breathing in fumes

My hollowed eyeballs
Sink deeper into my bones
Looking inward at my own flesh
I see the little god in me
Budding outward, and I
Breathe out to feed its unformed petals
The stem lengthen and strengthen
Through these black lashes
jutting out in arches

Like golden half-moon structures
Leading to the starry city
A mini divinity sitting on sunflowers.

Breathing in the fumes of my tea
I find my center in the corner of a wall.

—  Jenn Satsune
Adrien's Game IV: The Revenge

**Disclaimer and links to other parts of this series are at the bottom of this post.  If you see a text in bold and linked, it leads to another of my ramblings.**

You know those post-2000s remakes that give you the TMI version of a character’s back story? Yeah…y’all can blame (or thank) @luciemiddleford for giving me ideas.

In Horrificator (Revised):

  • The kids are doing a movie for REASONS and
  • Mylène and Adrien are playing the leads
  • how did they get her to agree to this btw?
  • she had to have known it was a horror movie, right?
  • RIGHT?
  • predictably, she gets scared
  • not of how handsome her lead is (which is understandable)
  • …of this
  • hey I’m not gonna judge; some people have a fear of luchadores
  • also I can tell you from personal experience that wearing a burlap sack on your head is itchy and smelly
  • …which makes Mylène’s smelly wolf song much more relevant…
  • …ANYway, Chloe opens her damn mouth
  • You know you’ve gone too far when the Sunshine Child calls you out on your bitchiness
  • Mylène is OUT you guys
  • Who’s gonna take her part?
  • Adrien: *hopeful look at Marinette*

Will Adrien finally catch a break?  Find out after the cut…

Keep reading

Stereotypical (7) gifts and a sleepover

Bucky Barnes x reader AU (short series)

Notes: swearing, flirting, implied smut, fluff, Bucky is a hopeless romantic.

A/N: With courting comes gifts! And restraint. A lot of it. 

If you would’ve seen how Bucky beat himself up over making you doubt his motives, all doubt would’ve left your mind. When he returned home after dropping you off with a chaste, lingering kiss to your cheek and a soft bid goodnight, he rested his back against his closed front door and let his head thump back against it.

With a groan he closed his eyes, wondering how he could’ve been so damn stupid.

“Buck? What’re you doing?”

Keep reading


Originally posted by taesyong


Warnings: Public

The entire house seems to be packed from top to bottom. There are people dancing in the living room, people mixing drinks in the kitchen, and couples connected in lip locks lining the stairs. The bass from whatever rap song is pouring through the speakers shakes the house and you’re almost certain that the cops will be there to shut you down at some point in the near future but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

Johnny’s hands are on your hips and his lips occasionally brush butterfly kisses along the exposed skin of your shoulder as the two of you mingle with a group of friends on the back porch. Everyone seems to be in a good mood, the party is in full swing, and the night is just getting started. But every time his fingers brush along the sliver of exposed skin at your hip, you can’t wait for the party to be over.

You know that he’s trying to get you back for your teasing earlier in the morning. He’s trying to get you back for the peeks of lingerie and the promise of a spectacular birthday gift (only to later find out that it was concert tickets, which he was still excited about but he’d gotten his hopes up for sex). But you also know that neither of you are the most patient of people. The teasing can only last so much longer before one, or both, of you snap.

Keep reading

Voltron prompt

Lance and Pidge are on a planet with an atmosphere of poisonous gas. Pidge is hacking a computer system when Lance notices that her O2 tank had been hit in the battle and sprung a leak–its nearly empty. He tries to alert her, but she’s so focused that she tells him to leave her alone til she’s finished. Lance wordlessly hooks her up to his own tank, leaving himself to breathe in the noxious fumes. Pidge finishes hacking and turns to Lance excitedly. “We did it, Lance!” He doesn’t reply, and he’s ashen and listless. “…Lance?” Her eyes follow the tube that goes from her own breathing apparatus to… his O2 tank. Well, fuck.

