#Stolen Son AU

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

I actually have two questions about your monkie queen au, sorry!

1: I was wondering what would happen if Redson unintentionally broke the rules

For example, if Redson woke up from a nightmare screaming/crying (because trauma) or if he got hurt and reacted loudly because of it, what would happen?

Would he still be punished for being loud, or comforted for being hurt/scared? Maybe he'd be comforted first but punished later since he still broke the rules, and what would that punishment be?

I was curious about how it would be dealt with in comparison to the other rules being broke because in these scenarios Redson didn't intentionally/try to break any rules, it was just a natural reaction to something bad happening.

Idk, I just thought that certain punishments being different depending on the circumstances was interesting and got curious?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2: (which is a completely unrelated question to the first) assuming 'it' also effects MK's clones, does that mean they're somehow even more unhinged than in canon? Does MK summon them often to keep an eye on Redson while he's busy or away doing.. King stuff, ig??

How do they treat Redson; like do they actively try to make him do things (party, if the porty clone is watching him. Pose for portraits if the artist clone is watching him, etc?) Or do they just kinda make sure he stays in one area and hover around him to make sure he doesn't get hurt/try to leave?

1) It's been quite a while since Red was punished for a nightmare.

It used to happen all the time; when he would wake up screaming and crying, clawing for safety from the beast he shares a bed with. And in those moments, MK, yes, MK, would comfort him. He knew it was MK from the cautious, confused, but not frantic comforting, the quiet laughter as he asked Red, "What's happening, guy? Did you have a really bad nightmare? I used to get those. Come here, Red. C'mere."

But then, after all the tears kissed away and the quiet stories to make him laugh, MK would slip out of his hands again like the dying embers of his own magic. And the King was back. They're not different people, that's not what Red is saying, but MK is MKing unburdened by It. And It... It was never happy with Red's outbursts.

Outbursts in their bed would be punished by banishing him from it, locking Red in 'His Room'. Red hates His Room, that prison It kept him in.

This doll set.

2) MKing doesn't use his clones because It affects his clones. They get mean and vicious without anything to hold them back, or just poof into black dust on . Luckily, they've never been around Red.

(If, in some hellish world, Red was stuck with them, he would be forced to help them in their interests for certain. He'd honestly... enjoy it a bit more than he should've, he'd just like having something to do, would like having eyes on him that are consistent.)

[threepandas]

Bad End: Stolen

I was furious.

Terrified. Completely enraged. Sick to my stomach. Overwhelmed and yet expected to function. To keep my shaking hands smooth and screaming thoughts orderly. All I wanted to do want scream. Cry. Destroy and destroy, weep and RAGE.

Then hide in a closet under blankets until the monsters went away.

But... but he wasn't going too, was he?

"Ah, my honored Sister, how good of you to join me." Greets the murderer before me, voice cool and smooth like the scales of a snake. There is a gleefully victorious lilt to that voice. A curling possessiveness to the title.

I am not his sister. We are not ever REMOTELY related. It is not even a matter of me disowning him for what he's down. It is simple truth. We are not, by blood, related. We were not RAISED together. Our relation? A farce. A legal machination by my... my Father, oh gods... No! Don't get swallowed by the memories! T-The blood. Focus!!

Fafnir is... WAS just one of many promising, talented, ambitious young men with no father's that DEFINITELY were my Father's bastard sons, no really. He most certainly wasn't COLLECTING meritorious youth into our house, under his name, and training them up with his wealth and influence. To bypass the bullshit class system and give them a chance at better lives!

Maybe suggest they pay it forward.

My father would never be so duplicitous. No, no, he was just a very lustful man... that no one ever saw going out to have sex. Who's wife had never been the least bit upset with him. And to whom he was fiercely loyal. Yes. Very, very lustful my father... w-was.

It was just while the family continued it's work on opening up opportunities for the lower classes. Jobs and better quality of life. Hospitals and schools. Fighting against those who benefited from nothing changing. It was slow. Like pulling teeth. The work of lifetimes, he'd said. I... I was expected to help continue it.

I'd been GLAD too. So utterly RELIEVED I was reborn into a house with some fucking sense of RESPONSIBILITY. Duty and honor and taking care of people! Building up social services! I had grand plans. Even after recognizing, a little alarmed, that I was on the fringe of a god damned OTOME game of all things.

One I barely remembered. Had played, loved most likely, as a preteen. A literal lifetime ago.

