#i have one in particular I hope i take the time to work on as a gift for myself just cuz the concept in my head is nice

[justice-maul]

Hey hey so glad that you are feeling good about your desicion. Now, may I have some tony x male reader where the reader is a lot younger than him and tony and him have a contract where tony pays the reader's bills and in exchange just wants the reader to fuck the shit out of him?

Tony Stark x Younger Male Reader | Headcanons

Author Note: Keep in mind, English isn’t my first language, thank you so much anon and so sorry for the wait, hope this makes up for it because I ADORE writing for Tony 🤤

Warning(s)⚠: Top reader, age gap (unspecified but legal), size difference (Reader is big), dom reader, mentions of praise, degradation, and rough sex (lol sorry if I forgot any)

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

You worked near Stark Towers but in a less... luxurious area, the job paid well enough but living in New York, you lived a very cheap and humble life that wasn't exactly your choice

There was a cafe near your job and Stark Industries, you would often go there on breaks and see some workers around the area, but never in your life did you expect to see the Tony Stark at that cafe nor did anyone else

Tony walked in on his phone, not really paying attention to anyone and got in line right behind you to your surprise, people murmured and whispers, some took pictures and you tried to look ahead and not pay too much attention to it so you can get back to work

Tony sighed, tired after a long day in the lab. All he wanted was a caffeine fix before working for the entire day again. He looked up from his phone, pulling his sunglasses donw to scan through the menu when he noticed you in front of him

A towering figure with broad shoulders stretching the fabric of your shirt even from the back it was impossible to miss your size and Tony always appreciated a good size difference, but it was your eyes that made him catch his breath when you finally peered at him out of curiosity

You cursed your own actions as you two made eye contact and he grinned at you, making you look away quickly and try to focus as you ordered your usual drink

"Can I please a get a (insert preferred drink)?" You asked the barista and pulled out your wallet to get ready to pay when Tony slid in smoothly beside you and ordered his drink as well

"Add a triple shot espresso to that too," he said and winked at the barista before looking up at you, your eyes meeting again and this time you maintained eye contact even as he smirked up at you

"Let me buy your coffee, handsome." He said, not really asking for permission as he inserted his card and payed for you both

"Uhh, thanks for paying for me..." you muttered, not exactly knowing what to say to which he just shrugged with a lazy smile

"Don't worry about it, it was nothing, though you can pay me back by joining me," he said teasingly and grabbed his drink signaling for you to join him at a table to which you hesitantly obliged and sat down with him

"You live around here sweetheart?" He asked you, sipping his drink to which you shook your head, taking a sip of your own drink

"Uh, no I just work around here, paying off some debts," you explained where your work place was and he nodded slowly, knowing that particular job wasn't exactly the best paying

"And how's that going?" He asked with a slight smirk to which you sighed and shrugged

"As well as anyone could guess, by the time I pay this off I'll probably be in a nursing home," you joked and watched as he stirred some sugar into his drink

"Well how about I help you with that handsome?" He offered and titled his head at you in question

Your eyebrow raised in confusion "For what in return?" You asked cautiously and he chuckled softly, lifting the stirring stick to his lips sucking on it suggestively

"Oh nothing too bad, I'll pay for anything and everything you need, plus more, and you just have to do one thing for me..." he paused and pulled the stirring stick out of his mouth teasingly and threw it aside "You get the luxury to fuck me, whenever I ask you to of course," he said and smiled as he sipped his drink and waited for your response

"I- um, wh-what?..." you stuttered, completely caught off guard making him laugh at your reaction "So your gonna pay for all my debt, my bills, and anything else as long as I just... sleep with you?..." you asked him

"Yeah, pretty much, if it makes you more comfortable we can put it in writing, make it a formal contract." He offered smiling cheekily, knowing that his night was about to get a whole lot better than it had been

Over some careful consideration, you agreed, making and signing the contract together, each having your own copy of it. Tony began paying for everything you needed or even happened to mention in passing time, but every week you would fuck his brains out for him as asked

Most days he seemed groggy or tired but he was always in a good mood when you came by and hid it behind his usual smiles and teasing, but he did always look much more happy after your thoroughly fucked his brains out

"Oh yeah, fuck this is just what I needed" he said, arching his hips to meet your thrusts better, his eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy and his hand raking through his hair that stuck to his glistened forehead as your large cock practically split him open

That was how it went, you gave him good dick, in return you got paid (Tony even began giving you "tips" every time you got off him real good) it was simple and you were fine with it, there was nothing that could possibly go wrong with such a perfect arrangement, as long as you don't get attached or catch feelings....