Ease - Part 12



Length: 3.0k

SummaryYou and your best friend Taehyung have recently got into the same university in the capital of Seoul. Hoping that this was your year to finally admit your romantic feelings towards your said best friend, uni seems an exciting prospect. But of course, the future never really goes according to plan.

Originally posted by jeonbase

1 ♡ 2 3 4 5 ♡ 6 7 ♡ 8 ♡ 9 ♡ 10 11 ♡ 12 ♡ 13 ♡  14 ♡ 15 ♡ 16 ♡ 17 ♡ 18 ♡ 19 - End ♡ Moodboard

The next few days were trying. Confusion and pain swallowed up your thoughts as you watched Taehyung try his best at being overly happy, smiling widely whenever you caught his eye but his face dropping solemn as soon as he thought you weren’t looking. Jungkook was also doing his hardest to pull you out of the mess of your worries, but you sunk deeper every time you saw Taehyung’s pen stop midsentence in class, his eyes blank as he stared at the desk, or when you brushed his hand slightly with yours when you were walking together, and he’d subtly recoil at your touch. He was fragile, and it only strengthened the urge to pull him close in solace.

No matter how many times you told him that he didn’t have to put on a front, he continued to say that nothing was wrong. But he talked too much, too quickly, and he never quite met you in the eyes when he said he was okay. Instead, he let his pale orange hair shadow his face, bottling up his emotions once more.

“He just doesn’t seem to understand that it’s okay to be upset,” you whined, digging your toes into the carpet and letting your arms flop to your sides in defeat.

You were round the boys’ house, but the only people there were you and Jungkook, as Jin and Namjoon had gone home for the weekend and Taehyung was nowhere to be seen. Sitting on the sofa with only a few lamps to light the room and a film playing in the background, it was the perfect setting for romance. However, once the topic of Taehyung came up, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“I really don’t want him to be suppressing how he feels. Tried and tested that one, and I can confirm it doesn’t work. Obviously, I’m not going to force him to talk to me if he doesn’t want to, but I wish he’d stop pretending.”

“You know, you don’t have to be Taehyung’s personal carer,” grumbled Jungkook, helping himself to a third plateful of food from the array of dishes on the coffee table. Although he kept his expression blank, you’d come to recognise the signs of his different emotions. They weren’t obvious, but his ‘pissed off’ signals were a fire in his eyes, the slight straightening in his back, and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, all of which he was showing at that moment.

Stretching out your foot to the other end of the sofa where he sat, you prodded him with your toe to get him to look at you. “Hey,” you said softly. “I’m sorry for talking about Tae. I know you wanted to have a chilled night.”

As you spoke, your phone buzzed in your pocket as someone tried to ring you. Reading the caller ID and seeing Taehyung’s name, you looked up at Jungkook to check his reaction. He knew who was calling, as Hoseok and Yoongi were both working, and you didn’t have anyone else who would be checking up on you.

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with annoyance, his deep brown irises seeming to grow darker. Not wanting him to get more worked up, you let your phone buzz until it ran out of time and cancelled the call. However, just as you were about to put your phone away, Taehyung tried again and your phone went off once more.

Knowing that something was up, you decided to answer and deal with Jungkook afterwards. “Yeah, I’m here,” you said as a way of greeting. “Everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you,” he said bluntly. There wasn’t any urgency behind his voice, but it was the most pensive you’d heard him for a while. Gone was the usual happy façade, and at last, he seemed to have given in.

Jungkook was staring at you fixatedly, and you tore your gaze away, as if looking at him for too long would agitate him further. “Um, sure,” you stammered, cradling your phone to your ear. “Uh… can we talk later? I’m busy at the moment.”

Okay. Please call me soon, Y/N.”

“I will, I promise.”

After hanging up, you peered at Jungkook, expecting to see him looking more relaxed after you’d rejected Taehyung’s offer, but instead, his neck was red and he looked ready to cry.

“Guk?” you said worriedly. When he didn’t respond, you scooted up the sofa so you could hook your arms around his shoulders in comfort. However, he remained unflinching and didn’t acknowledge your touch, with his face remaining passive and unreadable while his eyes filled up with tears.

