#feedback and comments are welcome

[too-much-tma-stuff]

This idea sort of burst out of me like Alien so it's unedited. There will probably be more.

In short, Cas picks up on the fact that Danny is pregnant at a Wayne Gala and have the right idea but the wrong context.

Masterpost

------

Danny was barely holding it together and really he had been for a long time. It had sort of been fun and games at first when he became a hero. Sure his accident had hurt like hell but he'd sort of repressed that and for real? Lunch Lady? Box Ghost? Even Skulker was sort of a joke and he hasn't actually felt threatened. Sneaking around behind his parents backs and sneaking out with his friends had been fun. It had all felt like a game at first, and then somewhere in there things had gotten very real.

He'd known he couldn't count on his family to protect him but they couldn't even see Vlad was a threat. And he felt like he had lost the last of his innocence when he saw the clone Vlad had made of him melt. He hasn't been in time, he had panicked and he had only managed to save a couple by taking them into his own body to shield their still forming cores. Ellie and... should Danny name the other one or would he name himself when he was ready?

He kept touching his stomach over where he could feel the little balls of his mirror children hovering just below his own core. He was so tired all the time as they relied on his energy, he was eating more then ever and he knew his family was worried. He didn't think he could hide this and he couldn't predict when they would emerge. What if they did in front of his parents? They definitely wouldn't react well. And Vlad kept trying to use this against Danny. Promising to look after him and the babies if he was really insisting on carrying them, as if Danny could rip those tiny 'lives' out of himself now.

And no matter how many times he tried to tell his parents that Vlad was bad news, that he creeped Danny out and made him feel unsafe they wouldn't listen! Dad didn't even hear him and mom made sympathetic noises and then told him to bear with it for Jack's sake because he didn't have many friends.

So of course when Vlad had asked if 'Daniel' could accompany him to a gala in Gotham his father had agreed! Even his mother had agreed when Vlad promised it would be educational and safe! And here Danny was, hanging on by a fucking thread in a suit that felt uncomfortably tight around his middle, having just escaped being paraded around as Vlad heir like a particularly expensive watch. He was behind the snack table having piled a plate as high as he could and scarfing it down before Vlad could find him again and scold him for being rude. He hadn't noticed yet that a family of dark haired socialites kept giving him worried looks. A young woman with dark eyes signing frantically to a man with blue eyes and a dimpled frown.

It was the man who slid up carefully next to Danny trying not to startle since he seemed to have genuine food aggression.

"Yeesh kid you seem like you're starving! All those fancy Hors d'oeuvres are fun but not very cooling and I feel like I'd be a poor host if I didn't offer you something more filling! If you'll come me to the kitchen I'm sure our family butler would be happy to whip something up for you?" The man said with an inviting some that did nothing to sooth the way Danny's hackles raised instinctively.

He was about to say no on reflex when he spotted Vlad heading towards them with an expression like a thunder cloud. Danny's back went ridged and the other man followed his gaze with a frown. "You know what ya that sounds great let's go now!" Danny said dropping his half full plate on a nearby tray and dragged the stranger away with him as Vlad shouted after him.

"Daniel come back this instant! Unhand mister Wayne! Daniel this is unacceptable!"

'Mr. Wayne' took over leading them and spirited Danny through a back door as a bubbly blonde intercepted Vlad and a small woman slid in behind them like a shadow.

"So, Danial I assume?" The man asked, amusement crinkling around his eyes as Danny grimaced.

"Mr. Wayne I assume?" Danny returned, unaware of the way one arm was protectively wrapped around his stomach, but the girl noticed. It was Dicks turn to grimace.

"Okay ya, I go by Dick. What about you?"

"Danny," he said not reacting to the name, he'd heard far stranger. "And what about you?" He asked Cas, startling Dick a little because she was doing her 'shadow thing' and not many people would have noticed her.

"That's Cas, she has a hard time talking sometimes," Dick explained as Cas materialized and gave Danny a reassuring smile and wave.

The teen harrumphed but he did follow them down to the kitchen where Alfred was drinking a cup of tea, staying well clear of the foolishness upstairs. "Ah, hello young masters," Alfred he said, glancing between the three with a raised brow. Though the two who knew him could see the way his expression softened when Danny shrunk in on himself. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey Alfred do we have any leftovers from dinner or something filling we can whip up fast? Danny here is too hungry for just the fancy font for upstairs." Dick asked cheerfully.