You got both.

But how could you not? Sure he was infuriating at times, a total diva, and an absolute drama queen which was typically embarrassing for his age but... you still couldn't help it, that little smile he gave you every time you showed up, a look of pure relief as if you were fixing all his problems, that moment right before he'd come undone where he would just whisper your name like he was in a trance, and they way he always tried to keep your attention on him

You'd never say anything though, it was far too comfortable, in fact you liked having to do what was considered the bare minimum for a fuck ton of money, it kept you employed and debt free and it kept him plugged up and content. Some days you'd get close, you would actually talk about life or you'd sleep in his bed all day, that sort of thing but both of you were at peace with your arrangement, you knew he wouldn't leave he might fuck around but he always came back, no one had ever taken him the way you do

The way you'd make his moans echo off the wall while giving him those degrading praises, how you'd angle your large cock just right against that one spot and hit it over and over again and yet you'd gently comb through his hair, that harsh grip you had on him that left him bruising for weeks... and yet the way you'd always make sure to never go too far was a luxury he never had before...

Yeah... he was falling hard too, just wasn't aware you were, it was clear the arrangement was fucked to begin with.

Hi hi! Sorry this took so long and sorry if it feels short but I thought I might as well get it goer with, thanks for reading and enjoy!

If you want more like this... check out my Masterlist

[thrashkink-coven]

So i want to start my practice but unfortunately i don't have the tool incense tarot card pendulum and especially i still lived with my parent. The deity i want to work with is a demon from ars goetia andromalius, i already did the ritual but i Haven't got any respond what should i do?

I received this ask in June so you’ve probably already figured this out but keep on tryin!

If you don’t have access to tools like a pendulum or tarot cards you do still have the option to do some good old meditation on your demon’s sigil. In fact you’ll probably be doing this way more than using cards or other tools. All you need is a pen and a piece of paper. On the front you should write your demon’s sigil. Bonus points if you can find a coloured piece of paper or pen that you associate with them. For Leviathan I would probably use blue, whereas I’d probably use red for Asmoday and green for Belial.

On the back of the paper write a short petition or prayer. Be sure to address yourself by name (doesn’t have to be your legal name, just the name that you identify most with). Detail what exactly it is that you want from them and be precise about how you want them to manifest. If you hope to see them in your dreams write that down. If you just want some mundane sign that they’re listening write that down too.

For example: “To the Great Lord Lucifer, keeper of the hidden gnosis and liberator of all, I Shi, your loyal devotee, invoke your presence and healing light. I request that you appear to me in my dreams, in perfect human form. I wish to see your face and feel your warmth upon me. I wait patiently here, in this, your temple (referring to the altar) for your messages to touch my heart. So it shall be, as it has been, and shall be again.”

For first introductions it’s always a good idea to bring offerings. Something as simple as clean water is fine if you don’t have access to incense. A piece of fruit, a yummy pastry, or a piece of candy works too. Some demons are more particular than others, but they almost all unanimously appreciate alcohol. If you don’t have access to wine or rum, white vinegar also works.

Now, you can anoint the sigil with blood. I usually only do this for my patron who I trust and feel safe offering dna to. Some rituals will insist that you anoint all your sigils with blood but it’s not mandatory in my experience. A simple kiss can work, as can just charging the sigil in your hands. Focus all of your intention into the sigil until it almost seems to vibrate with energy. Then, when you feel ready, you can begin chanting their enn if they have one. If not, you can come up with your own mantra. For example, I wasn’t sure what invocation to use with Hermes, so I always just repeat “Holy Hermes, Holy Hermes, guide my spell.”

As you chant, focus your entire attention towards every syllable coming out of your mouth, feel your vocal cords vibrate as your intention becomes sound. I like to say Lucifer’s enn deep in my chest.