He took a large sniff before turning to you, and finally you could see the hurt and anger under the blank mask he wore. “I can’t deal with it anymore,” he stated flatly, without a trace of warmth in his tone. “If you want to make this work, then you’ve got to stop whatever you’ve got with Taehyung. I really like you, Y/N, and I want you to look at me. Not Taehyung. I need all of you.”

The hopes of a romantic atmosphere were dashed as you felt Jungkook’s possessiveness seep into your skin, but his words wriggled in your chest as they hit home. Jungkook didn’t deserve your wavering emotions, but at the same time, you knew you were unable to give him your full attention. “Jungkook,” you swallowed, watching him pull at his bottom lip with his teeth. “I need more time. To get over him.”

“How much more time?” he questioned, his voice growing louder. “It’s getting ridiculous! You need to stop being selfish, because I’m done with it. Make up your mind, Y/N. You either want me or Taehyung, and you can’t have both. I’m tired.”

“I want to make things work with you! But to do that, I need to sort out my own problems first. I can’t just drop everything and live happily ever after. It was never going to be that easy, and I thought you knew what you were getting into.”

“Knew?” he spluttered, pushing you away roughly and standing up. Veins stood out on his arms as he fumed, breathing heavily as he held in the full force of his anger. “I knew that I would be helping you, but I didn’t count on being your backup plan. You’re being completely deluded – all you need to do is pick a side. Shouldn’t be that hard, even for you.” Without another work, he stalked out of the room, leaving you on the verge of tears.

There weren’t even words to describe the remorse and despair you felt after Jungkook had abruptly departed. Stunned into silence, you stared at the dishes of food left on the side, growing cold as they lay there neglected. What should you do now?

In your heart of hearts, there was only one real option. There was no way that Jungkook would be happy until you’d sorted something out, and nor would you. Although it killed you to hurt one of them, you had no choice; you got yourself into this mess, so you couldn’t rely on Jungkook to pull you out.

You rang Taehyung. However, as soon as you heard his deep voice on the other end of the line, your throat cracked and hot tears rolled down your face. “Tae,” you mumbled, your voice choked up. “I need to see you.”

Taehyung didn’t hesitate as he heard your distressed demand, not bothering to question why you were suddenly upset. “Meet me at the cupcake shop in 15 minutes,” he ordered. “It’s okay, whatever it is. We can talk it through. See you then, Y/N.”

The last thing you wanted was for Hoseok and Yoongi to observe what was about to happen, especially as they knew so much about Taehyung without ever meeting him. You texted Yoongi on the way to the shop, hoping that he’d check his phone as he worked.

You [4:45]
having a chat with taehyung in cupcake corner. Please pretend you have no idea who I am!!!

Taehyung had hung up the phone so quickly that you didn’t get the chance to argue the choice of location, and as he still had no idea about the dance competition, you could imagine how awkward introductions to your new friends would be. You were there to sort things out, not create more problems.

Yoongi [4:49]
sorry, who is this?
p.s. I’ll have a coconut and mango cake ready

To your displeasure, Taehyung was seated at one of the tables closest to the counter, right under the nose of the Hoseok and Yoongi; the perfect distance for eavesdropping. However, you looked at Yoongi straight in the eye as you walked up to pay, daring him to mention something and give the game away. Keeping to his word, he calmly handed you the change and pulled out a readymade cupcake as promised.

“What’s happened?” Taehyung asked concernedly, his eyes filled with worry as you sat down with a defeated thump. “You’re going to get wrinkles when you frown like that.”

He was trying to lighten the mood, but you ignored him. “Jungkook said some things, and I’m realising that I’ve been in the wrong the whole time,” you confessed.

“By the looks of things, I don’t think he said anything.”

You stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N, I’ve been friends with you for a while now. You have that look on your face, like someone just died. Your eyes are red and considering you were fine one minute and upset the next tells me that Jungkook was involved.” He took a big drag of his coffee, but didn’t take his eyes off you as you blinked furiously, trying to hold back any more tears that were threatening to escape. “What did he do?” he questioned, reaching across the table to rub your arm soothingly.

