#idk what this is but i’m inspired

[snek-of-eden]

AU idea for a Nathalie adopting Adrien fic, because you cannot tell me that badass woman would not do everything in her power to allow Adrien to have a fraction of the childhood he deserves. so here:

Nathalie and Adrian have always been close. She doesn’t flaunt it, and their relationship is nothing if not talked about, but when Adrien is having a hard time Nathalie is the first person to sit him down and talk to him about it while he unpacks his school bag. When he’s sick and stuck in bed with a cold, Gabriel orders Nathalie to simply leave him with medication, but she takes the time to get him blankets and easily digestible food and sits with him, stroking his forehead. They don’t talk about what they are to each other, but as Gabriel pulls away, Nathalie finds herself subconsciously replacing him as a parental figure for Adrien.

He reminds her of Emelie, and it hurts her chest to see the similarities in the way his eyes glow under sunlight, how he laughs when he’s embarrassed. The curve of his cheeks reminds her of the way she used to admire Emelie’s, heart in her throat. Late at night she finds herself scrolling through old pictures, wishing for the past.

One such night, Adrien knocks on her door. She wipes her face free of tears and invites him in to sit on the bed. He settles himself on the floor instead, a haunted look in his eyes, and tells her he’s had a repeating dream about something bad happening, of Nathalie’s demise, of his father chasing him. It almost chokes him to admit, but he does it anyway, like the sweet, innocent boy he is. Nathalie takes his hand in hers, running her thumb over traces of rubbed-off nail polish on his fingernails. She tells him they’ll be alright, and he rests his head on her lap before going back to his bedroom, a small, tired smile adorning his face.

Nathalie continues to look out for Adrien, perhaps even more so now that she knows he’s struggling. Sometimes when she can’t sleep, she’ll rest her hot forehead against the cold surface of his doorframe, and it rests her nerves to hear his even breathing.

A news broadcast surfaces, alerting Paris to the fact that, due to Hawkmoth, for a period of time, Ladybug and Chat Noir will no longer be able to superficially heal from injuries they sustain in their superhero forms. A pang of dirty guilt strikes Nathalie; for a while now, things have been getting too serious - Gabriel’s actions are beginning to have real consequences and he’s only getting more desperate. The superheroes, they’re pretty much children. Fucking children, no older than Adrien or his friends. It’s frankly stomach-turning.

She turns a blind eye though, because what else can she do?

One afternoon after school, she catches Adrien trying to sneak off into one of the big shopping centres in the city. He looks shifty, and she grabs his arm to stop him from running away. When she prompts him to tell her what he’s doing, he admits to her shamefully that he wants to experiment with his clothing. She asks him if he means makeup too. He agrees, quietly, but tells her that his father would never accept the change. At this, Nathalie feels anger for him. Self-expression isn’t something she’s allowed herself to exhibit for a long time, but she loathes that Gabriel has taken this privilege from his son, a fourteen year old who most certainly needs to experiment.

After a moment, she takes off her Alliance and asks if Adrien wants her help with his shopping. When he agrees, eyes lighting up, Nathalie can’t help but squeeze his arm. They stop by Marinette Dupain Cheng’s house at Adrien’s insistence, where they both change into more inconspicuous clothes, and then take the afternoon to find Adrien some skirts, one dress, and some muted makeup for him to try. He seems so excited that Nathalie can barely find the strength to tell him he won’t be able to wear any of it around his father, but he takes it well. He had already known, of course he had. She also takes the time to ask him, hesitantly, whether there is anything new she should know about his pronouns, and he shakes his head with a little laugh, promising to tell her if it ever changes.

As it begins to get cold in Paris, Nathalie’s chronic pain flairs up again, and she stays home for a couple of weeks. Adrien is busy with school and friends, but he finds the time to come and talk to her every evening, and they eat together or study and work alongside each other.

Akuma attacks are coming faster and faster, getting more and more vicious. Adrien is out so often, coming home later, dark circles forming behind his eyes. Sometimes he arrives back with eyeliner or lipgloss on and Nathalie has to hustle him out of Gabriel’s way and help him take it off before his father notices. She’s worried for him; he’s losing his finesse, acting stupidly - tiredly. It doesn’t make sense. Once, he comes home far past his curfew and both Gabriel and Nathalie scold him, though for different reasons. Nathalie is worried for his safety, Gabriel is just spiteful from the failure of his most recent plan.

