#gassing

[hope-for-the-planet]

The Climate Change Superfund Act makes major fossil fuel companies financially liable for damage due to extreme weather events and other dangers related to climate change. The amount these companies are responsible for paying depends on their contributions to emissions since 1995.

Money collected from fossil fuel companies will be used to mitigate the health impacts of climate change and improve public infrastructure.

[fanaticalthings]

just another night in gotham

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[dailynation]

Chris Zumani linked to gassing - Police say the ex-political advisor to former President Lungu with three others have been arrested, charged with offence of Possessing Articles for terrorism

Chris Zumani linked to gassing …Police say the ex-political advisor to former President Lungu with three others have been arrested, charged with offence of Possessing Articles for terrorism

[ihc-hide-content ihc_mb_type=”show” ihc_mb_who=”4,5,6″ ihc_mb_template=”2″ ] By NATION REPORTER FORMER President Edgar Lungu’s political advisor Chris Zuman Zimba has been arrested and charged with the offence of being in Possession of Articles for terrorism. This includes the possession of Halothane a general inhalation anesthetic used for induction and maintenance of general anesthesia. It…

[victusinveritas]

[ghouljams]

Alright someone asked me ages ago if I would write a Bimbo!Reader and I had no clue wtf that meant or what the appeal was but I think this might technically fall into that vibe so...

Here you go.

(cw: poly!141 x f!reader, self pussy inspections, self praise, supportive but befuddled 141, cannot stress how vane this reads as but y'all should be doing it)

You're having your required phone time post shower. You're all primped and pampered and lotioned up. You're even doing your affirmations between tiktoks as you scroll, leaning over your bed to look at yourself in the full length mirror on the back of your closet door to tell yourself: "I'm so pretty, the world is lucky I'm in it."

You hum, laying on the bed, towel tucked under your head so your hair doesn't get the duvet wet. Maybe you should get dressed. You've got company coming over. Big company. Big company that actually wouldn't mind if you opened the door naked except for the fact your neighbors might see. You glance at yourself in the mirror, and arch your back a little. You smile at the figure you strike and make a kissy noise at your reflection. "You're so hot," You tell your reflection, "what do I have to do to get you home baby?"

You laugh to yourself, blowing another kiss and squeezing your tits together. God the boys are lucky to have you. Actually, you should remind them of that.

You sit up and scramble to get yourself in front of the mirror. You hold your phone up to record as you open your legs and rub your fingers through your folds. You're neatly trimmed up and soft from that oil Price got you, but most importantly: it's so cute! Awww. You spread your pussy open and coo at yourself in the mirror. She's so cute. Cute little pussy. You're going to have the boys kiss it when they get here.

You sort of forget you're recording as you watch your fingers in the mirror, spreading and rubbing, you circle your hole with your fingertips and slide them up over your clit. You can feel how wet you're starting to get, see the way your pussy drools and glistens are you rub the slick over it. God. Adorable, really, it's so pretty. You're kind of obsessed.

You toy with the hair, scratching your fingers through the curls before running them back down to your folds. Yeah, good shit. You rub little circles over your clit the way Soap always does, tipping your head to watch the way the bundle of nerves stiffens. Wet and tight, fuck when are those losers getting here?

Your phone pings with another notification and you finally remember the recording. You stop it and forward the video to the group chat. You barely get a second text in before Gaz is responding.

Gaz Me Up: "It's so cute" Soap Sudz: "Look how cute it is" You: Hey I was gonna say that. Gaz Me Up: We know love.

Rude.

Your phone pings again.

Mostly Ghostly: Be there in ten. Want me to kiss it? El Capitan: Can be there in five. Gaz Me Up: Damn I'm 15 out. Soap Sudz: Isnae a race Soap Sudz: But Ahm winnin'. Soap Sudz: Two away, leave the door unlocked.

[spookberry]

this games so stupid

[tracksuit-goth]

Bonus scene from dissecting butterflies. Jonathan doses Mira with an early formula, it doesn't go great :3c

<readmore/>

You can’t run from your fears, Mira. They will always catch up with you.” He staggered into the front room. Blood matted his hair to the side of his head, he could barely see through his glasses for the filth. He found her trying to pry open a boarded-up window.

