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#i have one (1) braincell
aterfish · 5 months
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How many of team phantom do you need to change a lightbulb?
Three! One Goth on the lookout, one Tech Guy who knows which way to screw out the bulb and one Ghost to lift (your spirit).
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ariadne-mouse · 1 year
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Is it better/funnier if the huge pool of blood in the Matron's temple is:
actually blood, duh. the disciples get it from... uhhhhh.... sources.
water with red dye. inexpensive, easy to maintain. keeps everyone hydrated
tomato soup. inconveniently relies on a seasonal vegetable, but does make brunch catering easier
imaginary. look, that was a divine vision sequence, why are you thinking about blood pool maintenance logistics?
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virgothozul · 5 months
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JoJo misses scones.
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posallys · 2 months
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The old fears, but I’m here (through the long night with you)
posally | T | 1.5k | could be canon for @pjoseries because we're side by side in the trenches
Thunder claps, deafening.  Her ears ring.  Through half-opened eyes and hot tears, she sees the water recede too far back too quickly.  Thunder. Rain. The water creeps further back. And then it falls.
or, sally doesn't call, but poseidon comes anyway.
read on ao3
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jimmymcchill · 2 years
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i can't believe i spent like forty minutes making this, but here is my new playlist, songs for when you yell at howard hamlin in a public place
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sweetlullabyebye · 2 months
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2manyfandoms2count · 1 month
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Message in a Bottle
Happy Valentine's Day! I'm a little late to the @theerasfestlovesquareversion party, but here's my submission ❤ Special thanks to @miabrown007 for beta-ing!
Happy reading!
Read on AO3
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Marinette sat at her desk, one foot tucked under her, thoughtfully clicking her pen as she tried to organise a message. 
Her thoughts, which went a thousand miles an hour on a slow day, had come to a freeze about twenty four hours prior, when she’d seen – and heard – Adrien’s lips pronounce three little words she’d only ever dreamed of hearing from him. It was just her luck that they were tuned out by warning beep s, and followed by the Startrain doors clicking shut, as in slow motion, without her being able to do anything to stop them.
A part of her had screamed, urging her to chase after the moving vehicle, but her body had remained standing still on the platform, completely and utterly stunned. 
She still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten back to her parents’ bakery. How she’d gotten to bed, fallen asleep.
All she knew, as she’d awoken in the morning, was that she knew something she didn’t before, and felt a sense of clarity regarding what she needed to do – but that was when her mind had woken up, too. 
And thus the calm before the storm had ended, her mind suddenly swept by a force faster than the wind, dispersing any coherence in her head, scattering words like autumn leaves, before they even got a chance to associate with each other. 
She slammed her head on the table, hoping it would help reset her brain; unfortunately it only brought on a throbbing pain. She winced as she rubbed the budding bump on her forehead.
“Screw it,” she mumbled, finally putting her pen to paper. 
Dear Adrien, 
My feelings since you’ve left have been all over the place, but it’s kind of frightening how happy the three little words you said as the doors of the Startrain closed, made me. They’ve been all I’ve been able to think about (which you know better than anyone might not be the best thing right now – but in a good way! I wouldn’t want you to take them back for the world. Unless you want to. Which would definitely not be a problem, of course. Although maybe just a little. But I’d get over it, I promise).  
Marinette’s hand hovered over the page. She was rambling – which could be fine when she talked, but felt pretty stupid to her in written form. This wasn’t her diary. She couldn’t afford to have a stream of consciousness run on her page; maybe Adrien would read it, and think she was crazy, rip up the letter, throw it in the fire, and she’d never, ever, hear from him again. And then what?
If anything, the reason he’d gone to London in the first place, to get away from the press following Hawkmoth’s (his father’s!) defeat, so he could focus on the latter’s upcoming trial, was enough to justify a clear and concise message. She didn’t want to burden him with her feelings when he surely had infinitely more serious things to think about. 
“Marinette, it can be just a first draft, you know.” Tikki’s soothing words snapped her out of her spiral. 
She looked up at the small divinity, who smiled encouragingly. She nodded, then turned her attention back to her words, biting the end of her pen as she reread them.
Little did she know that Adrien, a small body of water away, was doing exactly the same thing…
Dear Marinette,
I’m so sorry I panicked. I didn’t mean to say I like you . Partly, because it’s a little embarrassing that I blurted it out like that – but mostly, because I like you doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about you. I just saw you, your freckles (the ones I thought I knew like the back of my hand – but that couldn’t be true now, could it? Else I would’ve realised who you were sooner), your smile, and the way you looked at me, and suddenly I got cold feet, and that was the extent of what my tangled brain could produce. 
