well anyways reblog or like away


Edit (Aug 7, 2017): Wow this is my very first post to reach 1000++ notes… Thank you so much for the likes and reblogs guys!


This took way longer than it should because I wasn’t planning to line or color it. I was planning to doodle a silly Persona comic as usual but I kinda got carried away.
I’m really proud with this though! I mean I drew my favorite fictional humans from my favorite franchise and it turned out quite well I think!

Anyway, out of those 3, Yu has the least edgy/dark awakening and summon animation lol. Didn’t include Persona 1 and 2 because I’ve never played them.

art: VintFux
characters: ATLUS

FireAlpaca, 6 hours? I lost count lol.
Finished on Aug 6, 2017

carrioncrowned’s 1K give away!

Hurray everybody, I’ve reached my first milestone! Thank you everybody for following me, I love all of you and I READ YOUR TAGS and you’re all amazing and supportive!

So, since I don’t have any good swag to gift to people and I’m broke as hell, I’m going to give away the thing you’re probably following me for anyway - art!

Winner 1: Complex background, up to two characters

Winner 2: Simple background, up to two characters

Winner 3: One character, simple background

Okay, now to the rules: 

1. As you’ve probably guessed, there are going to be three winners that I’ll pick through a random number generator, one for every category. 

2. Obviously most of my followers are gonna be Fannibals or YOI fans, but I’ll draw other fandoms or OCs as well. I reserve the right to decline your request if it’s something I’m not comfortable doing.

3. Both reblogs and likes count, and you can reblog as many times as you like (but please don’t spam your dash)

4. No giveaway blogs. I’ll check. 

5. You gotta be following me, since this is an event for my followers. I’ll check that too.

6. The giveaway ends in a month, so on 05.12.17, after which I’ll send an ask to the winners to confirm, so please keep your inbox open! The winner will have 24 hours to respond, after which I’ll pick a new one. 

For more examples of my art, take a look at MY ART TAG!

Good luck, feel free to signal boost too!

Storms (Post CACW ThunderIron)

Welcome to the story! Grab some tissues! God the angst in this fic is going to be killer guys, there’s your warning.

If you’d like to be tagged in additional chapters, drop me a like or a reblog!


Seriously though, tissues!

Thor was excited to be home, excited to be back at the compound with all his friends. He had been gone for so long, dealing with Asgard and everything had gone so wrong so suddenly…

Well anyway, he was relieved to be away from Asgard. He was ready for Tony’s ridiculous movie nights, and Clint’s haphazard breakfast creations, and sparring with Captain, and trading war stories with Natasha. He was looking forward to spending time with Bruce, the quiet scientist with a wicked sense of humour that was matched only by Tony’s cutting wit.

He was even looking forward to the mission debriefings, where Tony and Steve inevitably fought and bickered, and Tony usually ended up storming off in some grand fashion, the color high in his cheeks, dark eyes sparking dangerously.

The genius was beautiful in something of a delicate way, and Thor had always had a hard time keeping himself from staring. Tony was not a large man by any means, but his passion for whichever cause he was engaged in was unparalleled. Thor loved to sit and watch him talk, to watch him work, to watch him—

Thor just liked to watch Tony, period. And if he were honest, it took most of his self control to only watch, because Thor would love to see Tony flushed and passionate spread out across a large bed and bathed in firelight. In fact, he was sure Tony would look more beautiful like that than any other way. Of course, they had never had any time to discuss or explore any of those things, but now that Thor was back again, perhaps in between missions he and the soft haired genius could spend real time together, and Thor would get the chance to tell him how he felt.

So when Thor landed in front of the Avengers compound with a crack of lightning and a ground shaking boom of thunder, burning the pattern of the bifrost into the lawn, he was caught up in his thoughts and didn’t notice that the grass was brown and dead, that there were no vehicles parked in the driveway.

Too intent on seeing Tony, on giving the man a hug, on hearing that light hearted laugh, it wasn’t even until he was striding through the halls towards the common area, holding Mjolnir lightly in one hand, and calling for the team that he realized that most of the lights weren’t even on. The rooms were locked up, the windows dirty, the few plants wilted from neglect.

The compound was…silent, and Thor stopped uneasily at the door to the common room, noting that even though the room had been repaired since the fight with Ultron, it looked like it hadn’t been touched in months.

“Hello?” he called, and his deep voice echoed through the empty building. “Hello?”


Keep reading

900+ Followers Celebration Raffle!! CLOSED!! Thank you very much!!

Hello everyone!! Thank you very much for 900 followers…!! 

 So school’s gonna start for me again soon and my freetime is going to go away TTT Anyways, before I get busy I decided to hold an art raffle!! Yey~~~ *clap clap* 

 There will be 3 winners(number of winners may change dependent on number of entries) and they will all be able to request any one page drawing (similar to the examples below) of any danganronpa character (up to two characters) and they can be ocs as well! I will not draw nsfw or gore. 

How to enter. Reblog with “oneEntryPlease” in the tags. Only one entry per person please. Likes will not count as an entry. The Contest will end Sunday May 7th, 10pm Pacific time.

 I will message winners for their requests (so please have your messages open) and make a post as an announcement. Thank you very much~~~ I hope you will continue to follow my content.



Well, I guess i’m finally facing my fear of making a callout post.
But this is serious shit right here.

Now, I typically don’t make callout posts because in my eyes, resolving problems is more important than petty drama arising, but Snubba has shown she is unwilling to owe up to her mistakes and resolve this problem herself. So consequently, here’s her callout post.

Tw: Abuse, NSFW mentions, illegal Pornography mentions

Anyways, this callout post is dedicated to my former friend, Abby (aka Snubba/Snubba-draws/Snubbscrubb
Now, my friend @corny-kun already made a callout post about her, but that was written to her. This is written to my followers and everyone who happens to stumble upon this post (if it gets spread, hopefully).

This’ll be a long one, bare with me.