“Fuck off, Crane! I’m not scared of you!” Furious tears spilled down her cheeks. Splinters tore her hands open, leaving bloody fingerprints on the beams; the adrenaline pushed her through the pain.

“We can change that,” Jonathan growled. He felt Scarecrow whisper at the back of his neck and he wished he hadn’t left his mask downstairs. He took his time stalking forward. He savored the sight of her cowering before him. There was nowhere for her to run.

**

Yellow fumes spewed from his canister, spraying her full in the face. The smell was something like ammonia and gasoline, it made her choke and gasp; causing her to inhale even more of the fumes. It stung her eyes, nose and throat; tears and snot ran down her face while her pupils turned to pinpricks. Suddenly weak in the knees Mira slid to the floor.

She tried to speak, to curse him, but she only let out a strangled wheeze. She felt like her throat was closing up, her raw throat rubbing against itself. Full of rage just a moment ago, all that was forgotten in favour of pounding her fist against her chest in hopes of jumpstarting her lungs.

The Scarecrow was pleasantly surprised at how quickly his fear toxin took hold. He was still working on the formula and more often than not he used himself to experiment with it; watching someone else experience his creation thrilled him.

He joined her on the floor, kneeling in front of her. The Scarecrow’s boney fingers trapped her shoulders and gave her a vicious shake. “Tell me, are you scared now, Mira? What do you see? What lives in your nightmares?” He hissed, searching her face for a trace of recognition. The expression of dread in her glazed eyes gave no hint of what might be lurking in her mind.

“I… can’t! I can’t …see -ee, can’t bre-ee-eath-” her pupils constricted in a dark room Mira had been unintentionally blinded. Whatever was in his toxin carried a serious physical effect beyond the intended hallucinations. Behind her eyes, multicoloured stars burst.

“Focus, focus, don’t -don’t pass out now,” Jonathan held her upright as she started to sag in his arms. He smoothed her hair back off her sweaty forehead, he needed her conscious. Her skin was clammy to the touch and he feared she might be going into shock. He hissed a curse while standing up too quickly, his knees creaking in protest. He stared down at her for a moment, watching her writhe on the carpet him entranced.

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back,” he said to the girl curled up on the floor. Jonathan tore a moth-eaten Afghan off the sofa and tossed it over her before dashing out of the room. His long legs carried him down the stairs and into his lab where he bee-lined for his desk. He rifled through the drawers until he found his first aid kit, cursing that he didn’t put it in a more convenient place.

Sprinting back up the stairs, taking them two at a time while the tin rattled in his fist. Mira had not moved from where he left her, except to curl into the fetal position.

Jonathan fell clumsily to his knees by her side, her skin had gone a sickly shade of grey. He continued to mutter curses to himself while popping open the first kit; from it, he pulled a tourniquet and a pre-loaded syringe

“Really hoping’ this helps,” he muttered. She did not fight as he tied the tourniquet around her arm, which did more to worry him than anything else. He tied it tightly around her arm, making blue veins pop up. The needle slid through the skin easily, he pulled the plunger and watched clear fluid disappear into her flesh. He counted her heartbeats, noting how irregular they were; he held his breath between the pauses.

For several painful minutes he sat by her side and waited, gradually the colour came back into her cheeks.While he watched for signs of recovery, Jonathan tried to commit as much of his observations to memory as he was able. Even though her reaction wasn’t what he expected, it could still be valuable data.

Mira slowly came out of it, her eyes splitting open. Jonathan was staring down at her, his face drawn with concern, blood matted one side of his hair. It took a moment for her to remember that she had done that, and then why she had done it. She shut her eyes and cursed, her blood pressure wavering as her heart continued to jump around in her chest.

“Think you can sit up?”

Jonathan negotiated the semi-conscious woman onto his sofa; the two of them collapsed on it together. He turned to look at her, who was grey and panting hard from the effort of moving. He felt sticky with sweat and blood so he picked up the Afghan off the ground and wiped his brow with it.