As you do, continue to stare at the sigil. There is a good chance you’ll experience some kind of imagery or physical sensation. If you see a terrifying face or a graphic image, do not freak out, this is very normal. Not all demons are pretty lol. You may altogether have an idea or voice enter into your mind out of seemingly nowhere, that is likely your demon responding. You can respond to them aloud or in your head. Try to stay focused on the sigil as you do, don’t think too hard about your answers.

As an added step you can attempt to do automatic writing. This is when you allow a demon to take control of the muscles in your hand to create a drawing or sentence on a piece of paper. Whilst holding the pencil, completely relax and continue to focus on your demon’s sigil. Don’t resist the subtle movements that occur involuntarily. Sometimes this can result in amazing communication and sometimes it results in a bunch of gibberish. It’s worth a shot but don’t be dismayed if it doesn’t work the first few times.

If you don’t see or feel anything, that’s okay, these things don’t always manifest right away. Do not beg your demon to show up. They find it very annoying. Continue the ritual for a few days until you get a sign. Pay very close attention to the subtle details in your life.

You should probably recreate the sigil every time you reach out rather than using the same one from last session. You’re also perfectly okay to destroy the sigil either by burning or just throwing it in the garbage. Be sure to say goodbye and close down the connection before you destroy the sigil. If you do get a solid communication, remember to say thank you.

[doublel27]

DnD classes and alignment Jack and Joker

Thanks to a tag by @solarpirates calling Jack out as an Oathbreaker Paladin a few weeks ago, I have been working on this alignment chart along with some classes for this adventure BL.

Jack - Oathbreaker Paladin (formerly Devotion and Redemption respectively)- Lawful Good

Currently, in his space as an Oathbreaker he’s operating on an evil thread but it’s not who he is overall. In fact, Jack started the show as an Oath of Devotion Paladin - fighting as a knight in shining armor, wanting to protect and uplift his people. He was forced to break this oath the first time he joined Boss. However, under that first track, he found a new path, Oath of Redemption, believing anyone could be saved given the right tools and forgiveness and this became how he operated under Boss for years, working in counter to Boss’s evil in the ways he could.

He does believe in rule and order and general kindness. His want is to improve life for the people around him, whether they’re his or not.

Hoy - Beast-master Ranger - Neutral Good

His favored terrain is urban and his beast of choice is a car. He rolled a nat one survival check for finding the right bathroom in the dark…which is why he has his current job. Hoy operates both in the bounds of order (lawful) and occasionally outside of it (chaotic) but does believe in altruism and kindness in his core.

Ama - Neutral Good

I don’t know what Ama’s class was. Sometimes she gives monk. But grandma is neither lawful or chaotic but somewhere in between. But she’s good. She does everything for the betterment of the people around her, including her Joke.

Joke - Mastermind Rogue - Chaotic Good

His alignment feels out of place with his class, but that’s because Joke’s particular brand of roguishness is entirely grounded in his disdain of the wealthy and his own robin-hood style thievery. He falls into mastermind instead of straight thief because he uses knowledge, secrets and favors as well as his proficiency with disguise, to pull off his jobs.

He pulls out a costume in order to go try and talk his dad into taking up grandma’s surgery. The once a thief always a thief didn’t help when he had the opportunity to steal for Jack sent him right back in.

Save - Abjuration Wizard - True Neutral

Save is terrifying in many ways because he is true neutral. The thing about evil-aligned people is they are predictable in their cruelty, their disdain for others. Chaotic people are chaotic because they don’t live by order and rule, but it’s predictable that they will scorn order. Save is terrifying because as a true neutral aligned character, he can operate in any alignment as he chooses when he chooses and the reasons are entirely tied to what matters to Save and not a response to the world at large.

I’m going with abjuration wizard because his focus is protecting Hope, and the way he wrote the contracts entirely protect Boss and not the customer.

Aunt Nang - Divination Wizard - True Neutral

I had her pegged as Boss’s sister early and I am so glad I was right. She was my unknown but the last two have pushed me to the true neutral stance. She like Save is dangerous because she can operate in any alignment and often does. Sometimes she leans chaotic and sometimes she wants order, like with her temple. The plans she and Boss have and the difference in their aims to get revenge for their parents. I believe sometimes she wants to be benevolent but she was the push behind the stealing of the ring and the reason the four little pigs got away with it at all, and then immediately regretted it.

She has some visions of the future and uses her various means of fortune telling to support her aims.