So I met Abby back in March of this year when I joined Tumblr. The thing is, I had joined Tumblr because I was missing school because of my panic attacks (caused by bottling up my emotions for years and years, not knowing they were valid), and I had liked and reblogged one of her art posts because it was art of some musicians I enjoyed.
She immediately approached me in the DMs and we hit it off right away. However, right away she began to tell me about all of this trauma that happened in her life (one of the first signs of emotional manipulation, which we’ll get to later) and I felt bad, of course. I gave her advice and told her about my situation as well.
Little did I know, she was just pretending to care.
Anyways, this kept happening, you know, she’d vent a lot and i’d spend time giving her advice and what not, but she just,
Never took it.
Around this time, she sent me a nude drawing of herself. She is 15 years old.
I told her it was child pornography and deleted it, so sadly I have no proof anymore.
She just brushed this off like it was normal.
During one of her breakdowns, she told me she had a crush on me and that “i’d never like her back.” I told her the sugarcoated truth and from that day on I began to grow suspicious of her behavior.
She was just unable to learn anything and owe up to her mistakes.
One day, she sent me an incredibly disturbing ask that made me uncomfortable (no screenshot, my apologies.)
I told her “Stop” and she began to have a mental breakdown because she was afraid of “losing me”.
That was a red flag for me. I think around a month passed and I just said, “The friendship is up.”
She flipped her shit.
On the site PaigeeWorld, she made many, and I mean *many* posts directed towards me, coaxing me to come back. I was scared until I read one of the comments on her posts (deleted by moderators of the site) “This sounds like emotional manipulation” and at that point I realized that someone that was once one of my best friends was emotionally manipulating/abusing me.
I ended up telling a PW mod and all of the posts were deleted. Unfortunately, I also deleted the screenshots. There is still remaining proof, though.

(See: the bottom of the post)

A friend of hers, @corny-kun, approached me at this point. We immediately hit it off and upon telling them about the whole situation, they immediately decided to end the relationship between Snubba and them. I helped them out, and together in a DM, they, Snubba and I talked in a DM for hours.
I felt bad for Snubba, and I continued to feel bad for her until she posted a livestream on Picarto. I went anonymously, trying to give her advice until I revealed my identity.
We made up, but I decided I would no longer consider her a “friend” and she was aware of this.
This was obviously a mistake.
She would disregard my feelings and coax me into feeling bad for her by venting all of the time, because she knew how to take control of my empathy and keep me in the relationship as her plaything.
Not to mention, she constantly forced her fetishes and NSFW content on me. She claimed her fetishes were a “joke” and she only told me about them because she “loved the reaction” I gave, which was disgust and surprise.
I blocked her on Discord, so not much of our conversations remain but I have dug up a couple of screenshots depicting her pity parties.

(See: the bottom of the post)

Alright, you probably get the point by now. She kept causing drama with my friends and I, yada yada, and I put up with it.
She also kept sending me NSFW drawings when I was obviously disgusted by them (no screenshots sadly I was never planning on making a callout post because I didn’t think I woulda had to) and more child porn (this time, of her and girlfriend who is 13, mind you, having sexual intercourse)
Until 2 days ago, when I faced my fear head on and got my ass out of that friendship.
The entire shitstorm erupted again.
Now, at this point, I have tons of screenshots that pretty much speak for themselves.

(See: the bottom of the post)

And this is the blatant proof she is emotionally abusive. I know she’s going to read this, so here’s my message to her:
You are a despicable person. You have caused me, in the past couple of days, to have a nervous breakdown and literally lose an entire night of sleep. I had to put myself to sleep with /pills/ last night. I also considered taking my life.
I know you never loved me or cared about me, because if you did as much as you said you did, you’d feel remorse for your actions. But you do not. You are narcissistic, manipulative, and all around a toxic person. I hope the power of change finds you some day, because I know it will. You’ve been ignoring it for so long, it’ll come smack you in the face someday, trust me.
And i’d just like to end with,
Remove all of your posts about me, referencing me, referencing the situation, referencing my friends involved. Once again, if you truly did love and care about me as much as you said you did, you’d feel guilt and be able to change for the better.
Do not lay a finger on anyone else, i’m warning you.

And a message to anyone reading this,
If you are in an abusive friendship, get yourself out, now. You do not deserve to be taken advantage of because you are simply a beautiful person with unfortunately low self confidence. Let these experiences make you stronger. Stand up for yourself. And when you receive negative backlash from your abuser, do not be afraid to make a callout post. Make sure before your delete your DMs you take screenshots of what they’ve said and don’t make the same mistake I did. If you ever need help coping with the stress of an abusive relationship (platonic, parental, romantic, etc.) please feel free to DM me. You may not know me, but I am willing to let you vent because I know the worst possible thing you can do is keep your emotions bottled up, thinking they’re invalid. That is another huge mistake I made. Please, if you need to let your feelings out, do it someone or even something you trust. Your emotions are valid, and most importantly, you matter.
I cannot stand to see anyone end up like I did. Lets fight this together.

My apologies for the horribly cropped stuff. I had to dig through Discord chats to find some of these screenshots. I also apologize for the lack of them as well.


I’m going to be THAT GUY and post their eBay. So if you want some good stuff (mostly video game stuff) at a fair price and free shipping, go to this here link. 

I’ve got everything from collectors plates to video games, from art supplies to books about rocks! If you don’t like what I’ve got, it’d still be nice if you reblogged this, cause I am in DIRE NEED of money to move away from my abusers. Sorry for the guilt trip but I need a reason to link my eBay to tumblr without looking like a douche

Supoprt your not-so-local nb furry!

anonymous asked:

I discovered today that two of the people I was following were antis and I'm just...???? Because I just don't get what the problem is with refusing to reblog the art of someone who ships something you don't like. It's just... I dunno it pissed me off b/c both those people got anons warning them that you're a shaladin and they both had tagged "gross" or "ew" and i was disgusted??? that i followed them without realizing how horrible that is. Anyway sorry for ranting, i just want you 2 know ur gr8!