It didn't effect me, right? I wasn't here for boys or parties. Politics or fanciful dreams. Let someone else have their lace filled, flower coated, high drama adventures of love. I had late night paperwork and community research. Surprise to orphanages and hospitals to insure their was no corruption or mischief going on.

That one health clinic in Oakworth that took forever to get going.

Except...

Except??

Fafnir was a capture target! Which is why it took me forever to realize. As he had been so very small and filthy at first. Then merely small and in poor health. Short hair because his poor hair had been beyond saving. We passed by each other. Nodded, maybe exchanged pleasantries, but did not truely interact.

He lived in the dorms. I lived in the main house. He was basicly a student my father was paying to have taught, using our name. I was my father's actual daughter. We may have LEGALLY been related. LEGALLY brother and sister. But in actuality? We were no such thing.

Honestly, most of the "Sons"? Kept their original last names in day to day life.

Or at least... they did.

I.. I think I had shit taste, as a preteen. That or my luck has finally run out. Maybe it was my family's fortune, that finally could no longer best the odds. After all, there is always one. That ONE soul. Who sees something good and doesn't care about anything or anyone but themselves. Ruins things for everyone.

As long as they get their's, right?

A sea of motivated and ambitious young men. Trying to change their station in life. Have Better and MORE. Change the world around them. Leave their marks. Is... ha! Is it any wonder, in hindsight, that our luck eventually gave out? It was always going too. I guess Fafnir just wanted MORE.

He was supposed to go to the Royal Academy, fall in love. Compete against prince's and duke's, knights and heirs to merchant companies. All for the heart of the only daughter of a Ducal house, that had been (of course) raised by peasants. A carriage accident and presumed death cliché.

I honestly couldn't even remember his route. I might have read about it. But had never PLAYED it. He had had short hair, all but two had. So I played the foriegn prince route, even though he was kind of an ass. He was a handsome one at least. At least to me. It was just, I had never... still never...

I liked men with long hair.

Something which I had never told anyone.

Yet? As Fafnir grew? He did not transition into the character I remembered, like the others had. He grew his hair out. Became not only fiercely protective of it, but invested in higher quality products to care for it. Discovered my favorite perfume maker and commissioned a cologne for himself, that would mix well with the scent I always wore. Systematically tracked down each and everything I've ever liked, behind my back, to consume and memorize every facet of them.

I was blind to it.

My Father was not.

And... a-and... it cost him his life.

Father was not pleased with want he saw. But assumed it was a crush at first. We were young after all. Young people do weird, awkward, over the line things. Are learning about boundaries even as they grapple with sudden floods of hormonal shifts. A terrible time, really. It could be excused. As long as it didn't go TOO far. So long as someone sat Fafnir down for a talk.

They did.

He got more subtle.

A cycle developed. One my Father was not pleased to see. Fafnir would cross boundaries, be caught, get scolded, and contritely apologize... then get more subtle in his approach. Be more clever. As though all he had learned was "don't get caught". and "if you want to get, what you want to have, you need to have the skills to get passed us."

He grew concerned. Eventually, alarmed. I had thought nothing of it, back then, because "of COURSE he was supposed to go" to the Royal Academy? But... we honestly, really, Truely? HADN'T sent anyone there before. And there HAD been far more skilled boy then him. Prodigies.

But... my favorite ribbon necklace had gone missing.

From the room where I slept.

Overnight.

My Father took one look at Fafnir's pleased expression amongst the chaos and needed no further proof. He would not kick him out. Far too dangerous, he thought. But he WOULD send him away. Now?

Now I wish he'd risked it. Because... because everyone was dead. Struck down by the monster we let into our home. And by ancient law, which we both KNEW he was planning to exploit? This was a... a "family matter". Because, after all, we WERE legally family. Members of the same House.

"Such hesitation, Sister. You'd think I was a threat." He muses into his cup of tea, swirling it lightly. His eyes flit back to me, lips curling just slightly. "Don't worry, though. I understand completely. I would never hurt you."

But he would hurt others. He already has. Most of them didn't survive it. Ha ha... like a brutal yank on some unseen leash. I want to cry. Not sure if this is what shock feels like. But yes, thank you, for the lovely remind, Fafnir. That you have filled my home with bodies. The corpses of those I loved.

I use what little dignity I have left to walk forward and sit down.

