Good morning to the trans man loudly slamming his girlfriend in the bunk above convicted sex trafficker Ghislaine Maxwell, and ONLY the trans man loudly slamming his girlfriend in the bunk above convicted sex trafficker Ghislaine Maxwell
Quick reminder during the writer/actor strike that Agents of SHIELD already exists, so there really is no need for new stuff
The fact it’s basically confirmed that Fitz and Daisy had movie nights/marathons in S2 (when Daisy mentions watching Old Yeller and Paranormal Activity with him on separate occasions), and we didn’t see those scenes? A travesty. I’m upset.
(Also the idea he watched them with her to comfort her and spend time with her when she was a newly turned Inhuman. 🥺)
Mr. Kolpack saying what most of us are thinking (and also saying lol)
That scene from Agents of SHIELD, but with Yelena and Kate
*Spasibo (russian) - thank you
*De nada (spanish) - you're welcome
There is an unexplored time period in shield where maria, bobbi, may, natasha, isabel hartley, sharon carter, clint and coulson all worked simultaneously at shield and its a crime that we havent seen anything set in it. that literally sounds like the best thing ever.
like, may has nat in her contacts (season 2 i think). come on.
just imagine the snark.
can we talk about the ups strike can we PLEASE talk about the ups strike
Soulmate AU Part Two
Steve doesn’t come to school for a week. Rumors are swirling around about why he suddenly disappeared after he turned 18, people speculating that it’s not Nancy to wildly inaccurate tales about Steve being linked to someone like old Mrs. Click. Nancy shuts down, telling people it’s none of their business but everyone still finds out they broke up.
When he finally comes back to school, Eddie almost can’t stand to see it. His eyes are sunken in, hollowed out with dark circles. The normal golden glow to his skin is gone, leaving a sickly hue and an aura of fuck off attitude. People keep their distance like he has the plague. This just feeds into the rumors that something horrible must’ve happened, especially since Steve has a cuff wrapped around his arm, hiding the name from prying eyes.
Eddie doesn’t engage with the gossip, even when the guys from Corroded Coffin try to shit talk Steve around him. Gareth suspects something but he hasn’t put the pieces together on how Eddie covered up his arm on his birthday and hasn’t let them see his wrist since that day, and how he’s suspiciously quiet in the face of the biggest jock in school having a hard time with whatever news he received. No one thinks anything of it because they were spaced so far apart. Everyone thinks Eddie is sympathizing with Steve’s situation. Instead he’s watching Steve’s life fall apart and it’s all his fault.
Steve can feel Eddie watching him, following him in the corridors, quietly staring at him while the gossip around them grows louder. He doesn’t understand why Eddie hasn’t said a word to him, not when he found out, not for an entire year, and definitely not now, when they both know what the other has written on their wrist. Maybe he’s waiting to see if Steve is going to lose his shit over it. Finally snap and tell everyone to fuck off because his soulmate is the freak and even he doesn’t want Steve.
When Steve was younger, he dreamed of his soulmate, held the imaginary person close when things got hard or when he felt like true love couldn’t possibly be real when the universe paired up people like his parents. But maybe Harringtons weren’t destined for happiness.
Eddie deserves someone better, someone he could love, who understands his interests, not some privileged spoiled rich boy whose idea of romance is flowers and sweet diner dates. Eddie would probably scoff in his face if Steve asked him to go on a date. He can hear the condescending laugh he’d receive if he showed up at Eddie’s trailer with flowers.
But fate, it seems, isn’t done with them. They keep running into each other. It’s inevitable, like clockwork, they’ll be standing at opposite ends of the hallway staring at each other, both too choked up to say anything, brushing past each other without a word. They end up at the nurses office at the same time, staring at the ground to avoid looking at each other until one of them gets called back for help. Steve’s picking up the Mayfield girl while Eddie’s outside smoking and Eddie nearly inhales the blunt when they make eye contact.
It all comes to a head one night, when Steve’s car won’t start and he’s stuck working on it in the parking lot after school. It happens to be on the same night as hellfire, Eddie the last one out of the drama club room, freezing at the edge of the parking lot when he spots Steve.
(part 3 soon)
Tags for those of you that asked or expressed interest in more: @stevesbipanic @darkwitchoferie @heartstarstar-blog @gregre369 @adrianmunson
Soulmate AU where your mark doesn’t appear until you’re 18. Eddie knows Steve is his soulmate for almost an entire year before Steve knows Eddie is his. Eddie doesn’t reach out to Steve or let anyone see his mark, afraid Steve will either hate being attached to the freak of the school or get bullied for it being Eddie. Steve’s also dating Nancy, both of them markless at that point, and Eddie is convinced the universe got things wrong because why would the golden boy want him?
