#––– ❛ humble offerings 【 open starter. 】

[goldenpeng]

The adeptus sits languidly, staring out across the river. He...hasn't moved in several hours. In fact, does he even blink?

...Perhaps someone should go check on him.

[familiaanteomnia]

Well behaved didn't mean unable to get into trouble. No interest in socializing with peers and thus came the desire to challenge themselves. Determined to climb one of the structural spires for the claim to having done so. Not for bragging rights though all personal self interest. An good ways up when accidentally grabbed in a way that made one glove fall to the ground below. Trying to make up for the lack of grip only to slice their leg on the sharp edge. Not so smooth descent to the ground with an nice hard audible contact with the ground.

That didn't stop them from sitting immediately up, vision swimming and tearing at the already ripped up fabric to ideally not bleed everywhere.

[nerditudes]

"I became a synth to have a family and look after them forever. Though I do suppose, this body isn't as round as my old one. But it does look rather nice. Oh yes-- I am a handsome devil!" Codsworth voice was different, but this was still the same Nanny Handy that helped look after Shaun and the rest of their family.

He was simply-- upgraded. Curie had encouraged him, said he could feel more feelings. Maybe have a family of his own. There was the little Shaun from the Institute to look after. Yes! He would be be the best nanny slash butler slash confidant slash cook slash maid slash bodyguard that he could be!

[c-e-d-dreamer]

You're the Risk, I'm Going to Take It

A/N: It's here! It's here! Happy @cassianappreciationweek lovelies! I know I for one am super excited for all the content and fun in the cards this week. We're starting out this week with a fun little ficlet! Because flying on a rollercoaster totally counts as flying, right? Hope everyone enjoys :)

Read on AO3

In Cassian’s humble opinion, an amusement park is the perfect place for a first date. The rides provide the perfect amount of excitement and adrenaline rush all while offering a built-in conversation starter, no awkward small talk or uncomfortable silences that so often seem to come with a nice dinner. The lines give the perfect excuse to chat and get to know each other in between the excitement. The thrills give the perfect excuse to hold hands. The games even give the perfect excuse for him to show off.

What’s not to love about an amusement park date?

And so when Nesta Archeron finally agreed to a date with him, an amusement park was the easiest suggestion he ever made.

Honestly, he still can’t believe Nesta even agreed to a date with him in the first place. He’d been completely enamored from the very first moment he laid eyes on her. The very first moment those icy blue eyes rolled back in her head. Mother save him, he loved making those eyes roll. He loved the adorable scowl that took over her face anytime he called her sweetheart, and he loved their teasing game of back and forth.

He loved the first time he saw her eyes truly spark, the first time he made her laugh, and he swore he’d break his own back to see that expression, to hear that sound. Again and again and again if it were up to him. He’d give anything to find out if her lips taste as delicious as they look, to find out if he can make her blush a pretty pink beyond just her cheeks. He’d give anything to get a second date.

“Is this why you said to wear comfortable shoes?” Nesta asks from the passenger seat, tearing Cassian away from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Cassian answers easily, throwing his truck into park. He slips out of the driver’s seat, quickly jogging around to pull open Nesta’s door, but she’s already clambered out before he can. Still, he holds out his arm in offering. “M’lady.”

“Idiot,” Nesta teases softly with a roll of her eyes.

The reaction just has Cassian grinning even wider, especially when Nesta settles her hand in the crook of his elbow despite her words. He leads the way toward the front gates, pulling up the tickets on his phone, and then they’re stepping inside. There’s various families, groups of friends, and even a few other couples milling about, their voices and laughter mixing with the melody of wheels on tracks and screams from the rides. The sugary sweet scent of fried dough floats on the breeze, flooding his senses.

“So, what do you think?” Cassian asks, turning his head so he can peer down at Nesta. “Start easy and work our way up?”

“Sure.”

Despite the response, Cassian doesn’t miss the way Nesta keeps her face forward, the way there’s not a single slip to her expression as though she’s purposefully keeping it neutral. Cassian tilts his head, curious what could cause such a reaction, but before he can ask, Nesta snaps her attention fully to him, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Cassian chuckles easily and shakes his head, leading them both down the winding path and toward the large, wooden rollercoaster of the park. Luckily, the line is quite short, and they barely have to wait at all before they’re sliding together into one of the cars. Cassian pulls the black bar down over both their laps before slinging his arm across Nesta’s shoulders, offering her a winning smirk.

“Ready, Nes? If you need to hold my hand, you don’t even have to ask.”

“What am I? Five? Why would I need to hold your hand?”

Cassian gives her shoulder a teasing squeeze. “Because of all the turns and drops? Because I’m so attractive you can’t keep your hands to yourself?”

Nesta scoffs, driving her elbow right into Cassian’s gut hard enough that he lets out a pained gasp, curling forward over his knees. Of course, it’s at that exact moment that the ride goes rocking forward, the cars pulled along the track and up the large first hill. As the cars go cresting into the first drop, Cassian throws his arms up, laughing through every twist, every swoop of his gut as they go flying over another hill. By the time the ride is pulling back to the beginning, he feels breathless.

Breathless and ready for another.

He leads Nesta to the other wooden rollercoaster in the park, the one with two tracks that ‘race’ one another, and when they’re finished with that ride, it’s on to their first steel rollercoaster of the day. Cassian is buzzing as he secures the safety over his thighs, but when he glances toward Nesta in the seat beside his own, her grip on the metal handles is white knuckled. Her fingers flex as the ride operator begins his teasing introduction spiel, throat bobbing with a hard swallow.

