandals and a gentle breeze on your face.

You let out a trembling breath, feeling as if you could finally find peace.

“My apologies for the way that my husband was speaking toward you and the yelling doesn't help either," Terry's mother spoke up,

"I'm guessing that Terry and his dad never saw eye to eye, and Tristan was always the one to be the golden child?” You guessed in a soft voice, your heart still racing from the confrontation inside.

Tiana nodded, her expression softening. "You’re not wrong. Terry has always been different in a good way. He has this fire inside of him that scares Theo, and his father doesn’t appreciate that."

You glanced back toward the house, where the shadows of Terry’s family loomed large and menacing, their voices still echoing in your ears. "I just want to make this work, you know? I love him," you admitted, your voice softened.

Tiana studied you, her dark eyes searching for something. “And he feels the same way about you too, my dear. He loves fiercely, Terry told me about you on a phone call yesterday, he was determined to be yours,”

You appreciated her warmth, but the thought of Terry facing his family's wrath made your stomach twist. “I just don’t want to lose him.”

——————

Terry.

He stood in the main spacious living room of the house, his gaze narrowed in frustration. He felt the tension hanging heavy in the air, shifting from him and back to his father.

Theo’s harsh tone cut through the air like a knife. “You think you can just bring this girl into our lives without any consequences? You’re disrespecting everything we’ve built!”

“Don’t you think that the reason I joined this business and married Y/N is because it was my choice? I didn't do this shit for money or to get your attention?” Terry shot back, his voice filled with rage.

Theo shook his head from side to side in disapproval, crossing his arms, “Keyword you are her fiancé, you are not married yet, son,

Tristian stepped aside, giving his two-cent in the situation. But Terry interjected quickly, “From what I know, once we get married I’ll have the business,

“Terry, why can't you just admit and accept that I'm the one Dad’s gonna choose for the business hm? You're gonna take the easy way in by marrying a random bit—”

Terry's punch landed on Tristan's cheek, causing blood to ooze from his mouth and mark his light brown skin.

Tristian winced and swore in agony as he fell onto the white marble floor, sliding with a screech before his head collided with the wall, resulting in a loud thump.

“Don’t you ever talk about my wife like that, nigga,” Terry shouted with malice, shaking his hand to ease the pain after hissing.

He watched you stand frozen in the doorway, heart racing and pulse quickening as you processed the chaos unfolding in front of you.

The confidence you had felt moments ago was replaced by a surge of anxiety.

All eyes were on you walking back inside the house once the room fell silent.

“Get the fuck up, Tristan,” Terry growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to disrespect her in my house. Not now, not ever.”

Tristan scrambled backward, wiping blood from his mouth and staring at his brother with anger and disbelief. “You’re insane, Terry! Do you think you can just bring her into this family and everything will be fine? She’s just a distraction.”

You stepped forward, heart beating like a drum, ready to defend yourself. “You don't know shit about me, I'm not a distraction,” you retorted, your hand resting on your chest.

Terry was fatigued from constantly arguing with his father and brother; the back-and-forth was exhausting both mentally and physically.

If this pattern was going to continue every time they communicated, Terry knew he had to put a stop to it once and for all.

“Look, if you can't accept her then you can't accept me, you didn't do it when I was a kid, you're not invited to our wedding, just leave," Terry shot back.

The tension in the room escalated, and you could feel the unease in the air. You stood by Terry’s side and gripped his arm tight, “Terry why can't you reconcile with him,” you whispered, your eyes on him.

“I'm done playing nice, I can’t keep doing with him, Y/N, I know that I'm gonna run this business myself. You don't need to worry about me sweetheart," He reassured you with a kiss on your forehead.

Truth is, you were worried about Terry. You wondered if everything was going to be okay, doubt crept in again, You had to tell him.

“If that's what you want then throw it away, after everything I did for you, this is how you repay me?” Theo shot back, his eyes flickered toward the two of you.

“You chose Tristan and not me, all that does is drink, waste your money and give it back, but me, I did everything right and it still wasn’t enough for you,” Terry trailed off with anger, his eyes on his father.

Theo listened intently to every word that his son was saying to him, cutting him deep yet he still persisted. His eyes softened at Terry, feeling his heart break.

“Okay, okay, you're right about that, Tristan used to be the golden child but he wasn't like you, I didn't want you to suffer like I did in the business, I'm sorry Terry,” Theo apologized with a strong tone.

Terry’s eyes widened slightly at what his father was saying, that was the first time he apologized.

“D-dad, you don't mean it—” Tristian spoke up until Theo interjected quickly by holding his hand up.

“I do mean that shit, Tristian, you're not good for the company, Terry, if you ever want to talk again then let me know,” Theo told him, turning his head to the side.

Once his family left out of the house, locking the door behind himself. You stood there with a saddened expression. He hugged his mother goodbye.

The two of you entered the bedroom, he sat down on the edge of the bed. You walked toward him and your hands rested on his shoulders with his hands on your thighs, bringing you closer to him. Leaning close between your breasts, relishing in your warmth.

“Terry, before we go to sleep, I've been having doubts lately baby, family is important to me but it feels like we’re standing at the edge of a cliff. I love you, I do, but all this drama…it’s heavy. I don’t want to be the reason you lose your family, but I also can’t let them disrespect me and us,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly as you looked into his intense green eyes.

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to relieve the tension that had been building for weeks. “I get it, I really do. I love you more, I’m not trying to put you in the middle of this. But my family…they don’t deserve you. They don’t see you the way I do.”

Your head tilted with a slow shake, “Your mother accepted me and that's enough but, Terry, I just���I don’t want you to have to choose between me and them. That’s not fair,”

You wanted to believe him, but the weight of his family’s disdain felt like a noose tightening around your throat. Your grip tightens on his shoulders, bringing him closer.

He stood, moving closer until the space between you vanished. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Listen to me, Y/N. You are my world. I don’t care if they accept you or not. You’re not just some girl I’m marrying. You’re my future. My wife. The mother of my kids. They’ll have to deal with that.”

You looked up at him with a small smile, his words brought comfort to you, but still, there was your family coming for you. Ugh, you'd almost forget about them.

“And you know that my family is coming here too but they don't know where you live, we have to face them too, shit,” you retorted with a eye roll.

“I'll protect you, defend you with my life from them, you don't owe them shit, sweetie, I faced my family and I face yours too,” Terry replied with a head shake, reassurance in his tone.

“Thanks for everything, my love, Come here,” You whispered seductively, moving your finger in a ‘come here’ motion.

After that, the two of you kissed passionately, making love for the rest of the night. Knowing that it wouldn't mend anything but it felt right, you wanted to feel every inch of him. Eventually, everything will fall into place for both of you.

—————-

[tanaisokay]

Aster Button • Hogwarts Legacy MC • Character Information

(Character Sheet Commission by my amazing bestie, @unholytrio420)

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General Information

Full Name: Aster Jane Button

Nicknames: Princess of Hufflepuff, Sweetheart & Bug

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Date of Birth: April 30th, 1875

Dominate Hand: Left

Zodiac Sign: Taurus ☀️🌙 & Cancer ⬆️

Personality Type (MBTI): ENFP - Campaigner

Blood Status: Half-blood

Alignment: Lawful Good

Nationality: English/Greek

House: Hufflepuff

Wand: Natural shape, English Oak, Unicorn Hair Core, 20 cm, handle is carved with oak leaves and has an acorn on the bottom of the handle.

Patronus: Swarm of Bees or Ibizan Bound

(One is my wants, the other is wizarding worlds take)

Boggart: Herself

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Physical Appearance

Hair Colour & Style: Has wavy/curly dark brown hair, with a bang fringe that curls at the ends because of her naturally curly hair. She tends to keep her hair half up in an updo with a white bow holding it back.

Eye Color: Her eyes are a dark green with a yellow center.

Skin Tone: Light olive tone with peach undertones. Has a flush of freckles all over her face. She also has light rosacea on her cheeks, nose and forehead.

Height: 5’7” (170cm)

Other features:

She does wear makeup, even though it was frowned upon at that time. She has a smudge of eyeliner on her upper lid and goes wear some lipstick/Vaseline for shine.

An overbite with bunny teeth.

Girly wears earrings as well. They are vintage screw backs from 1890 that match her colors and vibe. Gold & Black varnish with diamonds.

Face claim: Hande Ercel is her slight face claim. Hande Ercel has dark brown eyes and doesn’t have freckles, but she’s a Turkish actress with the perfect face shape. Which is why I say she’s a slight face claim. Her role in Azize just screams Aster with her hair as it is as well.

(The right photo was edited by Ellie to give her green eyes and freckles - she’s quite literally perfect!)

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Personality

Positive Traits: extroverted, empathic, patient, elegant, down to earth, in tune with her emotions, lawful, dedicated, loving & kind

Neutral Traits: sensitive, tantalizing, sensual, dominant, can not lie for shite, work oriented & overthinks constantly

Negative Traits: opinionated, materialistic, dense, slow, kind of a mean girl in a domineering way, fair to a fault & spoiled

Scent: Lilac, Moss and Honey

Strengths: Being a walking bug magnet, saying ‘No’, Stability

Weaknesses: being yelled at, crying to easily, Numbers/Math (Dyslexic), dealing with parasites

Fears: Heights & The Dark

Likes: Her family, Insects, Bee Keeping, Running, Gardening, Eating, Talking, Cuddling

Dislikes: The Wizarding Realm, Passive Aggressive Rudeness, People who have a twisted reality that being blunt is actually being nice, Dark Magic, Racism, Slavery, Pure-Blood enthusiasts

Future Dreams: A normal happy life in research entomology

Favorite Classes: Charms, History of Magic, Herbology, Divination

Hated Classes: Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Flying, Astronomy

Music Loves: Frank Sinatra, Vic Damone, Benny Goodman, Billie Holiday, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald, Tony Bennett, Tommy Dorsey, Artie Shaw, etc.

Aesthetic: Honeycore Coquette

Love Language: Physical Touch & Companionship

Pinterest Board (important): https://pin.it/5APIW6Lqo

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Relationships

Father: Theodore Button - Lord, Wizard, Business Man

Mother: Abigail Button - Lady, Normie, Socialite

Sibling(s): Timothy Button - Older brother, Future Lawyer, Normie

Distant Relatives: Percival Rackham - Many-Great Grandfather

Hogwarts Guardian(s): Matilda Weasley, Abraham Ronan, Aesop Sharp & Dinah Hecate

Love Interest: Sebastian Sallow

Best Friends: Nerida Roberts, Grace Pinch-Smedley, Ominis Gaunt, Adelaide Oakes, Anne Sallow

Rivals: Imelda Rayes

Enemies: Ranrok, Victor Rookwood, Ashwinders

Pets:

Ladybird Spider named Lily

All her bees

A full nest of Fwoopers

4 Nifflers - Quartz, Obsidian, Copper & Tin-Tin

2 Kneezles - Knee & Zazzy

2 Unicorns - June & August (Golden)

2 Hippogriff - Ares (Tawny) & Highwing

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Outside Character Inspirations

Cher Horowitz - Clueless

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

Elora Danan - Willow TV series

Willow Rosenberg - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Lexi Howard - Euphoria

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Shout out to the HL peep here on Tumblr that inspired me to do this. I lost their post and can’t find it now for some reason. So I apologize for not having you tagged, but thank you for inspiring me to get all my information out about my darling! If I ever get around to editing & typing up her true background, I will edit this to include. For now, here is my baby girl. Please enjoy her!