Even though he thinks fate got it wrong with his parents, Steve is so excited for his 18th birthday and the prospect of finding someone who will love him unconditionally. But when Eddie’s name appears on his wrist, the second year senior is obviously 18 and has been living with the knowledge that Steve is his soulmate for a year with no contact.
Everyone knows when King Steve’s birthday is because he always throws a huge party at his mansion, so Eddie knows exactly when Steve finds out they’re soulmates. That year, there’s no party. Eddie thinks Steve is upset at who his soulmate turned out to be, but Steve is sinking into a depression, believing himself unwanted.
Favorite thing about renaissance faires is that they have fuck all to to with the renaissance. This thang is not about historical anything this is about dressing up like a fairy and watching a joust
Practice Your Skills
“You ever look at someone and wonder how hard it would be to get past their defenses and stab them?”
Damian snapped his head to the side, looking at the young boy now standing beside him.
The boy put his hands up in front of him with a wince, “Not that I ever do that. Totally not, whaaaat???”
Damian huffed and turned back around to watch the gala participants.
“It’s just you kinda looked like you were contemplating the logistics of stabbing Mrs.Halterguild for squeezing your cheeks.”
Damian scowled. Then, after a moment’s beat, “It would not be very difficult. She is nearly blind in her left eye, I would be able to approach without repost.”
The kid hummed, turning back as well before motioning to another group to the far right, “What about Mr. Beckensmith, he’s a retired vet right?”
Damian rolled his eyes and scowled harder, “The man has only seen the battlefield of an office as he bribed his way from being fully enlisted and instead managed to pay for increasingly higher ranks and medals. He is a disgrace.”
The kid cocked his head to the side, looking suspicious for a second and then nodding with concession, “Fair enough, I bet I could get close enough too.”
Damian scoffed.
“What, don’t believe me?”
Damian leveled a doubtful glare at the civilian, making it clear by looking him up and down, “Hardly.”
The other smirked dangerously, “If I can get close enough to poke him and get away without being noticed, will you believe me?”
Damian narrowed his eyes but nodded succinctly and watched as the boy immediately took off, making a few loops around other people before finally backing up to Mr. Beckensmith and poking him on the opposite side as a group moved past.
Damian pursed his lips. Interesting. Certainly better than he would expect from an amateur. And an amateur civilian at that.
When the boy returns to his side Damian brushes off the asks of meaningless praise.
“Come on, I did it, now you have to go poke Mrs. Halterguild without getting caught.”
Damian sneers, “And why would I do that?”
“Because I don’t believe you either, the woman’s old but I bet she sees you and squeezes your cheeks again. Old ladies just have a sixth sense for that stuff you know.”
Damian nearly growls but sets off on his task. He makes sure to stay on her left side, but the woman turns at the last second, forcing Damian to use a passing waiter as cover to remain hidden and finally get close enough to poke her gaudy dress.
Then he sidles back up to the boy on the edges and provides his best ‘I am more capable than you’ scowl. The boy simply laughs and says, “Who’s next?”
They spend the night like that, choosing each other’s targets to attack non-lethally as though they were attempting to stab them, and Damian finds the gala going by in a significantly less tedious manner.
Right up until the boy laughs at him when he chooses a target. Only one bark of laughter escapes, but it is enough for Damian to consider stabbing him as well. If only with a butter knife.
Instead, Damian grinds his teeth and asks, “What is so different about Masters, do you really believe you would be unable to succeed?”
The other gives a breathless chuckle, “I’m pretty sure even you wouldn’t be able to successfully stab Vlad Masters,” The boy’s shoulders sag even as his jaw tightens with irritation, “He sees everything.”
Damian narrows his eyes. Something naws at the back of his brain but currently the critique of his capabilities takes precedence.
“I would be capable of stabbing Masters even without my favored sword,” Damian scowls and stands taller with annoyance.
“Sure you can, man,” At this, the boy quirks a sharp smile, “If you can actually get him, I’ll personally get you a magic sword,” he says with an air of amused indulgence. Like he thinks Damian is some insipid child saying he will find a fairy.
Damian grits his teeth and shakes the other’s hand, then immediately sets off after his target. How dare this civilian question him! He is the Son of the Bat, this is not even a challenge!
Damian growls as his approach is thwarted for the third time by the man turning in his direction and almost spotting him. How dare he! He will not fail!