Adrien runs off to his room and Nathalie goes after him, fuming over Gabriel’s reaction. She finds him in the bathroom tending a large bruise on his torso. He sobs and she holds him, and he whispers to her that he knows he was wrong, he shouldn’t be out late, he feels helpless. Nathalie wants nothing more than to help him, but she doesn’t know how. And she’s fucking furious when she sees the bruise, because what if it was Gabriel who’d done it? Sharply, she asks if his father has been hitting him, swears she’ll kill Gabriel if he is. Adrien says no, and she believes him. That night, after attending to his injury, she promises they’ll get out one day, away from it all. He says he would like nothing more.

She hopes he believes it.

A few weeks later is when things come to a crux. Gabriel is plotting a double Sentimonster attack after the Mayor denies him a something. His monsters attack Adrien’s school, hellbent on exposing everyone’s secrets to the word. Nathalie is incensed - the high school has been targeted multiple times, but she can see the live footage and this time it’s brutal, heroes being flung and punched, kids running for their lives away from the Sentimonsters. Cat Noir gets a footprint in his shoulder, hard enough to dislocate it, and Nathalie shudders when she remembers that these injuries will have to be healed naturally. Right before the last Sentimonster is defeated, Ladybug forces it to reveal a secret, and when Nathalie hears it, she can’t hold back a gasp. Gabriel Agreste is being taken to court by the mayor of Paris on charges of fraud and illegal data collection from the Alliance rings almost every citizen in Paris wears.

Something deep and cruelly grateful within Nathalie rises up. But she doesn’t know what to do with the information yet.

When Adrien doesn’t come home, she goes looking for him at the school. She finds him in one of the classrooms, half unconscious and bleeding from a very recognisable, very footprint-shaped injury marring his shoulder. For a moment, she can’t breathe, can’t function, can’t do anything but drop her head to her knees and cry, heart in her throat with the implications of everything that has transpired this year, every failed plan and every curse against the terrible Chat Noir - her little boy, the light of Emelie’s life, the child at the centre of Gabriel Agreste’s twisted universe.

He looks at her, and she knows he knows that she knows. She wants to say, how could you? And yet she asks herself the same question - how could she have aided Gabriel through all of this? How could it go on? It wasn’t his fault he’d gained an enemy he had to fight, it wasn’t his fault that his enemy was his father. There is no way Nathalie can put herself together after this, but her instincts kick in and she gathers Adrien up, realising that there is no way she can take him back home tonight, not when they could run the risk of Gabriel matching Adrien’s injuries the same way she’d just done. If he ever found out… well, Nathalie didn’t want to think about what would happen. So, Adrien stiff with shock in her arms, she bundles him into a taxi and takes him to a hotel.

The next morning, Nathalie tends to Adrien’s injuries and they simply talk. She does not reveal anything about the peacock miraculous, and her hands shake as she applies bandages to his back, but she manages to keep it mostly together. He tells her, quietly, that he was lying when he said his father never hit him. The tears come then and Nathalie hugs him hard. She divulges the news about the fraud allegations and promises to figure it all out. Promises to make it right.

Adrien asks if he could live with her. She doesn’t know how this will play out, but she tells him she would be honoured. He’s like her son, after all.

The next month is tensioned. Gabriel is charged with fraud and allegations of tracking citizens and collecting data from the Alliance rings. He is also charged with child abuse. Nobody knows exactly who the last charge originated from, but Nathalie Sancouer does. She keeps quiet about it.

Eventually, Gabriel Agreste is found to be guilty. While the law takes hold of him, Nathalie and Adrien hold on to each other, Nathalie doing her best to stay strong for the both of them. Adrien sleeps over with his friend Marinette for a little while, and Nathalie sets out to procure the paperwork that will let her be Adrien’s legal guardian. She buys a small flat overlooking the Seine, just a few minutes walk from Adrien’s high school, and after a complicated, paperwork-filled month, they move in.

It’s not smooth sailing at first. There are too many unanswered questions for both her and Adrien, things they are better off not knowing the answers to. Adrien still gets nightmares, and the move makes Nathalie’s chronic pain flair, and everything feels like it has changed so fast, but despite it all, they make it work. Adrien learns to make a mess in the kitchen, figures out how to make his own sandwiches and clean up after himself without someone doing it for him. Nathalie gets a job at the state library, where she’s very happy. And there are no more Akuma attacks.