[isimchi]

Of the Earth: A Brown-Eye-Centric Eye Default!

Hiiiii! I made these for my own game to compliment @eulaliasims's lovely darker default skin sets of @withlovefromsimtown's awesome birthday suit skins! I haven't seen a default eye set that uses these color choices yet, so I know it's not popular, but I've decided to share it just in case someone else would like to use them.

I used Oepu's Default Maxis Match Eyes textures, added it to a maxis match AlfredAskew sclera, and edited the colors using my own semi-realistic swatch. Full preview at the end of this post! Color-wise, this set replaces: •dark blue with black •light blue with amber brown •gray with hazel •emerald green with a earthier tone •light brown with a deeper shade Defaults come in two versions: Maxis match iris size or semi-realistic iris size. Only choose one.

‣Download: Defaults (MF) | Alt (SFS)

Since there’s no blue eye defaults, I've included 3 as add-ons! Choose between custom or geneticized/townified (Very recessive! Genetic value: 2.75), and Maxis match iris size or semi-realistic iris size. They're labeled and packaged individually.

‣Download: Blue Custom/Gen (MF) | Alt (SFS)

credits: •@oepusims for their MM default eye textures. •AlfredAskew for her sclera texture.

Full previews:

[nightguide]

LAST DAY:

(shades: from web)

4 PAN: BEGINNERS AWARENESS (THE OPENER: SURAH AL FATIHAH)

R-14:

smwc: worn when least expect it (drama)

sh: worn only when you cancel out the the colours in the middle (worn with the shimmers to make a heartbreak connection with singular)

sh8: never worn alone (you look good with or without choice)

CELESTIAL:

smwc: overlays the eyes (works with all skin tone, stfu)

sh: never alone or make the inner corners pop out (or brow bone) effective as a highlighter as well or work with blush to conceal appeal (minimal)

sh8: wear it with your lips to amplify your lipstick (instagram slut shame)

C-123:

smwc: universal colour. works well with every garment you're wearing knowing your creativity stems there, works heavily well to make neutral colours look there if used with other makeup products to dim down the green to match or alter, but successful innovations are making it look renowned to be owned with the palette only is how i (creator) would find you appealing my image like you (found friend)

sh: do what you want with it but you can also make browns with it but never make it look that bad enough (inner child) for your inner teenager look good to be (with CELESTIAL) to make that appeal look good with the outfit you're wearing (it does not have to make sense with the mood you're wearing that makes makeup artists look that 'bad' for not finding matching colours with the desi outfits you're linking to than being yourself (people pleasing behaviours, avoid that)

sh8: i don't like you using it like that (energy of the palette)

OLIVE:

smwc: don't even try and judge me for what i do for a living (my sole rage is in this shade by a glance which is why colour is my Qur'an than single shade wastes of humans i seen before my dream came true)

sh: i don't like you (you may see me or not but my standards were too sharp before i got married and that never changed (my inner teenager)

sh8: why i'm famous is why i directed you here (you wanted my website for nothing and this is you *spits* get a job, .. bastard)

SMWC: illuminating the eyes like wearing your soul because nothing matters anymore (10 years after the event of the day that changed your life energy) and you still feel the same as your teenage self (true life was there)

SH: you almost died and you were true to yourself at the end is how you believe in the books consuming you

SH8: death to birthdays

actors hell: made to deny signs just by being there, you're never there to wear what originally customs your skin than your appeal in knowing the creator is why you hate wearing it because you were there and it is evident in you being there

harbinger's: you don't like everybody and it shows cuz your standards have appeal than you believing in the appeal, so you shown up for the food and you were true to yourself that you took care of the world after you were never meant to be born (how you felt before that day changed your life) is your humility coming to light than making changes in little things that you'd come back always feeling the same (wedding day events)

maestro become: ethnic background is me (Pakistani British woman growing up in the UK now 25 years old)

dantes paradox: i will always be the same (even after i'm married) so you see me like someone who is deep and mysterious and all the round, like my father, a deep conspiracy theorist knowing what it's like being humour in your life making me (so you know who you are looking at me and wondering about my fashion design career, you know now how much i felt about you being me at the same time, so all i wear is you back to me that i made special about you living in it (Barbie's world)

judgement day: i am deeply angered about the conventions of being thrown into the settlement of nature itself (planet Earth is dying)

gaimans hell: i don't care why i'm here, i just want to have fun

babylon unbroken: your story is as good as mine (what we all want is raucous fun that goes everywhere than staying on the same page going nowhere but indecent plot twists in making sense is tormenting on verbal censorship in relying against old treasures for new facts)

kingdom come: it feels like Bollywood anger stemming from Shah Rukh Khan in Devdas (he drives an insane point to continue the arts of aristocracy without condescending the point of ascension is violent aesthetic plays at weddings that does not feel surreal but the ambience of theatre is always there to monologue the scenario of a real life wedding than being it of the question of a dramatic internal monologue of what shouldn't be that is not even in the act but is part of their lives taken too rough when it's always behind closed doors scenario is Bollywood taken to hostage of a Hollywood scenario switching doors to make room for neuro-divergents getting their wealth well spent than making poor couples make shitty rich ends meet ending religion than beginning it (the hypocrisy of couples making ends meet is social tribunes to state 'wanting' for family business than people growing tired of having kids (their future is the parental wealth of making grandparents 'risk the all' for now a Jehovah's Witness relationship to begin to 'sell what doesn't comply' is why jobs now have lawsuits to make home grown businesses meet more social compliance is moral compass than reaction arcs of the hearts of the dream is how SRK is angered by default in the known world of Hollywood having 'the greatest ending' is common sense meeting your affliction to a dream (country of the latter gets a raise in making their world theirs now by studio intuition is camera rivalry)

pythagorean theorem: you knew who's daughter i am (why i'm so special to you than me saying it is how i made ends meet instantly is me knowing it (my wonder) is knowing who made you made me (who you knew before i was born)

[unknown-writez]

✨The Traveler and The Jester ✨

Chapter one: Strange places and meetings

Part one

In the dream I could smell the earth tones of the forest. I could hear the trees groaning as they swayed and the animals in them cooing and chirping. I felt the cool breeze on my skin along with crunchy dried leaves under me as I laid eyes closed in the middle of a clearing. When I found myself ready to wake up I couldn’t shake the sensation of it all. opening my eyes slowly I was met with the color orange as bright autumn leaves came into view. confusion ranked my mind as I sat up the leaves sticking to my hair and clothes. looking around I noticed I was actually in a clearing. The forest surrounding me was created by all different types of tall trees: cedar, pine and some I didn’t know the names of. looking up I noticed the sunset colored sky littered with a thousand stars. It was all beautiful and peaceful that is it would be if I knew what was going on. How did I get here? Are there any woods even in my area? I live in the city. I asked myself questions in disbelief but no matter what I was still here in the middle of nowhere. a great caw coming from one of the trees broke my racing thoughts. turning towards it I stood up coming eye to eye with a big black raven perched on a branch in a not so far away tree. it’s dark green, almost black eyes twinkling with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Suddenly a cold gust of wind moved through the air and the weather started to change, the atmosphere growing darker. slowly from out of the woods fog started to seep into the clearing filling up the area till my feet were clouded from my vision the air turning damp with mist. Looking back at the large bird it suddenly took flight, its talons bare cawing as it headed straight towards my face. Its feathered wings licking my head barely missing me as I instinctively ducked not trying to get hit. at the last minute the bird flew upwards over my head quickly i shot my head back up and spun around trying to track the bird with my eyes but as the raven flew its flight pattern changed suddenly once again speeding downwards dramatically it headed straight for the ground till it disappeared into the fog. I had expected a crashing sound, a hurt caw anything but in the moment there was nothing but silence. confusion spread across my features and mind as I just stared in disbelief at the floor. I must be trippin ', I thought or maybe I’m still dreaming? raising my hand I brought it to my arm pitching myself hoping it would wake me up to no avail. nope. definitely not dreaming I confirmed in my head as I sighed giving into defeat and put my hands on my hips trying to come up with my next course of action. “You know most people don’t usually sleep in the middle of the woods.” a male voice said from behind me. In one swift movement I grabbed a stick nearby, turning to the person to whom the voice belonged. pointing it at them in a warning as my eyes started to investigate the guy a few yards away from me. He looked around my age, his lean muscular body a few inches taller than me with fiery red hair that was overgrown and stuck up in different directions. His pale skin was littered with freckles, he had sharp bone structure and pointy ears almost like an elf. his bright green animated eyes pouring into mine with excitement and curiosity flashing behind them. He was handsome in a mystical ethereal way. looking him up and down I noticed his weird attire. he wore green velvety pants with patchwork on it and a matching tunic that was laced up tied in the front with some brown rope. he had brown leather boots, some accessories and a matching brown leather belt with two holsters on it that carried two long glowing golden daggers that shined at his sides. Them being the last and most important thing I noticed.

[runa-falls]

Em I did not come to say hello in very very long time (woopsies ahah) but ANYWAY i've been seeng your 123 celebration going on and i came to say hi and congrats on all the milestones!!!!!! I'M VERY PROUD OF YOU FOR ALL OF IT!!!

anyway im meant to be writing but lmao here we are?

LETS PLAY!!

shipping game: send me a brief description of yourself (preferably your pronouns [so i don't get it wrong!], hobbies, likes/dislikes, personality, etc.) and i'll match you with one of my blorbos! -- also include if u want some spice 🌶️ or not!

ok ok so. um.

