bugs-on-a-stick

mari-the-monster  asked:

"Did you just stick your fingers in my mouth" with ladynoir.

“Did you just stick your fingers in my mouth?” Chat Noir blinked.

Ladybug flushed. “No.”

“Except that you did. You just stuck your fingers in my mouth.” He touched a claw to his lips. "Bug, why did you stick your fingers in my mouth?”

“First, please stop saying the phrase ‘fingers in my mouth’ because it’s making me feel weird.”

“Okay…my Lady, why were your digits in my gob?”

“Ugh, that’s worse,” she sighed. “I wanted to see if you had fangs, okay?”

“You’re going to need to run that by me again.”

“Well, someone posted fan art on the Ladyblog and I don’t usually look on there but I happened upon it…”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about being on the Ladyblog.”

“I’m not on the Ladyblog, Chat. I just come across it sometimes.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your screenname?” 

“It’s…I don’t have a screenname,” Ladybug sniffed.

“I absolutely don’t believe you now but go ahead,” he chuckled.

“Anyway,” she huffed, “someone made fan art and they gave you these little kitty fangs and then it made me curious if you actually had fangs or not.”

“And you couldn’t remember if I had straight teeth or fangs so your course of action was to stick your fingers in my mouth?”

“I thought you weren’t going to say that again.”

Chat Noir’s face spread into a big grin full of straight white teeth, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Ladybug lifted her chin haughtily. “No fangs. Noted.”

“You sound a bit disappointed, my Lady.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I could ask my kwami if fangs are doable.”

“Don’t you dare.”


Prompt List :)

Buy Me a Coffee? <3

2

no one ever told me chloe bourgeois is actually gwen stacy

Graves sucks at dating

me and @questionartbox​ were discussing the subject of Graves + dates and

 -

  • Graves is lonely 
  • a lonely little man 
  • and sad 
  • he always comes home to an empty house these days 
  • i mean, sure, his job is exhausting (one doesn’t protect the entire country by twindling their thumbs) 
  • and yeah, sure, he is not the most social man 
  • but still, having someone to come home to 
  • having someone to hug 
  • having someone to do more
  • that would be nice
  • so as usual he grabs the newspaper first thing in the morning and as he debates whether or not going through the effort of hitting on someone is worth it he sees it 
  • (not that he was looking for it, mind you, it’s a simple coincidence) 
  • Lonely Witches And Wizards? the add reads. Gather ‘round for a little bout of speed dating and meet the love of your life! 
  • Graves scoffs and drinks his coffee 
  • the next thing he knows he is sitting at a table in front of a stranger, holding a sheet with questions in his hands to “break the ice” 
  • he clears his throat. the witch is nice looking, but not Graves’ type 
  • “hello,” he says. 
  • Introduce yourself fairly quickly, the sheet reads 
  • “I’m Percival Graves. Nice to meet y -” 
  • Oh my God
  •  Really 
  • I saw your name in the papers 
  • the witch is into him ™, she giggles at anything he says 
  • Graves is uncomfortable 
  • maybe he should have worn a disguise 
  • the wizard after her is boring and not into men, who the fuck arranged these tables 
  • Graves is able to go further in his introductions as another woman takes the empty seat in front of him
  • “Hello, my name is Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security and Head of the Departement of Magical Law Enforcement” 
  • (why is his title so damn long) 
  • “So what do you in your free time?” she asks. “What do you like?” 
  • uuuh. The law? Politics. Fashion, he adds quickly. “i love fashion.” 
  • the woman stares and Graves thinks that this was a terrible idea and he’s all but ready to give up after her when a man takes her place 
  • he is damn cute
  • wow
  • “Hello,” Graves says gently. “What’s your name?” 
  • “Newt. Hm.” Newt looks around widly and doesn’t meet Graves’ eyes 
  • now that’s just rude
  • “not into men?” Graves asks, to save himself the disappointement 
  • “uh? no, no, sorry, i just lost something -” 
  • Newt looks under the table 
  • Graves has ten minutes left with him
  • he sees something moving on the man’s shoulder as Newt comes up again 
  • Is that a bowtrucle?
  • uh 
  • Newt sweats nervously 
  • no, no sir, not at all, it’s just a stick, i was in the woods before 
  • “It’s moving, Newt.”
  • Newt sweats harder 
  • You must be imagining things, Sir, it has to be the heat 
  • We’re in the middle of winter Newt 
  • These establishements really exagerate their warming charms, don’t you think? Ahahah 
  • DID I JUST HEAR A GROWL COMING OUT OF THAT SUITCASE, NEWT 
  • WOW, LOOK AT THE TIME! I HAVE TO GO SIR IM SORRY
  • but Newt can’t leave bc he still have five minutes with Graves 
  • magical charms forcing him to sit back 
  • Graves grins at him like a shark and leans closer
  • this is the most fun he’s had in months 
  • “Why don’t you tell me all about that bowtruckle? How did you get it? How many do you have, Newt?” Graves asks, almost purring
  • Newt gulps loudly 
  • Sir, I promise it is just a stick insect 
  • “It just blew a raspberry at me, Newt” 
  • A stick bug. A walking stick, if you will - 
  • Of course it is, and I am Gellert Grindelwald
  • I hope you’re not
  • I’m not, and that is not a stick bug 
  • Newt sighs 
  • What do you want 
  • Do you have a permit for that bowtruckle? I want to see it 
  • But their time is up 
  • Newt gets up quickly and smiles 
  • WHAT A COINCIDENCE. 
  • IT SEEMS I MUST GO 
  • NEWT NO 
  • DON’T YOU DARE 
  • HAVE A PLEASANT EVENING MR GRAVES 
  • WHAT 
  • NEWT YOU MOTHERFUCKER
  • GET BACK HERE 
  • N E W T 
peculiar children as those weird children you’ve probably babysat
  • Emma: stares at a pack of matches and whispers "everything is prettier when its on fire" to seemingly nothing
  • Hugh: Eats bugs, just grabs a bunch and sticks them in his face even though he's allergic to everything.
  • Millard: goes missing all of the time, one second he's right beside you, the next second he's ran away and you'll probably never find him again.
  • Horace: says "you're ugly" with complete earnest, and then cries when you say you don't like his shoes.
  • Enoch: instead of stuffed animals he has a bunch of taxidermic animals. his bedroom is the worst place you have ever been. makes you feel uncomfortable on purpose.
  • Jacob: gets into fights with everything. he'll fight you, he'll fight that dog, he'll fight a car, he'll fight himself.
  • Fiona: sticks arms under ground as far as they can go and then lies face down in the dirt.

