#NOT MY PREDDY BLUE EYE BOI

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

Me getting ready to sue the fuck outta gege after youtube told me gojo's fate

[yaut-jaknowit]

Can I get a little something something for the preddy boys(which ever one u want to write for :3) they are arguing with their s/o and their s/o looks them dead in the eyes, and says "yo mama" and walks off

Finder's Keepers, Loser's Weepers

Pairing: Vic'tao x Reader

Word Count: 943

Summary: When your mate wakes on the wrong side of the bed, you don't take his crap. With Vic, you have to be stern. If you show yourself as passive, that submissive to him. You'll lose.

Author Note: Okay, this is so funny though. I usually write all these serious, 'realistic' stories. Thank you for this!

Masterlist

Ao3

The ship was quiet and peaceful. The engines hummed gently, barely heard at the head of said vessel speeding through space. You were contently lying the wrong way in Vic’s chair; legs over the armrest, back to the other side. In your hand was a book, one you’ve recently picked up on your return trip back to earth. There were a few more stacked in the shared room. At this point, you were needing shelves or a bookcase to keep them. They’ve taken over a small portion of the wall inside of the bedroom. Close by, within rolling over distances when lying down.

Nothing disturbed you as you sat in the second empty seat, considered to be Vic’tao’s chair. From what you remember, this ship originally was Uihoy’s. That makes Vic the co-pilot in this case. Elder’s usually get better things, which is why they use this ship more than Vic’s.

As you think about, eyes just staring at the pages, you’ve never been on Vic’s ship. Just this one. Now, you wanted to go visit it, see the differences between the two. You’ll have to ask him whenever he decides to come annoy you.

Your eyes refocused on the book, flipping the page you were on. Ironically, it’s a romance. It still made you squeal when the main characters have fluffy moments with each other. Those scenes remind you the life you currently have with your two alien boyfriends. They were definitely different than what you’ve experienced before. You weren’t complaining though. You loved them.

The doors to the cockpit slide open, revealing a knowing blue and yellow Yautja. You smiled at him in a silently greeting before returning to your book. An interesting scene started with said two characters. How could you miss that?

Two clawed, large feet enter the edge of your vision. They stopped when two thickly corded thighs brushed against the chair’s armrest. As much as you wanted to give the male attention, you kept your eyes glued to the book. A wide, grin on your face with a hint of a blush.

“Off,” Vic’tao snarked, voice harsher than you ever heard before. Your head jerked back before looking up to stare at the Yautja. What in the world? It’s not that you were scared, just stunned. You cocked your head at him, brows furrowed. “Get. Off.” This time, you rolled your eyes and went back to reading.

Uihoy has told you about these moods Vic sometimes gets in. It’s best to just ignore instead of feeding into them.

A hand entered your vision and rested on the top of the back of his chair. Still no reaction out of you. He growled. Finally, “What crawled up your ass and died?” were the first words to come out of your mouth.

Out of the two of them, Vic was a bit more head strong, being the younger of the two. He had that slight young blood vibe to him as Uihoy has told you. He liked to show off his strength to seduce and please. It worked a lot of the time. There wasn’t a way to resist him like that. Plus, it fed his ego, something you weren’t opposed to.

From what you could hear, that made Vic’tao jerk his head back, tresses slapping against his back chest. Then, Vic leaned down so you could feel his hot breath roll over you. Still, your eyes were on the book in hand. “Get out. Of. My chair,” he demanded of you again. You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. He snarled at this, getting closer to you. So close that heat he produced could be felt as well.

“Finder’s keepers, loser weepers,” you snarked at him, returning the same about of energy. You really shouldn’t be entertaining him while he acted this way. But who cares? It doesn’t hurt to return the same energy. In your mind, he deserved it right now. Be a butt, get attitude back.

With a roll of your eyes, you flipped the page in your book again. “What’s your problem anyhow? Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” You know he wouldn’t understand that annogly, you  didn’t care at that moment.

His hand clenched the back of the chair, arm shaking underneath the strain. “You are my problem, soft-meat. Get out now!” he shouted, his other hand came up to pinch your chin.

Now, your eyes were on him, watching him carefully. You knew from your soul he would never, ever hurt you if you didn’t want him to. This was all an act. He was trying to get you to submit, similar to a female of his kind.

