#tho it's very good lighting. i usually look more pale and washed-out than that lol

[yardsards]

crowdsourcing ideas for my next hair colour. help me choose what kind of Blue Hair i should get to go with my Pronouns:

-should be somewhere in the blue/green/purple colour family (warm colours tend to look weird w my skin tone. also cool colours are just really pretty)

-can be dark or bright or pastel or muted, etc.

-i can also do ombre, like this (ignore how Dramatic that photo looks lol, it's the best pic of that hair i had on hand):

any suggestions?

[zoadgo]

Memori +29. Sorry, I send you an ask with "memori +26" but I meant 29 lol.

so i just reinstalled xkit and uh, this ask is from four years ago, fun facts. this fill in canon compliant ish with s7

Disclaimer: I’m just going through my inbox to write some drabbles and try to get back into doing fan fic. I think I know which prompt lists most of these were from, but I might be wrong. All of these are several years old tho, so idk. All drabbles are unedited and prone to many typos, sorry my dudes

29. Cooking Together

Emori wakes up alone in the bed she shares with Murphy, which isn’t that strange these days. He’s woken up before her for as long as she’s known him, even though Emori doesn’t exactly sleep in. But it used to be that even though he was awake, he would spend indulgent hours curled up against her, and Emori would wake up with him stroking her hair, staring off into the distance, awake but still content to relax. 

Nowadays, he doesn’t seem to relax very much at all.

Emori sighs to herself, slowly rolling out of bed and throwing on some soft clothes to go track down her lover. Chances are, whatever he’s doing, he could use her help. Or, at the very least, her company. He never likes to ask for it, never wants to disturb her, but there’s honestly nowhere she’d rather be in their new world than by his side.

The farmhouse is quiet, the sun just barely having risen, most of their kru still asleep or just starting to rise. Emori passes a bleary eyed Raven, given her a brief nod and a smile that the mechanic vaguely grunts in response to. Hard to tell if she’s getting up early in order to work on a new project, or if she’s just heading to sleep after staying up all night. 

Indra is, of course, already awake and sitting sternly in the living room, looking out the window. Emori isn’t exactly sure when she sleeps, if she does at all. It certainly seems like she’s always around, hovering and ready to shut down any less that perfect ideas. Which Emori doesn’t mind, honestly. Sometimes it can be hard to remember, in their idyllic little oasis, how real the dangers of their new world are.

She doesn’t try to strike up a conversation with her, simply passing by without comment on her search. She hears vague noises of habitation coming from the kitchen, makes her way there with soft footsteps to investigate. 

The early morning sun streams through the windows, pale gold, painting everything like a fantasy. Emori pauses just inside the kitchen and drinks in the scene, storing it carefully in her mind. Because there’s Murphy, smiling softly to himself as he pours something in a pan, a pot of coffee sitting on the counter, the smell of breakfast weaving through the air. It’s beautiful, a balm on any unease she might have felt when waking up alone. 

She realizes, as she steps into the kitchen properly, it’s been a long time since she’s seen him cook. There were other priorities, of course, and when they were working with the Primes they were served truly delicious food, but watching him cook stirs memories of Earth within her. Of the first night he cooked for her, how he lit up when she complimented him, of her showing him more herbs than he had learned about on the Ark, how he took to it all and every time he fed her it was more delicious than the last. How she got to brag about him when Clarke was surprised at how good his cooking was. All those days, when they were on their own, and she would sit and sharpen their weapons while he roasted something over the fire, and there was laughter and smiles and peace.

Emori can’t help but smile, sneaking across the room as quietly as she can, spotting dishes he’s already finished cooking, set on towels and just waiting for people to eat them. There’s some kind of meat frying in thin strips, what looks like fresh baked bread in a basket, the aforementioned pot of coffee, along with a carafe of juice, and a few other covered bowls. Emori hums happily, announcing herself subtly right before she reaches Murphy, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle embrace.

“Good morning.” She hooks her chin over his shoulder to look down at what looks like an omelette he’s tending to. Murphy turns his head slightly to look at her, and his smile only grows. He doesn’t look as haunted today as he did yesterday, and while she knows that might not hold, it still blooms a warm joy in her chest.

“Morning,” he replies easily, pressing a soft kiss to her temple briefly. 

“Need any help?” Emori offers, even though her help is usually limited to moral support. She supposes she can also pass him ingredients, but they both agreed long ago that it’s better for everyone if she’s a more hands off kind of person when it comes to cooking.

“Set out plates and cutlery?” Murphy asks, and Emori can do that. She nods, kissing the back of his shoulder before releasing him to rummage through the cupboards. It only takes a minutes or two to set out stacks for everyone, and when that’s done she decides to clean some of the prep dishes Murphy used. 

It’s quiet, just the two of them, the sizzling of food in pans, and the soft sounds of water and scrubbing. Vaguely, Emori can hear doors elsewhere in the house open and close, and she can hear at least one shower running. But for the moment, as far as she’s concerned, it’s just her and Murphy, and she can’t stop stealing glances at him, watching him solemnly focusing on folding his omelette perfectly. 

This is it, this is what she’s always wanted with him. No matter what they’ve been through, what mistakes they - well, to be honest, far more Murphy than her - have made. Every battle fought at his side, every fight, every struggle, it’s all for this. For the smell of coffee and eggs, and the golden morning light, and him stretching slowly after he sets the last piece of the meal on the table.

Emori sets aside her washing for the moment to stand beside him as Murphy looks over his meal with obvious pride. He casually puts and arm around her shoulder, and it’s right. This is how it should be, and even though she knows it won’t last forever, Emori indulges in it for now.

There’s nothing that needs to be said, because she knows he feels it to. That they should have this forever, that this is the very the least the universe owes them for all they’ve been through. And even though it doesn’t need to be said, she says it anyway.

“I love you.” It’s a quiet statement, a breath into the perfect moment. The arm around her shoulders tightens, and Murphy rests his head against hers.

“I love you too.”

It goes without saying, but still, it’s nice to hear. And then Indra comes in to get her coffee, and Raven heaps a plate with food, becoming more animated as she devours it, and soon all of their family is there and it is all the more sweeter for it. Emori is happy, and next to her, for the first time in a long time, she’s pretty sure she feels Murphy relax.