I use she/her pronouns, I've got big wavy hair that has a bit of a curl to it. I used to do competitive swimming/general swim classes for about 7-8 years until Covid (meaning: my poor. poor. poor. hair.). I am average height at 5'5 and a bit, and I've got big brown eyes. I struggle a LOT to find good clothing cuz I'm very heavily on the curvy side and dress modestly, but I tend to be a little extra with my clothing and like to dress up for the smallest occasions (like. i will go to the mall. in an evening gown. i dont care.) I looove collecting things like rocks, old records and specifically pins- I wear a hijab so I adooooore collecting little things I can use to pin it with. Super fun. I love cooking but I hate cleaning up after, I sleep in a lot, and I love to read romance books. My favourite colour is green, and I dress in a lot of earth tones, and I am heavily touch starved, my love language is....I think physical touch or gifts cuz I loove making things for people!! I write a lot, fanfiction and novels (less on the novels lmao). Ummm, I loove parties and social gatherings, and I like someone by me who enjoys going on adventures and exploring the world (biggest history nerd you will meet its so bad)

ANYWAY THATS ENOUGH WOW AHAHAHHA

anyway i love you mwah mwah mwah mwah

-Clem

HI CLEM :D

i ship you with: miguel o'hara :))

i feel like miguel was a lot more sociable when he was happy so he'd love to have you on his arm when you two attend parties and shit.

miguel loves it when you dress up. he doesn't need to see a SPECK of skin to get riled up for you LOL. he 100% hypes you up whenever you get ready "there's my girl 😍" (he's a simp). you have to physically push him away before he ruins your make up and wrinkles your clothes bc he's so needy ugh.

miguel also loves giving gifts to show his affection. he's the type of guy to randomly give you little pins for your hijab or a record by an artist he's seen you listen to. he also loves to have you in his arms. he's a protective guy and having someone who's a foot smaller makes him FERAL. not to mention his love for curves :3

mig is open to traveling, but both of his jobs (scientist/spiderman) kinda keep him in one general area. he'd probably make exceptions for you tho (SIMP). mig can cook for you, but he loves your food so he usually ends up cleaning up anyway. he's an early riser so the kitchen is clean for you every morning!

[asksuccubussides]

(Hi, me again.)

I’d like to go with you if it isn’t a bother. I can just scuttle around the walls while you talk to Emile.

Sketch

"Alrightie. Come on lil buddy"

Remus got up from his bed and it was quite noticeably that he'd recently eaten in his unsual demon way. With his skin less pale and his movements less slow and shaky he looked a lot more like Roman, which he would probably vehemently deny.

You followed along the long white halls that made up the succubi living quarters. He made a sudden turn into something that looked like a mix between a library and an office. It stood out from the rest of the halls since it was bathed in warm earth tones. Brown floors and bookcases mixed with green desks and beige mats.

A succubus was sitting up on one of the desks with their back turned against Remus and you. Remus got a mischevious grin on his lips as he put his finger against his mouth to make you shush.

"That's Reeeemmmmyyy! Let's spook the guts out of them!" He was half whispering even if he fully knew they couldn't hear him.

He sneaked on the tips of his toes while laughing. His tail was swinging back and forth behind him out of evil excitement. He stopped right behind Remy and got ready to pounce when Remy suddenly turned around and smacked him on the forehead like a sibling would.

Remus' mouth hung agape for a moment before exclaiming "HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS COMING!?!? You sneaky fuck! You ruined my scare!"

While he talked he signed every third word or so with his hands. He had a bad habit of skipping signs when he got filled with any sort of extreme emotion.

'I could still see your shadow Ridiot' Remy signed back, signing the letter R before idiot to indicate it was such an idiotic move only one of the R twins could have been behind it.

'Gonna lock my shadow up before jumping on you next time' Remus rembered you were stil there and told you directly "This is Remy by the way. They're a silly bitch with brocoli growing out of their ass and-"

'I can still read lips RIDIOT!' Remy interrupted, making their hand movements bigger to show they were doing the sign language equivalent of yelling.

"And they're deaf so please think of that if you're gonna speak to them" He covered his mouth before continuing so Remy couldnt read his lips "Andasillybitch" He moved his hand away again signed to Remy 'This is sketch. She's one of those weird sunglassed non demons that keep popping up'

He held you up like you were a tiny dog or a ferret. You got a good look at Remy. Their stark white hair stood out the most, you hadn't seen any demons with non human hair colors so far. They wore sunglasses that hid their eyes and their blue horns looked a bit like a rams. Their skin was so pale it took almost a blueish tone that matched with their blue and black clothes.

Remy waved hello to you while giving a relaxed smile.

'You here to talk with Emile?' The sign for Emile was one they'd made up. It was like a mix of the signs for honey and babe. 'Cause you sure as hell wasn't here yesterday when you should have. Y'know Orange's gonna super bitch about that on the next meeting'

Remus waved it off "Yeah Yeah. I'll gnaw off his feet and feed the toes to crows or something"

Remy's expression softened a little as they asked 'Were you on earth?'

He nodded. They silently bumped their forehead against his, they knew he was only on earth if he had to do his job.

They stood up and let him lean his head against theirs as he followed them a bit further into the room where Emile Picani had his desk set up.

Emile was focused on writing something with a pen with a lil elephant eraser on the top of it. He had a beanbag as a chair, a stitch plushie watching from the top of a stack of books and his desk was decorated with stickers from various cartoons.

He shone up like the sun when he saw the three of you. Remy made place for themself on his lap and kissed his cheek. He had a fluffy afro and long reddish horns that nearly created a circle around the top of his head, like a saint. He wore loose brown soft clothes and a bright pink tie.

"Remus! Just the demon I've been looking for" Emile scrambled to find his glasses and report card in the mess that was his desk "Ready to give your monthly report?"

"No I'm ready to assasinate the both of you..Kidding uhuhahauhhhghh...." He let out a sigh "I've seduced 4 humans this month"

"Aw buddy. You must be hungry" Emile commented like he usually did while writing it down "I'm sure you're just a late bloomer. You'll find someone that tingles your tongle someday. The latest bloomed flowers are the prettiest"

"Yeah...I'm aiming for a venus fly trap"

Remy and Emile are now open for asks!

[missrosiesworld]

The Space Between Us

This short story is a three-part story following my OC, Amara Silva, as she confronts the painful reality of her relationship with Joey Wheeler. Buried emotions and unspoken fears come to a breaking point, forcing Amara to question if love alone is enough. This story explores themes of insecurity, longing, and the struggle to be seen, but above all, it’s about two hearts trying to find their way back to each other. I hope you enjoy the journey. 💛

The air in Joey’s modest apartment was thick, weighed down by tension that had been simmering for weeks, if not months. The small living room, usually filled with the warmth of Joey’s laughter or the playful banter between him and Amara, felt colder tonight despite the soft glow of the lamp in the corner. 

Amara stood near the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her caramel skin glowing faintly under the dim light. The soft sway of her bohemian-chic outfit—a golden crocheted crop top with fringe details and a pair of dark, high-waisted shorts—was at odds with the turmoil inside her. A patterned duster with warm earth tones draped loosely around her shoulders, its ends trailing slightly as she shifted, her body tense with emotion. Her lilac curls, styled half-up and half-down, framed her face, bouncing slightly as she shook her head in disbelief. Her sage-green eyes, usually so full of warmth and affection, now shimmered with unshed tears, glistening with hurt and frustration.

Joey stood in the middle of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets, his golden-brown eyes fixed on his sneakers, as though the scuffed soles and worn laces might provide some sort of answer he couldn’t find anywhere else. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt with a blue stripe across the chest, the fabric clinging slightly to his frame from the lingering heat of the day. His faded blue jeans hung comfortably on his frame, slightly creased from sitting earlier, but now they felt stiff, almost constricting under the weight of the conversation. His sneakers, slightly worn from running around the city, scuffed against the floor as he shifted his weight, his posture tense, his usual confidence replaced with unease.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me hanging again?” Amara’s voice pierced through the tense silence, trembling with emotion. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her knuckles brushing against the fringed hem of her crocheted crop top as if grounding herself. Her sage eyes burned, shimmering with frustration, hurt, and barely restrained tears. “The second Mai calls, you drop everything. Every single time, Joey. What about me? Do I even matter?”

Joey looked up at her sharply, the guilt flashing in his golden-brown eyes like a fleeting storm. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to apologize, like he understood the gravity of her words. But just as quickly, that guilt hardened into defensiveness, his jaw tightening as his brows furrowed.

“Amara, it ain’t like that!” His voice came out louder than he intended, rough around the edges. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he struggled to explain. “She needed me—”

“She always needs you!” Amara interrupted, her voice rising as the dam holding back her emotions finally started to crack. She took a step forward, the movement sharp, almost defiant, her gold bangles jingling faintly with the force of it. “And you’re always there for her! Every time, no matter what!” Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breath hitched, the weight of her feelings pressing down on her like a tidal wave. “What about me, Joey? I need you too! I’ve needed you, but you’re never here when it counts because you’re too busy running to her!”

“That’s not fair!” Joey shot back, his voice growing louder to match hers, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He took a step toward her, his sneakers scuffing against the floor as his hands flew out of his pockets, gesturing wildly. “Mai’s been through a lot, alright? She doesn’t have anyone else!”

Amara sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening as the sting of his words hit her square in the chest. For a moment, she was too stunned to speak, the sheer audacity of what he had just said leaving her breathless. But then, the hurt morphed into something else—something sharper, angrier.

“And I haven’t?” Her voice cracked on the last word, trembling as tears threatened to spill. She took another shaky step forward, the movement causing her lilac curls to sway, the soft strands bouncing with the force of her emotions. It was almost poetic—the way her hair, usually so full of life, moved freely while she felt like she was falling apart inside. “I’ve been through hell too, Joey.” Her voice softened for a moment, heavy with the pain of her memories, before rising again, sharp as glass. “But I don’t get to call you up whenever I feel like it and expect you to drop everything for me. I don’t get that luxury, do I? Because I’m not her.”

Joey blinked, visibly recoiling at the bitterness in her tone. “That’s not true, Amara!” he snapped, his voice rough and desperate as his hands flew up in exasperation. His body was tense, his frustration evident in every jerky movement. “You’re makin’ this into somethin’ it ain’t!”

Amara let out a bitter laugh, a sound so cold, so unlike her usual warmth, that it made Joey flinch. “Really?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She tilted her head slightly, her curls bouncing as her sage-green eyes locked onto his with anger and heartbreak. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m just a placeholder. A stand-in for someone you actually care about. Someone you’ve always cared about.”

Joey’s eyes widened, and he instinctively reached out, his fingers brushing the air near her wrist but stopping just short, as if he wasn’t sure if he still had the right to touch her. “Amara, that ain’t true! You mean somethin’ to me—”

“Do I?” Her voice cracked again, softer this time, but no less devastating. This wasn’t anger anymore. This was raw, unfiltered pain.

A single tear slid down her cheek, glistening like a shard of broken glass in the dim light. But she didn’t bother wiping it away. She didn’t care if he saw her cry. Let him see the damage he had done. Let him feel it.

“Because I’ve stood by you through everything, Joey,” she said, her voice trembling as more tears threatened to fall. “When Mai left, I was there. When you doubted yourself, I was the one who told you how incredible you are. I was the one who believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself. But none of that seems to matter the second she shows up.”

Joey opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. He ran a hand through his disheveled blonde hair, his frustration mounting as he tried to find something—anything—to say that would make this right.