Aran - College of Glamour Bard - Neutral (evil at the start but making his moves toward good)

Upon meeting Aran, our boy is selling beauty and glamour with a ruthless disdain for other people. Arab can weave a pretty picture of wealth for others to desire. He uses his power and money to abuse others to get what he wants. He works within certain order being his father’s son, but doesn’t mind a certain level of chaos.

He’s speed running the alignment chart from evil to good though and I’ve never been prouder. The way Aran stood up to his father over Hope, how he is with Tattoo when it comes to the product, and his insistence in being part of the team helping Jack. He was very excited to be part of the school and while he did try to run from seeing his father, he still joined the crew for everything.

Tattoo - Battle Smith Artificer- Chaotic Neutral

Impulsive and often operating outside of rule and order of society - the initial plans to steal, first from Joke and later from Boss was his idea, as was the impulsive decisions to take the necklace twice. Tattoo also is not religious like his mother and doesn’t fall into the concept of a world ordered by gods. His spy car is definitely his version of a Steel Defender and the shock of the bag definitely falls into the arcane jolt category. He’s not building things specifically to cause harm, but largely to mitigate the harm to the people that matter to him. A talented artificer who operates on his own code.

Hope - Way of Shadows Monk - Lawful Evil (but can be pushed neutral I believe)

Maybe it’s because we often see Hope enter from the shadows or cloaked in shadows, but he does like to use some element of surprise in his fighting. I’ve chosen monk for Hope because his fighting doesn’t by in large seem to come from rage. There’s a peace to him when he gets violent that makes him terrifying.

When operating as an extension of Boss, Hope falls into the evil end of the axis. He delights in violence. However, when it comes to Save (and to a lesser extent Aran) Hope operates from a neutral stance where his choices are related to his personal relationships.

Boss/Alice - Lesser Devil - Lawful Evil

Boss Alice is by the book and in doing so delights in the ruination of others. He works in favors and trades. Anyone who falls, well it’s their fault. He is the devil whom has made Jack break his oath and he will utilize various pawns in his games.

Rose - Neutral Evil

Rose wishes she was Neutral Good, and I think she could be true neutral if she wanted to, but she plays too much. She cosplays being altruistic but her aims are about herself, and getting what she wants. She plays within and without the rules, all to get her own aims with a level of callousness that puts her above It’s how she ruthlessly outbids Aran for the necklace and then she and Nang used the theft to purchase Jack for Rose. She actively chose to play the Golden Ladder to Heaven game knowing that Lampang very well might be playing with peoples lives because it was a better option for her personally. She sees little problem with the suffering of others and wants to celebrate her own wins.

You could be better, Rose, and you want to tell yourself that you are. But you’re not.

Lampang - Lesser Demon - Chaotic Evil

This son-of-a-bastard. Sure there are rules but they’re not predictable. They’re not orderly. They’re wherever works for Lampang in the fucking moment. He’s unconscionably cruel and delights in the suffering of everyone around him. When the rules don’t work for him, he wants to skirt them.

[mollywog]

Read Part 2 on Ao3

He’s just stepped outside for his morning break when he sees it: A dandelion growing up through a crack in the sidewalk behind the bakery; a burst of color among the drab winter grays. Spring is coming. He checks the date on his phone: March 20th - no, spring is here.

He’s been dragging himself around since January. Since he’s apparently missed their date two years in the future and Katniss had called off their correspondence.

But the dandelion has reawakened him.

Part 2 now on Ao3

Her letters had always been vague on personal details; he didn’t know things like where she worked or bought groceries so that he might try to meet her naturally now. But today, staring at the yellow flower, he remembers one particular he’d previously overlooked…

He races home and straight to the attic where he’d tucked away all their letters he’d saved: too painful to keep out, but too precious to dispose of. He rifles through the papers, scanning each one till he finds it; an off handed mention of how she’d begun taking her lunch in the hospital courtyard when the spring had arrived early this year…

She could be there now! What if he could meet her before even their first letter. Before it had all gone wrong.

Pages flutter to the floor as he stands; grabbing his jacket, he races out the door. Throwing the truck in reverse, he looks over his shoulder when a flash of red catches his eye.

The mailbox flag is up.