Oh look, he has utterly ruined all my favorite things in one blow. There, my favorite tea. That, my favorite flower. Across the table my favorite snacks. Even a few favorite fruits. A dish or two. My favorite cup. And now? N..NOW? All I will every be able to associate with them is death. The stench of copper and the horror of this moment.

The joy of them is gone.

"See? Isn't that better? No more standing awkwardly to the side. Now we can sit, face to magnificent face. I've brought you a few things I know you'll enjoy. Isn't that nice? I've wanted to do this for the longest time." He sighs in contentment, as though this were no more then a matter of busy schedules and social anxiety. "And now? Now we are finally together. Siblings for now, but I am working to fix that. And if i can't, well..."

His smirk was a thing of nightmares.

"I'm head of the house now. You're finally Mine."

[starsfic]

(Stolen prince au) Wukong saw a vision of Mei and Red badly wounded, while Xiaotian was bruised in the face while Macaque heard fighting in his future ears.

"I got to go!"

Wukong immediately shouted as he ran to the garden, quickly changing into his regular form and summoned a cloud to ride on.

At least, he tried.

The moment the cloud formed, he heard something whistle through the air, cutting through the cloud like a knife through butter. He found himself slamming into the earth, looking up in time to see the whisps of cloud soak into the jade bracelet.

Right, he had forgotten about that-

"SUN WUKONG!"

Wait, hang on, had that been that hundred-eyes freak? Wukong turned in time to see Red go flying over Azure and Macaque's head. He slammed into the earth, tumbling heads over heels until he slammed into a rose bush.

Inside the ballroom, it was chaos. The centipede demon known as the Hundred-Eyed Demon Lord crawled through the shattered window, howling with rage at Qi Xiaotian and Long Xiaojiao, trying to scramble out of the shopping cart. The party members were screaming and running, trying to avoid the demon, the shopping cart filled with screaming young adults, the fighting, or all three.

Shaoqing stared at the scene. She glanced at her glass, still full of champagne. She sighed and then slammed it down against the wall. The glass broke easily, creating a makeshift shank.

It wasn't the worst weapon she had to make at a party. It beat the broom a few years back.

[therealmofamorus]

(Prompt, Original AU, Crossover AU) Ruby, with an annoyed scowl, hands Videl a letter. Confused, the Daughter of Hercule opens it, seeing it was from Yang, detailing her and Gohan's sexual activity, photos and a positive pregnancy test. (Stolen Hearts, NTR Letter)

Ruby: Yang wanted me to pass this off to you

The silver-eyed huntress handed a letter to Videl who stare at the strange frown on the cheerful and idealistic young huntress who walked away from him with a dark mutter under her breath which she was certain about cursing out Yang for making her do this kind of bull-poop.

Videl: That was strange. *Look at Letter* Let see what the Cow got to say to me.

The Daughter of Hercule Satan open the letter and begin to read the content of the letter.

X—xx—X

Dear Bitch

Hope you are reading this letter me and Gohan are fucking hard and raw by the time Rube give you the letter. Gohan amazing fat cock had dung deep and long into my tight, fuckable quim all the while he fuck me like the wild beast stud he is behind his shy and meek nerd demeanor. His large, powerfu, and thickly-muscled body fit so well against my soft, finely-toned curvaceous body like peanut butter and jelly

Enjoyed your new life as a cuck~

Signed, Yang Xiao Long~

P.S. Here's a little present from me (Positive Pregnant Test)

X—xx—X

"That...Fucking bitch!" Videl growled as she begin to emit a aura of ki in extreme amount as the letter and the pregnant test burn under the sheer heat of her aura as she flew in the direction where Gohan and Yang was at with the intent in committing first degree manslaughter.

The sight of the visibly fuming Videl made more than a few people stay

[iwontv-blog]

THE KING CONSORT || Rhaenyra & Aemond

Eh, ejem... ¿Aemyra lovers around here?

[sfznyxio]

 ❝ !𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ❞

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. !steal: a command set by your significant other who accidentally walks in during one of your streams. response: chat already forgot about their favorite strimmer (streamer). he has stolen the show.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, barou shouei, niko ikki, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. gn!reader. streamer au. established relationship. fluff. 1.0k wc. rewrite of !steal at my old main blog @/verxsyon. kunigami comes to the room shirtless, and chat gets free fanservice. reader forgets to take breaks (barou) and eat (rin). 