anonymous asked:

Can you write a oneshot where Paul pretends to be annoyed (he's actually ridiculously amused) when John calls him by corny pet names?

ah omg okay first of all im sorry i haven’t really gotten around to doing the prompts. but this is cute! 

~

“Angel face, do you mind making a cuppa tea for your beloved?” John pokes at Paul, who was sitting on the floor in front of their sofa. “What? Why can’t you do it?” Paul rolls his eyes, but if he had to admit it, he would say his stomach flipped with butterflies at the ridiculous nickname. “Because my stomach is not doin’ so well, and I just know you want to help me feel better, Pumpkin.” Paul knew John wasn’t lying, he had been lying on the sofa all day.

Paul keeps his annoyed facade on, though. “Perhaps if you drop the stupid nicknames, I wouldn’t mind making you a tea.” Paul crossed his arms and looked back at the telly. “Doll face, you must help me in my time of need!” John grabs at his stomach and throws his head back dramatically. “Bugger off, Lennon.” Paul stood up and touched John’s forehead. “You’re a bit warm.” Paul observed his annoying, apparently sick, boyfriend. 

“Please save me, Doodle Bug.” John sticks his bottom lip out, pouting like a child. “Enough with the bloody pet names!” Paul held back a smile, he couldn’t let John know that he was soft enough to actually enjoy these silly nicknames. Nicknames such as these had become a habit for John whenever he was feeling clingy, or needed Paul to do something for him. “Please, please, please, Bugga-boo?” John reached out at Paul’s hand. 

“Fine, I’ll make you a bloody tea. Would you like some soup to go with it, your majesty?” Paul faked a bow. “Actually, my Peach, some soup would be absolutely lovely.” John smiled. Just as Paul was about to exit the sitting room and head to the kitchen, a large smile spread across his cheeks, John made a noise. “What?” Paul spun around, hiding his smile again. 

“Would you get me a blanket, Sugar Lips? Your poor old Johnny is cold.” John pouted again. Paul felt his heart skip a beat at how absolutely and ridiculously adorable John was being. “Fine.” Paul had to look away, he had to get that smile out. Paul ran upstairs to their bedroom and grabbed John’s favourite dark green fuzzy blanket. He brought it back downstairs and draped it over his body, tucking it in around John’s body. 