Just as he reaches to jab the man in the side, already poised to make his escape, Masters whips around and clamps his fingers around Damian’s wrist with a vice grip.
“Really Daniel I thought we were over-“ Masters pauses, looking at Damian critically as he glares at the man’s offending hand, “You are not young Daniel.”
“Remove your hand from my person at once,” Damian growls.
Instead of listening to Damian’s very sensible directions, Masters tightens his grip and twists his arm, most likely in an attempt to hurt him.
“Now why is a child attempting to-“
Damian doesn’t wait to hear the rest of the man’s words, sliding a dagger into his other hand and swinging towards him, until that hand is caught mid-movement as well.
“Heh-Hey there!”
Damian snaps his head to the side just in time to see Grayson take his dagger and slide it into his pocket. He ignores the bark of laughter he hears from across the room.
Masters’ hand disappears from his arm suspiciously fast, “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure!”
Damian looks over his other shoulder to see his father standing behind him, a thin smile on his face, “Vladimir!”
His father’s figure quickly obscures his vision, putting an arm over Masters’ shoulders in a way that clearly makes him irritated but forces him to follow as he is steered away.
“Dami, I thought we talked about the stabbing at formal events,” Grayson says through a strained smile as he looks over the crowd to make sure no else saw.
“Tt, it was merely a demonstration of my skills, he was in no real danger until he refused to release me. I simply sought to correct that mistake.”
Grayson pinchesthe bridge of his nose, “Demonstration for who, Dames? We all already know your skills.”
“Tt,” Damian scowls and turns away.
Instead of pushing it, Grayson simply sighs heavily, “Just stay out of trouble for the rest of the gala okay? We’re almost done.”
Damian scoffed and waited for Grayson to leave. Once he does, Damian finally looks over to where he had been lingering with the boy.
Gone.
Clearly he’d taken the cowards way out when he’d seen that Damian had been accosted by Masters.
Pitiful.
Damian spends the rest of the night scowling from the wall and looking serendipitously for a head of black hair and blue eyes unrelated to him.
Of course it’s not until they are actively leaving that Damian sees him and immediately splits off of from his family.
He approaches with irritation, preparing to grab the other by the shoulder when suddenly he turns around and blue eyes meet Damian’s green.
“You,” Damian sneers.
“Me,” The other shrugs. He has an amused smile on his face, though it’s strained at the edges.
They stare in silence for a minute, before the other’s smile grows and sharpens once more, “I didn’t expect you to actually try to stab him, y’know,” A slight laugh escapes him, “Not that it was unwelcome by any means, but still, unexpected.”
Damian scowls again, glaring at this foolish civilian.
“Oh, I never introduced myself did I?!”
The boy exclaims and holds out a hand, smile dangerous, “Daniel Fenton. Or if we’re being technical,” a pause as Damian finally returns the gesture and finds his hand trapped, “Daniel Masters, a pleasure to meet you Damian.”
“Hurry up little badger,” A voice says beside them, and Damian notices that it is indeed Vladimir Masters.
The man approaches, placing a heavy hand on Fenton’s shoulder, making the boy go taut, and then they both step into a dark car, leaving Damian on the front steps.
Damian’s anger flares and he shoots a glare directly to the boy getting into the car. It dies the moment they meet eyes and Damian sees the fear hiding in the other’s eyes.
Fear that Damian is all too familiar with.
Fear that reminded Damian of himself. Reminded him of his own eyes when he’d been under his grandfather.
But why did Fenton look like that?
the ladybug show got weirder AND sappier and i'm here for it
LOVE your art style
It's a unique type of frustration when you agree that a character is deeply flawed but other people keep missing what's actually wrong with them and assigning them new flaws that they don't even have it's like free my man he did none of that. He did a bunch of other shit tho.
It’s so fucked up how tiktok culture has made clout-poisoned people turn the public into content, every day I see people minding their business have their entire faces put online for thousands of likes, a couple kissing on the train, a lady dancing across a cross walk, a guy nodding his head to the music at a club, a lady buying a banana at the store, ring camera footage of the neighbors kids being stupid. Just let people live jfc
I think I may have made it seem like this is about wholesome content (which my sentiment towards that is the same) but most of the time when I see this stuff people are being ridiculed for being completely normal. And I didn’t make up any of these examples btw, I couldn’t find the dance one but only because there are too many videos of people being recorded at cross walks
(Faces censored and additional text added by me)
Im gonna add this to every post about this i see im never gonna shut up about it. This will get people killed. This will ruin lives. More people live in hiding than you think. So many people are one post away from having to abandon their whole lives. Dont ever post anything of anyone without their consent, stranger or not.