Amara’s voice softened, but the weight of her pain clung to every word. Her hands gripped the fabric of her flowing duster, fingers curling into the soft material as if grounding herself against the storm building inside her. “Do you even love me, Joey?” Her voice wavered, raw and vulnerable, a quiet tremor lacing her words. “Or am I just… convenient?”

Joey’s breath hitched at the question, something in his chest tightening painfully. His jaw clenched, the muscles twitching as he stared at her, the air between them heavy with something unspoken—something neither of them had been ready to face until now. His fists clenched at his sides, frustration mounting as emotions swirled inside him, tangled and confusing. He loved her—God, he did—but the fear of losing her, of messing it all up, had twisted his feelings into knots he didn’t know how to untangle.

But instead of saying that, instead of giving voice to the truth burning in his throat, he blurted out something sharp, something defensive, something he didn’t mean.

“You’re bein’ ridiculous, Amara.” His voice came out harsher than he intended, rough with frustration. “What do you want me to say? That I shoulda ignored Mai? That I shoulda just let her deal with everything alone?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Amara flinched as if he had struck her. The color drained from her face, her sage eyes widening, the pain flickering through them so tangible it sent a sharp pang of guilt straight through his chest. Her breath caught, shoulders stiffening, but she recovered quickly, her expression shifting into something unreadable—something cold, closed off.

The hurt in her gaze deepened, but she refused to cry again, refused to let the lump in her throat win. Instead, she took a trembling step back, as if physically recoiling from him, as if putting distance between them might shield her from the way his words had cut her open.

“No, Joey.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of a breaking heart. Her arms wrapped around herself, as if trying to hold in the ache threatening to swallow her whole. “I want you to care about me the way you care about her.” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. “But you can’t, can you?”

Joey exhaled sharply, running both hands through his messy blonde hair, fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. The weight of her words pressed down on him, suffocating, drowning, but he didn’t know how to stop it, how to fix it.

So instead of saying what he should have said—I love you, Amara. I’m scared of how much I love you—he let the panic, the frustration, the fear take over.

“I can’t do that, Amara!”

The words snapped from his lips, sharp and final, like a slammed door.

And just like that, the last piece of her heart shattered.

Amara froze, the weight of his response slamming into her like a sudden, unforgiving wave. The air seemed to shift, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on her chest as her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted slightly, her sage-green eyes widening, searching Joey’s face for some kind of explanation—some sign that she had misheard him. But there was nothing. No immediate reassurance. No desperate attempt to take it back.

Her delicate gold earrings, which usually caught the light when she laughed, now glinted dully as she turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable except for the pain flickering behind her eyes. Her lashes fluttered, blinking away the disbelief, her mind scrambling to make sense of what she had just heard.

Her voice, when it finally came, was barely a whisper—fragile, trembling with heartbreak. “You… can’t care about me?”

Joey’s eyes widened, the color draining from his face as the full impact of his words hit him like a punch to the gut. “No,” he rushed out, panic creeping into his voice, his hands coming up as if trying to physically pull the words back. “That’s not what I meant! I just—”

But Amara was already stepping back, retreating as if she had touched a flame and been burned. Her arms crossed over her chest, instinctively protecting herself, shielding her heart from any more damage.

The light fabric of her duster shifted as she moved, the colors—a mixture of warm sunset hues—suddenly feeling ironic, as if the warmth she had once felt in this space had faded completely, swallowed by the cold distance now between them.

“That’s exactly what it sounded like, Joey.” Her voice was hushed, yet somehow it carried the full weight of her devastation. The raw emotion in her words sent another wave of guilt crashing over him. “I’ve stood by you, loved you, and you’re telling me you can’t care about me?”

Joey shook his head desperately, stepping forward, his movements jerky, almost frantic. “No, Amara, you don’t understand!” His voice was rising now, bordering on desperate. “I care about you more than anyone! That’s why… that’s why this is so hard for me!”

Her curls bounced as she shook her head, her sage eyes now brimming with unshed tears. She let out a soft, shaky laugh—one with no joy, no warmth—just a bitter edge that made Joey’s chest tighten. “You care about me more than anyone,” she repeated, voice breaking, “but I’m still not enough? You can’t even say it outright, can you? You can’t tell me that I’m more than just an afterthought to you.”

Joey clenched his fists at his sides, frustration bleeding into his voice. “That’s not what I’m saying!” His voice cracked, his emotions unraveling at the seams. “I’m trying to tell you that you mean more to me than—”

“Than what?” she interrupted sharply, her voice rising to meet his. “Than Mai? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it, Joey. You can’t even put me first for once. And now you’re saying you can’t?”

Her words cut deeper than he ever thought possible, carving straight through his chest. Joey staggered back a step, his breath uneven, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her but didn’t know if he had the right anymore.

“Amara, please,” he rasped, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. He reached out, fingers hovering near her wrist, aching to pull her back. “You’re twisting this—”

“I’m not twisting anything!” she cried, her voice raw, trembling with pain that she couldn’t hold back any longer. Her gold bangles jingled faintly as she threw her hands up, her entire body trembling. “I hear you loud and clear, Joey. You can’t care about me. You don’t want to. And honestly?” Her voice dropped lower, breaking completely, her next words shattering what little resolve she had left.

“I’m done begging you to.”

The tears that had threatened to spill finally did, and she turned quickly, grabbing her brown leather bag from the couch with trembling hands. As she moved toward the door, she paused, her back to him, her voice low and filled with heartbreak. 

“I thought I was enough for you. I thought you’d see me the way I see you. I guess I was wrong.”

Joey stood frozen, his hands falling to his sides as she opened the door. “Amara, wait—” he started, but his voice faltered as she walked out, the sound of the door clicking shut behind her reverberating in the now-empty room.

Joey’s apartment had never felt so silent.

[ofskysanddragonsandstars]

Shili head canons

While I enjoyed TOTJ, making Shili as a green wooded forest frustrates me. there were so many missed opportunities. Come on, Filoni, togruta are colorful and apex predators, why wouldn’t they blend in with their environment? So excuse my ramblings while I write out my ideas. 

Environment:

Keeping with the forest theme (because I do like that), the grass is actual turu grass from Legends (or fanon, whichever). So instead of green, it is colorful with red, orange, pale green and more. It matches the skin tones of the togruta, which is how they hunt because they blend in with the environment. It’s evolutionary camo! If the turu grass gets tall enough, the top will turn into blue, grey, purple - to match the white and color change of the lekku. 

Now the trees can be tall too. I actually like this idea. With how nimble Ahsoka is, you bet togruta climb trees all the time. Now, since TOTJ has the trees as evergreens (or at least look like them), I’m assuming there are lots of branches, furthering my idea of togruta as tree climbers. Again, keeping with a colorful environment, the leaves are not green, and instead are orange or red. The bark can still be brown though (not quite sure what I would call the evergreens though - evercolors?) 

Okay, so Earth has regional climates and Obi-Wan confirmed oher plants are the same way (”and this is the planet’s tropical zone” - the snarkiness of this man). Since we saw Pav-ti and other togruta in layered clothing, I’m also assuming Ahsoka’s hometown is located in a colder climate. There are changing seasons, but it does not get hot (say average summertime heat is 75-80 degrees fahrenheit). Which would be the reason Ahsoka wears revealing clothing. TPM has Anakin admit to space being cold, but if Ahsoka’s biology is naturally inclined to colder climates, the cold space wouldn’t bother her. And we see in episode A Friend in Need, Ahsoka does not shiver on Carlac (okay, it could be argued about it was adrenalin, but she had no problem taking her parka off before the fight). In warmer climates, togruta wear similar clothes we see Ahsoka wear in the earlier seasons (tube tops, strapless, open back, sleeveless, etc), which is why Ahsoka does not adopt Jedi Robes, because it is too warm. Using this logic for Shaak Ti, it would mean Shaak Ti is from warmer regions from Shili, which is why she wears Jedi robes, but in the video game The Force Unleashed, on Felucia Shaak Ti wears revealing clothing as well (yes, it obviously catered to horny video game players, but this is my fix-it, so idc). 

Okay, let’s talk about the warmer climates. It would almost be an antithesis. The turu grass is the only thing that remains the same. The trees would be shorter and not evergreens (evercolors? I need a name). Instead, I picture the warmest climates being swamp-like with vines. Depending on location to bodies of water, some locations would be a bayou. The vines and shorter limbs change the tree climbing style used. 

Skin tone/colors: 

During the Zygerria arc and TOTJ, we see many different colored togruta. So my follows human melani. The more exposure to sunlight, the darker the skin tone is. This explains how both Ahsoka and Shaak Ti have similar skin tones but Ahsoka is lighter due to her heritage in a colder climate. As for skin colors, that’s evolutionary camo! (no one can sway me from evolutionary camo) 

Akul: 

Anyone else disappointed in the beast that snatched baby ‘Soka? Come on, the teeth were different! Yeah, so I’m not considering that an akul. Obviously if togruta are predators, they are has to be more than one dangerous creator. So for now, I’m calling it a Shili tiger (if Filoni can label wolves as a Loth Wolf, then I can do the same). So this Shili tiger is big and dangerous. Pav-ti was on high alert and it caused chaos for the village. Those people were ready to go after that tiger. That means akuls are even more dangerous, highlighting the skills Ahsoka and Shaak Ti have to take down an akul. So, my idea is that akuls also hunt alone, like the Shili tiger did in TOTJ. But I also want to use Pav-ti’s words about how everything lives and dies (balance of the force, anyone?) So, hunting to simply kill an animal is taboo. There has to be legitimate reason to kill an animal (hunt for food - kybuck, or to get Ahsoka back from the Shili tiger). So, that means when Ahsoka and Shaak Ti killed an akul, it was in self-defense or to protect others. And to make the teeth into a headband? That is a deterrent for akuls to hunt them when they are outside the village. I like to think that akuls are the most dangerous animal on shili not only due to strength or stealth, but also because of its knowledge of togruta. Perhaps togruta are its favorite meal. This could lead to religious aspects of togruta culture (that’s something I’ll come back too later)

Physiology of the akul: large, triangular golden teeth seen on the headbands, scale-like body rather than fur (makes it harder to cut), and really good night vision eyes. (More ideas can be added here but i’m not a zoologist - any takers?)

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TedTalk about a fictional world. I have many more ideas that I want to flesh out but these were the most prominent. I really want to explore possibilities for Shili culture - like why do they have a colony on Kiros, what religion they have, marriage and family dynamics, matriarchal society, rites of passages, other traditions that Pav-ti follows and why they are “old ways”, egalitarianism, the jobs relating to hunting and art clashing on fundamentals of peace vs hunting, and the social hierarchy 

[pityroadart]

What are the most important colours in a watercolour case? (Feel free to infodump beyond this question, please)

Hello, that all depends on your subject matter and how you like to paint! Are you going to be painting portraits so need some easy ways to mix a wide range of skin tones? Are you a landscape painter who enjoys having a few convenience greens and browns on their palette? Do you like your paints to granulate, or be easily liftable, or be excellent at glazing/staining? And when will you be using the palette - is it a small travel-sized one where you've got to be quite economical with the paints you choose, or is it a larger palette for use at the studio or at home? Is lightfastness a concern for you?