Alfred raised his eyebrows again and looked at Cas who was standing behind Danny. Glancing at Danny to make sure he wasn't looking she grimaced then touched her stomach and mimed holding an infant.

Alfred's expression turned stormy for just a moment then smoothed. "Of course we do, Why don't you make our guest comfortable and I'll see what I can do. Do you have any allergies young man?" Alfred asked and Danny shook his head mutely.

"You're the best Alfie!" Dick said, hovering a hand over Danny's shoulder rather then actually touching him as he leas him towards the comfortable breakfast nook.

The boy seemed tight lipped and gaunt, his eyes flicking around them as if he expected a threat to pop up at any time. Dick slipped into the booth across from him. Trying to think of the best way to ask this kid how... why, and who hurt him.

Cas has stayed in the kitchen, but not for long. She came to them with a tray of mugs moments later and slipped into the booth next to Danny. Gently she took his hands and pressed the warm mug unto them. He blinked and focused of it, as if on autopilot he lifted it to his lips, Cas keeping a hand on his elbow to steady him as he drank.

The warm comforting drink, and hand on his arm, presence by his side as Cas slid imperceptibly closet and closer till she was pressed against Danny's shoulder, felt like they were taking him apart from the inside. Thawing out the cold numbness he shielded himself behind. Half way through his tea he glanced up, at the worried blue eyes so like Jazz, so worried and warm.

He put down the mug suddenly as a sob shook his body. Cas wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, cooing comforting wordless little sounds as she let him bury his face into her chest and just sob heaving, exhausting outbursts of repressed emotion.

"Are the babies okay?" She asked and he froze, his breath catching in his throat. She clicked her tongue and rocked him gently. "Okay, okay, not in trouble," she promised.

"They- I don't know, they were so weak, I’m trying, but I don't know if I can keep them alive." Danny sobbed lifting his hands to cover his face.

"The stress can't be helping," Dick pointed out, climbing across the table like it was nothing to sit next to them and rub Danny's back. Danny gave a little hiccupping hysterical laugh. "Do you have support, or like, do you know your options?" He asked awkwardly.

"I'm not getting rid of my babies! I don't care if the man who made them is an obsessive creep who drugged me! I love them they're MINE!" The feral protectiveness seemed to startle Dick even as Cas continued to make soothing sounds.

"Your choice, only yours," she promised. "Have help?"

Danny sniffled and shook his head. "Safe?" Another shake of the head.

"The man who... did this?" Dick asked as delicately as he could. Another hysterical laugh.

"I've tried! I've tried to tell my parents he's a creep, he's dangerous but they don't listen! My dad thinks he hung the fucking stars, mom says he's harmless. They don't believe me! I-I can't tell them about the babies. They'd make me get rid of them or worse! I can't." Danny sobbed and Cas soothed.

"Okay, okay, you don't have to." She promised. "You stay with us, you and babies safe, never have to see him again."

"Ya right. Wait, your serious? What" Danny asked, pulling back and looking at her with wide bloodshot eyes.

"She's very serious young master," Alfred said as he approached making Danny jump. there was a hard set to the old man's jaw and steal in his eyes that left no room for questions as he set a plate of eggs, sausage, and fruit in front of Danny. "Master Bruce has a foster license and is a mandatory reporter. I'm sure once he hears even a fraction of this he will insist you stay. I will prepare a room for you. Am I to assume the man who's shouting demanding your return upstairs is the source of this distress?"

Danny swallowed and nodded, Alfred nodded back and paused to rest a gloved hand gently on Danny's hair before walking away briskly.

"Eat," Cas said, nudging him gently to let go of her. "As much as you want. Still hungry? We raid Tim's secret cereal stash."

"Gasp! You know where it is? You've been holding out on me?!" Dick demanded with exaggerated betrayal and as the two started to banter Danny ate. He was glad of the distraction, of not having the attention on him as he devoured the healthy, and nutritious meal the butler had made for him. It had been a while since he'd had a good home cooked meal, it made his core feel warm and he could feel the two little echoes as his hummed.

The babies were happy too, he didn't believe these people could keep him safe from Vlad really, but this was nice. Maybe he would let them try, get a few more good meals, a respite, and maybe... maybe his parents would finally notice that something was wrong and actually stand up for him?