Adrien starts experimenting more freely with his self expression, and Nathalie teaches him how to do mascara and how to hem a skirt and what his mother’s favourite poems were. Her name is no longer a taboo in their household. Her child is free to be a child for the first time in his life, though he is also steadily becoming a smart and trustworthy young man, always prepared to help Nathalie with anything she needs. She has the pleasure of taking him to his first pride parade, and watching his face light up as he goes to join his friends. He goes to therapy, and his bruises heal.

Slowly, Adrien and Nathalie themselves begin to heal.

***

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

i make my return with the humble offering of batfam content

[reipx]

So sweet!!! They are in love!!! 😭

[saetoru]

al-haitham’s the kind of guy who tilts his head slightly for a kiss before you even lean in to give him one. he just knows it’s coming. expects it. trusts it’ll happen.

he’s yawning when he sits at the table for breakfast, hair slightly disheveled from sleep. he sits down and when you place the mug of coffee in front of him, his head angles a little for that kiss you place on his cheek.

he’s drowned in endless paperwork at the akademiya when you stop by to visit, chuckling when he gives you that look of despair at the all the work he has to do. you don’t even manage to walk up to him fully before he’s leaning in and waiting for the kiss to the top of his head.

he’s shirtless in the bathroom, brushing his teeth at night when you walk in to brush yours too, bumping hips with his as you giggle. you don’t even have to turn before he’s tilting his head so he’s exposed and ready for that gentle peck you leave at his jaw.

“have you ever noticed how demanding you are for these,” you chuckle one day, pressing a kiss to his cheek to prove your point.

he grunts, leaning in and burying his head into your neck as you greet him at the door after a long day. “what makes you say that,” he mumbles.

“you’re ready for one before i’ve even come close,” you grin, “what if one day i don’t kiss you?”

“you’d stop kissing me?” he asks, squeezing your hips as he nuzzles into your neck. something tells you he already knows your answer.

and he’s warm. he’s close. he’s here and he’s everything all at once. he’s all you need and everything you’ve ever wanted. he’s the messy hair of your mornings and the pouty lips of your afternoons and that shirtless back of every night. he meets you halfway—maybe even takes the first step so you don’t have to.

he leans in for that kiss before you do. because he needs you, wants you, loves you—and he never lets you forget it. so you turn your head, press your lips against the side of his head and run your fingers through his hair as he sighs in content.

“no,” you hum, falling in love all over again, “no i’d never stop kissing you.”

[gonetoforks]

i want to make a ppg sequel that looks like the concept art for that cancelled batman beyond movie & other cool stuff so bad, they should’ve put me in charge of that cw reboot, i would’ve made it cool and funny and heartwarming and devastating and animated idc if i was literally 13

(context he has 2 dads lmao) (also her dialogue is a reference to their pilot name, the Whoop-Ass Girls!)

[otrtbs]

anyway if a tumblr post of mine ever inspires any of yall to write anything for fandom i think that’s rad and really cool and you should 100% write it + link me to it !!

[nottheratking]

Hi, have a Danielle

[asmolbirb]

“Did you know,” Laurence muses, once they’ve retired to the library, and the port has been poured, and they’re both poring over their respective correspondence, which they might focus on wholly were the conversation to dwindle, as it often does in the ease of these evenings. “—Did you know, today marks half a century—since my birth.”

Tharkay’s gaze flickers up; returns to the letter in his hands.

“I find myself reflecting,” continues Laurence, his eyes trained on the parchment in his own grasp, though the ink upon it refuses to coalesce into words, “that I have spent longer as an aviator than as a man of the navy.”

“In a sense only,” rebukes Tharkay, albeit mildly. “The Aerial Corps has had no claim to you for quite some time; nor has Temeraire answered to any formation, or the whims of any but himself. Notwithstanding, perhaps—“ this, an afterthought— “those whims of Parliament, mercurial as they are.”

Laurence hums, distracted. His next words have to fight through a sudden reluctance: “It would gall the child I once was, to know who I’d become.” And then, in a rush, “Yet I cannot regret it. Any of it: for in turn I gained a clarity of understanding that would have been inaccessible to me otherwise.”

Tharkay says nothing, only waits for Laurence to continue, and to reach the core of the thing he’s grappling with.

“I find myself facing another score and some years stretching out ahead of me,” Laurence says finally, “and the inevitability of some new revelation which must await, poised to cleave my understanding of the world in twain once more. I rather fear I could not bear it. I fear I am grown too old, too accustomed to my daily rituals and comforts, to again perform that reconstruction of my paradigm of reality which I undertook upon meeting Temeraire, and upon meeting you.”