I am a photographer. It is my job to go into schools and take candid photos for the yearbook.
The number of kids that are on a 'do not photograph' list isn't large, but it is a non-zero number. If that kid is even out of focus in the background, we do not use that photo.
If a child shows even the tiniest bit upset that there's a person in the room with a camera, I do not take their photo.
At pop culture conventions, I ask people if I can take their photo. Or if I take a candid of them, I track them down and give them my info and get th3ir consent before posting.
At events like parties, concerts, performances, consent is generally implied because these are photographed events, but if an attendee approaches me and tells me to crop them out then I crop them out.
This makes street photography tedious, but I learned in my very first job as a camp counselor that people have very good reasons for not wanting their photo publicized. There are kids in the foster system with abusive parents. There are adults with stalkers. There are people who might be a witness to a crime.
Even outside of this- I've seen how private persons become memes against their will just by going out in public. Some people are super not normal about meme fame.
Leave people alone. The world is complicated. Make your own content.
Oh! So imagine, after Le Papillion, Ladybug and Chat Noir made their appearance, everyone suddenly found a giant "0" tattooed on their backs.
And everytime someone dies (and disappears and whatever) by an akuma and is brought back to life by the cleansing light, that number on their back goes up by (1).
So the more often you've died and have been brought back, the higher the number gets. No one is granted an exception.
Imagine Adrien's surprise when he accidentally gets a glimpse of Marinette's back cos the wind made her flowy top rise or something...
And he sees the number 25,913...
(let's pretend Puppeteer 2 and Kwamibuster happened before Desperada, yeah?)
~/~
Adrien stifled his yawn as he walked through the school doors. He couldn't sleep at all last night, thanks to the unrelenting nightmares of yesterday's akuma attack. Battling Desperada was a harrowing experience - seeing his Lady, seeing Ladybug vanish before his eyes, in his arms... her shocked cries, her wide eyes, her vanishing form, and the devastating number 25,913 played on repeat in his mind. And the worst part about it was that some of those memories were attributed to his lack of focus on the job as he had prioritised flirting with Ladybug. He had been kicking himself since - how could he say he truly loved Ladybug, the one who entrusted him with her life, when he betrayed that trust for his own personal interests?
A yelp broke him out of his mental self-flagellation and drew his gaze to the middle of the courtyard. Some student had tripped and accidentally spilt the hot chocolate in their hand onto Marinette's shirt. Adrien was already making a beeline for Marinette before he even realised he had started to move. The student was apologising profusely to Marinette, who was trying to reassure them that it was an accident, suppressing her winces of pain the scalding beverage had caused. Adrien never ceased to be amazed by Marinette's strength and compassion, and his heart traitorously skipped - it had been doing that since the day at the wax museum.
'Hey, Marinette,' he greeted, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, 'let's get you checked out at the nurse's office.'
'A-A-Adrien! Hi!' she greeted. 'Um, sure! Let's go. See you later, Jean!'
The student responded, the now empty takeaway cup limp in his hand, but Adrien had already started guiding Marinette away to the nurse's office.
'Are you okay?' he asked.
'I'll be fine, Adrien,' she answered in that same placating tone she used to reassure Jean, but he wasn't convinced.
'Well, let's just get you checked out and make sure that's the case, yeah?' he replied, ushering her through the nurse's door.
The nurse assessed Marinette's stomach and proclaimed that she was lucky that she wasn't badly burnt by the hot liquid, but she still required a cold compress on her skin to soothe the sting. After ensuring Marinette was otherwise okay, the nurse said she needed to pop out and get some medical supplies, so she left the two of them to oversee the office while she was gone. Once the door shut behind the woman, Marinette looked down at her shirt with a huff.
'What's wrong?' Adrien asked.
'Oh, nothing,' Marinette said, fiddling with the end of her shirt. 'It's just that I am going to be stuck in a dirty shirt all day today - and it's not even my fault this time!' She let out a small chuckle. 'Oh well. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before.'
Her smile did nothing to alleviate the ache his heart felt. He knew his dear friend was a klutz, but it seemed that adorable trait of hers has made her suffer in ways he never contemplated.
'Let's switch shirts,' he blurted out. Her eyes widened.
'Wh-what?' she squeaked, her cheeks quickly flushing a pretty pink.
Cute.
'Our shirts,' Adrien repeated, 'we should switch them - take my overshirt and use it in place of your t-shirt so you don't have to wear a dirty shirt all day.'
'Oh! That's very sweet of you! A-are you sure?'