When I'm building a palette though, I base it around a split-primary palette — so a warm and cool version of each colour. This plus at least one earth colour (burnt sienna or burnt umber) and one convenience neutral (paynes gray or neutral tint) are probably the most important things to have in your watercolour collection in my opinion, especially if you're wanting to focus on colour mixing!

So my basic 8-colour palette would be something like:

cool (greenish) yellow: maybe hansa yellow light, or if like me you're not a big fan of regular yellows, a PY129 (often called green gold or rich green gold) is almost green in masstone but diluted to a lovely and functional cool yellow

warm (orangey) yellow: my favourite would be a quinacridone gold hue - either Schmincke (PR101 + PY150) or Daniel Smith or Roman Szmal (both PY150 + PO48) since they're a slightly earthier but vibrant orangey-yellow, but any warm yellow will do! Other common alternatives are new gamboge, hansa yellow medium, etc

warm (orangey) red: my absolute favourite currently is a PR255 (Daniel Smith pyrrol scarlet or Schmincke vermillion), but other common alternatives include cadmium red light (or cad red light hue), or any slightly orange-leaning red you can get your hands on

cool (purpley) red: a common choice here is a quinacridone rose PR122 or PV19, particularly if you'd be doing botanical painting, but my favourite is a PR254 pyrrol red - a postbox or fire engine red, so not particularly cool, but I really enjoy it with the quin gold in skintone mixes. Another option could be to have a middle red such as this AND a cool pinky-red on your palette.

warm (purpley) blue: the obvious choice for this one is an ultramarine PB29, a colour I think pretty much every watercolourist owns. This is a granulating pigment, but some brands such as Schmincke also offer a less-granulating version (Schmincke ultramarine finest) if you're wanting a smoother colour, or a French ultramarine for heavy granulation. I have both on my palette for different purposes.

cool (greenish) blue: the most common choice is a phthalo blue green shade PB15:3, but I much prefer the slightly cooler phthalo turquoise PB16 (Schmincke helio turquoise) - partly because I enjoy the colour and partly because it neutralises with my warm red PR255 beautifully. If you've gone for a cadmium red light as your warm red, try a cerulean as your cool blue to neutralise and match the cadmium's softness.

brown earth colour: I use this to neutralise with ultramarine and make a beautiful soft black, so my choice would be burnt umber, but burnt sienna works just as well (and is possibly more versatile)! Try and get either of these as a PBr7 pigment if you haven't already, as they tend to have the richest colours and cleanest mixes. Other options could be a quinacridone burnt orange PO48 (which I also have on my palette) , or an Indian/Venetian/English Red PR101, but see which neutralises best with your warm blue. A brown earth is also very useful for mixing darker skin tones, so bear that in mind when choosing.

neutral colour: this is a convenience (multiple-pigment, ready mixed) dark neutral colour that can be used to darken other mixes and in place of black. It's also great for monochromatic studies! Sure you can mix your own with ultramarine and burnt sienna/umber, but I get through a Lot of it so it makes sense for me to have a ready mixed version. Common options are paynes grey (a blue-leaning dark grey), or neutral tint (more neutral of course), but on my main palette I just mixed ultramarine finest and burnt umber together in one well to get my own custom mix. A thing to decide here is if you'd like your neutral dark colour to granulate or not!

These are my personal palette essentials, but everyone is different, so the best thing is to test things out and see what works.

Other resources:

I have a short (but continually growing) YouTube playlist on palette building that could be useful too, and Kim Crick has a great feature on essential colours on her pigment database here which I find very useful.

I hope this is of at least a little use!

[be-my-wingman-anytime]

I saw your post about the top gun ships and I was wondering if I could please get one for top gun maverick? I'm a straight female, she/her and I'm 20! I'd like nsfw to be included please!

Physical description - I'm 5'9 and I have long and curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. I have a fair skin tone, I'm slim and I've got full lips and slight dark circles under my eyes. I wear glasses and I have these dimples that I really like. I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats and I love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down!

Hobbies/likes - I love reading, my favorite genres are poetry, Russian lit, and mysteries! I love learning about new things and knowing a little bit of everything, I'm very interested in psychology, history, mythology and folklore, and fashion! I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything! I adore all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies.

Personality description - It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do, I become really talkative and outgoing. I love helping out and I'm the therapist friend, people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'm smart and ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I'm quite the hopeless romantic and I love being in love! I also daydream a lot and I can get lost in my own world for hours. I can be quite dramatic and stubborn and I tend to be withdrawn and distant at times. I get frustrated easily and I'm a little competitive.

I'm an infp and my enneagram is 4w3. My star sign is Taurus.

Thank you very much! I hope you have a lovely day ❤️

I ship you with….

Bob Floyd

You are within perfect kissing height for him.

That, alone, tells me you’re a perfect match!

Imagine all those forehead kisses

How, all he has to do is, is just dip his head slightly to capture your lips with his…

One swift, fluid motion.

….Puts his stealth pilot to good use -wink-

But I digress – Firstly, he fell for your brown eyes. They are deep. He spends all his time in the blue of the sky that, when he looks at you, he feels grounded on earth with those earthy tones of your eyes.

Your eyes are only emphasised by your long, gorgeous hair. Bob didn’t think he had a type. But you came along and suddenly he felt like no other appearance seemed to give him butterflies. Blonde hair? No. Blue eyes? No. Green eyes? Meh. But they weren’t your brown eyes with brown hair combo.

He noticed your eyes before he noticed your glasses (and not at all because I, the shipper, forgot you wrote you wore glasses, shipped you with Bob and then did a re-read and was like ‘Ohhhh glasses!’)

Glasses buddies through and through!

You both become the couple that breaks that normalises wearing glasses.

Yet you both don’t seem to break the stigma that nerdy people wear glasses because he’s a Top Gun Stealth Pilot who’s studying textbooks and undergoing exams etc. You’re a girl who always has her nose in a book because she either likes reading for pleasure or reading for knowledge. Extremely nerdy BUT IN A GOOD WAY! (Fellow Nerd so I’m not hating)

You’re literally the adorable nerd couple. The ones that others, who feel like no one will love them, look up to. You two set the goal.

Actually – that’s how Bob met you! Your friend stood you up at the bar, leaving you alone. But you’re smart. You bought a book with you. So yeah, here you are… in a bar, with a drink, a book, glasses, your hair down, wearing a dress (because you assumed you were going to have a nice time out).

He had watched you from a distance (not creepily). But he also saw that visible feeling he knew too well; the looking around for someone and the disappointment when you realise you’ve been stood up. Hence why you pulled your book out. You paid for a drink, you might as well sip away at it while doing something productive with your time.

Bob quietly approached you in the old-age move of buying himself another drink and, while waiting for his drink to be served, asked what you’re reading,

You’re not stupid. It’s the oldest trick in the book. Without even sparing him a glance, you stated the name of the book and the author.

To your surprise, he recommended a rare book by the same author, stating it was a good read. It’s not one of the author’s well-known works but it’s the type of book you need to give it a chance and you’ll be surprised.

You glanced up and was taken aback by his kind and humble features. You couldn’t help but match his smile, showing your dimples and making him smile more. You were the first to introduce yourself and he introduced himself back as ‘Bob’.

Simply that. Bob. No boasting that he’s the best pilot, or one of the best pilots, no lame-ass pickup lines following. Just humble Bob who seemed to share the same reading interests.

Your book left forgotten as you both conversed over 1…2…3 drinks, which loosened you up to start bantering and throwing playful remarks every now and then, making the two of you laugh and banter.

It was hours, HOURS, before you both decide to finally call it an evening.  But not without exchanging numbers. With alcohol in his system, Bob actually asked for your number!

Sweet, shy Bob… something about you just seemed to either give him an air of confidence, or perhaps he was actually desperate to get to know you.

You both never run out of conversations. There’s always something to talk about, discuss or debate (friendly debate only).

You’re also both content just being in each other’s company without conversation too. It’s a comfortable silence. Him just quietly vibing or reading a book, you off in your own world.

He gives a small nudge or rub to your arm if he needs your attention for something.

Especially if a look of concern washes over your face, especially if you’re overthinking.

You’re the therapist friend to everyone but he’s the therapist friend to you. You can talk to him about anything and everything and he’ll listen and give the most logical advice without it being biased.

You’ve introduced him to a few new books, he’s introduced you to a few knew things he’s read in the past. He doesn’t have as much time to read nowadays with his Top Gun training since he’s been picked to be part of such an elite squad. But you’re fine with that. He’s either taken it on board or he’ll ask you to fill him in and he’ll happily listen to you.

Hangs on every word you’re saying while giving you his undivided attention. Is it him being respectful or him captivated by your eyes? (Both. It’s both).

Dates with you two are a mix of adventure and romantic. Sometimes it’ll be something outdoors-y. Sometimes it’ll be something arty (like, those coffee dates where you grab a coffee together and then you paint a ceramic mug or something). Of course Bob paints a plane on his. But he gives his to you. He may or may not have tried painting a love-heart in the bottom on the inside of the mug (it came out a little wonky because manoeuvring the brush inside the mug was hard, okay?)

No date like this ever seemed silly to Bob. He loved it. And he appreciated that you didn’t hound him with pilot questions or to go for a ride in the plane (he’d get fired for it!). With you, he gets to be just Bob.

He’s your number 1 fan. He’ll support you in any endeavours you do and is always, always proud of you.

A kiss to the cheek and a whispered “I’m proud of you, darling.” Makes you melt.

He’s always adored the intelligence of your mind. And your ambitious spirit. And the way you just want to experience and learning anything and everything you can.

The pet names for Babe/Baby aren’t used. You’re both too mature for that. It feels too…teenager-y to be compared to a pig (Babe the Pig). So you’re content using ‘Darling, love, hon’ for terms of endearment.

You call him Bobby. But only you get to call him Bobby.

A little competition is good between you two. You appreciate that Bob doesn’t let you win simply for being a girl. Bob appreciates that you don’t hold back. You don’t get fiercely competitive but enough to have fun and make it interesting (mini golf etc.)

Bob is all about the sweet little moments. If he walks past you, there’s always a hand that trails over the lower back (kind of like silently saying ‘Hello. I love you.’). He always helps in the kitchen without being asked.

But it’s sweet because he doesn’t always make the first move, but he looks over and gives that little smile that tells you he really wants to do those kitchen kisses couples do in the movies, but he can’t bring himself to do it (too shy or doesn’t want to bother you).

