#anoffering

[lamblegh]

appreciation post for my new top <3

need another one in black now

[stormlit]

❝ how was practice, babe? ❞ how fionn aches for the days, not that long ago, where scott would leap over the back of the sofa to lie on top of him. now, fionn's still healing (even if he's mostly there, now), the memory of him being in that hospital lingering in both their minds, and scott walks around, instead. fionn is stretched out on the couch, tv switched to football in the background, snuggled inside an admirals sweatshirt. it was probably scott's to begin with, but he finds himself frequently commandeering his clothes.

he wonders if he looks as small as he feels. and his residual arm is fucking killing him; he's refused anything stronger than ibuprofen since climbing back onto the wagon, and he should probably find his tens machine, but he's reluctant to move. (reluctant to get out of the sweatshirt, too, despite the inside temperature. it's armour; he's hiding.)

he does, however, shift so that there's room for scott to sit down. ❝ i got fired today. well, not fired, they're not allowed to do that. told i wouldn't ever be medically cleared for what i do. did. they're, uh, looking at other things i could do with the department. ❞

@anoffering (scott) liked for a starter

[warplanet]

happy happy birthday to my friend @aratsaka / @anoffering 🧡 sometimes it feels like i've known blythe my whole life. it's a shame we don't live closer but that's probably because the universe saw how chaotic we were when we met irl and said no, we gotta keep these two apart for safety reasons 😂 there's no one else i'd rather eat chips and queso with. you are such a bright person with so much chaos and hilarity wrapped up in one brilliant, kind, creative person. your humor makes me cry-laugh, your writing makes my jaw drop and your friendship reminds me that i (and so many others) are so lucky to cross paths with you. have a happy birthday blythe! i hope the wild win their game tomorrow in your honor 🧡

[5thave]

@anoffering

it's only taken her three years to perfect the art of rolling a joint. (which, yes, is a fairly long time.) in her defense, though — joints and blunts are saved for special occasions. this, by all standards, was a special occasion. there weren't many people in emma's life who didn't smoke weed. all of her friends and family did, the only exception being stiles. (and marie when they'd first met, but marie didn't know anything about anything when they'd met.) licking the glued edge, she seals the joint and ghosts the flame of her lighter over the seam twice for good measure. enough to dry and moisture without igniting the paper itself. once pleased with her work of art, a grin spreads across her lips as she moves to extend it in stiles' direction, lighter included — only, she stops.

it's in this moment where she finally realizes how out of place he looks in her dorm room: sitting criss-cross (apple sauce!) awkwardly on the carpet between her twin bed and marie's. facial features scrunching, she pats the empty spot beside her on the twin bed before pulling the joint back to herself. "dude, i say this with all love, but you look like a fucking kindergartener right now — get up here."

[roguekinds-archive]

@anoffering : [ CHIN ]: as they stand close to one another, the sender hooks a finger and tenderly lifts the receiver’s chin, tilting it up so that they can look at one another, and running a thumb across their skin lightly. ( ella & mitch )

it feels like an entire weight lifted off of her shoulders, to mingle amongst a crowd like this without having to twist herself into knots trying to avoid questions or lingering gazes. ella has now spent a majority of her career in this league, she is hardly a stranger to anyone in this room; and for once, that doesn't make her feel so trapped between these walls. she gets to enjoy this moment as just ella, the thrill of an upcoming post-season on the horizon, and how incredibly special it is to share such an important moment with someone she loves.

the chatter around her fades off into the distance when she notices from the corner of her eye that mitch has excused himself from his table and began making his way around to find her. ella's gaze is fixed on him over the rim of her wine glass; and whether it's the wine or just him, she really hopes that the butterflies she feels when he looks at her this way never go away. almost instinctively, ella reaches out her free hand as he approaches, pulling mitch close to her side, as her hand rests around the small of his back. hooking his fingers under her chin to tilt her gaze to meet his, ella gives him almost a whisper of a kiss. ❝ hi, honey. ❞ she can't help the lovesick smile that quickly spreads across her features, brushing her hand up and down his back soothingly. ❝ is everything alright? ❞

[saintsdawn-a]

↬ @anoffering, as vax’ildan, says, “ i can’t do this very much longer. ”

pity is the first thing they feel. a deep, understanding sense of pity that nearly makes them ill. breath is held, fingers tighten, and it passes with the blink of the eyes. filling the space is a fragile smile.

“ can any of us ? ” because even the strongest warrior would crumble beneath this weight, but what else can they do but endure? this thought is shared when florence says, “ what can we do but keep going ? turning back now would mean it was all for nothing, doesn’t it ? ”

but the day had been pleasant, and she doesn’t want to taint it more than it already is. “ i’ve never been good at stringing words together, but i’ve been told i’m an excellent listener. would that help ? ”

[praesparo]

〆 ‒‒‒‒‒ plotted starter for @anoffering

                    scattered somewhere in a valley between faron & necluda, link stands guard as his princess investigates one of many ancient ruins. burdened with prophecy, the chosen champion couldn't help but avert his watchful gaze to look back at zelda as she works. no one else but her wished there were answers buried beneath, praying it would open up another path for them to follow. the shrines neglected her, the goddess ignored her & link wondered if her own prophecy had started to eat away at her soul. though hope has yet to be extuingished. link glances to the sky, noticing the foreboding weather approaching. he turns, closing the gap between them. < the storm is coming. we should find shelter before it reaches us. > he pauses, finding the tension between them harder than anticipated to navigate through. he was the living reminder of her failures, after all. & he hated himself for it too. < do you need help before we move on, princess? >

[tragedear]

@inrovina :   [ 08 ] a rowdy village tavern crowded with drunk, singing patrons   —   fantasy settings meme.

NIGHT HAS FALLEN ON AMAERATH AND THE PRINCESS HAS SNUCK AWAY FROM THE CASTLE TO JOIN THE TOWNSPEOPLE.   IT ISN'T UNUSUAL FOR THE PRINCESS TO DO SO,  SHE SEEKS THE THRILL OF IT AS MUCH AS ANY YOUNG GIRL WOULD.   olympia has never been keen on staying in the castle,  stuck to her duties and expectations.   she didn't realize just how difficult her title of  princess  would be,  and misses the freedom of being a regular witch.   but with freedom comes a price,  and even she must admit that her life is better now with a tiara tangled in her hair on busy days than where her family was before. 

it is loud and crowded,  typical for a night at the tavern.   most workers are done with their labor,  and they all find their way here,  singing classic amaraethian songs as the fiddler plays old tunes.   olympia is sitting at the counter with a tall glasss of a drink composed of juice and fine,  clear amaerathian liquor.   people don't seem to recognize her without the tiara that's too often woven into her hair,  or perhaps they simply don't care.   whatever the case is,  she's happy no one seems to be treating her out of the ordinary.

she turns her head to the side and meets the gaze of a boy.   HE IS BEAUTIFUL,  BOYISH IN APPEARANCE,  AKIN TO THE FAERIES WHO INHABIT THE FORESTS OF AMAERATH.   while olympia doesn't pretend to know everyone who lives in the kingdom she now rules,  those who frequent this tavern have become familiar to her.   he is not one of them.

“  i've not seen you around these parts before,  ”   she says with a small,  friendly smile.     “  can i buy you a drink?  ”