Again Tharkay meets these words with silence; but when it becomes clear no more is forthcoming, he says gently, “I can well imagine how the myriad affronts to your morals which you faced in the War have embittered you toward complacency. Yet I am of the belief that predicting, even with utmost accuracy, the shape of tomorrow will not in the least stop it from coming.” He sets his correspondence aside and stretches a hand out to Laurence. “Come, Will,” he murmurs. “It is late, and the world has a tendency to cloak itself in sinister shadows at this hour. Let us retire; let any new revelations meet us in the light of day, where they may be thoroughly examined— where we may formulate an adequate response together.”

For a moment, Laurence’s instincts scream in protest: a lifetime of being relied upon to meet any obstacle with confidence and immediacy is not so easily sloughed off the shoulders. But Tharkay is right. The challenges of tomorrow will demand to be met whether or not Laurence successfully anticipates them tonight; and meanwhile, Tharkay’s hand stretches out before him, more tangible than any of the years he has yet to live, any obstacle he is yet to encounter. With a sharp exhale, Laurence stands, and places his hand in Tharkay’s, and lets Tharkay pull him to bed.

[spiderin-space]

Update Update Update U

[sandwichsapphic]

bertie and jeeves go fishing

aka an excuse for me to draw jeeves in a big fun jumper and not his usual uniform

[aimfor-theheart]

men love to try and tee me up for their next relationship while they’re still dating their current gf and i am never interested. NEVER.

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[luuxxart]

royal college trio 🍂🍁

[squidd-ink]

Whatever. get human’d idiot

(Couldn’t decide on colors so you get both)

[daffi-990]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @diazsdimples who posted a whole ass fic! Go and give it a read, it’s a fun one 😁

Have some more from when your heart releases, you won’t fall to pieces aka the Eddie breakdown fic. The writing beans aren’t beaning for this wip, even though I’d really like them to be. Still .. thought I’d share something I wrote for it a little ways back (this is just after the scene from canon where Eddie says he’s scared he’ll never feel normal again.)

“What if I can’t find normal again? What if this is my new normal, Buck?”

“I’ll still be here. I promised to have your back and I meant it. Nothing is going to scare me away from you.”

Away from loving you.

Eddie’s eyes widen slightly, his mouth going a bit slack as he stares at Buck in a way that looks an awful lot like awe. Buck’s starting to think maybe he said that last part out loud. It doesn’t matter though, because it’s true. Nothing he learns about Eddie will scare him away. Every bruised and scarred piece of Eddie that he’s ever been shown has been carefully gathered up and placed with the others, all held within the safety of Buck’s heart, their edges slotting in perfectly beside his own.

Buck clears his throat to break the moment, now is not the time for Buck to cut himself open and pour his love and devotion for Eddie out at his feet. Not when Eddie is so fragile and Buck has a girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

He has to keep reminding himself of that, which is probably not a good sign about the vitality of their relationship. But now is not the time to think about that either. Right now he needs to focus on Eddie and making sure he’s okay. Hopefully convince him to get some sleep, because he looks like shit. Buck thinks there may be bags under the bags under his eyes.

“Right. You’re going to shower and then you’re going to sleep. Everything else can wait until the morning, okay?”

“And you’ll be here? In the morning?” Eddie’s voice sounds so small. Buck’s heart cracks at the sound of it.

“I told you,” Buck reaches across the table and squeeze his hands, “m’not going anywhere.”

No pressure tagging: @steadfastsaturnsrings @hippolotamus @wildlife4life @nmcggg @puppyboybuckley @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @spotsandsocks @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @try-set-me-on-fire @tizniz @rewritetheending @athenagranted @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @homerforsure @honestlydarkprincess @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @bekkachaos @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @captain-hen and anyone else I may have missed or who wants to share something!

[icedb1ackcoffee]

Ecologist!Reader aesthetic | Corrupted by Design | Feyd-Rautha x Reader

You stood out compared to the Harkonnens, in more ways than just one. You wore loose clothing: rich brown pants or skirts and deep greens tied around your torso and arms, sometimes flashes of red or blue—all washed out under any sunlight. You carried with you strange jars and herbs, your dark, sunblocking glasses atop your head if not perched on your nose, your waist satchel stuffed with samples—you must have looked completely alien to their more minimalist sensibilities. “You dress oddly for someone from the Imperium,” one of your workers remarked. “Is it your goal to one day turn into a plant, and not just look like one?”

Corrupted by Design (Rated E)