But you know that smile and you’ll look up and smile back. When you don’t drop your gaze, he knows it’s okay to swoop in for a kiss.

Why did he kiss you? Because you’re adorable. And he loves you.

You could be doing the most mundane thing and it’d still be the most attractive thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

Picture this: soft evening, your head resting on the back of the couch, your feet in his lap, one hand gently rubbing your foot, the other holding open a book of poetry as he reads from it. Yes, Bob will read you poetry.

NSFW:

Bob is such a sweet and humble person, that it’ll likely be very vanilla in bed.

I wouldn’t say he’s inexperienced, but he’s just… he hasn’t been with a lot of women. And he’s very cautious with you. Doesn’t want to disappoint you or disrespect you (there’s a lot of stress for men with intimacy too!)

He always checks in with you. Makes sure it’s okay if he does this, or that.

“Is this okay?”, “Tell me to stop, okay?”

But you don’t tell him to stop.

Every soft caress of his fingers, every gentle kiss and tease of his lips and tongues has you withering with pleasure beneath him.

It’s hard to believe he’s not-as-experienced

He spends more time exploring and worshipping your body than he does with letting you do it to him.

He’s awkward.

He loves it when you run your hands over his abs, watching your reaction at how you're amazed by what he has hidden beneath his shirt. But god, does he love it when your fingers get grabby and needy and pull him down.

He loves blowjobs (who doesn’t?) but he doesn’t want to put you in a position where you feel obligated you have to give back what he gave you.

But also who doesn’t love seeing Bob lose control? That sweet, humble boy just moaning sinfully beneath your lips.

His hand lightly gripping your hair because God, isn’t that what long, curly hair is for?

The way his lips part as he lets out breathy little gasps.

You get those gasps near your ear too…

Every single time…without fail…as he sinks deep into you, he watches your face contort with pleasure. He holds back from making any noise until he cant…and that’s when he drops his head and releases a breathy gasp by your ear followed be a moan. You live for that particular moment.

Neither of you ever get tired of that feeling.

He starts of slow.

Pulling breathy gasps from both of you.

His lips hover over yours as both your gasps mingle with each other.

But when he changes pace, without warning, your moan is swept up by him kissing you so you can moan into his mouth.

You cling to him and he loves it when you bite at his shoulders or leave nail indentations around the small of his back.

It’s always romantic love-making. He rarely ever takes you in any ‘dirty’ position such as downward doggy or reverse cowgirl.

But even with his romantic love-making, it’s always rough thrusts in between. The ones that pull the odd curse from both of you.

Neither of you are known to curse but it somehow feels like it’s the only word required with the way Bob sends you over the edge.

You moaning his nickname in his ear is generally what sends him over the edge.

[generallybrontidefeelings]

Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

[thepremedthatwrites]

Insufferable (pt.2)

request: Hi lovely, can you do Peter pevensie x reader imagine, please? The reader meets Pevensies in Narnia, but from the beginning she and Peter can't get along together, lots of arguments, while secretly and slowly developing feelings towards each other they don't want to admit, lot of sexual tension before smth happens but eventually they'll end up together. you can include some smut stuff. Thanks xx

part 1 | part 3

I woke with a start as someone pulled back the blanket.  A pair of warm brown eyes were looking back at me, a soft smile on their face and their curly brown hair hanging down freely.  “Who are you?” I asked, pushing myself up and away from the person.  As I took them in, my eyes caught sight of two small horns sprouting on top of their head and just peeking out of their hair.  “What are you?” I added, my eyes now wide in shock.

“I am Daisy, a faun,” she said, a soft smile on her face.  “High King Peter has requested that I prepare you for breakfast today.”  She put out her hand and I slowly took it as she led me out of my bed and towards another section of the room closed off by deep red curtains.  My shock grew as I saw a pair of goat legs attached to Daisy’s human-like top, her hooves clicking on the stone floor.  The faun grabbed a bucket of water that sat next to a tub that was already halfway filled with water.  “Get undressed,” she commanded as she poured the rest of the water into the tub.

I hesitated, not wanting to expose myself to a complete stranger, especially a stranger that wasn’t human.  “No,” I said, crossing my arms.  The faun let out a sigh as she put the bucket back on the floor.  “I can wash myself.”

“That is not what the high king wants.  He specifically ordered that I wash and dress you.”

“Then I will take it up with him,” I said before turning around and making my way to the door.  Daisy hurried to follow me as I entered the hallway, trying my best to remember the way to King Peter’s room.  

“Miss, you don’t want to do this.  The high king will be very upset,” Daisy started as I reached the double doors that were guarded by two men.  The guards watched the scene unfold as I banged on the wooden door.

“I don’t care how he may feel.  He has no right making me get naked in front of a complete stranger,” I replied.  The door swung open to reveal King Peter who was only wearing brown pants, his top half naked.  I did my best to avoid his toned body, but my brain still subconsciously noticed his strong arms and tight abs.  I focused my eyes on his blue ones as I spoke, doing my best to concentrate on my anger.

“How dare you!”

“How dare I what?” he asked, an amused smile pulling at his lips as his eyes studied my face.

“Do you really think that I would be willing to undress in front of a complete stranger when I hardly even know where I am?  I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“There’s no need to be so angry, darling.  This is only routine for visitors of the royal family.  And if your hair is any indication of how you take care of yourself, I do not think your claim is as true as you believe it to be.”  My hands flew to my hair, combing my fingers through the knotted locks.  King Peter let out a chuckle at this before leaning on the side of the doorway, his arms crossed.  We were only inches away now and I could feel his body heat radiating off of his bare skin.

“Well I,” I started, getting slightly distracted as I felt his eyes watch me intensely.  “I don’t need someone to help me take a bath.  At least let me do that by myself.”

“Alright,” he said to my surprise.  “You can do that by yourself.  But let the faun dress you at least.  You need to look somewhat presentable in public.”

“Fine,” I said.  I turned around to face Daisy, taking a few steps toward her before stopping.  “Daisy,” I said, turning my head to face King Peter.

“What?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“The faun’s name is Daisy,” I explained.  “It might do you some good to know the names of those who serve you, your majesty.”  I turned my head back around before following Daisy back to my room.

Daisy waited in the area of the room with the bed as I bathed behind the curtain.  It felt nice to wash off the dirt and grime that had accumulated from the night before.  As I got out, I grabbed the robe Daisy had laid out for me, tying it tightly around my body as I emerged from behind the curtain.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Daisy said as she brushed my hair.

“Do what?”

“Tell King Peter my name.  I’m not important enough for him to know my name.”

“That’s nonsense,” I said as Daisy put down the brush, her fingers working on putting my hair into an intricate braid.  She would pause every now and then to weave white flowers in with my hair before continuing with the process.  “You are just as important as a guard or even King Peter himself.  Without you, the castle wouldn’t function as smoothly as it does.  Just because you don’t wear a crown doesn’t mean you’re less than.”

“Thank you, miss,” Daisy said.

“Please, call me (y/n).”

“Of course, (y/n).”  Daisy stepped back, handing me a handheld mirror so that I could get a good look at her work.

“Oh Daisy, it’s beautiful,” I said, my voice soft as I admired my hair.  Daisy only nodded, walking over to the wardrobe where I had grabbed the robe the night before and pulling out a purple dress.  

“I’ll wait by the bath while you put it on,” Daisy said, already making her way towards the curtain.

“Thank you.”  I waited till she was behind the curtain to take off the robe and put on the dress.  It hugged my curves before falling down to the floor.  The material was so soft and light that it barely even felt like I was wearing anything.  I let out a small grunt as I tried, and failed, to tie the strings on the back.  “Daisy,” I called out.  She peeked her head from behind the curtain.  “Could you help me tie the strings on the back?”  

Daisy made her way to me, expertly tying the strings, her fingers brushing my bare skin every now and then.  “Thank you,” I said as she stepped back.  “Do I go to join the royal family now?”

“Yes, I’ll lead you to the pavilion.”  I followed Daisy down the hall and out of a door that led out to a beautiful garden.  Butterflies hovered over flowers and green foliage spilled out onto the stone path that led to a small pavilion where a round table sat.  The table was small, only allowing around five people to sit comfortably at it.  I saw Edmund and King Peter sitting there, along with two girls.  Daisy led me down the path.  We came to a halt as we reached the pavilion.

“Thank you for bringing her, Daisy,” Peter said.  I felt my heart warm as I walked to the empty seat between Peter and the girl with long, brown hair.

“It’s my pleasure, your majesty,” Daisy replied, a large grin on her face as she curtseyed before turning around and making her way back to the castle.

“I was starting to worry you weren’t coming,” Edmund said, a large grin on his face.

“I would never offend his majesty like that,” I replied, matching his grin.

“I hope there weren’t any other complications with getting dressed this morning,” King Peter interjected.  I felt my face warm as the grin fell from my face.

“No, there weren’t.”  Edmund looked at both King Peter and I quizzically, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m Susan,” the girl I was sitting next to offered.

“And I’m Lucy,” the other girl said.  “It’s so nice to see that you’re okay.  I was picking flowers in the meadow to make flower crowns and found you laying in the grass.  I was afraid you were dead and ran to get Peter who carried you to the castle.  I apologize for not checking in on you last night.  I was waiting with Peter for you to wake up, but it was getting late and Peter made me go to bed.”

“Thank you for finding me,” I said, offering a small smile.  “And there is no need to apologize, I would hate to have been the reason for you staying up so late.”

“Peter said you are from Earth, is that true?” Susan questioned before taking a bite of a strawberry.

“Yes,” I replied, stealing a glance at Peter who was watching me.  “I didn’t realize you were all talking about me.”

“You are all Peter has been talking about,” Edmund said.  Peter shot him a look before turning to me again.

“I wanted to assure them that you aren’t a threat,” he explained.  I nodded.

“Peter, the king of Telmar is visiting next month.  I have been writing to him for a while, but it seems he does not want an alliance with us.  Perhaps you could talk to him for us and convince him,” Susan said.  I was thankful that the conversation had turned away from me.

“Yes,” Peter said.  “I’ve been thinking of what to do with Telmar.  Maybe a marriage would be the best chance of peace with them.”

“You mean an arranged marriage?” I interjected.  I wanted to laugh at the idea.  “Surely you are joking.”

“Why would I joke about that?”

“Because marriage is supposed to be the joining of two people who are in love, not some political power move between two nations.”

“It’s politics (y/n).  Not everything is going to be pretty in politics,” Peter said.

“It’s stupid is what it is,” I mumbled, playing with the food on my plate.

“Well then, let’s all be grateful that you aren’t a queen.”  I glared at Peter who stared back at me.  His bright blue eyes were slightly narrowed and a hint of amusement shone in them.  Behind that amusement there seemed to be something else, though I wasn’t sure what it was.  At first I thought it may be fear but that wasn’t it.  No, it was curiosity.  As a high king, nobody questioned him so now that there was a random girl in his castle questioning his every move he seemed intrigued, curious.  