That was probably wishful thinking but he could hope right? there was no harm in that.

Part 2

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Do you like my art? Do you wish I would draw something specific? Great news!

~COMMISSIONS ARE NOW OPEN!~

If you are interested in commissioning me, please fill out the google form and I'll reach out to you as slots become available!

[Ko-fi - Google Form Link]

[bugoutreviewgirlie]

hey all! this is an ongoing passion project of mine and it'd mean an incredible amount to me if you guys checked it out and shared it!

[cepetriwrites]

You ever read a fic written by someone where English is not their first language so there’s grammatical errors a native speaker would know not to make and you like the story! It’s a great premise! but you also just want to just real quick edit the grammar so that your brain can stop twitching?

[vriendenboekjes]

The poem i wrote in January, translated to English. Original work in Dutch here

[starlightiing]

put your finger on my pulse || pierresteban

Pairing: Pierre Gasly/Esteban Ocon

Rating: There is no smut, but it's quite heavily suggestive. 18+

Warnings: Brief, light cardiophilia. Some questionable manhandling.

Summary: Esteban is still smirking, even if the amusement has gone completely from his eyes. His lips are curled in an almost sneer-like grin, eyes crinkling in the corners as he looks down on Pierre. Slowly, his lips part for just a brief moment as his tongue runs along his bottom lip. He looks like he has much to say, and it makes Pierre nervous.

If anything even remotely snarky comes out of Esteban’s mouth, he will put his fist in it.

“It is not fucking funny,” Pierre spits out, venom laced heavily in his tone as he approaches Esteban. His pace is quick and fierce, and it matters little to him the differences in their height as he comes within inches of Esteban’s personal space. “So shut the fuck up, stop making jokes, and be fucking serious for once in your life.”

Esteban is still smirking, even if the amusement has gone completely from his eyes. His lips are curled in an almost sneer-like grin, eyes crinkling in the corners as he looks down on Pierre. Slowly, his lips part for just a brief moment as his tongue runs along his bottom lip. He looks like he has much to say, and it makes Pierre nervous.

If anything even remotely snarky comes out of Esteban’s mouth, he will put his fist in it.

“Fine,” Esteban seethes, and it catches Pierre a bit off guard, “I will shut the fuck up. But only if you also shut the fuck up.”

Ah, there it is. Pierre’s blood boils immediately, a reaction saved for Esteban and Esteban only, as there is not one single other person in the world who can evoke this kind of raw, guttural anger inside of him. He sees red, his hand twitching into a fist at his side and trembling slightly at the need to bury itself right into Esteban’s nose -

But then there’s movement. It comes so quickly, so suddenly, that Pierre’s eyes dart around to track Esteban as he leans in. It’s moments such as these that Pierre is grateful for his reflexes, as he begins to move before his brain has even fully processed just how close Esteban’s face is to his own. He backs away from the advances, feet skillfully dancing around one another to keep him just out of range until –

Until his back hits up against the wall, and Esteban has him pinned like a predator would its prey. 

Pierre swallows, watching as Esteban’s eyes trail from his eyes to his lips, down to his neck, and then back up again. “What the fuck are you doi-” 

His sentence is cut short when Esteban reaches forward and grabs Pierre’s neck, both thumbs coming to rest on each of his carotid arteries beneath his jaw. The grip is surprisingly gentle, even though Pierre flinches in anticipation as he expects a squeeze or some form of choking motion - but that never comes.

Startled, and perhaps even slightly scared, Pierre reaches up and circles his fingers around Esteban’s wrists, attempting to pull the grip off of his throat. Esteban holds strong, however, and his hands hardly move in response.

“Esteban?”

“Your pulse is racing.” Esteban says suddenly, like it is the most ordinary and normal thing to say in a situation like this.

Pierre swallows again, feeling Esteban’s thumbs shift with the gentle motion of his throat. “What are you talking about?”

Esteban seems unbothered by Pierre’s question, eyes still fixated down on his throat. “Is that excitement or fear?” Esteban asks, his voice low and husky. “Or maybe a little of both?” His eyes slowly trail back up to meet Pierre’s, and they’re focused and intense - but not angry, not like Pierre expected to see.

“You are not making sense, fucking let go of my neck.” Pierre bites back, and only then does the pressure of Esteban’s thumbs become a threat. 

“Both,” Esteban says, smirking devilishly at Pierre. “It is both.”