The two of you stared at each other, sizing the other up. You were but not for a fight. That’s a losing battle before it even started. No, this was for seeing how to defeat him in another way. Not that was an easy to do when it’s him. Then, a smirk graced your face. Vic raised a brow, head cocking just a hair to the side.

You leaned closer to him, nose to his inner, upper mouth. Vic’s strong, brilliant eyes bored into yours, seeing every move you made. “Yo mama,” you stated then slipped off of the chair and out of his hold and chair.

Vic didn’t move as you walked away, a skip in your step. In your hand was the book, you were going to go find a different spot to read in. Uihoy might be happy to have you around while he works away. You kept that childish smirk on your face while the cockpit door slid back.

[randomfoxehs-belly]

Spent most of today rotating the idea of Pac-Man vore in my brain. It was uncooked for a long time. But it eventually started getting a nice golden glaze going. I cooked. The expression fits.

Somehow thinking of games where the vore is already baked in is harder to sus out x3 but I managed to get a pretty solid mental scenario for Kirby going after all lol

But like Sooooooo much of the vore art that is out there for PacMan is (Mrs) PacMan as prey for the ghosts And I'm like hrrmmmm No I don't think so

Definitely want ghosts as prey

it's never depicted that the ghosts are eating Pac-Man in the games But Pac-Man is explicitly eating them So the free vore all definitely doesn't fit

So I got around to the point of:

So in the games you need to munch a power pellet to turn the ghosts blue and be able to eat the ghosts So maybe ghosts can be eaten consensually just by any pac person, but if they're unwilling that's when the power pellet is needed to munch on the tasty boys who are fighting back about it

Because ghosts Which in Pacman are consistently just depicted as being another species of life forms and not, like, the afterlife or anything like that x3

I was thinking maybe under normal circumstances ghosts can just phase through a pacpersons belly and get out and keep causing trouble, but the power pellet means once they're munched on they're trapped inside.

Like the whole eating their bodies and their eyes running off Is a whole reformation thing lol Which I don't think jives with me So that might be a good reconfiguration for it

Instead, taking that aesthetic and just having it be the ghosts are doing the Danny phantom thing of turning on the intangibility to phase through a pacperson to get out of their belly, having the Look/effect of the floating eyes thing.

It being the same visual from Pac-Man Vs.

Losing their color lol. They get all desaturated and transparent pretty much

So normally, the ghosts can be gulped up but they'll just turn off their color and phase through and out of the belly.

But the power pellet being munched acts like an antacid that coats their belly insides and makes it so the ghost can't phase out~! So when they get eaten after munching a power pellet, they're stuck inside~ like, they eat it and it coats their mouth and belly and that rubs off on the ghosts as they're munched on, so it covering their bodies keeps them from phasing through and out of the belly. That's what gives them the blue "scared ghosts" look. And it loses potency and stops "sticking" to the ghosts after a few moments, but clings onto them and keeps them trapped inside for however long. that works I think >3>

Like it loses potency on the the actual pacperson after a little while, but the actual residue sticks to the ghosts for much longer and keeps them trapped inside belly for X amount of time depending on the pellet

Preyslutty ghosts are happy to stay inside a cozy belly for a while hehe

Pac-people living in Pac-Town and ghosts living in ghost land Segregation O_o So like vore settings usually have preds going to prey town and being all preddy and whatnot But I'm thinking it's probably the other way around, ghosts visit Pac-Town to cause trouble and be bratty preys and pull pranks and whatnot x3

Drawing on the windows of a shop with magic marker. The shop keeper comes out and is like >=o Eats the ghost but the ghost just phases out and goes neener neener and keeps causing trouble

So I was thinking hmm what should power pellets come from, maybe they grow on trees and Pacman has a power pellet orchard But then I was like I dunno maybe that's being too tryhard But then I just found out the Hannah Barbara cartoon did the exact same thing x3

Aaaaand in Ghostly Adventures they're just straight up "berries"

So yeah no, everyone went "magic fruits" lol x3 I have tapped into the collective human unconscious Joseph Campbell as fuck

Vore fruits Power pellets are the ghost sticky fruits Like durians

So that's what I've come up with so far.