Taking a wobbly breath, you glanced round to check if Hoseok or Yoongi were listening. Hoseok was on the other side of the room, preoccupied with an electric whisk that didn’t seem to be working, but Yoongi, on the other hand, stood nearby cleaning the counter. Although he had his head down, he kept his body rotated in such a way that he could snoop in on the gossip.

Taehyung pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes as you began recalling the earlier events in hushed tones, so Yoongi couldn’t hear. “He got annoyed because I’ve been messing with his emotions,” you blurted. “I knew I shouldn’t take advantage of his generosity, but I did and it was a stupid mistake to make.” You launched into detail about what happened when Taehyung had rung your phone, but your friend wasn’t having any of it, and jumped straight to the point.

“What did he say to you?” he interrupted, growing more and more serious as you told the story, with his eyes growing hazy and his grip on your arm becoming firm.

“Not much.”


“I swear, it was nothing. He was right, anyway. I am deluded and I am selfish, but I guess I hadn’t really thought about it too much. I didn’t want to admit to myself-”

“He said what?” Taehyung’s voice was quiet, but the sort of quiet that comes from extreme anger. A bad sign. “Jungkook was saying that to you?”

“Yeah, but-”

“He called you deluded?” As he raised his voice, you became aware of Yoongi standing stock still at the counter, his ears pricked up and alert at your conversation. “No wonder you got upset. Even if you made a mistake, he has no right to insult you. What an idiot!”

Taking a quick peek out of the corner of your eye, you could see Yoongi trembling with a silent rage, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to keep in his temper. Anything that hurt his friends wound him up immensely, but you sent him mental pleads to stay mute and not say a word.

Looking back at Taehyung, you noticed that he too was bottling up his true frustration as he faintly rocked back and forth in his chair, holding back an outburst of anger.

“Tae, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal, please. I just needed to see you to talk about something else. Well, it’s sort of related to that. But you wanted to tell me something first. That’s why you rang?” You gave Taehyung’s hand a squeeze in reassurance, and he obeyed your request and sat back in reluctance.

“Well,” he sighed, “I don’t think my matter is important anymore. What did you want to say?”

“No, you go,” you demanded.

“Seriously, I think you should. I promise, it can wait.”

Nodding in surrender, you took Taehyung’s hand and led him outside the shop, past the inquisitive looks from Hoseok and Yoongi and into the warm haze of the late afternoon, just so the two boys couldn’t hear your next words. Taehyung looked confused, but you held up his hands in front of him and focused on the writing of his shirt. The words were in English, and you noticed a grammatical error of the sentence, but you didn’t point it out. Instead, you fixated on the letters as you planned what to say next very carefully.

“We shouldn’t be meeting like this anymore,” you stated, your mouth struggling to get around each syllable, as if subconsciously your brain was telling you to stop talking. But you had to say it. You can’t have both. “We need to keep our distance. Jungkook gets jealous, and it’s not his fault. I feel- felt, exactly the same, and it’s one of the worst feelings in the world. I can’t put him through that, especially when he’s tried so hard to be kind and loving. It’s the least I can give him. Do you understand?”

You should’ve stayed fixated on the lettering of the shirt, because as soon as your gaze trailed up to Taehyung’s soft eyes and his quivering lower lip, you felt as if you’d just slapped him. There was a silence following your words, which was only filled by the sounds of the city and the biting whistle of the wind that tossed around Taehyung’s hair. Your clothes billowed around you and you could feel your cheeks turning pink from the chill, but Taehyung remained motionless.

“So, that’s it?” he said finally, a with a small hint of hesitation. “You’re going to stop talking to me because your boyfriend gets uptight?”

“No, I’m doing this to get over you. I’ve spent way too long having false hopes.”

All you need to do is pick a side.

“You can’t end our friendship!” he exclaimed, letting out huffy laughter incredulously.