“I think we can both agree that went terribly,” he sighed, glancing over at Mira. She was still shaking so Jon placed the soiled blanket over her lap. Looking around at his destroyed house, that was the least of his cleaning worries.

[femmetality]

i cant believe how many girls are out here calling themselves femme while objectifying and putting down butches/studs/mascs. they have no clue what it is to be femme, they think its simply an aesthetic, a fun twist on feminine. they either ignore or refuse to learn about butch/femme identities, our history. they think being femme is cute dresses, makeup, receiving. they ignore how entwined femmes and butches are, how we protect each other. support each other, give to each other. they don't see butches as our equals, our twin flames. dont see them as people with boundaries deserving of respect. they don't get to call themselves femme

[bumblingbee1]

If Dutch Van Der Linde has 0 haters, I'm deceased

[nebulousgaythoughts]

Happy Destiel Putin Election Eve to all those who celebrate

[orcboxer]

he is in a strange house and he's just a little boy

[voidlesscreator]

AU where Danny is a stressed college student student aerospace engineering and is caught up in a fear gas attack, but since he's half ghost his biology is slightly fucked up when it comes to drugs and chemicals so it does the exact opposite and he's now as high as a kite while everyone is screaming in fear.

Meanwhile Scarecrow is curious about the young man who started giggling when he inhaled the fear gas and slips a little note into the man's pocket before dipping and the bats show up.

Cue Danny ending as the- actually paid- tester for Dr. Crane's new and other improved gasses which are actually good for him and awful for others. Like one guy is sent into hysterics as everything just hits him all at once, the air being audible, that one flickering light being ear shattering. Meanwhile Danny has just pulled out his notebook for his aerospace engineering class and started writing down new ideas with this sudden hyperfocus that seems chill to him.

This eventually leads to the bats finding out while Danny's just being given vapes filled with that overwhelming gas so that he can actually focus on his exam studying without getting distracted.

(Scarecrow is probably in the giddy stage of a new test subject that has positive feedback for his work. Mans had a contract written up and prescriptions made for Danny to use the gasses legally for himself.)

[spectremarvel]

u said batfam drawing suggestions,, something related to superbat mayhaps? if thats not ur thing then maybe draw a grumpy bruce

"You could come back to my place to show me how strong you really are, couldn't you Mr. Kent?"

"I could do, Mr. Wayne, I could."

[mydairpercabeth]

this is a really big day for annoying ppl (me)

[yayll]

~ a little something about Beast Dazai and his inability to let you go ~

Your hand trembles as you're about to knock on the massive office doors and you wonder if you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

You got too close working for this terribly lonely man, and now you're knocking at his door with the only solution you can think of to put an end to your silly infatuations that have gone on for longer than you'd want to admit and can possibly handle. You open the door slowly, and walk into the elegant and massive office space, your eyes falling right onto the dark haired man in all black hunched over the desk, scribbling away as if he didn't hear you come in. You walk quietly, and when you reach the wooden desk, your voice comes out soft and firm.

"Dazai, sir? I wanted to speak to you about something sensitive, if I may."

You chew on the corner of your bottom lip, but quickly compose yourself when you see the face of the man you've spent so much time with, the unfortunate love of your life. if it weren't for his Maroon scarf, he'd look like nothing but a black void. A burnt Black cat. He looks up, narrowed eyes scan you as he takes a sip of his tea, replying in a monotonous tone.

"What is it?"

"After much consideration, I think.. I need to leave the Port Mafia. We've worked together for quite a while now, and I can assure you it's not about the quality or enjoyment of my work. You don't even have to acknowledge this beyond me simply saying it, I just have to confess something that makes my heart ache. You make my heart ache. I know how unprofessional that sounds and that you have no use for such affections, but I can't keep pretending. It's why I think it's time for me to move onto something else otherwise my work will become disrupt-"

A lifted finger is shoved into your face, signaling you to stop, and so you do. Of course you do. You always had a habit of word vomiting when you were anxious. Dazai is staring down at his tea, and he stays quiet for a long time, trying to pick what emotion he can mask his real outraged ones with. Finally, he flashes you an unbothered look, his eyes half lidded as they taunt you. A cruel smirk curls onto his lips.