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀. fun fact: i streamed for two years! i don’t miss my streamer era, but i do miss bllk so i decided to rewrite my bllk hcs from my other blog. u20 is coming soon, woo! i’m so excited.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ISAGI YOICHI

isagi checks up on you on a regular basis to see how you’re doing. he has very kind parents how drop off gifts for you to thank you for giving their son so much love. he knows when not to go to your room because you’ll be busy streaming. right now, he hasn’t read messages from his parents that they are going to visit until the very last minute. your partner goes upstairs without a single thought, forgetting that you’re still on stream mode. he apologizes profusely and leaves. you sit there confused, and with chat is imploring you to drag your cute significant other back.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. BACHIRA MEGURU

bachira pulls pranks and other questionable things to get your attention. he ups the ante when you’re playing intense games that require so much investment, which are good opportunities to scare you. since the start of your streaming career, he has been swinging around your setup like it’s a jungle gym. in subsequent streams, his distractions are competitions to see which of you will reach their goals. he successfully leads to your death against a boss as you try to pin him down. with your chat in awe of his determination, you chide to not to credit him at all.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. CHIGIRI HYOMA

chigiri is bored out of his mind. skincare routines don’t magically make you appear beside him. he grows impatient, so he brings nail polish and makeup pouches to your stream so he can spend time with you that way. he blocks out your setup and chat from his mind so you can be the only one who matters at the moment. obviously you need both hands to play your games, but eventually give in to his requests because your partner is needy like that. he paints your nails, and your chat ogles at his hands with sweat drops and eye emojis.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

kunigami was working out when he hears you scream all of a sudden. he immediately ditches his routine and rushes to your room, worried about the possibility of you getting injured. he sees game over displayed on the screen and your head on the desk. he’s unaware that your facecam is on, so when you look up, you scream even louder when he flashes his naked glory to thousands of viewers. ignoring the question of why he’s in your room shirtless, he asks if you’re okay. you apologize for scaring him to death, missing out on a flurry of “muscles” in all caps among chat.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. BAROU SHOUEI

barou glares a hole into your skull, much like the supernatural creatures you’ve encountered in horror games on stream. the genre becomes very addicting that you neglected to do chores while he’s gone. he’s mad, but is more concerned because of your lack of breaks. instead he decides to take liberty in finishing your share and cook your favorite food. then he scolds chat for not looking after you properly and tells them to do better next time. one half gushes over his endearment while the other becomes feral over his tone of voice.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. NIKO IKKI

niko invades your room sometimes to borrow your monitors and cables. it’s a running joke within your community for you to ask your viewers to donate to the “niko [insert whatever he borrowed that day] foundation”. also a well-known streamer, thus everyone wonders why he hasn’t taken initiative to buy components for his setup. the reason is that he’s been a fan of yours before the two of you got together. having your belongings nearby is proof of your support for his career. he denies it, but the coos in the chatbox make him super flustered.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MIKAGE REO

reo surprises you with new equipment to celebrate your milestone. not an expert in streaming despite being a jack-of-all-trades like everyone perceives him as, but his connections with tech companies taught him what he needed to know. originally you plan to use viewer donations to upgrade at least one component of your setup, but he says you deserve an upgrade of your entire set for working hard to put your name in the streamer world. he rewards you with kisses, making chat malfunction with keyboard smashes. when he leaves, they beg him to come back to give them kisses as well.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi trudges into your room with a groan that resembles the enemies in the game you’re streaming. he doesn’t pay attention to his unkemptness shown to your viewers live. his priority is to get you to cuddle with him. he latches onto you, draping his arms on your shoulders and tucking his head into your neck. you massage his scalp and ask him how to beat the stage you’re on since he beat the game a while ago. your partner whines that he’s lonely and wants your hugs. you promise to give him the hugs he wants, but it seems like your chat has that taken care of.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ITOSHI RIN

rin memorizes your schedule well enough to not intrude, as he normally comes in right after you end and edit to be uploaded as a vod on another streaming platform. the one time he does, he brings in food because you didn’t eat and silently judges you on the side playing through a physical fitness game. he waits for you to finally notice him, and when you do, he roasts your gameplay. you challenge him in a duel to see if he can do any better. poor you; your chat is rooting for him. it’s all thanks to his pretty face that you want to punch and kiss him afterwards.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. ITOSHI SAE

sae startles you with a kiss on the top of your head once he returns from spain. he isn’t expected to come home on a later date, but circumstances allowed him to go back sooner. immediately jumping out of your seat to welcome him home with a hug, you disregard the fact that your viewers are watching this affectionate exchange. the glow from your setup reels you back to your chair, and you demand chat to pretend that they didn’t see anything. they deflect it by asking your partner to blow them kisses, which he happily entertains.