“We need some time apart,” you corrected. There was a sharp stabbing in your chest, but you dismissed it. I need all of you. “You ignored my feelings about you, even though I spilled my one biggest secret that left me completely vulnerable to you. But all you did was push it aside, and it killed me, Tae. So, I’m being selfish by allowing for someone to love me. If keeping my distance from you lets me do that, then I’ve got to try.” Your last sentence came out in a sob, the hurt driving through your body in an unstoppable wave.

Taehyung was dumbfounded, but the forgiving look in his eyes told you that he wasn’t going to stop you from leaving. Even if you’d told him you’d blown up his house, he probably would’ve hugged you and told you it didn’t matter. And that’s what was so toxic; he was loving and gentle, and you clung to that because it made you feel comfortable.

“We’ve always only had each other, and it can’t be like that anymore. We need to get out of this pit, before we get too deep,” you said, with a finality that signalled the end of the conversation.

“I think it’s too late for that,” Taehyung admitted, his voice cracking and his ears turning a bright shade of red. Going red out of embarrassment was something you rarely saw, but you were in too much of a state to think too deeply about it.

“I need to think about Jungkook – that’s the least he deserves right now.” Bowing your head, you turned yourself away so you didn’t have to observe the disappointment and the confusion written on his face. Despite all the years you’d been friends, situations and circumstances had changed; it couldn’t be harmonious forever. For so long you and Taehyung had got along with no problems, but it was too good to last. Perhaps it was a disaster waiting to happen, you weren’t sure. Out of respect, Taehyung bowed in response, but the tears filling his eyes told you that he was far from okay about the outcome.

But there was nothing you could do. Jungkook needed you to be faithful, both physically and mentally. Although he didn’t tell you in the most careful and gentle of ways, he got his point across: he wasn’t about to fight for something that wasn’t available to him in the first place.

Taehyung kept his eyes upon you as you left, his eyebrows upturned and his hair unkempt and scruffy as a result of his fingers running through his pastel orange locks. You refused to look back, knowing that it only took one glance to melt your defences. You couldn’t give yourself that momentary weakness. Not again.

It put you at peace, knowing that you both had time to grow without the other person there. But it was peace in the saddest way possible.

One of the Doctors just told me, the first 17 who were pronounced dead from the fire in West London, were majority who jumped out of their windows. And the rest, their faces are either too disfigured by the burns for anyone to recognise them and have no formal identification on who they are at all. Others died from breathing in the fumes and were vomiting tar, to a point where their lungs couldn’t take it anymore.

سبحان الله‎
May Allāh accept them as Shuhadah.
Fumes - harrylee94 - Bendy and the Ink Machine [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Yet another Bendy and the Ink Machine story, this time based entirely in @shinyzango’s 2D Bendy AU! I couldn’t help but think about how unhealthy it must be for a human to be constantly breathing in ink fumes…

Summary: Walking through a poorly ventilated building filled with ink is not good for your health.

he met her
in a sunlit meadow
flowers seemed to bloom in her wake
trailing her skirts like a wedding train
as she ran
straight into his arms

they wrapped around her reflexively
where his skin touched
the flowers wilted
his chin brushed the stalk
of wheat behind her ear
it crumbled
to dust

his breath hitched
the fumes of the Underworld
caught behind his teeth
she burned against him
—this child of life
with birdsong rosy in her cheeks
wreathed in the perfume of growing things
the sun’s rays curled about her shoulders
like apollo had draped them there himself
he could feel the roots of the dead
twining around his ankles
stretching eager fingers
toward the maiden, and he
ripped away

he presided over the dead
it was not his job to deliver
death to them

her fingers looked like
fragile plant stems
but they dug into his robes
like the strongest roots
when he yanked back
she tore away fistfuls
of black fabric
that pooled over her hands
as souls did

her eyes were
fountains brimming over
they fell to the black carpet
beneath his feet
she reached a hand to him—
and took his, “please, take me away”
(he’d heard thousands begging
thanatos not to take them,
but never someone asking him to)