Suddenly, Esteban presses into Pierre with enough force to pin him up against the wall. It’s not aggressive or forceful, it simply…is. His hands hold firm on Pierre’s neck, never faltering once as he leans in close, lips hovering just a mere breath away from touching.

Pierre exhales sharply in one moment, and Esteban’s lips are on his in the next.

It happens so fast that it makes Pierre’s head spin. His eyes widen, and his body’s instinct is to push up on Esteban’s hands and free himself from the looming chokehold. But oddly enough, Esteban’s kiss is so gentle. So tender and so sweet, and the polar opposite of everything angry and heated and aggressive that’s led them up to this very point.

He does what makes the most logical sense in his highly illogical brain, and he kisses back.

Esteban’s lips are warm and soft, and even as Pierre kisses back with a twinge of a bite, they do not falter. Slowly, Pierre’s eyes involuntarily flutter closed as he leans into Esteban, and his hands come to rest over each of Esteban’s wrists, where his fingers curl into the delicate skin above the respective radial arteries. 

Against the tips of his fingers he feels the feather-light tap of Esteban’s pulse and inhales sharply through his nose, surging forward to deepen the kiss. Esteban hums out a sound of surprise, but allows the kiss to progress into something hungrier. Pierre is not exactly polite when he slides his tongue into Esteban’s mouth, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Esteban bends to Pierre’s will, his tongue gliding in tandem with Pierre’s instead of fighting against it as expected. Pierre pushes more, works the kiss harder and more aggressively until Esteban breaks them apart with a desperate gasp for air.

“Fuck you.” Pierre pants out, meek and breathless.

Esteban smiles. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Pierre’s grip tightens on Esteban’s wrists, and the rapid thump of Esteban’s pulse becomes more pronounced at his fingertips. For a moment he had nearly forgotten, but a smirk curls his lips as he looks up, smug and confident, and says, “Hey, asshole, your pulse is racing, too.”

“So it is,” Esteban muses, voice smooth and silky as he bumps his nose into Pierre’s, “And yet not nearly as fast as yours.” His thumbs slowly apply pressure against Pierre’s throat, careful not to press too hard and disturb the blood flow.

Pierre makes a noise similar to a mewl, his breathing rasped under the pressure against his throat. He can feel his own pulse thundering against the pads of Esteban’s thumbs and oh, God, he could melt into a damned puddle right there and now - likely would, even, if Esteban’s hands were not holding him up so graciously. 

“I want you-” Pierre rasps, his voice strained by the force on his throat. Esteban looks all too delighted with himself, but he loosens his grip so Pierre can speak. “I want you to fuck me.” “Again, ask nicely.” Esteban taunts, licking his lips in the most insulting manner.

Pierre’s eyes narrow, feeling Esteban’s pulse increase against his fingers. Finally, he has something of an upper hand here. Finally, he has a way to see straight through Esteban’s high-and-mighty bullshit. Esteban wants him just as badly, just as desperately, and with Pierre’s fingers on his pulse, he will never be able to hide it.

“I was not finished. I want you to fuck me to the pace of my heartbeat.” Pierre says, straightforward and firm, with a sparkle of mischief glinting in his eye. “Pretty please?”

In one quick motion, Esteban releases his grip on Pierre’s throat and instead grabs his hips, hoisting him up in the air like he simply does not weigh anything at all. There’s a fire in his eyes that Pierre has seen only scarcely before, and it’s at that moment he knows -

“I win.”

[goodintentionswipfest]

Gather up your ghosts!

Reminder that Good Intentions WIP Fest is coming up on October 31st! Dredge up those stories taking up space in your documents and in your mind and release them to the world! Let us see all that writing that would otherwise be denied to your readers! Let your dead come out to play!

Full event information is linked above, but the basics are: this is a time for your to post all those abandoned WIPs that you're never going to finish. Post them to this AO3 collection with the tag "Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued"; post them to Tumblr with the tags "good intentions wipfest" and "good intentions 2023;" and @ me here if you want them reblogged to this account.

This is a fest for people like me, who would rather have some of an amazing fic (or piece of art) than none of it at all. It's an invitation to free yourself from your guilt - and it's an invitation to readers to take a chance, read a story, and talk to an author. Who knows - maybe inspiration will strike again! Or at least you might learn how the story was going to end.