[everlarkficexchange]

Be In My Eye

(Prompt 70)

Written by: @reachingforaspark on tumblr, Grace_d on AO3

Prompt by: @567inpanem

Prompt 70: No one Katniss knew got reaped, and after the 75th the games stopped, hunting became easier, she’s looking forward to graduation, and she feels a growing attraction to boy with bread but she’s clueless as to what to do after 1 ½ decades of acting role of son her father never had and man of the house. She approaches problem like stalking game: observe. She learns a lot but realizes she needs help from only one person: popular merchant and Peeta expert Delly who’s thrilled to help in manhunt <3 

AN: Thanks so much for the prompt @567inpanem. I got super excited and planned out a multi chapter fic response to this prompt, but considering I’ve got two other two Everlark multi chapter WIPs already I abandoned. Instead I crafted a one shot from a scene in the story I planned, which still fits the prompt. When I have some free time I’d love to revisit and expand on the world presented in the prompt. Thanks to @xerxia31 and @javistg for organising!

Rating: General, minor coarse language.

Disclaimer: This is a fan work and I don’t own The Hunger Games!

Be In My Eye

Peeta Mellark is everywhere since the Revolution. At the moment, he’s between me and my way back into the district. And he’s not alone.

I pull back into the tree-line, watching as he walks in circles around the meadow. Twin blonde heads flash in the sunlight. He’s got his niece, Ava, scooped against his broad chest with one arm, a bag tucked under the other. He must find what he’s looking for, because he sets Ava on her feet and pulls a blanket from his pack. Peeta always spends a few hours on a Sunday looking after his brother’s toddler.

It’s a perfect spring day, and he’s picked the end where the wildflowers grow, under the overhang of the great oak tree that reaches across into the fence. Recently someone has hung a swing from the heavy branch, and it drifts softly in the breeze.

Belatedly, I realise there’s no reason for me to be lurking in the woods. I have a hunting permit now, and special permission to be beyond the fence. I hear Delly’s cross voice in my head. He’s just a boy, she’d told me, not a damn bear. Stop hiding. I’ve discovered that Delly Cartwright is an unexpectedly bossy ally. But for whatever reason I don’t feel like strolling out of the trees and interrupting this scene.

Peeta is propped up on his forearms while his niece sits in front of him, babbling away. From here I can just hear her bright tones, punctuated by squeals as she occasionally reaches over to pat his face. Babies in Twelve are round cheeked and happy now, and Ava is no exception. My mother and Prim cooed for a week over her the first time she attended the new check-up clinic. I’m not one for babies normally, but now the Hunger Games are abolished, even I have a smile for Ava, with her dimpled chin and blonde curls.

I can see Peeta’s concentrating, the tilt of his head familiar. It’s how he looks when he’s filling out the chalkboards in class, or listening to the New Panem broadcasts we get once a week from District Thirteen. I creep closer, sticking to the shadows until I can make out the dimple in his cheek as Ava pokes his nose. He catches her hand before it ends up in his eye and pretends to bite it. Ava squeals and toddles off, Peeta chasing her. Something about the scene makes my stomach hurt, and I brush it away.

It’s just the normal discomfort I have when I look at Peeta lately. It’s worse when he smiles, and awful when he laughs. I’ve chalked it up to ongoing guilt about never thanking him for the bread, compounded by the realisation recently that Peeta has probably never thought twice about it. Since the Revolution he’s demonstrated his goodness a hundred times over, volunteering every second he’s not in class or at the bakery, at the school, for the new construction, he even carries clinic supplies from the train station for my mother.

He’s left a sketchbook open on the blanket, pencil forgotten. My eyes linger on it for a second, but instead I track the two Mellark’s in the meadow. I walk parallel to their path, them in the sun, me in the trees, a fence between us, as Ava waddles from place to place ripping flowers from the ground and handing them to Peeta. He accepts each one with serious thanks. The sight of Peeta cupping fistfuls of daisies in his wide hands would be amusing if it wasn’t so achingly sweet. Something’s wrong with my damn stomach again. I’ll talk to Mum about it when I get home.

He herds Ava back towards the shade, and distracts her with cut up apple slices while he picks up his pencil again. If I climb out onto the branch supporting the swing I’ll probably be able to see what he’s doing, but I hesitate. There’s pretty good foliage cover, it’s not like I would be interrupting, but it feels like it’s crossing some kind of line. I try to remember if Delly said anything about that. Somehow I don’t think it’s come up yet. We’re still on the ‘how to say Hello to Peeta’ stage. Casting my mind about, I do remember her saying, Show you’re interested in what he’s interested in. Checking out his art is being interested right? I’ll just scoot out and scoot back before he even notices me.