I looked away from his eyes as they had become too intense for me.  My heart seemed to be pounding in my chest as my eyes flickered to his nose which was slightly flared, before traveling down to his full lips.  They were a luscious pink and I subconsciously licked my own lips as I looked at his.  I could feel his eyes tracing my own features as well, and I knew his siblings were still there but for a moment it was only me and him.  

It was when I heard a fork clatter with a plate that I broke from the spell, ripping my eyes off of him, instead looking around the table to see both Susan and Edmund wearing large grins on their faces.  “What is it?” Peter asked both of them.  I turned to Peter to see his cheeks were a light pink.  I then turned to Edmund and Susan, Edmund shaking his head as Susan took a long sip of her tea, her eyes darting between Peter and me.

“Nothing,” Susan finally said as she placed the teacup delicately onto the saucer.

[raziroo]

Cotton Candy

Pairing: Lotor x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Saying "Shit" twice

Word count: 2,076 (yay) (also, I edited this, I still need to update the word count)

Author’s Note: I'm crap at writing dialogues, and this is my first time writing for a gay couple. I'm so sorry if it seems forced or unnatural or shitty. Don't be afraid to call me out.

Story Moodboard!

It’s with a grunt of effort that I manage to lift the carton containing the cotton-candy-maker.

‘Here, dad,’ I say as my dad takes the box from my hands. ‘That’s all?’

‘Yep, that’s all of it. We’ll conquer this carnival with our delicious cotton candy,’ I nod, doing jazz hands while saying the last part. Dad chuckles. I grin.

‘Hey, Honey!’ I turn back, squinting to spot where my other dad is in the crowd of bustling people. Where, where…? Yep, there he is – in his embarrassingly brilliant sunshine yellow and bottle green striped shirt and hot pink trousers, a sharp contrast to his natural bright red hair. Don’t say that it can’t look that bright; you’ll never know just how blindingly bright bottle green can really be until you see the shirt my dad’s wearing. And trust me, he usually dresses in simpler tones; such bland tones that you’d be surprised to know he was capable of wearing colourful hues as well. It’s only that he’s very passionate about his job, and so whenever we set up a booth in fetes such as the current one, he never misses to match the shop logo.

‘Hul-lo, father dearest, how seems to go your day?’

‘Oh, quite lovely, if I do say so.’

‘Well, that’s simply charming –’

‘Alright, enough,’ my other, not redhead dad snaps with an exasperated sort of smile on his visage. You see, my not redhead, a.k.a. brown-haired dad happens to be British. And that means that me and dad would rather paint our teeth blue than to not tease him. ‘You both need to shut it and start helping me with the decorations, now. You know I’m trash at all that.’

‘Aw, now don’t get discouraged,’ I say, patting dad on the back. ‘After all, not everyone can be as blessed as me, can they?’

‘Hey, why don’t you go look around for a bit? You’ve been helping out since before I have.’

‘Yeah, he’s right, pet. You should.’

I huff, rubbing my palms on the fabric of my jeans. ‘You guys sure? I’m not tired, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘We’re not worried, we’re just saying you should also get a look, you know? There’s a lot of surprising booths this time around. I mean, there are aliens participating too, so…’

‘Hmm,’ I play with my bottom lip a little, then, ‘yeah, okay. I’ll be back in like, an hour? Forty five minutes? Sound okay?’

‘Sounds great.’

‘Bye, then.’ And with that, I turn on the heels of my Converse, wandering about the pretty stalls and eager children and kissy couples and aliens with curious features.

It really feels bizarre, just how astonishingly fast mankind has accepted the existence of aliens. It seems simultaneously ages and just a day before when conspiracy theorists raged all around the world, presenting baseless theories and concepts as to why and how the three-man squad on the Kerberos mission disappeared. Then came the Galra, bringing along with them global terror – because alien life, intelligent alien life existed and humanity remained oblivious all these millennia, and now they were actually attacking us. It could’ve been, perhaps even was, in some other dimension, the end of Earth. But then a defender appeared; Voltron appeared in all its glory, bringing along with it proof that however much these purple aliens claim that humans are scum of the universe, humans were, in the grand scheme of things, the ones that saved the universe too.

It feels even more puzzling to actually be on a first-name basis with the leader of Voltron; that’s right, I’m personally acquainted with Keith Kogane. It was around six months after him leaving the Garrison did I come across him. He’d been loitering around the neighbourhood, had ended up in a fistfight with some other kids, and along with that a split lip and bruised cheek. I’d been watching. When the fight ended, I (somehow) persuaded him to come along so that I could at the very least provide him with a band-aid.

Long story short, we’d bonded over how our moms were no-shows and how dads were the best and we became surprisingly close friends; the only difference was that after the death of his old man, he lived alone. I’d been adopted by my two current fathers. I told him about how when they’d initially adopted me, I was excruciatingly shy. I wouldn’t even come out of my room except meals. It was only when I came to know that they knew how to make candy floss had I timidly approached them if I could have some, because previously I’d always been grossed out at the thought of having to eat that. I’d overheard this group of kids saying that cotton candy was actually just dyed granny hair, so that’s where that came from.

I love cotton candy now. So much so, that even at the age of twenty-six, I will pout if someone takes some of mine without my permission. As if I’d ever allow them to.

Speaking of Keith, I haven’t seen him in years. We lost all contact when he turned eighteen, and then he went off into space, and even when he came back, I didn’t get a chance to meet him. I bear no ill will, though. He must have formed some close relationships. Our past friendship is comparatively much more trivial.

I spot a booth selling grilled corn. I instantly head there.

As I’m about join the crowd of humans and aliens who also want corn, a familiar call of my name leads me to pull a three sixty.

Lo and behold. Keith Kogane.

Despite him having obviously grown a lot, the face was still the same. I’m sure that, if he gets a split lip and bruise on his cheek right now, he won’t look all that different.

There’s a questioning hesitance on his features; he’s probably wondering if he’s got the right person. My pleasantly surprised smile and raised eyebrows assure him. As I step away from the grilled corn stall, I notice a motley crowd behind him; some are purple, some are holding Voltron plushies, and some look way too curious to be in a carnival. The introduction is going to be fun.

‘Keith! You're gonna live a hundred years - I was just thinking about you. But anyways, it’s – it’s great to see you,’ I say with a little giggle. ‘Though I am kind of surprised you actually approached me. The sixteen-year-old you would never.’

He smiles awkwardly in return. ‘Y – yeah… I, just… oh God, this is – I’m sorry,’ he says, his inner turmoil evident.

‘It’s all good. I know you’re shit at small talk, so… like, introduce me? Maybe?’

He nods rapidly, brows furrowed. ‘Yeah, um,’ he turns to the people behind him, telling them my name, how we met, the whole affair. I give them a wave. Most of them greet me back.

‘And, this is Shiro and Curtis,’ he points to the tall, white-haired yet young man, holding hands with a tanner guy, ‘Lance, Pidge and Hunk,’ he points to a lanky, bright-smiled guy, a buffer, kind-seeming person, and a short chestnut-haired woman who, despite wearing baggy jeans and a baggier tee, looks somehow better dressed than me. ‘Then that’s Allura, Coran, and Romelle, they’re Alteans,’ a woman with enchanting beauty and a regal aura surrounding her, a redhead who’s significantly older than the rest with an impressive moustache, and a youthful appearing girl with a big grin, ‘and Lotor, he’s Galran. The Galran Emperor, in fact.’ Lotor is a tall, lilac-skinned man with aristocratic features who shares the same cheek markings as the Alteans. Oh, and he’s unfairly gorgeous, his hair a luscious mane of white which I just know will be soft. It’s hard not to stare. You remember how I said Allura looked like royalty? Yeah, the way this man carries himself, he has the aura and visage of a God. Even in a white tee-shirt and jeans he looks way better than should be legal.

I rip my eyes away.

‘So…are Noah and Oliver here too? I’d love to see them. I mean, I never did get to thank them to permit a possible criminal to sleep in their house.’

I laugh. ‘Never mind that, but we actually sit up a stall here. I could, you know, maybe even get you guys something to eat.’

‘Free? Please don’t.’

‘It’s nothing, really, just… I don’t know, accept it as a small thank you present for not letting the planet go to shit.’

A bit of thinking. Even after a nod from Shiro, it was Lance who said yes. Good ol’ Keith.

When we reach the stall, my British dad is the only one we find there. He looks up, about to say something to me, when he notices Keith.

‘Dad. You remember Keith?’

‘Your possible criminal friend who turned out to be the saviour of the universe Keith?’

‘That Keith. He wanted to see you.’

‘Oh? Well then,’ he dusts his hands, stands up, and greets Keith. Both of them engage in a conversation.

‘You guys wanna try something?’

‘What do you got?’ asks Pidge.

‘What do we got? Um, we got chocolates, candy, marshmallows, jellybeans, tortilla chips, ice cream, popcorn – butter, cheese, caramel, peri peri – Lays, like, a lot of Lays, and the good old cotton candy. What d’you want?’

So, after providing the humans with two Cream n’ Onion Lays, a pack of tortilla chips, a double scoop of butterscotch and chocolate, a small tub of popcorn, and three cotton candy sticks, I turned to the aliens.

‘I’m assuming you guys aren’t familiar with a lot of this stuff, so you could either pick whatever looks to be good, ask your friends, or I could recommend something. What’ll it be?’

Romelle was the one who asked, ‘What’s ice cream like?’

‘It’s sweet. It’s cold. And it’s like… heaven in mouth.’

‘Ooh. I want an ice cream. The… pink one?’

‘That’s strawberry. You can eat it in a cone, or in a cup.

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Well, the cup you can’t eat. The cone is like a crispy biscuit,’ judging by her face, she didn’t know what biscuit was. ‘I’ll just give you a cone. It’s all on the house, so no worries if you don’t like it.’

I watched eagerly as she licked the ice cream. An unreadable look crossed her face. Then – ‘This is almost as good as Hunk’s cookies!’

‘Really?’ Coran asked, twirling his moustache. ‘Well, then…’ he squinted to read the names of the various flavours. ‘I would like “cookies and cream”. Yes.’ A cone of cookies n’ cream was served.

‘Allura?’

‘Do you have something that isn’t sweet?’ That was a plot twist. I’d have taken her as someone who appreciated sweeter foods.

‘We do. You want spicy?’

‘…Sure.’ Peri Peri popcorn was given and enjoyed.

And last… ‘Lotor. What would you like to have?’

It takes me a lot of will to not laugh at Lotor’s way too analytical expression. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Out of all this stuff, candy floss is my favourite.’

‘Candy floss… the item that looks simultaneously like a cloud and an old woman’s hair?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I would like a helping of candy floss, then.’