“why?“ spilled over his lips
but she shook her head,
chestnut ringlets bouncing about her face
“the flowers have eyes,” she said
“take me where none will grow”

hades met persephone
when she was running
from her mother
he saw the fear in her eyes
but not for him this time
she took shelter where
her mother’s creation could not
haunt her
she took up residence
on death row

when zeus condemned her
he offered the pomegranate
he tasted the juice on her lips
when she kissed him
whispering “you saved me”
against his mouth
he could still taste the sweetness
beneath the blood
when he lied to demeter
and she hit him for “tricking” her daughter

eventually she stopped
running from her mother
and started
running toward him



BREATHING IN FUMES / Chapter #2 / Fly on the Windscreen [Final]
[For high res: click on the images, wait the loading of the previews, then right click > open in a new tab]
» Listen the song ”Fly on the Windscreen [Final]” here.
Second chapter of my new Faberry Comic.

I’m very sorry, it took me la lot of time even if this chapter it’s only five pages, but it’s not a good time for me right now, but I want to say that if I take my time it’s because I have not time or I don’t feel good. So, be patience.
In the next more Faberry interaction and dialogues.
Hope you like it.

- You can use all the drawing in the pages as icon if you want without ask me. 
- Please don’t post it on Facebook, PLEASE.
- Ask me if there will be any problem or questions.

see you at the next chapter … that I hope it will come soon.

anonymous asked:

I wish you would write a fic where Hanzo kicks down a door just to tell McCree that he's an idiot and he loves him.


It’s incredibly late; McCree is almost asleep after spending a lonely evening watching old movies on his tablet. A few of the others had been having some drinks, but McCree had had a difficult mission and his arm was aching something fierce. Also, Hanzo hadn’t been there, and McCree didn’t think any gathering was worth attending if it didn’t result in Hanzo getting tipsy and draping himself all over McCree.

He was getting terribly mixed messages from the archer. With a little bit of liquid courage, Hanzo would talk to him all night and seem to be flirting – a hand on his arm, leaning in close to murmur in his ear, staring at him from across the room if they were parted. Then the next day he’d get the cold shoulder – glares at the breakfast table, grunted responses to attempts at conversation, and ignored requests to train together. It’s doing McCree’s head in.

McCree is taken aback when he suddenly hears a pounding at his door. His musing interrupted, he sits bolt upright and calls, “who is it?”

“Me,” a gravelly voice responds. It’s Hanzo. McCree sighs; he’s tired, and he doesn’t think he can deal with Hanzo’s hot and cold behaviour towards him right now.

“It’s a bit late. I’m not–”

The door bursts open and McCree stares at the shape standing in the doorway, his leg still out from having kicked the door down. Actually literally kicked the damn thing off its hinges.

“What the fuck,” McCree growls. Hanzo stalks in, glaring down at the door, which he lifts off the floor and props back into the gap. “Hanzo. It’s late.”

“You were not at the drinks,” Hanzo states. He’s swaying slightly; McCree guesses he showed up late and made up for lost time.

“Yeah, uh.” McCree rubs the back of his neck.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Hanzo sits down on the edge of the bed, McCree quickly shifting his legs out of the way. “You are an idiot.”

McCree scoffs. “Yeah, darlin’, we all know that. Was there something new you wanted to tell me?” He looks away; the smell of alcohol is strong on Hanzo’s breath, the fumes emanating from his entire body. He doesn’t want to have to deal with Hanzo’s alcohol-fueled affection right now.

“You are an idiot, and I love you.”

McCree blinks. “Uh. What?”

Hanzo growls. “You are an idiot and I love you. Must I repeat myself again?”

“But – you ignore me!” McCree bleats in confusion. “You don’t like me! You only like me when you’re drunk!”

“Yes.” Hanzo sighs. “I am only brave enough to show you how I feel when I am drunk.” He leans in close, the smell of sake strong enough to make McCree’s eyes water. “I am very drunk, and I am in love with you.” He clumsily bumps his lips against McCree’s, and McCree responds momentarily before drawing back, his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders.

“Wait,” he says softly. “You’re drunk.”

“I know!” Hanzo snaps impatiently. “I already explained!”

“Well, uh, why don’t you just lie down here next to me?” McCree suggests. “Then in the morning, when you’re sober, you can tell me again.”