The metal box is purely decorative; Here before he moved in, despite the mail carrier not delivering up this far. It’s only ever been used to communicate with Katniss.

He puts the truck into park, staring at the small red flag as he slowly approaches in disbelief. She’d been firm in her final letter, never retrieving any of the others he'd placed in the box, lowering the flag each time, his pleas left inside unread.

What’s changed now?

There’s a single scrap of paper, unevenly torn from a notebook, the scrawl frantic, ink intermittently dying out mid letter - yet he can read every word;

Peeta, I know why you didn’t show up that night in January. Please don’t try to find me today. It will end badly - It can only end badly unless you wait. If you still care for me in two years, I’ll be here: at the lake house, and if not, I can be glad that you’re simply alive, but don’t look for me, don’t try to find me yet. Please wait. Please! I lo…

He stands frozen, the note clutched in his hand, reading and rereading. How could she have known he would look for her? What would happen if he went anyway? And did she really mean to tell him she loves him before she’d run out of room on the page? It feels too much to hope for, but it seems there’s only one way to find out.

~~~~~

It takes all his willpower, but he doesn’t try to find her that day, nor the days immediately after. Instead he throws himself into the house: caulking and painting, replacing smoke alarms and light bulbs, and when it’s finally warm enough, planting wildflowers in front of the bay window facing the lake. Readying the place for the next occupant: for Katniss.

A few months later he puts the house on the market.

His brothers think he’s mad after all he’s poured into it, and maybe he is, but he doesn’t know how this works and he won’t risk screwing up the timeline. Besides, it had always been more like a project than a home and based on her letters, Katniss had needed this place more than him.

Despite his convictions, he can barely believe it when he sees the familiar signature on the offer.

He moves into a modest apartment close to the bakery.

His pretty neighbor stops by often to flirt. She’s sweet and kind and he thinks under different circumstances he’d flirt back and see where things led, but now he’s not even tempted: He’s waiting for Katniss.

So he gently rebuffs her advances until she begins looking for cups of sugar and small talk elsewhere.

He starts painting again. He hasn’t picked up a brush since his accident in high school when he’d lost his leg, but he remembers Katniss writing about singing for the first time after her father’s death and he wants to be brave like that.

Time continues to pass, both by inches and miles.

Another spring comes and his brother’s wife gives birth. The first time he holds his niece he weeps.

He knows his family thinks he’s moorless, letting his life pass him by, but that’s the furthest thing from his mind. He could be dead if not for Katniss’s warning and have never known this joy.

His paintings are featured in a local gallery with a piece right in the front window. He wonders if Katniss has ever walked past it. If she’s stopped to admire, or even notice at all.

He doesn’t look for her exactly, but he’s always vigilant of his surroundings. Wondering if they’ve crossed paths unaware. Maybe she had sat at this park bench mere minutes before or passed him in the produce aisle as he considered the pears.

The fateful January 2nd comes: The one they’d agreed to meet on.

He still doesn’t understand how any of this works, but he’s certain he can’t show up this time around either: the whole house of cards could come tumbling down. In one of his moments of firmer resolve he takes a dose of sleep syrup so he can’t change his mind.

He wakes the next morning in misery. But after rereading all her letters, he’s more determined than ever to make up for lost time if only she’ll allow it.

So he waits for the spring until it finally arrives.

The day begins like any other: He gets up at the usual time and goes through the familiar routine: showering, dressing, brushing his teeth. But instead of heading to work he leaves a message at the bakery that he won’t be in today. He feels a little guilty for the cake consultation he’ll miss, but he’d been too superstitious to take the day off in advance.

His anticipation grows as he paces the apartment, eventually finding himself appraising his reflection in front of the bathroom mirror. He was never more himself than when he wrote to her, but will she be disappointed if he’s not the tall, handsome stranger she might have imagined?

He can’t bear to speculate so he grabs his keys and heads for a diner outside of town, just a short drive from the lake house. He orders tea and doodles on the placemat to keep his eyes from flitting to the clock behind the register as the final minutes seem to pass slower than the years he’s already waited thus far. He has a conviction that he can’t see her before her last letter was sent and only after the second hand passes twelve on his predetermined time does he stand from the booth.

He heads to the truck when he’s stopped in his tracks by a dandelion growing inches from his front tire. Had he pulled up any closer, it would have been crushed. And yet, by luck, or maybe by fate, it survived. His nerves bubble over into laughter at the sight. He plucks up the flower, twirling it between his finger and thumb and a strange calmness washes over him.