"Oh? What an awful time for your honesty! I'm currently drowning in work and responsibilities, ones that you're supposed to aid me with, actually. Thus, I have no use for your confession." He simply says.

You can feel a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You expected this. Looking down at your shoes, you chew on your lip again.

"I had to tell you.. Like I said, you can just forget about it."

"Well you see, that's the problem. I can't forget it. The moment you uttered those nasty little words to me, I realized I have to carry the weight of finding a new secretary. And I resent that."

He looks away for a brief second, his words are bitter and laced with what sounds like remorse and irritation.

You cross your arms and sigh, your voice comes out lower than your confidence.

"I just thought that we were... I suppose I should have never dared to assume you'd ever see me as more than a-"

He instantly leans over his desk, now placing a finger on your lip, his voice just above a whisper.

"... And though these feelings you have for me may be inconvenient, it doesn't mean that they're unwelcome."

He lets his finger rest on your lips for just a second too long, meanwhile you're frozen in place feeling like your chest is going to collapse in on itself. His voice becomes softer.

"Sit, please."

You sit down, now facing each other. It's quiet for a few moments as you both study each other's expressions. This form of intimacy was unusual to everyone else but the two of you, having spent countless hours in the past working across one another without uttering a single word, yet communicating in perfect sync. You were a part of each other's routines, a never ending spiral. Dazai feels himself teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something peeling away at his very soul. He's usually so arrogant and domineering, but in this instant, he suddenly feels an exhaustion wash over him trying to keep that going. He's kept it going for so long, he forgot that he doesn't like doing it with you. You don't deserve to be a part of all of this, and he doesn't deserve to want you.

Oh how he loathes his true identity: A simple man. A human man. Your man.

When he can't take it anymore, he slowly creeps his bandaged hand on top of yours, applying light pressure, but his eyes don't dare look into yours. Not yet. Finally, you break the silence, staring down with furrowed brows at the way your hands fit around one another. You mutter under your breath, tired of being vague.

"What are we to each other, Dazai? I mean really?"

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" He snorts, trying to cling to the last of his cruelty but failing as he lets his emotions sway his judgement.

You sigh, flipping your hand over so that your fingers can fully intertwine.

"I just don't know how I could ever take up any space in your mind. I didn't think you noticed whether I stayed or left."

He looks up, flashing you a mildly offended look, his sharp eyes narrowing. He scoffs quietly, dropping your hand and standing up from his desk. He walks over to you, his full height now looming. He bends down and scolds you.

"What an obscene thing to say. You're invaluable. You have always been occupying my mind, every minute, every second, every microsecond. I always notice. I'd notice even if I was on my deathbed."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you finally manage to swallow the lump that's building up as you stare up at your reckoning.

"I just- I'd never try to leash you, sir."

His eyes soften, and he tilts his head slightly. You drive him mad with the way you don't realize what a dog he is for you. His voice comes out strained.

"You wouldn't need to. And don't call me that. You know my name, and as your superior l'm ordering you to address me properly."

Your cheeks flush, and you part your lips, letting out the breath you can't stop holding. A faint smile appears on your face, and you stand up slowly to meet him.

"You're like the moon, you know? You control everything like the tides. You control me, Osamu."

He shakes his head, and sighs deeply. If only you could see how wrong you were. He steps closer, moving his hand up your arm gently as he trails his way to your collarbone with ghost-like strokes.

"Did you know that sometimes when I'm laying in bed, all alone after a long day of controlling things, my only thoughts are about you?"

He confesses, sincerely. Dazai brings his face inches from yours, his voice now becoming a pleading whisper. His hand travels down to your waist, gripping it gently.