“Will you believe me then?” Hanzo asks, his voice petulant. He leans heavily against McCree, the alcohol obviously taking its toll.

“Yeah,” McCree says, “I will.”

“Mm k.” Hanzo rests his forehead against McCree’s shoulder and a few seconds later, he’s snoring. McCree sighs and clumsily shifts the archer around so he’s lying next to him, and switches the bedside light out. It’ll be interesting to see what happens in the morning.

It’s a beautiful morning. McCree stretches and yawns, rolling over to see how Hanzo is doing.

The bed next to him is empty, and McCree sits up, glancing around in confusion. He’s about to get up and go searching for the man when he hears the sound of retching from the bathroom. He winces and waits a few minutes until it sounds like Hanzo is done, then slides out of bed and knocks on the bathroom door.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I am alive,” comes the pathetic sounding reply.

“Still love me?”

There’s a pause, then Hanzo replies. “Yes. But only if you get me some water.”

McCree chuckles. “Coming right up.”

Tell-A-Phone (Peter Parker x reader)

HeroesOfOlympus: Heyyy y'all! I’m back again after my hiatus. No one really reads this so whatever. Anyway, @rikapika14 this is dedicated to you! Thanks for encouraging me to post this horrible fanfic that will probably get 0 notes. 

Description: Tony is up to his schemes again and is trying to get you and Peter together. He asks both of you to try out a new invention he made which supposedly can detect people’s feelings. You and Peter end up happy and kiss. I really need different endings.

Reader Gender: Female

Characters/Ships: Peter Parker x reader, Tony Stark, ‘tell-a-phone’/Krats

Rating: PG

Warnings: Cringey writing, some grammar mistakes since I don’t really read over my fanfic and yeah?

“Y/N! Peter!” Tony shouted out to the two teenagers who were currently hunched over their school work at the newly refurbished living room. The two were sitting on opposite sides of the coffee table, peeking up from their work from time to time to steal a glance at the other teenager.

Soft and large pillows scattered the floor, two especially large and fluffy ones currently being sat on by the two young geniuses. With their eyebrows furrowed and their foreheads creased, they stared at their work with absolute concentration, Tony’s words falling on death ears.

Sighing, Tony held up his glass of wine to his lips, thinking of a way to get the two young superheroes’ attention. Rolling his eyes, Tony strolled over to the two young superheroes absorbed in their homework. “I burned both of your suits!” He blurted out, the two teenagers’ heads snapping up to look at Tony.

“You did what?” They both exclaimed at the same time, shooting out of their comfortable seats and approaching the playboy.

Keep reading

how long have you known?

“How long have you known?” Daveed asked as his hands met her stomach. A small kick came from the place where the baby was at. “I mean,” She paused and looked up at you, laying her hand’s on top of his. 

“Six months.” She whispered when his eyes showed he needed answers. Her eyes drifted to look behind him as they let out a sigh at the same moment, his large hand left her belly to touch her face in a soft motion. Her head moved upward once he moved her face upward.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered and studied her eyes. “I told Rafa couple months ago, I begged him to let you have a break.” She mumbled. Daveed let out a huff of air before breathing in the intoxicating fumes that he knew to be the love of his life. “You should have told me…” His voice trailed off leaving them in a short but heavy silence. 

“I’m not sorry,” She whispered and moved so she was looking at his old Oakland shirt. “I knew you wanted to finish the tour,” she said in a soft tone, Daveed spoke up again and closed his eyes as tears filled them.

“The tour’s not done,” he spoke over you. “But I wanted to let you meet son.” she laid her hands on his face before bringing him down to kiss her. Their lips meshing.


This Must Be How It Always Is For Villains

Summary:  Fish Mooney puts Oswald and Edward in a situation where they have no choice but to talk out their shit.

Rating: Teen (Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death, Violence…… LOOK GUYS I CAN WRITE A FIC WITHOUT SMUT!)