“Alright, sweetheart?” Cassian leans over as best he can to ask.

“I’m fine,” Nesta snaps, not even bothering to meet his eyes.

Cassian doesn’t believe her for a second, but before he can ask again, the ride starts, the only sound filling his ears the click of the track as they climb up and up followed by the rush of wind as they crest into the first drop. But when the ride ends, he focuses his attention back on Nesta. On the way her shoulders slump almost in relief when she gets off the ride and her feet are back on solid ground. On the way she takes a deep almost steadying breath before pushing through the exit gate. On the way she holds her spine straight as steel like she can feel his attention as he follows her down the path and back into the main part of the park.

“Which ride next?” Nesta whirls on him to ask before he can utter a word.

“Are you afraid of coasters?” Cassian asks anyway.

“No,” Nesta answers too quickly, crossing her arms. “Why would I be afraid of rollercoasters?”

“You could tell me if you were. We could–”

“I’m not.”

Nesta raises her chin, her blue eyes blazing and narrowing on him. Daring him. I Will Eat Your Eyes for Breakfast, that was what he named this look of hers. One of many that he has named in the time since he’s known Nesta. And in that time, he’s also learned just how stubborn she can be, that iron will and pride one of the many attributes of hers he loved.

“Aright,” Cassian concedes with a shrug. “Let’s go big then. Do the one with the big drop and all the loops.”

“Great.”

Cassian presses his lips together to keep from smirking. “Great.”

Nesta is quiet as they wait in line for their turn, and Cassian wonders if she’s trying to mentally psych herself up for the rollercoaster. He watches her carefully, waiting for the cracks to show, for her to finally cave and admit the truth. But perhaps he truly is underestimating her and her unwillingness to yield.

“Last chance,” Cassian offers when the small gate swings open, indicating it’s their turn to step onto the ride.

Nesta doesn’t even bother deeming him with a response. She strolls right through the small gate and to the first open seat of the ride for their row. She hops up into the seat, quickly pulling down the shoulder restraint. Cassian shakes his head with a chuckle, stepping over to the seat beside her and doing the same.

“Hold hands?” Cassian suggests again, holding his hand out palm up.

“I don’t need to hold your hand,” Nesta bites out. “I told you, I’m not scared.”

Cassian puts on his best pout, wiggling his fingers. “But what if I need to hold your hand? Please, Nes?”

Nesta makes a big show of sighing, but she carefully releases her grip on the metal handle of the shoulder restraint. Her fingers slide between Cassian’s own, and he curls his, daring to slide his thumb across her skin with a wide grin.

It’s at that exact moment that the ride surges forward, going from zero to seventy miles per hour just as the rollercoaster’s tagline promises. Nesta’s scream is blood curdling, her grip on his hand tightening enough that he actually winces. As they go soaring through the first loop, he chances a glance toward her, but he finds Nesta with her eyes squeezed shut, face scrunched in fear.

The high speed has the ride ending before Cassian knows it, laughter echoing from the seats behind them and a ‘whoop’ coming from a guy in one of the front row seats. But Nesta still has her eyes closed, still has a death grip on his hand, even after the ride comes to a full stop and the shoulder restraints release with a quiet whoosh.

“You have to let go of my hand now, sweetheart,” Cassian leans over to whisper.

It takes a moment, but slowly Nesta’s fingers uncurl and she pulls her hand away. She hops down from the seat, stalking toward the exit without a glance backward. Cassian is quick to jog after her, slinging his arm around her shoulders when he catches up.

“You know, that was quite a scream for someone not scared,” Cassian comments teasingly.

“Shut up. I hate you,” Nesta snaps, shrugging out of his hold and continuing forward.

“Come on, Nes.” Cassian continues after her, moving in front of her and halting her steps. “I’m sorry, okay? No more coasters, I promise.”

Nesta continues to watch him dubiously, those blue gray eyes still narrowed, but her shoulders relax at least. Cassian steps closer into her space, reaching up for one of the stray strands of hair that’s come free from her updo through the rides and now tumbles down along her temple. He twists it around her finger, tugging until that scowl finally vanishes, until the corners of her lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile.

“Forgive me?” Cassian requests, giving in to his own soft smile that he knows there’s no point trying to fight.

Nesta hums, clearly intent on denying him, but she can’t hide the spark in her gaze that gives her away. The reaction has Cassian laughing and shaking his head fondly. She’ll be the death of him, and he’ll die happy.

He glances around, spying one of the game booths just down the path from them. With a decided nod, he starts to walk backwards from Nesta, holding his arms out and shrugging in faux innocence. It earns him an eye roll, and he knows he’s won, finally turning full around and stepping up to the booth.

He hands over the money to the worker, awkwardly settling onto one of the low stools despite his tall frame. He squints at the small target, moving the water shooter up and down until he’s confident he has the right aim.

“I expect the biggest prize,” Nesta tells him from his left.

And Cassian intends to give her nothing less. As soon as the bell sounds for the game, he presses down the little red buttons with a single minded focus. He doesn’t spare even a glance toward the kids sitting to his right that he’s playing against. He doesn’t even bother to think about them. He stays focused on his target until the winning bell rings out, the lights flashing above his station.

“Let’s go,” Cassian cheers, pumping his fist and jumping up from his seat. He points toward the prize he wants, a large purple narwhal plushie, that the worker hands over, and then he whirls back toward Nesta, presenting it with a wide smirk. “M’lady.”

“You’re an idiot.”