Adrien spun in Félix’s desk chair, assessing what he’d written thus far. It was a good start, he supposed. His life had been turned upside down by the cataclysmic revelation that Hawkmoth was, in fact, his father, and arguably even more so by the fact that Ladybug was Marinette – he was allowed a certain amount of disorganisation. 
Although he’d obviously been surprised by the former fact, he had to admit that, retrospectively, it did make sense. He even felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner – or, rather, for figuring it out back when Hawkmoth’s powers were still fairly limited, and the damage done (both physical and psychological) was only a fraction of what would happen next, but being too much in denial of the kind of person his father was, and therefore falling for his tricks. 
But his father had grown cockier with his powers, sloppier. His desperation sent him in a slow, downward spiral, hijacking his every thought, eating away at him until one day, he’d stumbled out of what Adrien would later discover was his lair, straight into his atelier, holding his head in his hands – still clad in the purple suit that made most of Paris tremble.
Adrien had stood frozen in the doorway, at first not comprehending what he was seeing. Then, as his father – Paris’ most wanted villain – finally noticed him, the cogs in his brain had whirred again, and he’d made a dash for his room, knowing fully well what he needed to do.
Plagg had to go. Whatever happened next, he couldn’t end up in his father’s hands. 
He’d sent his best friend and his ring away just before the iron curtains had come down on his room’s windows. Just before the tears came streaming down his cheeks, as he cowered in a wardrobe, completely and utterly alone.
Until Marinette’s rescue mission, that is. 
Her being Ladybug, had come as both a complete surprise and an obvious conclusion to a mystery he’d done his best not to uncover since the day he’d first met his Lady. Adrien had obviously dreamed of figuring out who hid under his partner’s spotted mask, daring to ask every so often on the off chance that maybe she’d reconsidered her stance on the matter. But never, in his wildest dreams, had he ever made the conscious link between the two girls who brightened up his life. 
(Not that he remembered, anyway.)
Her plan had been so ingenious that he hadn’t clocked what was going on at first. He’d heard his father go on a rampage around the mansion in his search for him, half begging Adrien to listen to his explanations, half threatening him; and then there was silence as the doorbell cut through his words, and echoed through the house, once. Twice, insistent.
The silence was loud for a second, followed by footsteps running down the hallway. Gabriel opening the door. Voices, cordial at first, although Adrien couldn’t quite make the words out. He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, what Marinette had said, but somehow, she’d been invited in.
“Adrien?” His father’s tone was completely normal as he’d knocked on his door. “Adrien, your friend Marinette is here to see you. She saw the security system go off and came to check if everything was alright.” 
“I know how you feel about closed spaces,” Marinette had chimed in. Adrien had slowly crawled out of his hiding spot and made his way towards his room’s door, frowning, trying to remember when he’d told her about his fear. “It’s almost as bad as one of our friend’s fear of running out of cheese,” she’d added as he’d opened the door, turned towards Gabriel.
Adrien had stared at her blankly.
“Another one of our friends is worse about sweets, though,” Marinette had continued seemingly breezily, but Adrien had noticed the insistant glance she’d thrown him. “You should see her in January, she can’t get enough galette.”
Gabriel had chuckled politely, his shoulders tenser than usual, tearing Adrien’s focus off of Marinette’s words. “Well, as you can see, Adrien is very well, no need to worry. Now, if you don’t mind, I have an important matter to discuss with my son.”
Adrien had felt his blood run cold as his father’s fingers dug into his shoulder, which, from Marinette’s perspective, he assumed probably looked like a recreation of the painting looming over the grand staircase.
“Oh, of course, I’ll probably leave you to it, then,” Marinette had looked down, and fidgeted with her ring. 
Adrien had been torn between screaming out for her to make a run for it, to get as far as she could from the mansion and his father, somewhere safe, and begging her to take him with her. But something about her gesture had caught his attention.
Marinette didn’t wear a ring. And this wasn’t an Alliance ring, which he’d seen spread among his peers like wildfire. They didn’t have a common friend who loved galette. Or camembert.
The only person he knew who loved camembert was… 
He’d caught Marinette’s eyes, hoping she could read the question in his eyes. The way she’d nodded back, very slowly, led him to think she had. 
Swiftly, he’d turned around before his father could move, and grabbed the brooch he’d suspected lay beneath his scarf, tossing it to Marinette (Ladybug!), who’d caught it just as she called for her transformation. She’d grabbed his hand before jumping over the balustrade, almost dislocating his shoulder in the process (a small price to pay to get away, really). 
Adrien had heard his father swear after them, his footsteps rushing down, but he didn’t get very far. Ladybug opened the mansion’s door, and what seemed to be the entire Parisian police force rushed in, tackling him to the ground.