In no time at all he’s turning off 74th onto the familiar gravel road of Mockingjay Lane and when the house comes into view, a woman turns from the mailbox where the flag still stands erect.

Katniss.

There are tears in her eyes and a disbelieving smile on her face as she wraps herself in his arms and he finally, finally feels like he’s home.

My THG Comment Feast Fic - Inspired by an 18 month old prompt of ‘postcard’ and the 2006 movie ‘The Lake House’

Read on AO3

The bell above the door dings as they enter the bakery and the broad shouldered man behind the counter looks up from his phone, fixing a smile as he welcomes them in.

Prim returns the smile, leading them towards the counter, arms linked. Katniss pays little mind to the introductions and chatter of the man and her sister, staring disinterestedly at the display case of pastries until Prim’s voice close to her ear brings her back to the present, “He’s cute!” Katniss looks up to catch the back of the baker’s unnaturally blond head as he slips out through a swinging door behind the counter, “and I didn’t see a ring.”

“Yeah well I do,” she says, grasping her sister’s hand from under her arm, playfully waving it in front of them. “We’re here to talk wedding cakes, remember?”

Prim rolls her eyes, “don’t be obtuse: I obviously meant for you. Come on Katniss, how long has it been since you’ve been on a date?”

She shrugs, turning away. She hadn't told her sister about her last romance and recent split… if you could even call it that. Prim wouldn't understand - hell, Katniss barely understands. Nevertheless, she knows her low spirits haven’t gone unnoticed. Prim’s worried about her when she should be focused on the happiest day of her life.

Katniss smiles weakly. She’s trying. She really is trying. She’s here isn’t she?

The man re-emerges with another who can only reasonably be his brother, taking his place at the register while the first man ushers them back to an office off the kitchen.

“I’ve always loved your cakes,” Prim starts in.” When we were little I’d drag Katniss to your window to stare at them on our way home from school. God, but that was ages ago, before we moved. Work brought me back to the area and when I got engaged, I just knew I needed one of your cakes for my wedding.”

She takes to watching the man as he and her sister converse. He is handsome, she supposes, but it’s more than her sister’s comment that has her focused on him. There’s something familiar about him, but she can’t put her finger on it.

“My brother would have been doing the cakes back then; I swear he was always more artist than baker. I do the decorating now. I’ve got some samples of my work if you're interested; Make sure it still fits your vision? Actually-” He’s rifling through a stack of binders on his desk, when he pauses, pulling out his phone, “I’ll just show you here.” The screen glows to life and he toggles to his photos, but not before she catches a glimpse. He extends the phone towards Prim, but Katniss’s hand shoots out to intercept.

She clicks the button on the side twice until the lock screen background appears, revealing a full view of what she already suspected was there. All the air is knocked from her lungs, but somehow she’s able to force the words out, “What is this?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, but he quickly conceals his surprise, “The lake house? It’s up at the end of 74th, off Mockingjay lane. It was my brother's passion project. You’d never believe what it looked like when he bought it based on that. He fixed it up himself.”

“Katniss! Oh my god, that's your house? What are the odds?” Prim looks up from peering over her shoulder.

Katniss’s thumb sweeps over the screen caressing the glowing image, but it’s not the house she cares about. In the forefront are three men standing together, arms connected in a shoulder embrace. The first is recognizable as the one in front of her now, the third, the brother who replaced him at the register, but it’s the man in the middle she can’t tear her eyes from: “Peeta,” she doesn’t realize she’s said it aloud.

“Yeah, did you know him?”

How can she explain that she does know Peeta? That he’s the only man she’s certain she’s ever loved even though they’d never met. That they’d been exchanging letters through the lake house mailbox for months… oh, and that said mailbox had been transporting her letters two years to the day into the past and his two years forward to the present ever since she moved in… no one would believe her. She barely believes it herself, but here it is in front of her. Proof of Peeta’s existence.

But it still didn’t explain why he’d stood her up when they’d attempted to meet three months ago. He had even been the one to suggest it, making a reservation under his name for January 2nd, two years and one day in the future from when they’d decided for him, but only the next day for her.

But he’d never shown up and as she sat at the table heartbroken and alone, avoiding the waitstaff’s pitying stares, the cold light of reality had crept back in. Of course he hadn’t waited for her. Who was she to even hope for such a thing?

But something is wrong, Peeta’s brother looks suddenly downcast and it dawns on her: ‘Did you know him’

Did not do. Dread pools in her stomach, “what happened?”

“Peeta died. Couple years ago…” He looks at the calendar, “two years ago today actually: the first day of spring. Hit by a bus right in front of the hospital.”