She says the words, but she still laughs softly as she does, still takes the plushie to hug close to her chest. It’s a sight and a sound that has Cassian’s heart stuttering and blooming with warmth between his ribs. Has him grinning wide enough that he’s sure he really does look like an idiot. Not that he cares. Especially when Nesta leans closer, pressing up onto her toes and kissing him on the cheek.

“And now you’re forgiven, but no more rollercoasters.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies @freakingata

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: I've been feeling a bit off lately so thank you all for distracting me. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

After closing, you’re due for an opening shift. The abrupt shift in your schedule leaves you little off-time but right on the other side, you have a much needed day off. You’re relieved not to be left to think too much in the unfamiliar house and hopeful that by the time your time off comes, your apartment will be ready for your return.

That morning, you’re running on coffee and the promise of the cinnamon bun you bought on your way in. You work through the price changes in the digital imaging section. The cameras are the biggest pain as you have to unlock the cases to replace the old tags.

You get to the Sony section and end up on your knees, fighting the glass door as it rolls off the track. The podcast buzzing in your ear fades as your frustration gets the best of you. You lean back, your shoulder brushing against an unexpected presence behind you.

You wince and pop your earbud out, craning to look over your shoulder at the man browsing cameras past you. His eyes meet yours with a twinkle as he points to the case, “you know much about these?”

You shake your head, “sorry.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smirks, the expression made devious by the trim of dark blond across his lip. He squats down beside you, “nah? I was looking for a starter camera but I need something with strong range.”

You nod and force a smile, “um, well, these are pretty basic, I think. They don’t have any extra lenses,” you look around, searching for one of the DI salesmen, “I could find someone–”

“I’m asking for your help, honeybun,” he coos, “what’s the zoom on these things?”

You feel heat speck on your forehead and cheeks. You’re not the best with customers. It’s easy enough if they know what they’re looking for but you’re useless with telling them what they need. You turn back and grab one of the small boxes. You turn it over and read the specs.

“Uh… 30x zoom…” you say, “I guess that’s pretty good.”

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue, “I’m looking for something stronger. Stronger’s always better, isn’t it, sugarpie?”

His strange pet names put you off. Some old ladies will call you hon and some old men will call you young lady, but he’s a lot younger and not as endearing. You put the camera back and look along the row.

“Yeah, I think maybe you need to look at the bigger cameras,” you point over the case, “they’re along that wall–”

“You like it bigger?” He intones with a snicker, “you a size queen?”

You recoil, taken aback by his suggestion. Ew. You shake your head and turn back to the case, “sorry, sir, I don’t know anything about cameras. I’ll see if I can get a salesman over here.” You grab the wire of your headset and hit the button, “can I get someone over to DI?”

You let go of the button as the earpiece crackles. The man doesn’t move, “you know, I don’t mind a little extra. Especially in the trunk.”

You ignore him as you peel away the fresh stickers and press them to the front of the shelves. The heat of his lingering figure has you unable to get your fingernail under the corner of a label. You want to run and hide in the warehouse. You’re just too nervous to tell him to go away, Gwen would write you up.

“Hey,” Jamie appears from the other end of the aisle, “looking for a camera, sir?”

The man behind you doesn’t stand right away. When he does, he reaches close to you, gripping the top of the case to push himself up to his feet. You turn and mouth a thank you to Jamie as he gives a long look at the man behind you.

“Sure am,” the customer brushes by you closely. You watch the back of his head, shaved close around the sides, the top pieces longer and slicked back neatly. He walks with a certain lean to his step, his shoulders squared, his gait confident but casual. He gives you the ick.

You focus on your sheet of price changes. He’s not your problem anymore. You just hope you can through that section before he finds what he’s looking for. You somehow suspect he’s in no hurry to leave.

🖤

You get back to the townhouse just after five. It’s later than you usually get in but you’re just happy to be done. You haven’t been able to shake that feeling that’s followed you all day. Ever since that man approached you in the store, you’ve felt as if you’re being watched.

You walk the block and a half from the nearest stop and turn onto the quiet street of newly built townhouses. Despite the sighting of a neighbour, it still feels derelict. You check the number beside the door as you head up the walk to the doorstep. As you do, you hear a whistle.

You stop and turn back as you hear footsteps approaching. It’s only then you notice the white van parked along the far curb. A man runs over in a blue uniform with a box under his thick arm. Burly and broad, you almost cower as he waves and approaches.

“You live here?” he asks as his eyes flick up to the iron numbers mounted besides the door, “number four?”

“Um, I’m… crashing here, yeah,” you swallow, “it’s actually not my place–”

“I got a package,” he shifts the parcel and reads the label. 

You can just see his features beneath the shadow of his cap brim, long lashes, square jaw, a touch of stubble and a thick mustache across his lip. You hate that those are making a comeback. You shiver as it reminds you of the man in the store, but this man has darker hair, a curl poking out from his hate.

“For Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah, erm, that’s my landlord. This is his place,” you point over your shoulder with the thumb.

“Right, well, it doesn’t need a signature, so if you could pass it off to him.”

“I don’t know–”

“I don’t really feel like driving back out here tomorrow. This isn’t my route,” he says tersely.

You snap your mouth shut. Wow, okay. You shrug and reach out to take the box.

“Sure, I can get it to him. Sorry.”

“Thanks,” he hands it over and looks back and forth down the street, “quiet neighbourhood, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess… just finished development so–”

“Fancy places. Expensive,” he continues on, “your landlord must really like you.”

You frown and hug the package, “uh, he’s nice. Anyway, I’m sure you got other deliveries to make.”

He scoffs as you turn away. You’re succinctly aware of him as you move your body to block the code as you punch it in. 

“Too good for the delivery boy,” he mutters darkly, “have a good day, miss fancy pants.”