As I hand Lotor a stick of cotton candy, I wait with anticipation for his reaction.

‘How am I supposed to eat this?’

It takes me a moment to process that. ‘Uh, you just… pinch a little of the stuff in between your fingers, then eat it. Or you could just, um, go in directly, which I’m thinking isn’t really your style.’

He narrows his eyes, but follows my instructions nonetheless. Only a second after putting the stuff in his mouth, Lotor purrs.

Everyone around him, being me, Coran and Romelle (Allura’s off telling Lance how great Earth food is), looks with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Lotor appears as if he’s just died inside. The berry-shaded blush on his face is adorable, though.

'I didn't, like, poison you or something, right?'

'No. It's that... I would never in my lifetimes have expected something so tooth-rottingly sweet to be this delicious.'

'So you're okay?'

‘Yes. In fact, I quite like… this cotton candy.’

I grin.

[eirist]

In the Heat of the Moment

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: For Day 3—Nami’s Day—of the ZoNa Days event (at @zonamievents). I’m already late but still posting it. It’s unfair if it’s only Zoro who gets an entry.

In the Heat of the Moment is by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds. I still have The Umbrella playlist to thank for being such a good company.

Summary: "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."

The rain hadn’t let up from the moment it began to pour down.

Which should not have been a problem in the first place… the Straw Hats have their very own weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire after all.

If only said weather expert-slash-navigator extraordinaire didn't get distracted, arguing with a certain green-haired swordsman.

"This is your fault!" Nami complained, rubbing her arms with her hands in a poor attempt to keep the emerging chill away.

​Somehow satisfied, she folded her arms across her chest as she sulkily glared at the rain which has now completely turned into a steady downpour.

​Luckily she was able to pull the man with her towards an alcove in the town's wall before they got drenched. It was an uncomfortable fit, as they were almost pressed to each other, but it'll do.

​Zoro was snarling beside her. "This rain is MY fault?" He huffed. "Right! It's my fault coz I absolutely can make it rain on a whim!"

Nami turned sharply towards him, glaring daggers. "If you hadn't gotten lost—" 

"I DON'T GET LOST!" 

"—like the idiot that you are," she continued ignoring Zoro's outburst, deliberately raising her tone and effectively drowning his retort with her shrill voice. "Then we wouldn't be stuck in here ZORO!" Her voice jumped another octave when she said his name. "In. HERE!" She repeated the words, making sure to emphasize them and hoping to drill it straight into his thick, dumb skull. 

"Tch! Then you shouldn't have followed me!" The former bounty hunter groused.

​"Besides, aren't you supposed to be good at predicting the weather?" He commented sardonically. "Shouldn't you have known that it’s going to rain today?" 

Nami gaped at him disbelievingly. ​And heat rose to her cheeks.

​She gave his shin a good kick for that.

​​"Ite!" 

​"I know that!" Nami practically shrieked at him. "That's why I followed you here to tell you about it! Is this the thanks I get from making sure you don't get your dumb self lost in this island while a storm is brewing?!"

"Again woman, I DON'T GET LOST!" Not the one to be deterred, Zoro raised his own voice to match hers. "And damn it! Stop kicking me!"

​"Bullshit!" The ever-feisty navigator exclaimed. "That a load of crap and you know it!"

​She angrily poked his chest with her finger. "If I leave you to your own devices... We. Would. Never. Find. You!" She punctuated each word with a prod on his torso. As if that would actually make the idea sink unto him. "I don't want Luffy and Chopper whining about how you are lost and that we should find you!

​Zoro grabbed her hand to stop her from poking a hole in him. Grasping it firmly he all but shouted back at her. "I will be fine! I will find my way back to the Sunny!"

“Hah! Fat chance of that happening!” 

​They were almost nose to nose by this time; all the while scowling at each other, both waiting for the other to back down.

Now only the sound of the rain falling heavily down the soaked earth can be heard as they continued their stare off. Along with the sharp intake of breaths coming from the two of them because honestly, their shouting matches can be quite arduous.

​As the glowering continued; Zoro thought he caught a glint, a spark from behind Nami's eyes before those warm brown orbs widened.

​In what could only be a realization that their current position is leaning towards… precarious. It was also not helping that his own eye had darted all over her face, taking in the flush on her cheeks. Despite it coming from indignation, she still looks...

 ... pretty.

​He almost choked at his thoughts. When did he turn into that shit cook?

Zoro inhaled sharply and realized what a wrong move that was. He caught a whiff of Nami’s signature scent. Sweet with an undertone of zestiness that reminds him of her mikan fruits at their peak of ripeness—that certain moment that makes you want to steal one so you can taste them...

​The color on her face deepened and Zoro wasn't sure if it was because she was getting angrier and angrier by the minute.

Or... If it was because she saw that his stare lingered for more than a second or two at her lips. ​"Screw this!" He grunted, instantly averting his gaze. He felt his face heating up and to get out of their rather 'awkward' situation, he immediately resorted to his favorite defense mechanism whenever he faces off against this orange-haired devil incarnate.

Losing his temper on her. 

"You are not my keeper woman!" He snapped at her before immediately stepping out of their sanctuary and into the rain.

That made Nami snap to attention. "Hey!"

​Without another word Zoro turn around and started walking away from her despite the torrential rain.

WALKING. AWAY. FROM. HER.

While it’s raining cats and dogs. 

 "Zorooo!!!" He heard Nami screeched his name, horrified that he would actually leave her alone. There was no way he was getting back in there with her. Not when it occurred to him that he was only a second away from grabbing her...

...and kissing her.

​He walked in faster strides when she called him again. He had to get away from her. He needed to get away from her.

Far away.

​Because honestly she was driving him crazy lately with all these thoughts of wanting to kiss her surfacing every moment whenever he was with her.  

And who knows what the repercussions are? This is Nami they're talking about. She would probably sic ero-cook and even Luffy if he dared to even try. Or rat him out to either Robin or Usopp or both.

Or charge him more than what his current bounty is.

He winced at that.

​For now he needed to get away and calm himself so he can reflect...

​There was no warning as something collided at his back, almost making him stumble down the wet ground.

Did someone just attack him?

​But the presence wasn't threatening, even if its arms were wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, throttling him.

"YOU DID NOT JUST LEAVE ME ALONE THERE RORONOA ZORO!" Nami deliberately yelled at his ear, probably making his ear drum shatter and rendering him forever deaf. In a split second the Supernova realized that Nami… had jumped him.

​"Hey! Get off witch!"

"No!" "Get off!" "I said no!"

​"Get off now or I'll--"

Her hold around his neck tightened. "Or you'll what?" Nami hissed right in his ear in a tone so dangerously low that an actual chill ran down Zoro's spine. He gave her arm a light slap, a silent gesture to loosen her hold because she was cutting off his air. When she didn't relent, he effortlessly bounced her up his back.

​With a squeak of surprise, her arms slackened and he was able to finally draw in some air.

Nami’s hands grabbed at his shirt in an attempt to prevent herself from slipping from his back. Zoro tried to shake her off him. But the cat burglar swiftly clung onto him by locking her legs around his waist.

His remaining eye widened at that. 

"Nami!"  ​ "Stop trying to shake me off Zoro!" Nami protested as she held on to him tightly. Her knee knocked against his katanas and he scowled. "Then stop strangling me damn it!" "You deserve it you ass! Leaving me alone like that! Wait until the others hear about this you brute!" ​ Zoro muttered an expletive under his breath. Nami is a real witch!

He can feel her sliding down his back again. She was having a hard time clinging onto him because his shirt and her arms and legs were all wet from the rain water.

"I'm charging you for all these Zoro!" She muttered against his ear, her breath hot against his skin… a stark contrast from the cold rain water falling down on them. "The hell you are!" He managed to retort. She was speaking from his blind side and even as he tilted his head, he cannot see her face or her expression.

The next thing he knew… her fist had descended on his head.

“The hell! Why did you hit me?!”

“Because you are a moron.”

“That’s it get off me!”

“No!!”

​They continued struggling against each other, right in the middle of the rain that was soaking them to the bone.

​And Zoro realized then and there that Nami was quite nimble. She had quickly managed to change her position from his back to his side with her legs still locked around him.

He really didn't know what to do with that information, except it's going to be really handy once he gets the chance to...

​​​Fuck! ​​ She had hit him on the head with her fist ​again.​ That’s twice already.  Why are her punches hurting him so much? Was it clad in haki?? "Argh! Nami stop it!" He tilted his head towards her so he can growl and glare at her all at the same time.

She just gave him a haughty serves-you-right grin.

In retaliation he bounced her against him again. 

​Which was a wrong move. Because all it did was rubbed her breasts against him and press her closer to him.

It was a good thing the rain was drowning them.   Though it did made her yelp in surprise. He’s good with that.

​"Argh! Stay still Zoro! I swear if you drop me down I'm going to—"

“To what?” His steely eye met hers. This time it was his turn to challenge her.

Nami’s hold around his neck tightened, probably because her grip on him was slipping again because she was just as wet as he is and also because she still wants to choke the shit out of him for leaving her alone earlier.

She lifted her chin slightly so she could gaze back at him even as the rain water continued trickling down her face.

Was it just him or Nami’s quite comfortable where she is right now?

He knew she was trying to give him the evil eye. But it was hard to do that when the droplets of rain keep clinging to her lashes and she had to blink them away in a manner that affects him greatly.

And there was it… that familiar glint, that spark he saw when they were back in the alcove taking shelter from this rain.

“Look Zoro,” she finally sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you will come back to the Sunny in one piece and not get stranded in this weather."

​Zoro blinked. He was not expecting that.

​Then his face broke into a smirk. "You're getting sappy witch. Sounds like you care about me."

“Y-y-ou!” She stammered.

He grinned at her as she sputtered, her face turn absolutely and adorably red.

To think, he actually high-tailed it out of there earlier with his tail between his legs all because he can't face the realization that he wanted this woman.

But there was no denying it now. Amidst this rain it was very clear. That was all he needed.

He finally decided to take a chance instead of running away from it like a coward. ​

He tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. "You can punch me or charge me later Nami," was all he said before he pressed his lips on hers.

Her body jerked in surprised. His arm instantly wrapped around her waist to secure her as one of her hands grasp at his shirt tightly.

​He swore he heard and felt her murmur 'oh fuck' against his lips before she deepened their kiss.

​They pulled apart slightly for air. Zoro hauled her up a little and Nami was about to lean down to for another kiss…

“A-choo!”

They looked at each other in surprise. Nami’s hand automatically covered her mouth as her face turned red again… this time for a very different reason.

“Ehem!”

They both turn their heads towards the sound and saw an elderly man standing a few feet away from them under an umbrella.

He was shaking his head as he looked at them.

“You youngsters should just get a room you know. You risk getting sick doing things out here in the open that should be done privately.”