Well that’s rude 😤 but i guess good riddance cause that means they’ll stay away from my posts in the future hopefully.

Edit: and also thats hilarious because i don’t even actively ship sha//adin I just disagree with antis and that makes me gross apparently 😂 im dying squirtle people have no critical thinking or mind of their own they could have just checked my blog but didn’t until someone told them i was nasty help i cant breathe….. 😂😂😂😂

But yeah im still glad you took your time to notify me! And thank you for being generally a nice person you matter more to me than antis and their shitty attitude ❤❤

“I’m not gay.” (Tao X Reader Smut)

Here it is finallyy!! For the beautiful anon who requested it! (SORRY IT IS SO LONG, I JUST CANT SEEM TO HELP MYSELF.).

As i may repeat, i’m not a pro at writing smut, so bear with me guys! :3 (thanks, i love you gys <3) If you guys have any comments, recommendations, don’t hesitate to speak up! Your opinions will make my writing better! 

If you guys have any requests, just hit my ask box and ask away. If you guys liked the post reblog and like :):) it will help me alot!

WORD COUNT: 4,342 (i’m so sorry i dont even know myself asdfghjghjkl)

Next Fanfiction: Luhan X Reader (pastel goth girl)

Next After that: Tao X Xiumin Smut


Thanks and Enjoy !



The bells rang annoyingly into your ear once again. It was time to change classes already, but you didn’t care about that, as you lean on the rooftop’s shed far wall. Well, you never did. You didn’t need to go classes anyway, you were already too smart for that, and sitting on a class just to watch a boring teacher, with boring clothe, talking about things you already knew, was really not your thing.

 A lit cigarette hanged from your lips, the familiar smell of burn nicotine hitting your nostrils.  

 ‘Where is him?“ You thought, as you crossed one leg over the other. The wind was dancing with your hair intently, the 11 a.m. sun hitting your face tenderly, as if giving you a kiss. You exhale once again, expelling the contents of the cigarette into open air, and soon, into the blue sky.

 ‘He was the one who called me here, and he ain’t even here.’ You thought again.

 "So much lack of manners.” You mumbled to yourself, low enough for only your angsty self to hear.

 "That’s kind of ironic for you to say.“

 A male body, you could tell, jumped skillfully from on top of the shed, making you jump in fear and tremble your head in surprise, startling the cigar out of your mouth.

 "Motherfucker!” You yelled, the cigarette landing directly into your thighs, burning your pale skin.

 You rose up from your seat quickly, brushing off the remaining ashes of the cigar, scared the cigarette might burn your thigh any longer than it already had, and stomping it rapidly with your left feet. You inspected your thigh, and unsurprisingly , a small red dot highlighted from your white epidermis.

 "Were you up there all this time?“ You shouted at him, without looking up, still rubbing your hurt area. Your hair shielded you from his gaze, inspecting the wound, and whimpering quietly.

 "You are really a bitch, aren’t you?” A deep, masculine voice muttered above your childish whimpers. You stopped any activity your hands were doing, the wind so much stronger than before, flipping your skirt to an inappropriate angle. But you didn’t care. Anger rose in your arms, your legs an every part of your body. Your eyes opened wide in rage, and in one slow movement, you gazed up.

 "What did you just call me?“

Keep reading

Is It Time?

Request: Could you do a newt x reader where the reader gets all nervous because she wants to tell him she is bisexual and she tells him but he doesnt know what it means and when he finds out then just fluff x

~I have never written something like this, meaning involving sexual preferences, but I hope I got it right. I enjoyed writing this and putting in lots of fluff :) I hope you enjoy!~

You sat in the park and watched your friend Newt walking towards you with a smile on his face and case in his hand. Your stomach got that butterfly feeling and you tried to control it. You had the biggest crush on him.

“Good morning, Y/N.” he grinned at you as he got closer. You stood up from the bench you were sitting on and nodded to him.

“Good morning, Newt. It’s nice to see you again.” you said to him.

He shuffled awkwardly for a moment and looked at you.

“Um, shall we go to get some breakfast?” he asked. You had both tried to set aside time to see each other, even though you weren’t dating. It felt nice to be around your friend.

“Yeah, let’s go.” you said, smiling. Newt flashed one back and started walking beside you to a small diner nearby.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

[1/2] I just wanted to thank you for reblogging all that religious LGBT+ stuff just now. My grandma was fervently religious and emotionally abusive (she passed away last year) and when I finally got the nerve to tell my mom that I'm bisexual (I turned 18 a few months ago), legit the first words out of her mouth were "Well that's against what the Bible says but--". She also downplays all the stuff my grandma did too, so it's kinda like oh well 😔. Anyways, I know this is probably weird...

[2/2] … and possibly uncomfortable having some random kid talking to you about all this, which I apologize for, but I just really wanted to let you know how appreciative I am that you reblogged that stuff; it always makes feel a little better about myself when I see posts like that ☺️ I hope you have a lovely night and I really enjoy following you~ 😘❤️

oh my dear you can come to my inbox and talk to me about whatever you want, don’t feel bad about it! and im sorry your family reacted that way. i was lucky that my mom is at least sort of okay with is, but i definitely have grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who think like your family does where they keep telling me i have to reckon with God about the sinful lifestyle i lead. 

no matter how religious you are, you can’t deny the history of the Bible as a text that has been cut up, mistranslated, and severely edited by man to suit certain agendas and ideologies. that section in leviticus that is most popularly quoted in religious homophobic rhetoric has long been highlighted as being the result of a mistranslation in the King James version of the Bible. so anyone that tells you “it’s against what the Bible says” doesn’t understand that the word of God has historically been used to justify slavery, anti-semitism, genocide, and homophobia. 

im no expert and im still trying to connect back with my faith, but in my opinion, to live by the word of God is to live a live full of love, kindness, selflessness, charity, and humility. i simply can’t see God sending a gay person to hell for leading a full life like that. you’re beautiful, anon, and you were made with love and thought, and there is nothing wrong with your love or your feelings. im glad all the posts made you feel a little better, and if you ever need to chat about anything message me anytime :)

O~Kay! I guess it’s time to give this blog a brand new promo after all this time! Whew! Remember me? I used to go by, “@youshouldgocheckeredbody”—or something along those lines, but now…I’m a full-fledged blog with a non-crack (well, let’s be real, there’s gonna be some form of crack here) blog! This means there will be some spoiler content, but not really enough to give away anything from the game! I’m not really too invested in Ouma to flesh him out until the English release gives me a ton of his content!