“Have a good day,” you squeak and push your way into the townhouse, spinning to shut the door.

You twist the latch as you lean on the door. You slowly lean over and peek past the curtain. The delivery man smirks at the barrier between you before turning and strolling back the way he came. You shudder and turn to put the box down. You really thought for a moment he might try to follow you inside.

You shake out your nerves. It’s just been a really weird day. Well, few days.

You pull out your phone and text Steve to let him know he got a package. You put your cell on the counter as you enter the kitchen. You planned on ordering food to celebrate your coming day off but it’s too much trouble dealing with another stranger.

You go through the fridge and cupboards and settle on the bag of hand rolled tortellini with the jar of alfredo. You’re no expert chef but you can follow instructions. It’s a quick enough dinner. You eat it at the table against the wall, a video playing on your phone. 

A notification pops up at the top of the screen, Steve saying thanks. You don’t bother replying but another flips up in quick succession. ‘How is everything?’

You finish your pasta before you reply. You rinse your dishes and leave them in the rack. You take the phone upstairs, typing as you climb.

‘Doing fine. Everything’s well. Thanks for checking in.’

Easy and to the point. You don’t want to have some stunted text chat with your landlord, you don’t even want to talk to your friends, you’ve been dying all week to try the bathtub.

You turn on the faucet and the water spills out, steam quickly rising as you adjust the temperature. You go to the counter and search your pouch for your body scrub. You pause as you find it empty. Weird.

You look around. Your toothbrush is in the cup and your toothpaste and mouthwash on the small shelf that holds it. Where is everything else? You check the drawer, your face creams and cleanser are all there. Even your deodorant and body lotion. 

You peek at the tub and see your jar of scrub already sitting on the sharp edge brim. You don’t remember putting all that away. Why would you? You’re not going to be here forever. You don’t know, you were so tired that morning, you can’t even remember brewing your coffee.

You blow out the tension. Stop worrying. It’s fine. It’s little things that you’re overthinking. As usual. 

You undress and leave your clothes on the counter. You approach the tub and lower yourself down with a sigh. Oh yeah, this is living. The tub is nice and big, you don’t feel crammed in like your own place. You better enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

The bedroom becomes a haven in the large house. You go downstairs in search of snacks, planning to veg out a bit before you inevitably fall asleep watching Youtube commentary videos. You find some trail mix with M&Ms mixed in it but are disappointed to discover a dearth of carbonated beverages in the fridge. You opt for the tropical twist juice in the sleek glass bottle.

You retreat with your meagre haul and create a nest in the bed. You grab your phone and flip past the several notifications waiting on the home screen. You scroll through Youtube until you land on something suitably dramatic. You pull down the taskbar and flick away several notifs.

Steve’s message is the last. It kinda creeps you out but the time stamp assures you it’s merely a coincidence. ‘I bought some snacks. Hope you found them. Wasn’t sure what you liked.’

You resist clicking on the bubble and swipe it away with the rest. You don’t want to leave him on read and you don’t think he’d appreciate your response. Granola and coconut water aren’t much of a snack.

You shimmy down under the covers and prop up your phone on the bedside table. You lean into the pillow and lazily munch, Your mind wanders away from the petty online drama. Work, your apartment, several strange encounters… hopefully life calms down soon. You mind your business, you don’t need the trouble. You prefer to be a witness, not an active participant.

You drain the last of the juice as the mix of almonds, peanuts, and cranberries leaves your mouth dry. You get up to brush your teeth as you listen through the open door to the edited clips from TikTok. As you come back to bed, you feel the day catch up to you.

You yawn and shut off the light. Ugh, you’re so suddenly tired. It’s not unusual to be wiped after clopening but damn, you’ve never felt this heavy. You pull the blanket up to your chin and your phone screen blurs in your eyes. You let the low drone ease you down to sleep.

It’s as if no time passes at all. No dreams, no awareness, just a thick void that makes your head hurt. You wake with a start.

Your phone gleams from beside you but Youtube is no longer open. The light is on, blaring in your vision as you sit up. Jeez, you must be totally zonked. You probably got up to go pee and don’t even remember.

You reach for your phone and check the time. It’s just after midnight. An hour or two since you passed out. The blanket falls away from your shoulders and you look down at the cold wash across your chest. The straps of your tank top droop down your arms as the fabric is wrinkled below your tits as they hang out. 

You fix your top, it’s not unusual. You’ve woken up more times than you count with your shirt all twisted. It’s why you never had roommates. You shove the blanket further down, your shorts are askew as well, caught in the crease of thigh and pelvis. You fish around to tug the loose opening free and find it damp. Ugh, you’re sweating from your little cocoon of body warmth.

You push yourself towards the edge and pause. You feel oddly sensitive, almost raw. You rise and stretch, reaching down to check yourself. You’re wet. Like really wet. You must’ve had some wild dreams but you can’t remember any of them. 

You take your cell to the bathroom with you and relieve yourself. You pull up your cycle tracking app. Ah, first day of ovulation. Horny time.

You come back to the bedroom and burrow back under the blankets. As you wiggle down, you feel something roll against you. You put your phone beside your pillow and snake your hand around to grab the tiny cylinder. You raise the small bullet vibrator and frown. Wasn’t that in your beauty bag?

You place it on the night table and take your phone. Well, you seem to be pretty absent-minded lately. First your toiletries, now this. You’ll have to do a sweep of the house tomorrow and make sure you have everything together. You won’t be there much longer.

Still, you’re unsettled by the momentary lapse in consciousness, but your lingering grogginess keeps you from panicking. You’ll just put on another video. It should distract you enough to calm you down.