She’s transported back to that day two years prior:

She’d just started at the hospital earlier that month, a receptionist job at Prim’s practice she’d found for her so they could live closer. No sooner had she stepped outside for her lunch break had there been a horrible accident right in front of her eyes.

She’d been the first to reach the man, crouching down by his side to offer what little aid she could until the paramedics from inside could be alerted and arrive. She’d cooed soothing words as she tended to him and bid him to stay with her.

Then his hand had touched her wrist and she’d looked up to find his blue eyes trained on hers and he’d smiled. Actually smiled and replied ‘always’ before closing his eyes and slipping away.

She hadn’t known him then, but the response and those eyes had been haunting her ever since. So much so that she’d quit her job at the hospital, a few months later finding the secluded house by the lake for sale.

… of course Peeta hadn’t made it to their date two months ago, He’d died in her arms years before they’d ever exchanged their first letter…

Her eye flit to tie time displayed on the screen: 9:48, almost three hours before the accident in Peeta’s timeline.

Katniss stands abruptly. “I have to go.” Even as she speaks her plan is still forming, “Prim. I need to take the car. Can you get home alright? I need to… I have to go.”

She has the presence of mind to rip a slip of paper from her sister’s wedding planning journal and grab a pen from the jar on the baker's desk before dashing out the door. She only hopes she makes it with enough time. That he’ll see her note. That he’ll heed her warning…

[kitkatsgalore]

you have my soul, you have my heart ♡

[candycryptids]

😇- What's their best trait?

👿- What's their worst trait?

for Tuesday and Chuu

“Miss Chuu’s best trait? Mmm… You said this is an interview for your retelling of the Warriors of Light and their journey, right? I’d say it’s her unshakeable resolve. She decides she’s going to do something, and she doesn’t give up until it’s done. Ah… I’m not allowed to speak more on Miss Chuu without her presence, my apologies, mister Levraut.”

“You broke into my house,”

“Your lovely wife let me in actually,”

“To wake me up from my nap and interrogate me on my assistant,”

“Interview, Mademoiselle, not interrogate. Though I am sorry for waking you, your eyes were open so I assumed-”

“Ah-ta-ta. You wanted to know Two’s best trait right? Adaptability. Any environment, any obstacle… he’s got brains enough to figure the way through most anything. And failing that? He knows a top notch engineer in Magitek to kit him with the right tools to overcome his few shortcomings. Hey wait did you fucking call me a mad gazelle, you lop-eared scab?!”

“Thank you for your time, both of you. I have just one more question before I consider this interview complete and I let you both go back to your.. erm, busy schedules. What would you say is each others weakest trait?”

“I knew it! This IS an interrogation! Two, don’t-”

“Ah, that would be Miss Chuu’s paranoia, mister Levraut. Most of her other traits net positive gain,”

“Watch your mouth, Two.”

“That is.. ah, her paranoid trait has served to pull her out of many situations she would have landed in had they not afforded her foresight and caution to approach most situations.”

“Two’s worst trait is how I just can’t seem to keep mad at him when he finds and exploits loopholes in whatever rules I’ve set for him. And last week I asked him to bring me lunch, and he was nowhere to be seen for nearly six bells.”

“… Miss Chuu, if I may, you were in Azys La, and you called me via Linkpearl to bring you specifically egg sandwiches from the Bismark, even utilizing the Aethernet it takes time… and when I arrived at your last marked location you were nowhere to be found.”

[Duo Oc Ask Meme !]

[dapg-otmebytheballs]

coming back the next day to my blog terrified of reactions and yea I worry this will get swept under the rug and be made into a non issue

[deviousdiesel]

.

[sweet-beezus]

Oh, joy

I can see your little star

[aeide-thea]

god i know that complaining abt fic which most of you haven't read, and which i won't, for politeness' sake, identify in this post, is a great way to come across as both dickish and boring—

but i've been rereading a very long, very satisfyingly plotty series that's a fandom darling and the thing is, when you read like 400k of an author's work at once it really starts to become painfully apparent what their priorities are, by which i mean two things:

holy shit they're obsessed with 'what if strong powerful men who could hurt you didn't (but did hurt Bad Guys) (and it was sexy of them),' which leads into

holy shit they do not appear to have thought through the implications of saying 'i will have my heroes take over the same power structures that have enabled abuse, make no real changes to those structures other than swapping out the leadership, and then claim that everything is wonderful now bc Good Men Are In Charge'??