Note: This is my birthday gift to the lovely and talented @endless-nygmobblepot 

Ella, I love you and I hope you like what I wrote for you. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you since joining this fandom. You were the first friend I made the nygmob fandom and I will always cherish that. Thank you for being a part of my life and allowing me to be a part of yours. I hope you have an amazing birthday and, even though this fic is heavy on the angst, I still hope it brings a smile to your face.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。


“Momma’s gonna make it all better,” Fish Mooney speaks, caressing her gloved hand gently over the pale freckled cheek of Oswald Cobblepot.

They stand in an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by several of their goons. Some of them from the Penguin’s growing army of Indian Hill freaks.

“I’ve asked you to stop doing that,” Oswald complains, jumping slightly in Mrs. Mooney’s face with his hands closed tightly into fists.

“Well, a mother can’t help it when her boy’s been scorned.” She brushes her hand across his face again. “She needs to make sure that the world can’t hurt him.”

Oswald strikes her hand away. “You’re not my mother!”

“Boy!” She grinds her teeth and steps even closer, pointing in Oswald’s face. “You get that one for free,” she snarls, slowly stepping back to put space between them. If he insults her gratitude once more, she’ll make sure he’ll leave with a double limp. She doesn’t want to hurt him, this isn’t the reason why they’ve gathered in this building, but she will if he isn’t more respectful. “And I am your mother,” she fiercely adds. “I’m the one that made you what you are—” she crosses her arms, shifting her weight to the left— “and you’re the one that came to me for help like a good son would.”

Oswald fumes, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. He hates to admit that she’s unquestionably right and can’t bring himself to quarrel with the truth.

“Now, let me help you like you asked.”  She shifts to the tall, bald, dark-skinned man clad in black leather standing to the right of her. “Bring him in,” she orders with a snap of her fingers.

Oswald winced, eyes broadening. “You got him?”, he asked, slightly alarmed. He almost didn’t think things would go according to the plan. He almost didn’t think Fish had the intelligence to outsmart the man that now calls himself the Riddler.

“As if it would be difficult?”, she directly responds, throwing her head back with a guffaw. “Baby, you’ve still got a lot to learn.” She circled her eyes in a nonchalant manner. “You should let me teach you.”

“No fucking thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

Keep reading

Scarecrow’s brand of Self-Care

(Inspired by @thepigeonqueen‘s post.)

  • Pamper that lanky scarecrow body with Burlap Bath Bombs
  • Spoil yourself: Spend all of your money on books instead of food and other necessities. At least you’ve got rare a 1st edition copy of Ulysses!
  • Teach yourself how to sew. Bonus points of you only use jute and burlap 
  • Feeling down? Use your army of corvids to wreak havoc upon your enemies, and maybe friends too. No one is safe. 
  • Challenge yourself to create a new Fear Toxin. Breathe in the fumes to feel extra relaxed™.
  • Lie down in the middle of a cornfield and let the hot Georgia sun soak in.
  • Dancing helps to relieve stress, especially when it’s violent dancing.
  • Create the most terrifying costume possible with aforementioned sewing abilities. It’s extra spooky if you actually sew your lips.
  • Attend church to get in touch with the Holy Spirit. Then burn it down. It’s what Great Granny would’ve wanted.
  • Watch a marathon of horror movies and critique them, because you could do it better. You are the Lord of Fear after all.
  • Eat homemade Pumpkin Pie for breakfast because you can.
  • Never sleep, spend all your time researching or spreading fear.

“KNOW THYSELF” - one of the most influential aphorisms from the Oracle of Delphi. this mosaic is inscribed into the pronaos of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.

the temple itself is carved from Pythos, the stone that Rhea had tricked Conus into swallowing instead of his own son, Zeus. when Zeus forced Cronus to regurgitate his siblings that had been gobbled up prior to his birth  (Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Hades and Poseidon), the stone Pythos joined them. Zeus then hurled this stone into the distant horizon.

where it landed became the sacred place we know as the Temple of Apollo, also referred to as “The Navel of the World.” this is where the priestess would take Oracle in a cave, seated upon a three pronged stool, chewing a switch of intoxicating laurel, breathing in the noxious fumes coming from a cleft in the earth below her, where the body of Python slain by Apollo lay decomposing.