[emilmoreno]

Open starter. Location: the beach. "Oh, come on!" Emil complained as his arms flung wildly in dismay to both sides. Palms up, his gaze settled in horror at the crumbling infrastructure of what was now his third attempt at a sandcastle that evening. A blob of thick black and white fur gave its owner a side-eye, but otherwise, his companion was too tired out from their post-work run to do much but silently judge. The man's attention drifted aside, realizing belatedly that they weren't alone on the stretch of cooling sand. A humble laugh parted his lips, "Don't mind me..." he offered towards the onlooker, "I'm just in training... for better castle building, per a special request." His daughter's innocent mockery, that is. Another soft chuckle nestled in his chest. "There's got to be some secret I am missing."

[celayawitcher]

starter for @veseniya-tqd.

where: maybe she invited veseniya to her lodgings

when: after we farted it up on that quest

note: something very lgbt happened to us and we have to talk about it

They were often two, very cryptic ladies who often had unsettling things to say, so when Veseniya had come to the door, Celaya simply opened it and held out an arm indicating for the druid to enter. She offered a weak smile to Veseniya; Ingrid had been out, and there was some piece of her that felt uncomfortable to utilize the space, but Veseniya was another she trusted, and such list was very scant as it was. A horrid host, she offered nothing but a place to sit for the Legionnaire, twiddling with her thumbs as a horrible stretch of silence settled over them before Celaya decided to clear her throat and sit up. She'd invited Veseniya over with no true objective in mind, and she'd deduced, in the few minutes that they'd settled in their own respective chairs, that it was simply because she wished to see her friend since what they had endured. It was also vital to note this was the first time she referred to Veseniya as her friend within her own mind, and something of such fact humbled her.

"What do they do when a Legionnaire dies?" it was grim, but Celaya was often appreciative that they didn't ever waste time in trivial small talk. For Akanis, for the others perished, they had an amassed funeral to pay respects for each life lost, the Legionnaire in question included, but Celaya had to wonder what customs the Legion had for one of their own.

[scarrabear]

QUOGAN HEADCANONS PART 2

hi again!!! I'm back with part 2. I honestly expected to finish my thoughts but yeah I talk a lot and just have so many thoughts soooo I'm still not done!

College Years

Logan and Michael helped Quinn and her family set up her dorm room (she has her own room but has communal bathrooms)

Logan buys his first condo to live in for college years with the plan of using it as an investment property in the future. (This could be the apartment we see Quinn at in Zoey 102??)

Logan gifted Quinn a gold necklace of his name and Quinn got him a (vegan) leather bracelet with her name on it before move in day!

Logan was very intimidated at first and didn't think he was smart enough for UCLA but Quinn and his group of friends helped encourage him.

Quinn was nervous about making friends and was one of very few girls in her class at Caltech. Logan and the gang (especially Zoey and Lola) helped boost her confidence and help block out any sexism she would endure as a women in STEM.

Their first semester there was some uncertainty on both ends on if their relationship would last, plus people kept telling them "oh high school relationships fail just dump them". Scheduling time to speak to one another on the phone and in person meet ups was hard at first but the two realized how worth it their love was.

Quinn realized a month into her first semester that no guy compared to Logan in terms of attentiveness. Logan realized how truly lucky he was to have Quinn after only spending a few weeks in school listening to his classmates *try* to sound smart.

After the first year, Quinn got a summer internship at a TekMate (currently in a crisis competing with the iPhone) and this began her working her way up the company. Logan worked as a producer's assistant for one of his father's films aka this being one of the most humbling experiences for him.

^^ that summer, Quinn lived with Logan in his condo that first summer and yeah the two had lots of sex but also learned what being in an adult relationship consists of (budgeting, grocery shopping, chores, etc.) Quinn was also saving up to rent her own place.

During Logan's 3rd year at UCLA in my mind is where he meets Jared (a new character in Zoey 102 and one of his groomsmen), the son of fellow rich/successful movie producers and Malcolm asks him to help adjust to UCLA. The two become close immediately and Logan introduces him to Quinn like a week after knowing each other.

Jared and Quinn are both gleeks. Quinn only started watching because of the character Quinn Fabray and they get Logan on board too. Quinn dresses up as a cheerio one halloween and Jared and Logan are Warblers.

In 102, Jared is confirmed gay and has a longtime partner. Back in 2010-ish, Jared was probably scared shitless to come out to Logan but wanted to because he started seeing someone, presumably his partner. Logan was the one to ask Jared "so are you and (insert name)..." to which jared opens his eyes and Logan interrupts trying to calm him down saying "its totally cool if you are! Quinn is from Seattle you know so she's cool with it too!" this causes Jared to tear up and the two share a bro hug.

Logan and Quinn start becoming more and more comfortable in his own masculinity/femininity respectively and their sexualities.

Every summer up until graduation Quinn worked at TekMate, eventually being offered a position as an invention consultant at age 23. Logan threw her a huge party.

Logan dealt with accusations all through college that he only got in because his father bribed the school...he ended up graduating with a solid B+ average.

Quinn graduated top of her class wow who's shocked not me

Post College Years/Before Engagement

Logan continues to buy up real estate as investment properties but mainly lives in one "starter" home in The Hollywood Hills. Quinn lives in Logan's first condo (rent free) and the two have sleepovers quite literally every night. Their friends and family keep harassing them about why they don't just move in together but the two are adamant about it not feeling "the right time" yet, ie: Quinn establishing herself and wants to be financially steady and Logan respecting her space but also building up his producing credentials.