Anyway, that aside: please go ahead and like & reblog this post if you’re willing to interact with an IND. Ouma Kokichi blog from New Danganronpa V3 (NDRV3)!

brinanalovesyou  asked:

Whoops I probably filled up your notifs :DD #noregrets Man I love your stuff though and I don't say it enough :T LLLLLLOOOOVEEE YOOOUU FRIIENNDDOOOOO idk I'm bored and I'm weird and shuuushhh *flops away*

Haha, it’s all cool.

It happens more often than you’d think actually. My notifs are practically always just a flood of stuff. I’m glad that I don’t have notifications on for likes and reblogs. My phone would never shut up and it would irritate the hell out of me. I guess that’s what happens at a certain point in the owning of an account at a followers level as I currently have. I don’t know how this happened to me for this to be so normal for me. It still blows me away. Wowie. 

Anyways, I should probably work on what requests I have in my inbox. There’s only one so I don’t know why I said ‘requests’ but oh well.


Hey, so I’ve seen some other people on tumblr do this and since we’re two weeks away from Voltron season 3, I figured I’d do this as well.

My blog is not spoiler free. Once the season drops and I’ve watched all episodes, I will be reblogging the shit out of spoiler screencaps, theories for next season, and fanart cause I know some tumblr peeps work fast like that!

Anyway if you’d like to avoid all that, I’ll be tagging things as #vlds3spoilers. I probably won’t be reblogging things till the day after anyways cause of work and stuff, but I know full well other people still won’t have watched it by then.

Happy scrolling everyone! I’ll reblog this again maybe the day before vld s3 to remind people again.

anonymous asked:

hi abbie, i missed you! i've read the tag on your first reblog since coming back, and i just wanna say you don't have to go into the details of why you've been gone. just be well okay, that's all you gotta do. anyways, welcome back and cheers to more markjin!

hi sweetheart! aaa thank u so much! ya i think i’ve just had enough of coming back here and dredging up everything that’s going on like i’d rather come online and clear all that shit away and just be happy and blog got7 yknow like i think i’m gonna separate the negative shit out bc it’s not helping me but thank u so much for ur message! 

You are nothing. Once heard it is a hard pill to swallow but think about it this way that person see something in me to call me nothing because if not they wouldn't waste their time on nothing
—  This is my work so don’t steal it. I mean i don’t get paid for this unless you want to pay me in hearts or maybe reblogs. Anyway you know some of us have heard someone yelling “you are nothing” either to you, someone else, or a random as bird. Well it was me who yelled at bird with that statement and you now what I learned something that bird to fucks and flew away like nothing happened then I ask myself why should we! This is not a true story it is a rare ….very rare…… like rare pokemon  …….to see me yell or angry so much so that it breaks the record of double or triple rainbows all the way 

Kiki and Ick

Two of my IZ OC’s who are currently my muses at the moment because they’re so fun to draw. Kiki is the cute little grease-monkey/mechanic with not-really heterochromia (her natural eye color is violet but the pink one is a replacement implant) on the left and Ick is the tall, horrible smiling sadomasochistic psychopath on the right. Kiki does not get along with Ick at all because he picks on her so much–but then again, nobody gets along with Ick very well anyways since he makes sure to ruin everyone’s day if he can.

Three cheers for pointless but fun art practice! :D

I am the creator of this artstuff. Like away at your heart’s desire but please don’t repost my art–instead reblog this original post. Thank you very much! <3

Everlark One Shot - Ginger Storm...

Well… hello! This one shot I’ve been working on for a couple of weeks now (mainly writing on the bus to and from uni).

As always, this is completely unbeta’d and I really appreciate the likes/reblogs - but also any feedback since this is the only time I’ll get it (beside from my own, highly critical thoughts).


Ginger Storm…

I half sigh half groan as Ilet myself fall and deflate over the toilet, my hands loosening their grip fromthe edges and the white fading away from my knuckles. This is the forty-second straight day of twelve weeks, constant since I reached week six. Every morning without fail I find myself here, head hanging over the the toilet and the contents in my stomach heaving up from within me, my insides spasming and twisting until there’s nothing left but my complete exhaustion.

It’ll last through the day. I’ll not be able to smell food let alone eat it until mid afternoon, though I know Peeta will try and tempt me and plead, as if I were a child, to “eat something, Katniss, please.”

I did at first, but after the reappearance of my breakfast and lunch for the third day in a row, - no matter how hungry I may get I will never ever again eat eggs in any form - I stopped trying to please him and resorted to sipping water and tea, until the nausea would vanish at around 3pm each day. Then I would seek him out, pout a little until he makes me fresh bread and cheese buns in the bakery before heading out to hunt. We would reunite and retreat to our home for dinner and to sleep content that night, the inconvenience of the morning to come lost in his arms.

My hand presses tentatively to my belly and my fingers dance along its curve. I’m sweating, and my arms tremble slightly with weakness. I’m sure if I wasn’t kneeling on the floor and I could see myself in the mirror above me, I would be an odd shade of green.

“Come on little one, how much longer?”

My whisper barely touches the tiled walls and no echo is played back to me.

I close my eyes and rub small, soft circles to my growing stomach, concentrating on it and my breathing.

