#rhellacious

Finished sketch commissions from tonight's stream!! Really had fun with this batch 💕💕💕 1. @rhellacious 

2. @StryxRiver

“Run! You said you’d work out with me!”

It had been something new to try together, something that Cam always did when they were truly upset. Now, with their life more together, they were trying to change that. They didn’t want to have things that they only did when they were upset anymore, they wanted to have habits, real, healthy-ish habits. And that included running.

Exercise was always easy for the ex-dancer, their stamina something strong and durable after years of dance. In fact, perhaps it was a bit too durable.

Cam glanced over their shoulder, brown eyes searching as they slowed down to a light jog, then paused to run in place. Where had he gone? Hadn’t he been right behind them just a moment ago-

They caught sight of a long ponytail hanging over the back of a park bench and made a bee line there, their own curly hair pulled up in a sloppy bun, sneakers pattering against the cement path as they retraced their footsteps. Sure as rain, there he was, slumped down in the bench like a beanbag with all the pellets leaked out, much redder in the face than he had been when they left the loft a little less than an hour ago.

“Arley.” Cam toned, keeping their pace as they jogged in place. “What are you doing?”

Their boyfriend, for his part, looked like drawing breath was a struggle, and they recognized the face he made when he decided he wasn’t moving for at least an hour. It was the same face he made when he finally sat down after work, when Cam felt bad for wanting anything more than just curling against him.

“Taking a break.” the exhaustion in his voice tugged at Cam’s heart strings in ways that were completely not allowed. They’d barely made it a quarter through their path, and Arley was already... already...

“I’m sorry, Cami.” he sounded so sincere, even as breathy as he was, still trying to get more air to his lungs. “You’re so fast, I can’t keep up. We can start again in a moment.” 

Cam stayed silent for a beat, their eyes sliding from his hooded eyes, to the long strands of hair plastered to his brow, to the slight part to his lips. He was trying not to look as exhausted as he clearly was. Slowly, their hand came up and brushed a lock of hair behind his ear, trying not to take too much pleasure in the way he leaned his head after their hand even with his eyes half closed.

“I think we should head back home.” Cam said, finally, looking back toward Arley’s apartment.

“Really?” The relief in his voice was so apparent that he immediately swallowed and tried to sound more hesitant. “Because we can keep going. If you want.”

Cam kept their eyes on the path, trying to hide a smile. “Nah.” they said, as though they didn’t see him immediately sag in relief. “I want to go home.”

“Okay.”

“And we can walk there.”

“I love you.” 

Cam bit back a laugh, extending a hand for Arley to help him to his feet.

I don’t have much on Oli’s parents but here’s what I got so far!Oli’s dad (which I have yet to figure out a name for) had a brown beard, colarbone lenght hair tied in a bun and had blue eyes. He was kind, wise but also a bit of a goof. (Personality wise, he was like Obi-wan (a bit of Qui gon jinn too))

“Don’t touch me, we’re fighting” for @rhellacious‘s OC Del and my Triis

“Triisy.” She was saying, in that voice that he loved to bits, that voice that made him want to roll on his back and present himself, that voice that was the audio equivalent of a grope to the groin. “Triisy, stop that, you know you can’t ignore me.”

Triis, for his part, kept his eyes on the holo reader he had bought at some odd black market while Kal was clothes shopping, his jaw set and his eyes - the color of a clear blue Sakroemi sky when all the suns were raised - set on the report Kos had sent him to review. It was all political he-said-she-said, the Advisor equivalent of small talk, that’s what these reports were, but The Order wanted it all documented and taken care of. The Order wanted... well, Order.

Meanwhile his own personal chaos deity, Delmire, patron goddess of anarchy, slave freeing pirate extraordinaire, placed her hand on his knee.

Triis was trying very hard to keep his breathing even. He could feel her gaze on him, feel those bright green eyes, luminous like a predator's, tracing his features, waiting for any telltale twitch of his facial features, waiting for his hair to change to any color that had even a hint of blue or purple. 

“Triisyyyyy~” She whined, like the sweetest song, like the sound of the waves hitting sand, her other hand coming to his knee as her fingers slid up and up and up, from knee to thigh, his eyes stuck on the same line of text, trying to remember that Sakroemi need air to breathe. “Don’t you wanna be a good boy?” 

The Advisor, for his part, gave a noncommittal grumble, trying to act like his hair wasn’t going blue, trying to pretend that his mind could focus on anything else when she was around, trying to put up a front, like his willpower didn’t turn paper thin and wobbly when she so much as reached out and whispered his name.

“Triiiiiiiiiisbaiiiin.” Her lips were against his throat, and his eyelids were fluttering closed, clenching his jaw against the need to melt, the desire to become malleable beneath her hands, to be reshaped into anything she wanted simply becuase she’d say it was him. “Don’t you want to be my best boy?” 

Against his will, he let out the softest whimper. His white flag waved, her victory a grin against his throat. He felt it all of a sudden, his dawning realization, like heat beneath his skin, like his hair going fully blue.

All at once he had taken her hands, and he was flipping her, pinning her down on the cool durasteel floor, his hips against hers, her eyes - green like the ocean, like a lizard’s skin, like the scales of a million tropical fish - wide and sparkling with excitement as he held her hands above her head.