Logan proposed for the first time not long after they graduated to which Quinn said she wasn't ready yet. This prompted them to have the discussion about living separately for a while. Not only did this make their relationships stronger, but helped them grow as individuals. (Logan kept the engagement ring)

Like in the movie, Logan was openly stating he wanted to marry Quinn but respected her needs. She probably wanted to establish her own name in the tech world before being known as JUST "Logan Reese's wife". Quinn always reassured him though she would eventually say yes and would let him know when she was ready.

They buy their first home together after 10 years of dating (age 27). Around this time as well, the CEO of TekMate announces they are stepping down from the position and they suggest Quinn be one of a select few to begin the training process to take over. Quinn is eventually chosen as the new CEO a year later at age 28, the youngest and first female in the company's history.

Shortly after Quinn becomes CEO, Camille (new character from Zoey 102 and one of her bridesmaids) is hired as head of marketing for TekMate. the two become fast friends and Quinn immediately introduces her to Logan who is just ecstatic. Camille also gets along great with Lola, Michael, Stacey, Mark, and Jared.

Logan entrusts Camille to text or call him whenever Quinn is stressed at work.

The idea of of developing the unbreakable see-through phone comes when at a party, Logan randomly wonders what would happen if he ran over his old iPhone with his new car (one of his new cars I should say).

on their anniversary every year, they take a trip to a different area of the world.

Logan and Quinn go all out for decorating their house for Halloween, Christmas, Hanukkah, and Valentines Day.

Lyric was the one who asked the couple the most on when they would get married.

When the unbreakable see through phone was getting closer and closer to launch, Forbes magazine cover, etc. is when Quinn felt she was truly established as "Quinn Pensky, the inventor" and when she told Logan she was ready to get married, he cried. He also told her he still wanted to propose to her to which she anxiously anticipated it.

Yeah Part 3 coming soon!!! Thanks again for reading you lovelies <3

[goldenpeng]

Xiao of the day: lying face-down in a patch of grass! Super Rare Edition!

[rhinerapier]

closed starter for @bitsyarachne !

"I guess it's nice to know that God likes to keep his future lyctors humble," Gawain mumbled under her breath. She'd volunteered to bring her own personal affects up to the room that had been sanctioned for the third house. It seemed like the skeleton constructs that had come to greet them alongside the Teacher were more than willing to help them move their things out of the ship and to the second floor of the castle. It was nothing like the castle back on Ida. It lacked all the opulence of the third house, and was almost nothing like Gawain had seen before. One of the skeletons had opened the door for them, Gawain with a duffel bag over one shoulder, and a backpack on the other. Arachne had managed to busy a few other skeletons with her things, but considering the size of their place... Gawain glanced back at the princess and stepped to the side so she could also see the room. It wasn't bad, considering that Gawain had slept in tents and bedrolls before. However, the room had definitely seen better days. There was a cot, too, by the other side of the room (how... kind). Without question, Gawain shouldered past Arachne and set her things by the foot of the cot. She was still in her, for the lack of a better word, good clothes. It made sense that they landed in their better third house attire— but it was hard to move in. More importantly, it was hard to sleep in. Gawain glanced back at Arachne, watching as disgust and another equally strong emotion passed over the Tridentarii heir's face. Might as well get to business, "I'll take this carpet out and set it in the hall, your majesty. Until then, you can use the room to change." She offered. Without another word, or to see if Arachne agreed, Gawain crouched down to get the edge of the carpet and started to roll. Under it, there was a damp spot where mildew had started to eat through the (now) soft wooden tiles that the carpet was clearly trying to cover. Gawain blinked, meeting Arachne's eyes over the stain, "We might have to see if the Emperor bothered to stock his kitchen with some bleach and vinegar."

[tiadtm]

oneshot galtean klance starter 💙❤️

dm a rp response if interested!! i rp on discord as well (user: tiadtm) i prefer top keith, bottom lance, open to playing either

concept: canonverse, altean and galran empire coexistence, galran empire isn't evil, blade of marmora is a branch of the galran military, spoiled and flirtatious prince lance