Sometimes I’m grateful for the sickness. This way, I’m too focused on feeling so ill that I don’t have the time to be in a perpetual state of fear. The moments where the nausea is gone, the anxiety creeps up through me, like a weight, suffocating me from the inside and I panic, I can’t…  I can’t…


My mouth closes and I begin to hum a made up melody; partly to try and relax, partly to keep my lips pressed together to stop more of last night’s dinner from showing up again, and partly because there’s a part of me that feels like the baby likes it; when I sing, when I hum.


Peeta’s voice is sleepy and thick behind me, and his hand warm and strong on my shoulder. My eyelids flutter open at his touch.

I let my neck untense and my head lulls forward to my chest, my humming stops. “Hey,” I reply without looking around.

It’s not fair on him to be up too. I already disrupt his sleep enough (at the very least once on a good night) and he works nearly every day. He focuses on me, on my being okay, but the growing darkness under his eyes tells me what I already know, and now everyone else too: he needs to sleep. He’s always been too good for me.

“You need anything?” His hand slides along my shoulder down my arm, his fingers tracing the puckered and uneven lines that join my skin together.

I shake my head and lean into his touch, just slightly.  Sometimes I need water, sometimes I need to be left alone. Right now I don’t care. I need to sleep, I need to stop throwing up. I need…  

He turns to leave, I hear his footsteps creaking on the floor and the pressure of his hand releases.



He’s back in an instant, and I turn to look at him. Our heavy eyes meet and I scan over his body, strong and broad and shirtless, his hair tumbling over his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry I woke you.”

I bite my lip. I’m going to cry. I don’t want to cry, I don’t even need to cry?!

He sighs, rubs his eyes and smiles at me gently. That’s all it takes, his kind smile. Big, fat, hot tears drip down my cheeks and nothing I do could stop them.

Peeta laughs once, cut off quickly by the scowl I shoot him, even though I must look about as terrifying as a kitten sleeping in a tutu, and throws himself down on the floor beside me, his prosthetic thudding off the tiles.

“How many times Katniss, you don’t have to apologise,” he tries gently, rubbing my back since I don’t dare move further away from the toilet just yet.

“But - but I am though,” I breathe out between sobs. I want to stop crying, why won’t it stop! “You look…  I’m terrible for making you so… I’m sorry!”

“Katniss,” he smiles, biting back a laugh that he knows better than to let out. “I look a supermodel next to you right now.”

His hand cups my cheek confirming what I already knew. I’m a pasty shade of grey and green.

“B-but I did it to you,” I’m fiercely wiping my cheeks with my thumb and thankfully my tears seem to be slowing in their descent.

He looks down at the other hand I still have resting at my stomach with a smirk, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine. “Well… I did that to you.”

I pull a face as he grins boyishly, though it doesn’t stop him this time, his mouth stretching wider and wider until his teeth peek out from behind the pink skin and his eyes crinkle at the corners.

And then I’m laughing.

Oh, hormones.

We’re laughing, sitting on the bathroom floor, Peeta’s back vibrating against the bath tub and his laugh booming over mine and around the room.

I let him pull me close and back against the bath tub now. His lips press against my head before his arm holds me to his warm chest, my head automatically finding his shoulder. When we stop laughing, and after the quietness of the early morning seeps back into the room, I start humming again, fingers tracing their swirling patterns on my little bump like before.

My eyes droop and I feel myself slacken. Peeta remains steady, his breaths getting deeper and more even.

“Want to go back to bed?” He asks as I yawn deeply.

“Mmhmm,” I nod against him, not moving.

He laughs again. “Come on. If not for you, I need my beauty sleep,” he teases, easing us both up standing slowly.

I link my fingers through his, smirking. “And here I thought you were the supermodel.”

I grab the cup I’ve taken to leaving in here from the sideboard and rinse my mouth, spitting quickly into the sink.

He squeezes my hand, walking us to our bedroom.

“Katniss you are st -

I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing our bodies together. "I wasn’t saying it to get you to compliment me.”

“I know, I know,” he smiles with a squeeze. “But you are,” he grins mischievously as though he had been caught misbehaving by someone he knows he has wrapped right around his little finger. Pretty close.

“Will you take a day off? Stay with me?” I ask as we climb into bed. It’s his own business, he can do what he (or his wife) damn well pleases, surely. And I damn well want him to stay here with me. Please.

“I’ll call later,” he mumbles to my shoulder, scooting in close. “But yes….”

I listen for his whisper before I close my eyes with a small smile, anticipating his final reply. “Always…“


It’s the same the next few days. I don’t make him stay with me but my routine continues: wake, run, throw up, go back to sleep, wake, drink, sulk, finally eat, hunt.

I only have a couple more months of hunting left. I promised Peeta - 20 weeks and no longer. I don’t mind, I kind of agree, even if he knows I’m too stubborn to actually admit it to him. Plus, I would never break our promises.

I squeeze my eyes together. I can feel the sun on my face and it burns red through my closed eyelids. I inhale deeply, releasing my breath slowly. It’s the second time I’ve woken this morning and even though I know this time he’ll be gone, I feel blindly for Peeta on the sheets beside me, longing to hold him.

He’s already at the bakery, I know that.

I stretch one final time, curling and tightening my back and limbs before I peel myself from the cocoon of bedcovers I have created.

My stomach growls, though I know better than to give in to it.

The warm shower soothes my tired body and I find myself stalling to stay under its hot rain for longer. Eventually I get out, although really it seems much too soon, drying and braiding my hair, my fingers lingering on its end briefly. My image, the image of who I was, was often wrapped up in and like this. But I couldn’t let my old habits go so easily, nor could I bare to lose the almost literal ties and familiar, nostalgic memories with my family, my Father, Mother, Prim. The braid no longer reminds me solely of the war, of the "Mockingjay”, but of a time before any of that, before Prim’s name was called out and my strangled cry broke through the crowd with the words “I volunteer.”