“How’s that?” Paul held back a giggle, John looked like a Beatle-Burrito. “Just wonderful, Teddy Bear.” John yawned. “Alright, I’ll fetch your tea and soup.” Paul kissed John’s forehead and went into the kitchen. Paul starts making John his hot beverage and hot food, when he hears snoring. “Oh you’ve got to be joking.” He rolls his eyes and follows the sound. 

There he is, the lad who had been bugging him for tea and soup, John Winston Lennon, completely asleep. Paul couldn’t help but stand there and admire the adorable man. He squatted down beside the couch and touched John’s cheek. “John,” He whispered. “John, love, let’s get you to bed.” Paul whispers as John’s eyes flutter open slowly. He turns his head and looks at Paul, sending that familiar butterfly-like feeling throughout Paul’s stomach.

“Is me soup and tea ready then, Boo?” John mumbles, almost inaudibly. Paul chuckles softly and lifts John up off the couch. “Hold me tight, Johnny. We’re going upstairs.” Paul instructs to his older, sick boyfriend. John snuggles into Paul’s neck and yawns. “Thank you, Muffin.” 

Every time I see a ~nature X~ moodboard, it’s just a houseplant in a white room and someone wearing a green sweater. Like is that what you fuckin city slickers think nature is? 

Where’s the bugs? Where’s the tall weeds that stick to your pants as you walk through them? Where’s the mud that’s just deep enough to fuck up your shoes? Where’s that strange feeling that you’re being watched but you know that if you turn around and look, you won’t be able to stop? Where are the spider webs that you don’t notice until you’ve walked into them?
Have yall ever been outside?

anonymous asked:

even tho I'm a big fat meanie I love ur blog so much fr seeing u on my dash brightens my day !!! there aren't enough joon bug stans in the world !!! also ur gorgeous ??? oh n also the new layout is 👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽👌🏽

hhfddfhdhfhdjd for a mean avocado u sure are full of love!!! thank u for loving joon w/ me effie, joon bug stans have 2 stick together

[Circle Episode 4]

I really love watching Jung-Yeon be playful with Woo-Jin. I like their detective team and how they’re working together. And I absolutely love that Jung-Yeon takes no shit as she gives her perfectly reasonable explanation for keeping secrets from Woo-Jin.  

But I worry that he’s one big reveal away from an emotional breakdown. The boy lost all his chill when he dropped his pen. He has not picked it up again.

I do very much appreciate one thing though, with the past versions of our female alien. She is not Born (sexy) Yesterday. We only see her interacting with the children and hardly ever the father. And when she does interact with the father, he is not hitting on her. I’m very curious as to why they had to leave.

Here are some other things that worry me just as they delight me:

  • Professor Han is Jung-Yeon’s father and has blue bugs that he’s sticking up people’s noses. He has to know Bum-Gyun is Woo-Jin’s brother.
  • The two blue bugs. Jung-Yeon says she pulled hers off of the dead body of Hee-Nam. They pulled the second bug off of Jung-Yeon, not the ground. See #1.
  • Bum-Gyun made an alien conspiracy theorist friend he trusted with his crazy. Maybe these two kids could also make it work. What bothers me is first, she doesn’t have a name yet, and second, if she believes Bum-Gyun is in danger, and she lured Jung-Yeon to the right location. Why hasn’t she rescued him yet?
  • Byul and the star and Woo-Jin coming so close to admitting he had a formative experience with an alien when he was eight or so.

And finally I can care about Part 2. I’ve been struggling with Joon-Hyuk because I can’t connect to him. He has isolated himself too much that even the reveal that he’s lost his memories didn’t really stir me to sympathy the way the show clearly wanted me to. 

But now? That he thinks he’s Bum-Gyun? I can care. I care a lot about Woo-Jin and everything Woo-Jin is doing right now in Part One, is absolutely for his brother. Joon-Hyuk is now a lot more interesting.

And while the reveal did have emotional resonance, I want to nitpick. It made it seem like Joon-Hyuk came to that realization then. But he’s known ever since he’s watched the memories which twin he was. He had to go to all those locations and had an emotional breakdown when he woke up from his coma. This reveal was for the viewers and Bluebird (who clearly thought she found someone else).

But with the appearance of Jung-Yeon/Bluebird in 2037, Part 2 got a major piece it was lacking–a strong female presence. Hopefully, Jung-Yeon will carry her gravitas from 2017 into 2037 and clear out some of the testosterone polluting the air.

An old comic idea I had. It was about a world run by bug people (there was also arachnid, shellfish, and bird people) and it was focused around a man named Dr. Ezekiel Aedes, or more commonly known as, Dr. Mosquito and his apprentice Odo Creek.