set-up: keith is a member of the blade of marmora, an elite faction of the galran empire's military that specializes in undercover, highly important missions. lance, prince of altea, is captured by a group of rebels and is being held prisoner in the center of a remote, dense cluster. the trip there is days-long and difficult, it takes a skilled pilot to navigate a path to the center. even the most advanced signals cannot reach him, leaving him completely isolated. however, what might prove even harder than saving the prince is having to put up with him all alone on the way out.

~~~~~~~~~

To say this was one of his most important missions in the history of his career was an understatement. The Altean empire was by far the greatest ally to the Galrans, and right now, the fate of their royal family rested in his humble hands. Lance, the sole Altean prince, had been captured by a rebel group and was being contained within a dense cluster that seemed hopeless to penetrate. Despite his relatively younger age, Keith was by far the most skilled pilot in the Blade, which meant he was the most skilled pilot the Galran empire had to offer. His knowledge made him qualified to navigate the cluster, and most likely to conduct a successful getaway chase if necessarily.

Keith couldn't deny his nerves. He knew the stakes with this mission. He knew failing was practically not an option. And he knew if he failed, he would die with Lance. But none of that mattered-- He's a Blade because he doesn't falter. He's a blade because if he can't get the job done, no one can. He's a blade because the mission becomes before anything else. The trip was undeniably difficult-- he'd basically had to find his own path through and any hopes of a signal to his ship was a joke. After days of careful mapping and navigation, he finally did it. He reached the center. He laid his eyes on the base, a small and honestly rather unimpressive structure. Getting through the dense walls of the cluster had been more than half the battle. He stealthily settled his ship near a back entrance, close to where he knew the location of the prince was. Carefully slipping inside, he took out his Blade and slit the throat of any rebels he passed, making sure to hide the bodies. He needed as little pursuers as possible when they realized the prince was gone. Ideally, with how small this organization was, he'd be able to get every last one. It was a miracle that they had been able to capture the prince to begin with-- Although he heavily suspected that prince Lance's notorious naivety had something to do with his kidnapping.

Keith had finally reached the cell where Lance was being kept, letting out a relieved breath as he saw him. Hurrying over, he brought a finger to his mouth to signal him to be quiet before kneeling to start picking the lock.

[peachbubbless]

Blessed are the Damned - Hot Pants x Reader

Chapter 3 - Saviour

Word count: 855

You opened your mouth.

To question.

To argue.

To ask who the hell this was - 

-but he was already moving.

A hand gripped your jaw - not cruel, but with a force that brooked no resistance. You barely had time to react before something was shoved between your teeth: a worn scrap of leather. A glove. The tang of sweat and old steel filled your mouth.

Then you saw the device.

Bulky. Chrome. Strapped to his arm like a relic from some forgotten war. A nozzle glinted at the end, aimed unerringly at your wound.

You thrashed instinctively. Tried to push away. “Wait -”

Too late.

The trigger hissed. Pain bloomed.

It didn’t just burn, it invaded, crawled under your skin like it had a purpose and spreading across the gash with unnatural speed. You screamed through clenched teeth, the sound swallowed by leather and dust. Your limbs bucked. He held you down.

Your vision flooded with stars.

Every nerve lit up in protest, your shoulder convulsing as the cream burrowed in, sealing muscle and vein with surgical efficiency. You’d been wounded before. Patched up in backrooms, stitched on the trail.

Nothing had ever felt like this.

And nothing had ever hurt like this.

When he finally stepped back, the world reeled sideways. The leather dropped from your mouth, wet with spit. You curled in on yourself, gasping like you’d been gutted.

“You - what the fuck - was that?!”

No answer.

He was already re-strapping the device to his belt with the same reverence a priest might offer the Eucharist. His face didn’t soften. Didn’t acknowledge your shaking hands, the pain still rolling through you in nauseating waves.

Only when he finally spoke did his voice break the air like a scripture written in stone:

“If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better to enter heaven maimed than hell whole.”

You blinked. Breathless. Dust in your mouth. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Still no change.

Still no kindness.

He just adjusted his hat, gaze unreadable beneath the shadow of the brim, and turned as if the encounter was over. As if healing you, saving you, was nothing more than obligation. Ritual. A box to be checked before the next sermon.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“Of course. A man saves your life, and somehow still manages to do it without an ounce of delicacy. Typical.”

He mounted his horse.

And then: “You shouldn’t have been here.”

The words weren’t cruel. They were cold. Final. A judgment passed without malice, without emotion.

Just truth, in his eyes.

And then he was gone.

Dust trailed in his wake, pale against the horizon. The only sign he’d ever been there was the slow, dull throb of your half-healed wound and the chemical sting still clinging to your skin.

You stared after him.

And for a long time, you didn’t know what to feel.

Saved. Hurt. Humbled. Furious.

You’d heard of Hot Pants before – he was doing pretty well in the rankings.

Now, he was a miracle.

And a God damn lunatic.

You spit in the sand, wiped the sweat from your brow, and muttered to no one:

“Next time, I’ll take the quicksand.”

But your fingers lingered at the edge of your wound - testing the place where muscle had been mended by something you couldn’t name. Something that wasn’t his. 

Whatever Cream Starter was, whatever he was, left a mark.

You didn’t remember standing up. Didn’t remember when the bleeding stopped.

You only knew the sand under your boots looked wrong - too red, too dark. Like it had soaked something sacred and turned it sour.

Your leg was no longer screaming, but it still throbbed like something was trying to crawl out of the bone. The skin was sticky. Raw. Covered in that weird… paste? Foam? It wasn’t bandaged but sealed. Sealed and stinging.

And he was gone.

Like a fever dream. No name. No warning. Just silence.

You touched your thigh carefully, like it might bite you and felt your breath hitch. Not because it hurt (though it did), but because it felt real. The whole thing had happened. You hadn’t made him up. Weirdo.

Your fingers trembled.

You sat. Not gracefully. More like gravity just won.

The air stank of blood and heat. Flies circled the wreckage behind you - a broken trap, split wide open, the steel twisted like ribbon. Your coat was torn. Your mouth was dry. And somewhere in the distance, your horse was probably losing her mind (and totally judging you).

Good. Someone should be.

You scrubbed a hand down your face. It came away gritty, tacky with sweat and soot and something creamy-smelling that made your stomach lurch.

