in happier news I had a student answer the question “what is in the room” with “a pretty professor” and spent the next twenty seconds incapable of speech as I tried not to inhale coffee and die, so there’s a good language professor/student au for yall
when ur like “im gettin a gay vibe” and your straight friend is like “uhhh idk that seems….forced….” and u gotta pull out your fuckin phd from gay college and your private gay detective license and your federal bureau of investigaytion badge like sit fuckin down buddy i got credentials and also an opinion the truth is out there my guy
Chat Noir beginning to suspect his Lady’s identity through frequent visits to Marinette’s balcony
She gives him delicious baked goods, blankets when he accidentally ends up sleeping over, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, and eventually (she swears she’s only doing it to shut him up) gentle fingers to scratch at the spot behind his ears that makes him slump into a pile of blissful goo.
And by observing her, her infectious smile, the freckles lightly dusting the bridge of her nose, the midnight hair framing those impossibly familiar blue eyes…Chat’s resolve crumbles.
She’s too much like her, like his Lady, for it to be anyone else. Her voice - so clear and confident, her bravery when standing up to Chloe’s bullying, her sharp wit that only seems to come out when he’s facing her behind the guise of an alley cat…
Not to mention he catches a glimpse of a small red thing flitting around her head every now and then, and with his enhanced hearing, can hear it talking to her.
Marinette’s a miraculous holder, and Adrien’s in love.
But he’s not sure if she feels the same way…on either side of the mask. And it scares him. Ladybug simply rolls her eyes at Chat’s advances, and Adrien seems to make Marinette rather uncomfortable.
He’s lost his mother, his father’s never there for him, and he can’t lose his best friend and first love, too.
So he dials back on visits to his princess, not only to protect himself from rejection but also so that he can’t kiss her like he desperately wants to; he stops kissing Ladybug’s hand in greeting, and keeps his distance.
His friendship with her is one of the most precious things life’s ever given him, and he refuses to let his love for her get in the way of ruining it.
Till a particularly rainy day arrives, and Adrien finds himself unable to stop the tide pulling him ever closer to her.
Chloe’s talking about Chat Noir, and he snaps out of his mid-afternoon daze.
“I personally don’t see why Ladybug needs him. She’s quite capable of saving the city without him. All he does is get in her way,” she remarks absently, inspecting her perfect manicure, Sabrina nodding in agreement.
Something in Adrien deflates, and he pretends he hadn’t heard that.
“He doesn’t deserve to be called a hero, remember that time he completely destroyed my room-”
“Don’t you dare say that about him.”
Everyone listening looks over in shock, and Marinette’s standing with Alya in the doorway, brows furrowed in a way that makes her the spitting image of Ladybug facing an akuma.
Adrien’s heart is beating so fast he wonders whether it’s going to stop any minute. He can’t look away or pretend he isn’t listening anymore.
Chloe smirks and opens her mouth to retort, but his Lady cuts her off once again.
“He’s loyal to Ladybug, and he’s unbelievably kind. He’s devoted to saving Paris just as much as she is, and without him on her side, she wouldn’t be here today!”
If Adrien’s blush could get any redder, it’d be worse than Nathanael’s hair right about now.
“He’s just as important and heroic as she is, and he deserves every good thing in the world. So don’t talk crap about people you barely know, or about people who do a heck of a lot more for the world than you do!”
Chloe’s stunned at the girl’s ferocious defense of the black cat, but she sneers even though she’s cornered. “It sounds like you have a bit of a crush on him, Marinette. Careful, wouldn’t want a dirty street cat like him to hear. He’s nobody’s hero. He hasn’t even been seen in some time.”
Marinette fixes her with a glare, but her voice softens. “He’s my hero,” she says simply. “And I’m willing to bet there are many others who’d say the same. He’s my hero, he’s Ladybug’s hero, and he’s…he’s someone I miss very much right now.” Her voice seems to break then, and she turns on her heel to walk out the door, leaving Chloe and the others gaping after her.
Adrien is utterly floored. Completely, irreversibly floored, and he can’t muster any coherent thought except to find Marinette as soon as possible.
His head is buzzing. Marinette…Ladybug, she’s missed him. Missed him while he tried to give her space and keep his distance, when all she’d wanted was for him to be right next to her.
She’d sounded so passionate and sincere when she defended him that perhaps, perhaps she might love him, too.
It’s still raining when evening arrives, and she finds her drenched kitty shivering on her balcony, after such a long time.
It’s still raining when he presses his lips to hers right then and there, and she lets him kiss her the way he’s wanted to for so, so long. She’s warm and sweet and strong against him, and they melt into each other.
It’s still raining when they reluctantly break apart, Marinette pressed up against him, drenched from head to toe just like he is, chests heaving and cheeks flushing.
His miraculous beeps a warning-Plagg hates the rain- and he moves away to hide his face as he detransforms. What if he, Adrien, isn’t enough?
She cups his cheeks and meets his gaze. “Minou, I’ll love you no matter who you are underneath that mask. Please, please don’t go away again,” she implores, as if she’d read his thoughts.
He doesn’t deny her, knows that he can’t ever deny her anything, and he breathes out a promise.
The Singing Ringing Tree is a musical sculpture in Lancashire, England. It is made of galvanized steel pipes that produce a dischordant choral sound that simultaneously resonates a range of several octaves whenever the wind blows through. Source
EXCELLENT. We’ll need at least sixteen more. And can you equip them with vuvuzelas?
….Why did we, as a race, do this? This is DEFINITELY going to summon something down from the void beyond the stars to feed upon us all.
Why are we so sure that this void-dwelling horror is coming to eat us, tho? Prey drawing in a predator with vocalizations is not usually how things work. (Granted, most preys are less stupid than humans, but the point stands.)
It’s more likely that the Singing Ringing Tree is going to accidentally function as a transgalactic mating call, a siren song that resonates into the void and draws some monstrous alien leviathan from the abyss between stars to copulate with the Earth, hoping our planet will sire a vicious clutch of discordant-voiced offspring to unleash upon the stars.
Donald Trump is exactly the kind of person that Jesus would have thrown out of the temple and beaten with a stick, and the fact that so many self-identified Christians want to put him in office tells you pretty everything wrong with white American Christianity.
Because Jesus had authority at temples and beat people.
I 100% can’t tell if you’re joking here but he actually did chase people out of a temple at least once for using religion for their own selfish gains, complete with literal table flipping and improvised whips
So really it’s not that he would have trump thrown out as much as he would storm in and accuse him of turning his father’s house into a den of thieves before upending a table on his head
Dude, Jesus not only chased them out, he broke stuff they were selling, let loose all of their animals, and fucking flipped all the money-changing tables.
Jesus 100% would have been chasing Trump out with a table leg.
Scientists invented fabric that makes
electricity from motion and sunlight.
To create the fabric, researchers at
Georgia Tech wove together solar
cell fibers with materials that generate
power from movement. It could be
used in “tents, curtains, or wearable
garments,” meaning we’d virtually
never be without power. Source
My freshmen year roommate was a complete fucking disaster but he would throw parties and everyone would pass out in our living room and every morning I left for class at 7am I would just get little choruses of “have fun at class, good luck” from hungover stoners and let me tell you, as someone who thrives off attention and positive reinforcement, this setup really worked for me