Deciding that sounds reasonable, I spin my game bag around my back and scale the tree, my handholds sure and steady. I inch along the branch on my stomach, shifting out until I’m almost overtop the swing. Ava’s still got an apple slice clutched in one hand, and a stick in the other, scratching it against the dirt. And Peeta is sliding his pencil against the paper, drawing. I suck a deep breath. It’s incredible. He’s loosely sketched Ava, crouched in a pile of wildflowers, plump fingers clasped around a stem. With each run over the outline he refines her soft form, lines becoming clearer as if he’s pulling her out of the page. It’s mesmerising, and I rest my head against the branch as I follow his hand across the page. The breeze blows my hair against my forehead and I relax into the tree.

I watch Peeta’s hand gripping the pencil lightly, follow the line of his forearms, watching the muscles underneath his skin ripple a little. The light hairs on his arms glint gold as the breeze catches the light and dappled shadows play over his shoulders. Between the rustling leaves around me, the swishing of the grasses and the soft scratching of Peeta’s pencil, I feel trapped in a sort of dream. He flips the page, starting a new sketch, and a rope braid begins to form. My daydream is interrupted by Ava clambering on Peeta’s lap, a prize clutched in her hand.

“Rock!” she demands, holding it out to him.

“Thanks Ava,” he says, “what a pretty rock.”

I smile a little to myself.

“Apple!” She points to the basket and Peeta agrees, picking up a daisy and tucking it into her hair. It slips straight through her thin curls.

“Tree!” she points again and Peeta attempts to tuck the daisy behind her ear. It falls out, dragged by the heavy head of the flower. “Bird!” she squeals, ducking out of Peeta’s reach. “Swing!” she points again.

I bite my lip, holding back a laugh, as Peeta uselessly tries to fix the flower in her hair.

“Girl!” Ava squeals.

I freeze. Ava’s pointing directly at me. I wiggle backwards, trying to retreat.

“Girl?” Peeta sounds confused as his head swings around. “Oh!”

He’s seen me.

“Hey Peeta.” I say lamely, sitting up with a little wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey Katniss,” he says, squinting up at me. “Fancy seeing you…up there.” The left corner of his mouth lifts.

I scoot forwards and quickly lower myself down the rope swing. I drop onto the wooden seat. What did Delly say again? Smile, (no not like that Katniss, you aren’t a maniac), and be nice. I force a smile onto my face. It feels like a grimace. Two pairs of blue eyes watch me. I’m suddenly aware that I’m a hot, sweaty mess, with a bag full of dead animals, and there’s a leaf in my braid.

“Katniss, this is Ava,” Peeta says politely, flipping his notebook closed. “Ava, this is my friend Katniss.”

She tucks herself into Peeta’s side. “Bird now?” She asks.

Peeta laughs, lifting the girl into his lap. “Yes, Katniss is just like a bird. And when she sings all the other birds stop to listen it’s so pretty.” He busies himself with finger-combing Ava’s hair.

“Preddy.” Ava repeats seriously, looking at me.

I flush and look away. No wonder I can’t talk to Peeta. I can hardly cope with him telling a silly story to a child.

Sit up straight Katniss, Delly chides me. I roll my shoulders back. Ask him about himself.

“How are you?” I say and cringe at my pathetic conversation starter.

“I’m good thanks. Ava and I are having a lovely picnic. Aren’t we?” He says smoothly, tickling Ava’s sides and smiling a little at me. “And you? Good hunting today?”

“Yeah, very successful.” I kick my foot against the ground, pushing myself on the swing a little. “I forgot my key, for the gate, that’s why I was in the tree. Had to get home.” I stumble over my lie.

“Well lucky for us then. We got to see you in your natural habit.” Peeta says. He’s doing that half smile of his again.

I scowl and pull the leaf from my hair, feeling more like a wild thing than ever.

“Hey! Aim that laser glare elsewhere.” Peeta protests, rubbing the back of his neck. “I meant that as a compliment.”

My stomach rolls. I’m saved from the horror of trying to work out what to do with a compliment from Peeta by him letting out a horrified yelp and lunging for Ava. “Ava! Spit that out.”

She’s got a bundle of dandelions clenched in her chubby fist. A stray yellow petal is stuck to the drool on the side of her chin. I laugh and reassure him that dandelions are completely edible. I’ve eaten enough of them.