'Definitely,' Adrien answered, removing his white overshirt and holding it out to her. She took it but didn't move to put it on, and instead stared at him awkwardly, her cheeks growing steadily redder by the second.
'Oh!' he exclaimed, quickly turning around to give her privacy to change. He ignored how his cheeks burned. 'Right, sorry.'
Aaand... he was standing in front of a mirror. Welp. He looked down at the floor, hoping that would work. He didn't want to be disrespectful, after all.
'Ahh!' she hissed.
'Marinette?'
He accidentally looked up. Marinette had her back to him, in between changing shirts. Any other day and the sight would've made him blush, but not today. He accidentally looked up and saw what he shouldn't have and now he felt sick to his stomach.
'It's alright, Adrien, my skin stung, that's all. ...Adrien?' She turned around and met his gaze in the mirror. 'Adrien? What's wrong?'
She walked over to him, his shirt still in hand, her chest only clad with her bra, but that (unfortunately) wasn't what had gained his attention.
'Adrien, you're crying,' Marinette muttered, tenderly brushing a stray tear away with her thumb. Tender. Caring. Like she always was. His heart lurched.
'25,913,' he said, looking up and meeting her gaze. 'On your back - it says 25,913.'
She gasped, looking into the mirror to see for herself. She gasped again, her free hand covering her mouth in shock.
'I only know one person who could have a number like that,' Adrien continued, voice- well, everything shaking, really. 'And you're her.'
His knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground, Marinette barely catching him with a cry of his name. One of her hands wrapped around his back while the other cradled his face.
'Adrien, what are you saying?'
'You- you've been right here, with me, this entire time, haven't you?' he asked, his eyes desperately searching her face; all the pieces were falling rapidly into place now that he knew. 'I've been searching for you ever since I met you, and you've been here this whole time. I never thought- well, I did with Kwamibuster and you led me astray, but now- now...'
'Adrien, please, you're not making sense,' she implored. 'What's the matter?'
'I lost you. I lost you so many times, and I didn't think I'd lose you both! I- I... I couldn't lose you both, I just couldn't...'
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. Tears fell down his face so fast and he couldn't breathe and Marinette's arms wrapped around him and he clung on for dear life. 25,913. He lost her 25,913 times, and... and...
'I lost you, m'lady, and I lost you again and again and again and the Snake doesn't let you lose count- it doesn't, m'lady, it really doesn't and- and now- now you're Marinette, too - sweet, beautiful, kind Marinette - and I lost you both.'
'Adrien...' Marinette began hesitantly, 'why'd you call me that?'
'B-because that's who you are, m'lady,' he answered, burying his head into her neck. He felt her breath hitch.
'Only one person calls me that,' she said softly, 'and that's you, isn't it?'
He just held her tighter. Her skin was warm. She was alive. That awful, terrible number marred her skin and she was alive. Her skin...
He pulled away and picked up the shirt she dropped and draped the button-up around her shoulders.
'The nurse could walk in at any moment - we don't need anyone else figuring out your identity, Princess,' he choked out, holding the shirt in place as she slipped her arms through the sleeves. He started buttoning up the shirt with trembling hands. 'I can't lose you so quickly after finding you, I just can't.'
'And you won't,' she reassured, her steady hands holding his quivering ones. 'It's you and me against the world, remember?'
He couldn't help his quiver of a smile. 'As always, Marinette.'
~/~
hope this is something like what you were thinking of, Akari!
Oh! So imagine, after Le Papillion, Ladybug and Chat Noir made their appearance, everyone suddenly found a giant "0" tattooed on their backs.
And everytime someone dies (and disappears and whatever) by an akuma and is brought back to life by the cleansing light, that number on their back goes up by (1).
So the more often you've died and have been brought back, the higher the number gets. No one is granted an exception.
Imagine Adrien's surprise when he accidentally gets a glimpse of Marinette's back cos the wind made her flowy top rise or something...
And he sees the number 25,913...
In case yall interested, there's a short comic from this account on IG here with similar prompt.
Oh! So imagine, after Le Papillion, Ladybug and Chat Noir made their appearance, everyone suddenly found a giant "0" tattooed on their backs.
And everytime someone dies (and disappears and whatever) by an akuma and is brought back to life by the cleansing light, that number on their back goes up by (1).
So the more often you've died and have been brought back, the higher the number gets. No one is granted an exception.
Imagine Adrien's surprise when he accidentally gets a glimpse of Marinette's back cos the wind made her flowy top rise or something...
And he sees the number 25,913...