like. i don't necessarily need every passing fantasy to present me with a coherent, revolutionary system of politics and ethics—sometimes things are just fun and sexy and not especially Examined and that's fine!—but by the time someone's written literally almost half a million words, and done a lot of worldbuilding while they were at it, i am going to start squinting if they seem to think a Good Man can e.g. become an emperor by killing off the leadership of multiple countries and installing puppet kings loyal to him and still remain a Good Man, even if the justification was that the original leadership was maltreating its citizens and deserved to be extrajudicially executed. like. this shit was a bad, autocratic move when the US did it in real life and it's still bad now that you're having our mutual blorbo do it in fiction! and that's not even getting into the whole thing where like. they've got servants who the Good Man and his friends ""treat well"" but who very much remain second-class citizens in terms of how the story actually frames them and their concerns. [this was also a huge issue i had with foz m*adows' most recent book—everyone wants to write about fantasy nobles but they also want to make them good people and it's like. honestly i think it might be better to get comfortable writing about flawed people, but also—if your aristos aren't treating their servants like equals and your text isn't either, you haven't actually cracked the Moral Aristo paradox, sorry!] like, there's nothing that says your story has to depict a fully Healed World, nor should there be! but it's troubling if you seem to be convinced you've written one (and have your wide-eyed love interests constantly marveling at it!) when you very patently haven't.

[majorshatterandhare]

I started a piece of art today which is based on some plant species* that I think would be good to colonize Tim in @gunpowder-tim’s headcanon of the Persephone Tim headcanon; so it’s art based on a headcanon of a headcanon of a headcanon 😅 [sweat simle emoji].

It’s gonna take a long time I think, but I am planning on posting it here even though it’s just gonna be plants and no Tim (because I am much better at drawing these little doodle plants than drawing people).

*so the art is basically of real species we have on Earth, but I maintain that they wouldn’t have the same plants on the City, so in my brain his plants are just similar to these ones.

[digitalgirls]

i think i’m extra nervous for this upcoming year. usually i’m just meh about the new year, but i foresee that im gonna have to make some pretty big decisions and take major steps in my life from this year moving forward and it’s scary im not gonna lie

[vampiremourning]

trying soo hard to be normal and Good At Conversation this time

[arolesbianism]

Y'know there already is such a nonexistent market for oni art in general so the fact that I wanna draw more au art is killing me. Like I draw for fun and don't need notes to be happy with a piece but also I need ppl to view my art and be curious and ask questions because while I may not desperately need approval I do desperately need excuses to gush abt the things I like

[airenyah]

it's so funny bc apart from bad buddy music 23.5 also has a few songs/pieces that were also in hidden agenda. like.. if i have an entry for a particular song/piece that i found in 23.5 on my thdrama music list already every single time so far it has been there either bc of bad buddy or bc of hidden agenda

[adelheidvonschicksal]

The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆｡°✩

Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.

“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.

There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.

“I wanted to finish this report for work.”

“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”

Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”

“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”

“Ruined?”

“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”

Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”

His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.

“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.

“It is.”

“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.

“Yes.”

Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.”

Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.

“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.

“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”

“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Very.”

Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.

“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”

“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.

“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”

It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.

“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.

“Huh?”

“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.

“And Serotonin.”

Another kiss, lower.

“Oxytocin.”

He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.

“Reduced cortisol.”

Flustered, you grip his arms.

“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.

His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,

“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”

You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”

Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”

And by those things, you mean his dramatics.

“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”

Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”

He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”

Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.

“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”

“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”

Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.

Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”

“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───