“Are you sure?” He asks. He flops back on the blanket, propping his hands behind him. “Oh right, apprentice botanist and resident woodland expert. That’s exciting.”

I nod, surprised he’s heard about my job offer. I guess most people have, new opportunities like that are exciting in Twelve. I push myself on the swing a little, lifting my feet out of the grass.

“You can’t eat these can you?” He gestures to the pile of white flowers beside him. “I feel bad. We practically stripped the whole meadow.”

I laugh.

“You can make wine with them, but I have a better idea.” I say.

I kneel down beside him on the blanket. I run my thumbnail through the stem of a daisy, then thread another daisy through it, showing him what I’m doing. Peeta picks up the method quickly, pulling together his own short string of flowers. Ava wanders back over, sitting between us, leaning on my bare knee with her sticky fingers. I hum to her as I thread dandelions as well as daisies together, trying not to look at Peeta’s hands.

“How do I finish it?” Peeta asks eventually.

I take his short chain from him, rounding off the end to make a tidy crown. I lay it onto Ava’s head. She looks a picture, with her round blue eyes staring seriously at me and the daisies floating on her golden curls. Peeta’s looking at her too, a gentle smile on his face. There’s a smattering of golden freckles across the bridge of his nose that I’ve never been close enough to see before. My stomach flutters again.

Impulsively, I lean over and place my completed chain on Peeta’s head. “For you.” I say, pushing his messy waves off his forehead.

I realise what I’ve done just as Peeta reaches up to grab my hand, startled. I shoot to my feet, knocking Ava back into Peeta’s lap.

“Now you’re matching.” I stammer, avoiding his wide-eyed gaze. Ava seems unaffected by my awkwardness, blowing me a bye-bye kiss as I scoop up my bag and bolt across the meadow, hand tingling.

I try to think of what Delly would say in this circumstance, but all I can recall is her parting advice.

Just be yourself.

[therapardalis]

honorhearted​:

-

Despite the likelihood of things being overblown, word traveled fast through camp, and Ben was disheartened to find that the rumors of Thera’s ailment were true. He’d held off visiting for as long as he could, if only to appear that he didn’t favor her over all the rest, and now he lingered awkwardly at the entrance of her quarters, holding a bowl of bone broth between his hands.

“This is all I could find,” he sheepishly explained. “When I was a boy, my mother would make me drink this any time I was sick…it seemed seemed to work, so I thought…?” Allowing the unspoken words to linger between them, he offered a soft smile and strode over to her side. “How are you feeling?”

Thera sniped at him, but he didn’t take offense. Gently sliding his hand between her shoulders, Ben teased, “You really don’t like asking for help, do you? I won’t tell if you won’t.” Smile growing fond, he brushed a kiss against her brow, his lips lingering a moment while he handed her the broth. “You have a temperature,” he murmured against her skin. “I think bed would be wise.”

Sliding his hand down to curve around her waist, Ben placed another placating kiss to her hair, then gently started steering Thera toward her bed. “Would you be opposed to some company?” he asked. “I don’t have to talk, if you’d prefer… I can be quiet.” Here, he flashed a lopsided smile. “Contrary to popular belief, I can take orders from those who aren’t my superiors – I just might be far less inclined to follow them.”

“Hmph ...” A soft huff about the matter of bed, “You tell me that alla time.” It was a good sign, perhaps, that she wasn’t so badly off that she couldn’t make a dirty joke. Shuffling toward the bed with bleary eyes, she looked down at the bowl of broth in her hands. “I wan’ tell you it smells gud, but I can’t ...” Her nose was already blocked again after the sneeze, and nothing much was getting in.

She set the bowl on the bedside stool, the better to let it cool a little before she tried it, and set about unfastening her bodice - thankfully she’d decided to go without the stays that would likely have crushed her at every cough.

“Comp'ny?” Her glance, blue-grey as always but lined with red, was amused. She knew Ben wasn’t meaning it with any misbehaviour in mind, but her lips tugged upward again. “Are you trying to make sure you catch dis bug, or something? I mean, ’s all aroun’ camp anyway, but staying here pu's you inna firing line.”

It would also put him right in the firing line of her grumps, whines and bad temper, but she decided not to point that out right now. “It’s also gon’ be preddy dull, I’m gon’ just go duh sleep.”