"Do you find it hard to believe that you bring me to my knees, the big scary Port Mafia boss? Because if so, you're a great fool! I love spending my time with you. I quite literally need you by my side in my times of need and at any random and mundane moment that passes. It brings me unimaginable joy when you nag me to get more sleep, especially when I don't listen because I can't wait to hear you say it over and over again. I don't like it when you have plans, or when you report to anyone else but me. I want you to stay with me tonight and every single night after and I don't care how awful this sounds. I don't care about you having a life outside of me."

Your throat feels tight, eyes wide at the fervor of his words alone. You reply with a shaky breath.

"Every single night after?"

"Every. Single. Night. After..."

"As if we were together?"

"We are together." He declares as if it were obvious this entire time.

Hearing Dazai be so blunt makes your mind fog over quickly, a whiplash of feelings that you never thought would ever see the light of day suddenly surface. He feels the same, realizing how much he's given away to you in such a short amount of time, but for him it's been rotting inside for years. He's been held together by the glue of your support too long not to kneel for you now. It's over for him, he's run out of masks to wear. He slowly guides your body backwards towards the opulent leather couch at the center of the room. You stop when you feel yourself backing up into the cool pebbled hide, and he slowly lowers you down onto your back with his arms supporting you. He delicately hovers over you, looking deeply into your eyes as he takes in the way your bodies feel against each other. For a moment he worries he might actually be trembling.

His breath hitches when you place a hand on the bandaged side of his face that covers his left eye. You stroke the fabric lightly, eyes twinkling with unfiltered adoration. He thinks about the only other person who's ever looked at him with such reverence, and how painful it is not to be able to tell his best friend he's in love. He leans into your touch, humming softly and closing his eyes as he molds his lips deeply into yours. It's not a kiss of sexual desire. This is a kiss born of romance and intimacy, a mutual oath of surrender. cold bandaged hands instinctively wander your body, starting at the waist down to your hips, and slowly exploring the plush of your thighs, kneading them. He runs them higher, lightly tracing your ribs with his index finger while the other hand cups your face. Dazai's mouth moves gently, and slowly pulls away from yours with a soft whine. His fingers trace your jawline as he stares at you. You taste like milk and honey. Like the moon and rain. He smiles at you, eyes sparkling like the night sky. You feel his heartbeat against your body. Every single pore of your skin is connected.

"Please— don't leave the Port Mafia, and don't leave me alone... Not tonight. Not ever. I'd become a tyrant without you."

"Is that also an order?" You murmur in between shallow breaths, dreamy eyes trained on him.

His eyes flicker over to your lips for a moment, then return to your eyes. His voice drops to something that resembles a soft whimper.

"Noo. No, it's not. I could never demand anything from you. But if you'll allow me to act selfishly, I just want to make you happy, to see you smile. I want you to keep greeting me with that tea you make every morning before our meetings. I also never want to hear you call me 'Sir' again. I am not your boss or your friend... I'm so much more than that. We've always been together. We will always be together— Is this too much?"

You shake your head, smiling uncontrollably at the way Dazai rambles in this moment, it's a side of him you've never seen in all the years you've known him. A stark contrast from the detached and cruel presence that frightens others on an almost daily basis. This seems like a person pretending to be the boss of the Port Mafia, an almost perfect imitation. You're not sure what barriers within him had to break for him to become the mushy and needy mess you see before you and what it all means in the long run, but you dismiss it for now. You get the feeling this might be the real Osamu Dazai. And that excites you.

"Never too much. I'm here and I'm staying. I would always stay."

He chuckles, it's a broken shaky laugh bordering on a sob. He buries himself in your neck, smiling against your soft skin, nibbling on it. He lightly runs his tongue against the mark he leaves, and slowly lifts his gaze to meet yours

"... I know you would. You always do."

You tilt your head, and hum in mild confusion at his odd little comment.

"Do you know something I don't?"

He flashes you a knowing smile and speaks prophetically as he lightly traces a finger over a large vein on your neck, following it down to your soft chest. He murmurs lazily while bringing his lips down to where he won't be able to get them off for the rest of the night.

"I know everything, silly.~"

The Port Mafia can wait, he's going home first.

[radiobarf]

This needed to happen I'm not sorry 🌟