Just thinking about it again gave Adrien palpitations. He took a deep breath and got out of the chair, deciding to take a small break from writing. He owed Marinette so much.
Anyway, I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I haven’t had any news from you, and I feel like I’m going crazy. Realistically, I know that I like you, combined with our double… friendship, I guess?, must mean that I’m not just any friend to you, but I can’t help but wonder why you’re so silent. I guess I haven’t really been in touch either, even before your departure, but there’s just been so much going on with the trial… I don’t want to bother you, but you should know I’m here if you ever need to talk. Kwami, I wish we could talk right now. Even if I like the idea of sending you a letter, since there’s less chance of things getting lost in nerves.
Because I love you, Adrien. I’ve been trying to tell you for so long, but it never felt like it was the right time nor place to say it. I think I know why, now.
Marinette put her pen down and rubbed her face with her hands. The more she thought about it, the more everything made sense. All this time, she’d felt as if she’d been missing a piece of a puzzle, which threw all her confessions slightly off kilter – as it turned out, her feeling had been justified. 
What a shame the moment everything fell down like pieces into place had to be when Adrien had to leave. 
She shook her head. It was only temporary. She sat back in her chair with a sigh, looking out of her window. It was getting late; Notre Dame’s façade was illuminated, casting a comforting glow in the night. She wondered if Adrien’s view was as pretty as hers, and what he was up to. She didn’t dare bet he was thinking about her, but she hoped he did.
Do what you will with this information, she scribbled under her confession, sighing. I’m here if you need to talk, about anything you want. The weather, the upcoming trial, how you’re doing in London, how annoying I can imagine Félix being, what everyone in the class is up to, physics… You name it! I just really want to hear your voice again, especially your laugh.
You deserve to laugh, Adrien. So, so much. And I hope this letter brings at least a smile to your lips.
“Kid, you should be careful where you put your letters, I almost used it as a napkin for my extra mature pont l’évêque ,” Plagg yawned. 
“It wouldn’t matter much if you did,” Adrien sighed.
“Yes, I read it, you’re not sure you’ll send it, blablabla,” Plagg mimicked, holding up the piece of paper. 
“Hey! That was supposed to be private!” Adrien snatched it from his flippers with a huff. 
“It would be a shame, you know. It’s just the kind of thing Pigtails would love to receive.” Plagg shrugged. 
“You think?” Adrien asked, his voice suddenly hopeful.
“Trust me, Adrien, I know. ” 
Adrien couldn’t help the wide smile that spread on his lips at the thought. He went through his latest addition to the letter. 
You know, I feel like my neurons are a little less scrambled now, but Aunt Amélie is keeping me busy on this side of the Channel (I’m really discovering London, though, which is nice – I’d never been to Brixton, Camden or Hampstead Heath, but they’re great places to explore! I’d like to take you there someday, if you’ll allow me), and on the rare occasions I can sit down, which is generally late at night, I have to try and focus to go through the mess we’re going to be faced with. To tell you the truth, I much prefer sitting here writing to you, even though I don’t even know if I’ll ever even send you this letter. 
I keep thinking about the next time I’ll see you. I really want to run back to Paris, to you; I almost did, back on the train. I’m sure there would’ve been a way to stop it in its tracks, but in a way, I’m glad I didn’t. Even if there’s nothing I would’ve liked more than staying with you, putting a little distance between me and my father was quite welcome. If only there’d been a way for you to be with me… 
Sometimes, I think about calling you, but I’m always afraid that it’ll be a bad time, what with the UK being an hour behind you and all.  
He picked up his pen and added:
I hope you’re okay and that you know that I miss you and our hangouts, both in school and on the rooftops. I can’t wait to see you again, my Lady, whatever the circumstances. A small part of me hopes that it’ll be before the trial, or that we’ll get to be alone together for a bit afterwards. You and me against the world, and everything. 
(And maybe some of your dad’s chouquettes.) 
Lots of love, and hope to hear from you soon, 
Your Adrien
“There,” Adrien announced to no one in particular as he sealed his envelope. “I really hope you’re right, Plagg.” 
Anyway. I won’t hold you up any longer, but I just thought you should know how I feel. I’ll see you at the trial, at the latest – please don’t love London so much that you won’t come back… 
Forever yours, 
Marinette
Marinette dotted the i in her signature with a heart, and decided against re-reading the whole letter. Instead, she took out an envelope, neatly folded the page in three, and slid it inside. She wrote out Adrien’s name on the front of it, along with the Fathoms’ address, stuck a stamp at the top, and indicated her return address at the back. 
Then, she picked up her bag, and prepared to go to Alya’s. She’d post the letter on her way there; it would distract her from the wait that inevitably came with snail mail. 
She hoped her letter wouldn’t get drowned in the mass of mail Adrien surely received. 