It took place after a plague caused by mosquitoes that had drank blood tainted by a deadly virus. The plague had killed off ¼th of the population and was cured by killing off nearly the entire species (Dr. Mosquito only drank water so he avoided being executed.)

Now Dr. Mosquito lives as a local doctor, giving check ups and doing small surgeries for those who cannot afford the hospital.

With the occasional anti-mosquito citizen, spider prostitution ring, and several other odd shop owners (stink bug apothecary, stick bug landscaper, caterpillar dietitian, ect.) I was pretty proud of this story

anonymous asked:

oikuro!!

  • Drinks all of the coffee - They brew a big pot of coffee every morning for both of them to share throughout the day. It can usually last them the whole day, but Kuroo sometimes finishes the pot at around 2PM. Oikawa, in retaliation, doesn’t offer to take Kuroo’s Starbucks order during his nightly coffee run and refuses to listen to any of Kuroo’s whining.
  • Brings up adopting a pet - Oikawa lowkey wants a turtle to take care of, so Kuroo brings home a small pair of turtles in their glass home. Oikawa loves feeding them and watching them chomp, Kuroo loves making them race and betting on the winner.
  • Kills the bugs - Kuroo will probably poke a stick through a recently-killed cockroach and throw it in Oikawa’s direction. Kuroo will deal with no Starbucks coffee for the whole week.
  • Cooks the meals - Oikawa’s dishes have more variety (Kuroo can only make eggs, bacon, and rice), so he volunteers to do the cooking. Kuroo sometimes rests his chin on Oikawa’s shoulder as he watches him cook.
  • Starts getting into holidays way before they should - Kuroo loves Halloween more, so the creepy decorations make their appearance in the apartment as early as September. Oikawa loves Christmas more, so as soon as November 1 hits, the creepy decorations make way for the festivities and lights.
  • Initiates the couple selfies - They both do! Kuroo initiates the selfies where they meme together (it took a couple of tries before Kuroo could convince Oikawa to make ugly faces). Oikawa initiates the selfies that they can both post on Instagram.
  • Forgets the birthdays and anniversaries - Neither! They’re not too keen on going all out for these occasions, but they always make sure to section off a time especially for the two of them.
  • Always ends up with too much junk food after grocery shopping - Oikawa is weak to baked goods, and Kuroo is weak to sugary snacks. When they’re both really stressed from school, they don’t care too much about how unhealthy they’re being. They’re a mess.
  • Nicknames the other - Oikawa, in true Oikawa fashion, calls Kuroo “Kuroo-chan” and “Tetsu-chan.” Kuroo had wrinkled his nose in the beginning, but now he recognizes that it’s how Oikawa shows affection. Kuroo calls Oikawa ridiculous variations of his first name, like “Too-Too” and “Ru-chan.”

NO MORE PLEASE!

10

Painting Full-Throttle: The Art of The Kills’ Singer Alison Mosshart (@amosshart)

To see more of Alison’s paintings, head over to @amosshart on Instagram. For more music stories, check out @music.

Last year, Alison Mosshart (@amosshart) was looking for inspiration. Captivated by skid marks on asphalt, the lead singer of The Kills was determined to recreate them in her artwork. Her first idea was super rock and roll: drive her baby, a Dodge Challenger, through paint and over a ream of canvas, thus uniting her two loves of muscle cars and art. Unfortunately, it also would ruin her ride, so she nixed it. The second was rolling a spare tire around manually, a much easier idea to execute in her Nashville home studio. Then she realized without weight on the tire, she couldn’t get skid marks.

Which is how she found herself in a Toys R Us late at night, inspecting the treads and wheels on remote control cars like a fifth-grader composing a Christmas list.

“I got a bunch of monster trucks and went home. I turned into this madwoman driving a car around the studio, laughing to myself like, ‘This is the most fun ever!’” she says, while sitting in a booth at Los Angeles’ Café 101 and chewing on the straw in her iced tea. The finished tire paintings comprise much of her upcoming gallery show in New York.

Though Alison has been burning up stages alongside Jamie Hince in The Kills for over a decade, and Jack White in The Dead Weather since 2009 she’s been drawing since she was a little girl in Florida. Her mom, a high school art teacher, discovered she could plop Alison down with a packet of magic markers and keep her content for hours.

“I’ve been doing [music and art] forever — they feel like the same thing,” she says. “Painting and drawing is a part of waiting. I’ve been on the road touring since I was like, 14. Twenty-two years straight — so all my artwork is suitcase-sized.”