“What the fuck,” you muttered.

And then again, because it didn’t feel real the first time:

“What the fuck just happened to me?”

You tilted your head back and stared up at the sky, as if God was going to lean down and explain it.

Nothing.

Just heat.

And the sound of your pulse, soft and unsure, in your ears.

Chapter 4 >

[sonicasura]

Based on the asks by @foolmariofest, I figured why not share my view of a Pokemon/Kaiju No.8 crossover. Any spoiler related material(last two episodes) will be found at the end past the read more tag!Let's start with the teams before I get into meat of this post!

I decided to choose Miraidon as the Ride Pokemon for this while the Egg Pokemon are Goomy, Milcery and Tyrunt. Treecko will evolve eventually to Sceptile but they are the latest catch in Trainer's team. Goomy will evolve into the Hisuian varient of Goodra. Now let's get started.

Trainer doesn't know who their real parents are. For most of their life, they were raised by migratory Bird Pokemon alongside their starter(Torchic/Quaxly). A kind-hearted stranger in Galar would later introduce them into society when Trainer's was about 5. PokeSpeak was their main language before then.

Kafka is planning to draw up adoption papers. All of him pretty much adopted Trainer mentally and emotionally so why not? The Monster Sweepers already sent him some research on how to adopt unregistered children.

Amongst the Battle Frontier, Trainer's gym is the most difficult to win against. Their badge has three variations as they have two other people to help manage the place. Bronze and Silver are the most common badge earned while the Ideals Badge is the least.

A Legendary/Mythical/Ultra Beast magnet. Due to Trainer's more open minded nature towards wild Pokemon, it isn't uncommon for rarer ones to seek their company without concern of possible capture. Any who do join are either willingly or captured for their safety(Eternatus). Best to watch out for Ultra Wormholes in case of spontaneous visits.

Trainer tends to travel out of curiosity and a penchant to learn. Something that eventually leads them to the KN8verse. It isn't uncommon for Trainer to offer their new friends a chance to explore their world on the group's days off.

Reno and Kikoru often join training sessions with the young Frontier Brain. They aren't as intense like Kafka's but does put them through the ringer. All of them use inspiration from these experiences during missions or Defense Force training.

Berry mishaps are a given especially around lunch time. Kafka once took a bite out of a Tamato Berry in human form. Apparently he can only safely eat it as a Kaiju or else has to deal with swollen lips from the spiciness. Pecha and Oran Berries are popular with the group.

Making Pokemon treats is unavoidable. Poffins, Pokepuffs, Pokeblocks and the like. Kafka is the type to eat them as they are apparently very delicious to Kaiju. Same goes for Dynamax Honey, Dynamax Mushrooms, and Gigantamax Curry. (In Ai's opinion anyway.)

Picnics and picnic related shenanigans will always happen. You can say it was quite the sight for the Defense Force once Trainer officially joins them. They make sure the beach ball doesn't go into the curry or sandwiches.

Before Riot No.8 could attack Isao Shinomiya, Trainer teleports in with help from their Pokemon. They use the song Oración to calm down the enraged kaiju who lovingly nuzzles them and reassures he's still here before collapsing from exhaustion of the forced transformation. In righteous anger, Trainer challenges Isao Shinomiya to a battle for Kafka's safety.

The Commander is humbled by their Hariyama and is forced to listen to the youth. Kafka later receives this very news once he wakes up again. Even footage of the battle was shared and recorded to him.

[nightingalearkyn]

open starter notes: i know theres a bath house somewhere in this place and dont take this as arkyn not bathing for WEEKS, we are setting this just as the refugees are allowed in ok get away from me

It was only when Arkyn was sure the bath house was empty, that he deigned to enter the establishment. It wasn't that he was in any such way, humbled about the idea of anyone else being around rather - he simply didn't wish to spend his entire time soaking looking over his shoulder. A habit that would follow him from the streets of Iskaldrik as a child, no doubt. Very rarely, did he ever feel as though he could relax, unless he was alone. Years of torment and cruelty was a difficult scar to heal, and even in Lysara - a place where the magical were not persecuted, he was wary. The trust he'd once held in the woman who'd given him coin, hadn't yet extended this far east, it would take time. Discarding the robe he'd been offered - a refugee of the far off realm granted many of them welcome without question once they were allowed through the barriers, Arkyn almost hissed at the feel of properly heated water as he descended the steps into the pool and felt every tension within his shoulders release. A momentary venture, as the sound of another clearing their voice broke his moment of supposed solitude. Almost immediately, the water parted around him as he backed into the edge of the bath, already aware of exactly what lay behind him. "I was told nobody else was here."

[eclipsecrowned]

for a soft starter . (from whoever you want but for Kyra Targaryen) // @amarvelousmencgerie

"I was told red and black dyes are in short supply in Qarth. A trade embargo against Braavos, or something to that degree."

In fact, Laerion is told many things in his travels. Only a few hold weight towards his own actions. Whether tensions with Braavos have any sway over matters of dye, he cannot say with certainty -- but it makes a fine excuse. With a gesture, he urges the servant forward with his delicate offering.

Pearls and sapphire affixed to the bodice, and lace like seafoam along the hemming. Light fabric for the summer, colored to match the ocean beyond. It does not quite say Velaryon, when even Laerion is not so callow as to make an open statement. But it is indisputably Driftmark, and that says something entirely different.

You belong. You belong here.

"I hope you can accept this... Humble gift, Your Grace." Looking to the folded gown, he smiles. "I promise it does not bite, if you would like a better look."

[lemonadecabaret]

closed starter for @fcundaticnsofdecay

It's been a whirlwind couple of weeks. Between the meteoric rise of a rookie special agent and the catastrophic escape of a notorious madman, the press has had a field day and the men surrounding her humble little apartment have been nonstop. Lo offers one of them a smile and mischievous wink even now, eagerly slipping inside the glorious quiet of her home before he can even get a word in. It's the shift in the air that she notices immediately �� a couple of her windows open and letting the breeze in. There's also the tantalizing smell of something cooking and classical music playing over her speakers. All of her training tells her that she should grab her gun from its holster on her hip, but instead, her feet carry her into the kitchen where she knows he'll be.

"Honey, I'm home!" She grins despite the nerves coiling tightly in her belly, rapping her knuckles against the doorway like she was the one intruding. "And here I was thinking you'd be in Argentina by now."