Now, all she had to do was wait.
A week later, coming back from school, Marinette found a letter on her desk, and recognised the address’ calligraphy instantly. She all but tore the envelope open, her heart rate accelerating and a smile spreading wider and wider on her lips as her eyes progressed through the message. 
The date at the top told her that Adrien had written to her before reading her letter, but one thing was for sure: they were on the same page.
She placed the sheet back on her desk when she was done, feeling giddier than ever, and reached for her phone – it started ringing in her hands, Adrien’s face lighting up the screen. She almost dropped it in surprise.
“Hi,” Adrien’s voice breathed on the other end of the line.
“Hi,” she repeated, feeling herself blush. “How are–”
“I got your letter,” he blurted quickly, cutting her off. 
“I got yours, too.” She gently ran her fingers down the paper on her desk.
“Good, good.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Hey, I know this is a strange request, but would you mind going up to your balcony for a second?” he blurted quickly, cutting her off.
“Um, okay.” Marinette frowned a little, but still made her way up. Maybe it was a question of connection.
She swiftly pulled herself out of her skylight, and froze. 
Her balcony was covered in red roses: they were entangled in the wrought-iron, stood in vases on the floor, in a petal path leading straight to… Astrochat, sheepishly holding a single red rose. He hung up the phone.
“I love you too, Marinette,” he said. 
Tears welled up in Marinette’s eyes as she threw herself into his arms, hugging him as tightly as she could. 
“Don’t worry about me not coming back, I’ll always stay,” he whispered in her hair. 
Marinette looked up at him, feeling like her heart might burst out of her chest. 
“Glad to hear that, silly cat,” she said with a smile, standing on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.
One of his arms wrapped around her waist while his other hand softly cupped her face as he deepened the kiss. Fireworks erupted in Marinette’s stomach. She wished time would stand still to let her savour this moment forever. 
Although her wish wasn’t granted, knowing that Adrien returned her feelings and would come back to her did make their parting a little easier. 
“You know, I don’t know what the future holds for us, my Lady,” Astrochat said as he was about to leave, gently taking her hands in his, “but one thing I do know is, if you’ll allow it, I’m never letting go of you, of us. Not if I can help it.” He brought her hands to his lips, his eyes boring into hers.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Marinette answered, pink dusting her cheeks. 
“I bet you will.” He winked. “See you soon, my love.” 
He kissed her again, gently, longingly, and then slid his visor shut and took off. 
Marinette wistfully watched him fly away, her chin propped up on her arms, leaning on her bannister. 
She truly was the lucky one.
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kindatiredtho · 1 year
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I literally forgot we have different ✨Fortune✨ design for our message boats and freaked my friend out
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marshmallowloves · 1 year
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I was thinking about how a lot of people have the "gold-hearted dumbass/the smart one" dynamic with their self ships, in which their F/O is the dumbass. which is all well and good, I love that dynamic.
but I don't see too much of the reverse, in which someone's F/O is wicked intelligent while they, on the other hand, are Too Dumb to Live™, and I would like to see more of that
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unpleasant-angel · 1 month
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(OOC) WHAT IS THIS
I JUST NOTICED THAT IVE BEEN SEEING SOMEONE LIKE MY POSTS A LOT AND TURNS OUT IT'S THE SAME PERSON AS ONE OF THE EPIC ASK BLOGS IVE TALKED TO AND
AND I DIDN'T FOLLOW EM BACK FOR AGES
WHAT
hi if you see this and youve been waiting for me to follow back PLEASE gimme a sign a comment a reblog a freaking discord message if you know my acc whatever works in conveying the message "YOUR BRAINCELL IS FINALLY COMPREHENDING THINGS BROOOOOO" or i may never know it's you because i SUCK at correlating things names people faces pfps and although ive lurked on tumblr for a long time it still takes me a WHILE to get whats going on
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birues · 11 months
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azurtai · 2 months
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whenever i think i can't write i do bc i wasn't planning to tackle elyon's drafts today but here we are. i ended up cramming a bunch of stuff in the queue tho. ngl i was fighting with myself to spread it evenly across the week but i truly cannot be bothered with all that extra work. if it runs out by tomorrow night so be it ! it just means i'll have to tackle the remaining drafts earlier than i expected sgkzn
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thexianzhoujade · 6 days
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HAPPY 2000000 FOLLOWERS
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WORLD TOUR WHEN ??
DUMBI NOT YOU TOO 😭 30 FOLLOWERS TO 200 DNJDDJJD
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buryam-soul · 23 days
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Oh boy they're at it again (hsr fanart tagged as honkai impact)
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yume-fanfare · 1 year
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sneaking out
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unexpectedbrickattack · 11 months
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.
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