This fest is generally tailored to fics, but all unfinished work is welcome. Check out the FAQ for more information, or feel free to send me an ask if you have another question!

[bang-bang-gang]

fic update tonite 👀 fic update tonight queen? fic update 👀

we got someone working through an anxiety attack, people talking about their feelings (wowzers!) and maybe some light bad decision-making. also, there's a secret third person who flirts with swerve (not renee this time) and you'll have to read to find out who.

[melles1276]

Excerpt:

Chapter 9 - Despair

"Okay." As clear as his decision has been before, Steve now feels miserable and scared as he kneels down next to Bucky. He can't make out any details in the dim light of the tunnel, so Bell has given him a headlamp to provide the necessary lighting. After a moment of deliberation, he decides on the saw, even though he has absolutely no idea what to do next. They lack pretty much everything. They have no anesthetic, no IVs to compensate for the blood loss. The disinfectant is enough either for the wound and his hands, or for the rusty saw. But definitely not for anything that is about to come into contact with Bucky's arm. “Okay,” he repeats himself again. Ignoring his own pain from the leg wound, he stands still for a moment. The stitches tug uncomfortable in this position, but he focuses his attention on the task before him.

Eerie silence arises.

“First the morphine,” he finds his voice again. Steve's heart is pounding wildly in his chest, the nervous tension causes an unpleasant ache in his stomach.

Bell presses an injector into his outstretched hand. They have four of them in total, but Steve doesn't know how long the effects will last or how strong the dosage actually is. He definitely doesn't want to overdose, so they have to try one vial first. He only manages to pull off the protective cap on his second attempt, because his hands shake so badly. He hesitates for a second, even though he knows that the needle prick is probably the least of their problems.

With a deep breath, he rams the hypodermic needle into Bucky's right thigh and pushes the trigger. “How long until the drug takes effect?” he wants to know from Bell.

“Up to 15 minutes, I think?” Bell replies doubtfully.

“We can’t wait that long,” Steve shakes his head. “You have to hold him so he doesn’t move too much.” He sits on Bucky's pelvis, but he can't block his right arm. Bell will have to take on this task.

Bell complies with the request somewhat hesitantly, appearing unsure while he places the flashlight on the floor. In the cold white light of the headlamp he looks even paler and doesn't seem particularly composed.

Steve can't blame him. But now there is no going back. He checks the fit of the belt again and places the saw on Bucky’s forearm just about 10 cm below the elbow joint. Nausea overcomes him and he stops what he’s doing. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His fingers open and close around the bow handle of the saw. Then his head jerks up. “We need something for him to bite!” he proclaims.

“The belt,” Bell replies. “It’s long enough.” He has sat down at Bucky's head, ready to press his shoulders down with both hands. With his left hand he reaches for the part of the belt that isn't wrapped around Bucky’s upper arm and nods.

Bucky's breathing shallow and there is no other movement.

Steve hopes it will stay that way, but he can't rely on it. He looks at Bell one last time, then closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep breath, starts the saw and presses the saw blade into the flesh with all his strength.

[lonicera-edulis]

Someday I will finish everything. At the moment I am battling with commissions. These are just inbetween sketches/edited wips.

[infinite-orangepeel]

okay would you rather read eagle-scout!steve/perv!eddie from eddie’s pov or steve’s pov (it’ll be third person either way) ??? i can’t decide but am planning the fic out rn !

[thestarkcollective]

short poem! no trigger warnings

Sometimes I wish,

as the sun sets low.

To be alone,

with just the tall trees.

The sandy beach,

the lapping ocean.

The long forgotten asphalt,

hasn’t seen cars in years.

To be the only one,

left alive.

Vines curling their way,

around buildings.

Grass overgrown,

making my feet so itchy.

The wind ruffles my hair,

as animals scurry and talk.

Not one other like me,

anywhere else.

The whole wide world.

Blue skies,

glimmering stars.

Icy deserts,

warm hot ones too.

Never hungry,

never thirsty.

No whispers,

catering just to me.

No staring eyes,

with none of their hate.

Sometimes I wish,

I’d be the only one alive.

[aheathen-conceivably]

This one is for my dire-hard Darlings reading both the story itself and the AU 💕

[olimhakase]

prev - page 5 - next

when the computer has your dead dad's voice...

[halfacupofmilk]

bts of one of the current edits

[mikeymyonelove]

So...new Kenoraph fic posted!