I can’t sit still in the house, and there is nothing left for me to do here. I leave for the bakery earlier than I usually would, my mood light and excited at the thought of seeing Peeta (even though we were wrapped up together only hours ago).

I hover outside, gazing in through the windows. Peeta is behind the counter; his strong arms coated in flower as he puts down his dough to serve a customer, even from here I know the twitching and pulling his muscles would make. I run my tongue lightly over my lips and walk purposely to the door.

The old lady is on her way out as I push the door open, so I stand to the side and let her pass. She looks up, meets my eyes and offers a “Thank you, dear,” and a smile. Her eyes dart to my stomach, and although I’m sure it’s too soon for anyone besides Peeta and myself to tell, they seem to see through me, an odd feeling washing over me; though I’m in such a good mood, I smile brightly back at her, before dashing quickly inside.

Peeta is back at the work station, working the dough again, his tongue poking out of his lips ever so slightly, and his arms strong and rhythmic. I walk around the counter, joining him on the work side, silently making my way to him.

“Hi,” I speak lowly before I’m completely behind him, and I get the satisfaction of seeing him jump a little before his shoulders begin to shake with the nervous laugh he releases.

“God, Katniss. You’re early.”

He turns, throwing down his next batch of whatever and smiles widely at me.

“Nice to see you too, my dearest husband.”

“I didn’t mean that and you know it,” he grins, walking towards me, arms open. I fall into them, holding him tight. He smells like the bakery around us, but the smell of our home lingers on his skin and mixes together with the herbs and flour, creating a whole new, entirely Peeta scent.

“I missed you,” I breathe and almost slap myself with how needy I’ve become.

Peeta’s hands move from my back, down the slight curve of my waist and curl forward, resting between my hips and the jut of my stomach. His palms are warm and shaped perfectly around the small bump there, flattening my shirt over it. I pull back and quickly reach for his lips with my own. Our kiss is sweet and awakens the army of hungry fireflies that live in my chest and stomach. My hands are still locked around his neck, and one begins to curl around the ends of his hair, I’m pulling him closer, deeper, my hips press against his –


Damn that stupid bell above the door. Well, maybe I shouldn’t be cursing it; rather thanking it from the potential show the next customers could’ve been treated to.

We jump apart, eyes wide and my lips swollen and buzzing. I wasn’t ready for it to be over. My cheeks warm with my blush and I pull my pulsing bottom lip between my teeth.

Peeta smiles easily to the woman, charm oozing across the room from him. “Sorry, I’ll be right with you!”

She just smiles back, her eyes darting down our bodies and back again, biting her lips closed with a nod.

It’s then I remember where Peeta’s hands still rest and how little is left to the imagination. And how I swore we wouldn’t tell anyone about this for another few months.

I step back and his hands fall before he realizes. His eyes reach for mine and I see the apology in them without him having to speak. I shake my head briefly: not now.

“I’ll wait in the back, okay?”

His lips move as if to protest, hesitating, but he stops himself. I frown but head through the door anyway. Why wouldn’t I be okay in the back?

The ovens make the room hot.

Wait, the ovens shouldn’t be on now. Not till next batch, which I know is when Peeta stops for lunch and the two assistants he hired return from their break. I mean, it’s empty in here but why is he… what is he doing?

It’s not exactly empty though. On the countertop, on their cooling trays sit a ridiculous amount of food. Pastries, cakes, bread, buns - are those scones? There’s mugs steaming and tumblers filled with a light orange liquid.

I turn, about to head back out to question him, when I hear the bell jingle again and the door to the back kitchens swings open, a sheepish looking Peeta rushing through it. Stopping in his tracks, he shifts nervously on his feet.

“Surprise!” he croaks feebly with an anxious smile.


He could’ve shouted “waterfalls!” and I’d have been none the wiser. He laughs once, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Peeta, I’m gonna need a little help here?” I wrap my arms over my middle, leaning against the cabinets.

“Right, sorry. I thought the surprise was ruined. Okay… so I was doing some reading and, ginger is supposed to help morning sickness and I wanted to help you and you always come by at the same time and it was all going to be ready for then, but you’re early and that’s great, but it means the ginger and white chocolate chip cookies aren’t ready yet…”

He’s babbling a little, and he keeps licking his lips nervously. But he is perfect.

I blink once and swallow. I’m pretty sure my heart has grown and lodged itself in my throat. Peeta smiles crookedly having trailed off, his eyes questioning me. I sniff, will myself not to cry and push off the unit. Each step propels me faster until I crash into him, taking his lips in my own, molding them together, speaking my feelings through the fluidity of my kiss.

I pull his head to my chest and hold it there, running my fingers through his hair at his neck softly, hugging him close and protectively.

“You’re the best, Peeta,” I whisper, my breath catching in my throat now and I let my stupid tears spill, planting wet kisses to his temple. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” he says simply, shifting our embrace so that he can hold me.

“I love you, Peeta.”

“I know.”

I wrap my arms tighter around his torso, his fingers brush my hair lightly. We stay like this for entirely too long, until Peeta warns that I might not be getting those cookies after all unless he can go take them from the oven.

“Fine. So what have you made, Mr. Baker?”

Placing down the tray of golden cookies to cool, he points out plate after plate of ginger-infused baking, from a ginger and pumpkin seed loaf, to ginger bread, a ginger and lemon sponge-cake, ginger and lime tarts and chocolate covered ginger and orange biscuits.

“I’ve also got, ginger tea, hot chocolate with ginger and a kind of smoothie thing, with ginger.” He grins. “If it doesn’t work, it’s okay, I can sell it anyway.”

I smile gently, glad that he had realized that himself. He’d gone to so much trouble, I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell him if I was still exactly the same on the nausea front.

“You up for trying anything just now?”

Truthfully, probably not. I still felt queasy, but the proud and excited look on his face couldn’t compete with that. So with an anxious nod, I allowed it.

“I’ll start with the bread though, just in case.”