Until recently, her artwork was most prominently displayed in her mom’s attic. But when she bought her house in Tennessee, she designated a big room with lots of windows the “complete crazy chaos music and art room.” When friends visited and saw her paintings strewn on the floor, they told her she should start posting them. Within a week, she was offered her first gallery show in New York.

“I could not believe it,” she says. “This is insane. I just posted pictures of paintings!” She’s a prodigious poster, much to the delight of her fans, and even shares the stuff she hates.

“If I don’t like a painting, I’ll paint over it. My mom liked one I thought was so awful,” she says, pointing to a recent piece. “I posted it, still hated it. Painted over it and posted that and she was like, ‘Bring the other thing back!’ It’s too late, Mom. I hated it anyway!”

Her modesty is charming, but it’s not exactly a surprise that the art world, just like the music industry, has been receptive to her work. The inspiration for both comes from the same place. “The same feeling that makes me want to paint something is the same feeling that makes me want to write a song,” she explains.

With painting, “everything is really fast. Fast, fast,” she says, as opposed to her work in The Kills. “It’s a pretty long process with me and Jamie because there’s just two of us. Everybody has to do everything. It’s a lot of work,” she says.

That duality and state of flux play out in her drawings, too, many of which contain two or three or 23 faces, an eye bugging out here, a tongue sticking out there, as if different parts of Alison are fighting for the final say by way of brushstroke. “I can’t stop painting faces. That’s all that comes out,” she says. “There’s a lot of changing of the mind going on. That’s why things always have like three eyeballs.”

The one change she’s not so comfortable with is the lack of a place to retreat at her exhibit openings. “I’m quiet,” she says. That’s true in the literal sense — she speaks in such a gentle tone the diner’s lunchtime din nearly drowns out her voice. But her music, and now her art, is quite the opposite.

And with that, Alison drains her tea, smiles politely and ducks out the front door. Safe bet she left at least one set of tire tracks in her wake.

––Rebecca Haithcoat for Instagram @music

Will Byers eats peanut butter straight out of the jar with a spoon.
It’s a habit he picked up from Jonathan Byers on one of their last days of freedom before school started for both of them when they were using David Bowie to drown out the sound of Lonnie and Joyce Byers arguing in the living room.
Now that he’s home, why should that habit be broken? Even after all these years?
So one night he slips out of the room he now shares with Jonathan, and although he’s usually quiet enough not to wake his brother, Jonathan wakes up after he leaves. He opens his bedroom door, looks down the hallway, and finds El doing the same from the doorway of Will’s old room. They both frown, a bit confused, both obviously woken by the same unexplainable feeling.
El follows Jonathan down the hallway to the living room where the only sound is the gentle thunk of metal spoon hitting plastic jar.
There’s Will, sitting cross-legged on the middle couch cushion, a jar of Jiffy peanut butter in his lap and a spoon full of peanut butter in his mouth.
“Hey Will, what’s up,” Jonathan groggily whispers.
Will hesitates then sighs. “I couldn’t sleep.”
The living room goes quiet again, this time with unspoken understanding of the nightmares that continue to plague Will even a year after… everything.
El curls up next to Will, tucking her legs up underneath her as Jonathan ducks into the kitchen. He returns with two spoons, one which he hands to El as he sits down on Will’s other side, the other which he dips into the jar.
Will falls asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder half an hour later, after a casual debate over why El should or should not try “Bugs on a Stick”, her horror at the idea quickly evaporating after proponent Jonathan describes it as just celery with peanut butter and raisins on top while he covers Will’s mouth to muffle his dramatic gagging noises.
Quietly, Jonathan hands El the jar with their three spoons sticking out of the top and tells her to put it next to the kitchen sink. She returns and follows Jonathan, Will in his arms, down the hallway.
“‘Night, El,” Jonathan whispers.
“'Night, Jonathan.”
She’s just about turned to go back to her room when Will sleepily mumbles, “'Night, El.”
“'Night, Will.”
She and Jonathan share a smile and two doors click shut, sending the Byers house back into its quiet sleepiness.

catchaspark replied to your post: im sad every time people initiate conversation…

how often
ok i was gonna like joke about “how often are you talking about kant” but i know the answer

1) it’s come up like twice in the past six months but it really bugs me every time, it sticks with me 2) it’s NEVER MY FAULT. THIS IS THE EQUIVALENT OF PEOPLE MAKING L COMPARISONS FOR ME, LIKE, OK, BUT I HAVEN’T WATCHED DEATH NOTE