It worked. It actually worked. I didn’t rush it, though I could’ve it tasted so good, and for the first time in weeks, I actually managed some sort of breakfast. An odd combination of food, but it was food nonetheless. If I had thought Peeta excited before, it was nothing on the look on his face when I told him that night that I was going to need him to start making me special batches every week.

I wasn’t kidding. The next day, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the bakery, stomach growling once again for Peeta’s ginger infused… anything. The sun was high in the sky, and I could hear the faint chirping of birds. There was no one else in sight, and I pressed a hand to my belly, rubbed a few quick, paranoid circles to it, whispering my one-sided conversation.

“-It’s a nice day too. And I hope your Dad has made more of those nice things we had yesterday, don’t you? He really is the best. And he can’t wait to meet you. I want to too-“

I stop, hearing footsteps behind me. Hurried footsteps, maybe two people. I whip round, defensively, expecting the worst. But the panic dissipates when I see Haymitch and Sam breaking into a run behind me.

Sam. In his bakery overalls and flour still coating his arms.

The panic returns much quicker than it came, my blood running cold through me.

“Haymitch!” I call to them. He doesn’t stop his labored jog. “Haymitch!”

“Go home, Sweetheart! I mean it!”

He tries to run past me, but he forgets his age and I manage to grab his arm. Sam doesn’t stop, he can’t even look at me.

“What’s happening?”

He doesn’t answer, instead gulping in air. I feel my eyes widen frantically, as if scanning him for answers.

“Haymitch, it’s Peeta, right?!”

“Go home, Katniss. You’ll only make it worse.”

“You know better than to stop me by now. Flashback?”

He nods, looking at the ground. Okay, Katniss. Keep it calm, logical.

“Is he hurt?”

He shakes his head and shrugs. “Don’t think so.”

“Okay. Let’s go!”

I’m about to take off after Sam, but it is Haymitch’s turn to catch my arm.

“It’s safer if you don’t. You’ll make it worse, Katniss. Sam said something about him wanting to… it’s about you, Katniss. You won’t help him.”

“I’ve made it better more times than not! I’m coming!” I snap, scowling at him.

“I don’t think – “

“No! You don’t know what’s best for him, neither of us do! Not until we’ve seen him.” I finish, pressing my lips together.

Haymitch knows I won’t back down. And he knows I’m right. “Fine.” He turns and we rush to the bakery, my upbeat mood quickly dissolving into apprehension and uneasiness.

The “closed” sign on the door, turned over hastily. A broken bowl, shards dancing across the floor. Empty, but for Peeta, his pacing and murmuring echoing through the whole place.

Sam stands just inside the doorway.

“I- I don’t know what t-“

“It’s okay, Sam. Go home, we’ve got it,” Haymitch nods to him.

He hesitates, but turns away. “Call me if there’s anything I can do,” he states firmly. “I mean it.” He meets my eyes. “And Katniss,” his hand squeezes mine quickly. “He – he doesn’t mean what he’s saying.”

“I know,” I smile sadly, as he leaves. I know, but it doesn’t make it hurt less.

The door to the back kitchen booms open, and Peeta storms through. His fists are tight, hanging on tense arms at his sides. His eyes are black – pupils, the skin under them, everything is dark – and his jaw is clenched so tight I’m surprised he hasn’t shattered a tooth.

He mutters under his breath, and I hear my name amongst angry outbursts and insults that sting through my exterior and hang in the room.  

I step towards him and he flinches, readying himself to fight me away.

I ease my hands up to my shoulders, palms to him. “Peeta, please. It’s not real. Remember? Remember real or not real?”

I’m walking slowly towards him and I can feel Haymitch’s eyes on me and his footsteps following mine.

“Mutt!… I can’t… you killed…. Aargh!” His scream batters around the walls and his hands pull at his hair, his eyes squeezing shut.

He begins rocking himself back and forward, hands locked on the sides of his head and his eyes still clammed shut.

“Real or not real, Peeta? Remember?” I keep my voice soft when I ask him, showing him I am no threat. He clears his throat and stops thrashing his head, but he doesn’t look up or loosen his grip on the ends of his hair.

“I’m Peeta Mellark?”

“Real.” I take a step to him.

“And you’re Katniss Everdeen?”

“Katniss Mellark.”

“We’re married?”

“Real,” I breathe with another step.

“And this is District 12?”

“Real.” I’m only about three steps from him now.

“We – we were in the Games… twice?”

“Real.” Step.

“The Capitol… they got me? You were rescued to Thirteen?”

“Real, Peeta.”

His shoulders relax a little when I say his name. He must be getting there.

“The Capitol tricked me into hating you – I was hijacked?”

I close my eyes, not wanting to imagine what they done to him – what they have done to him reflected in this very moment. “R-Real.” Step.

“You didn’t know about the rebels?”

“Real.” Step.

“You love me?”

I reach for his face, cupping either side and rubbing my thumbs across his cheeks. His eyes flutter open, long, golden eyelashes sweeping up until he meets my gaze. “Real.”

I’m very aware of Haymitch behind me and of the tense seconds that pass where Peeta doesn’t respond. Where he doesn’t move a muscle. I sense my name beginning to be formed on Haymitch’s lips in warning, milliseconds before Peeta speaks.


His face falls, eyes clearing and his fists unclenching. He sounds so broken, and a wounded noise escapes my throat. “It’s okay, Peeta, it’s okay. We’re safe, it’s okay.”

I brush his hair from his face, one hand caressing his jaw at the same time, my eyes only leaving him to scowl at Haymitch as he clatters something looking for a glass to fill with water for Peeta, but making me jump.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I …”

He steps back from me slightly, and I know why. He never trusts himself after an episode and he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t hurt me.

“It’s okay,” I take his hand firmly in mine now, unable to let him go. Haymitch hands him the water which he accepts with a nod.

“You… you killed our baby. You wouldn’t have it.” He looks down to his shoes, closing his eyes for a few seconds. He takes a sip of the water, placing the glass on the counter.

My mouth drops slightly and I feel my hand shake as I raise it to my face. This has to be the worst one yet. I could never. I’m crying before I have a chance to try and pull myself together, too busy trying to keep my heart from being ripped from my chest.

“No, Peeta, no. N-never. Not real. Not real.”

He looks at me again now and I see his eyes start to believe me.

Without thinking I pull his hand under my shirt and drag it along the warm skin, the curve that contains our child.


I twitch my lips up at the corners, pressing his hand completely against me. “They’re safe.”

He nods, finally able to wrap his arms around my shoulders and let himself hold me.

“They’re safe,” I repeat as a whisper to his ear. I feel him nod and hear him swallow thickly.

His grip is steady and his relief ebbs out from him, my hands run up and down his back. When we part, I don’t dare let go of him fully, retaking his hand in mine instantly.

Haymitch sits at one of the tables that are meant for customers eating in and smirks, raising a mug in our direction.

“Well. I never thought I’d see the day. Congratulations.”

I scowl and Peeta smiles at the old man. It’s a small smile and I can see how tired and drained he is. But I can also see the proud, excited happiness beam through and I know this was the right thing.

I pull my arm around Peeta’s torso, dropping my head to his shoulder, closing my eyes with a sigh, relieved he’s back and he is okay.

We are silent a few moments with only our breaths filling the room. My stomach growls, loud. My hand is pressed over it quicker than I could say “cheese buns”, a smile pushing at my cheeks as I look down, and a whisper on my lips. When I remember where we are and who is here, I hesitate, slowly looking up.

Haymitch is still smiling at us, though his smirk is gone and he actually looks proud.

I return his smile almost sheepishly, with a small shrug and look to Peeta.

He smiles brightly, a laugh tumbling out of his lips.

“That’s my cue,” he chuckles. “Ginger and lime cookies, with a ginger hot chocolate?”

I don’t even have to reply with the way my stomach purrs again. He places a kiss to my hair, pausing and I feel him inhale deeply, before turning to retrieve some food.

I watch after him, rubbing small circles absentmindedly to our baby. I turn, starting as I remember Haymitch being here and go to join him at the table. I’m silent as I do so, and so is he.

He reaches over, pulling the hand I had rested on the table to his with a gentle squeeze.

Who’d have thought we’d have gotten here. No more games. Peeta back to his old self for the most part. Me married to him. Me pregnant. And happily so.

I look up to meet his eyes. He smiles gently again, a glint in his eye that makes me think about him being the closest thing to a father both Peeta and I have had for a long time.

“Congratulations, Sweetheart.” And I know he really means it.

Thank you so much for reading!! :)

anonymous asked:

I love your Renji edit but I refuse to reblog it because I refuse to believe that he's dead. You should make another version of the post where you add a question mark after "end" or just... replace it with "uncle" or something because I would totally reblog that. But I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THIS.

That feel when you just added end: yomo renji for the aesthetic 

Anyways, I feel like it’s a 50/50 shot on whether Yomo will live after this chapter, and it all depends on Arima & Touka as well as Yomo’s RC status

  • If Arima slices his blade upwards, or Touka shoves her hand up and pushes the blade away, then Yomo will live (it’ll just look like his face got fuck-started with a cheese grater)
  • However, if Arima continues to push outwards, then Yomo’s head will be cut in half, and he will die (sob)
  • Another factor to consider is Narukami’s lightning bolts, which I assume are started with a command sequence of sorts, aka a button. Don’t press the button Arima.

Of course, Ayato could also be on his way to save him, but I honestly think Yomo will be okay after this kind of injury, simply because

a.) He practiced large amounts of cannibalism in the past

b.) He’s friends with Uta, and I assume Uta may have shared some tricks with his fellow cannibal on how to spaghetti himself back together again 

c.) Yomo has literally been stabbed through the heart and lungs, and survived

Anyways, I hope Yomo lives next chapter (if another one of my favs dies, I die)

((woo we reached 777 followers! …well, yesterday I did. i sorta lost a follower, but that doesn’t matter :’D Thanks so much you guys for keeping up with the bs and these puffs and stuff. This wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you ;v; (i repeat myself so much when i do these things, so i’m keeping this one short ;v; )

But anyway, instead of just expressing my gratitude like always, i decided it would be cool if i did a little give away…well more so ART give away request thing!

(i liked the colours c: )

Anyway, here are the rules for this:

  • You MUST be following this blog, since this is for the followers after all
  • Likes and reblogs count, but only reblog once please.
  • And have fun! \ovo/

As for the prizes:


  • A 30-45 minute speedpaint
  • A sketch with colour
  • and a sketch


  • A sketch with colour
  • and a sketch


  • YOU GUESSED IT, a sketch

here are examples:

(the speed paint only turned out that well because puffball)

(also, backgrounds will have to be simple, since i’ll be busy during the July)

Additional info:

  • Last day to reblog and stuff is July 15
  • Winners will be picked out using a random number generator.
  • If you are winner, you have 48 hours to claim your prize. If I can’t reach you, another winner will be picked out. (please have you ask boxes open at this time o: )
  • Also, if you’re a winner, please request at most 2 characters at a time.

If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to message me c: 


Wanna WIN Flight Rising stuff?

Well then welcome. Since at this point I notice just opening FR site just for a habit but not actually doing anything there, I could basically just raffle or idk my stuff away.

( Also I could give my Dragons away for free simply just if you’re interested or want exalt fodder. ToyBonnie #64226 , go check them out and send me message in FR if you want any of the dragons. )

Anyway, if you wanna win stuff go ahead and reblog this post with your FR name and number and you have chance to win something from my hoard. I don’t count likes and only one reblog counts, so don’t spam, also I won’t give anything for giveaway blogs.
There is honestly a lot I haven’t get rid of yet so I won’t list everything here but one lucky person is gonna get these beauties:

You have time until 16th January to take part of this and good luck.