[cxce15]

Creagan Stark fic recs

By @just-some-random-blogger

Yeti - Part 1

Heat - Part 2

Poison Berries

By @writingsofwesteros

Oneshot

A Dragon In Winter

Oneshot

By @hvnterofartemis

Blood Of The Dragon - Part 1

Hour Of The Wolf - Part 2

Winter Wedding - Part 3

By @jacaerysgf

Oneshot

Worth It - Modern AU

By @sassypossumm

What I Want

By @sylasthegrim

Fire On Fire

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Sons Of The Wolf

The Wolf's Embrace - Part 1

The Wolf's Den - Part 2

The Silver Princess - Masterlist

Salt The Night With Silence

Spoils Of Surrender

By @loveslibrarywp

Marriage For Duty

By @myladysapphire

The Dragon & The Wolf - Masterlist

By @gtgbabie0

Oneshot

Oneshot

Dreamer!Reader - Part 1

Dreamer!Reader - Part 2

By @ellebakers

Beastly

By @dragons-and-handcuffs

Oneshot

By @jamespotterismydaddy

Lord Husband - Masterlist

By @thebadboyfanclub

My Beloved Wife

By @vincentsambershades

How Not To Tame A Dragon

By @rhaenyra-storms

Oneshot

Oneshot

Oneshot

By @sourcherryandsprinkles

Oneshot

Oneshot

Oneshot

Oneshot

By @hxtd

When Flame Meets Snow

All Must Choose

By @fabled-fiction

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, And Beating Hearts

By @midnightcrw

I Almost Lost You

By @fairysluna

Wolf Cage

By @julessworldd

Oneshot - Modern AU

By @andreawritesit

Oneshot

Oneshot

By @importantstudentbusinessspy-blog

Cold-Hearted Wolf - Chapter 1

Cold-Hearted Wolf - Chapter 2

Cold-Hearted Wolf - Chapter 3

Cold-Hearted Wolf - Chapter 4

By @gotranting

The Winter Feast - Part 2 ( I read it as a stand alone but there is a part 1 )

By @callooopie

Modern! Cregan Stark Headcannons - Part 1

By @entitled-fangirl

You're A Stark Now

As Long As She's Comfortable

May I?

A Wolf

Indeed, My Girl

Howl At The Moon

Lost

Stop

I'll Find You

Cold

Peculiar

A Northern Lannister

War

I Promise Everything

In The Midst Of Death And Destruction - Part 1

In The Midst Of Death And Destruction - Part 2

A Gentle Wolf

Run

A Perfect Match Indeed

Dagger

A Brilliant Melody

Moonblood In The Middle Of The Night

By @wyvernest

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 1

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 2

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 3

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 4

White Dragon Of The North - Chapter 5

By @captainamericasmotercycle

Oneshot

Oneshot

Oneshot

By @multific

The Rabbit And The Wolf

By @baelarys

The Wolf

By @painted-flag

Little Red Riding Hood - Part 1

Little Red Riding Hood - Part 2

By @shadowandlightt

Snow And Flame - Part 2 ( I read it as a stand alone )

By @draczrys

Winter Rose

By @swordgrace

Blood In The Snow

By @bluebellhairpin

Striker

By @creganslover

More Than A Woman

Beast Of Winterfell

By @aemondfairy

Out Of The Woods

By @dr3amfyr-e

Moon, River

By @streamofcolors

Our Platinum Haired Daughter

By @benjinotes

It's You

By @cherryheairt

Dragon Dreamer - Part 1

Dragon Dreamer - Part 2

Dragon Dreamer - Part 3

By @dragons-and-handcuffs

Oneshot

[brucewaynehater101]

Hear me out for something. So we agree that Tim definitely took a bunch of Ras ninjas when he blew up the place right? And they're *super* loyal to him and also very, very competent.

What if when Tim brings Bruce back from the Time Stream, once Bruce is healed up, he insists on taking over WE from Tim. Not because Tim is bad at it, but because he doesn't want to sit around doing nothing while he physically heals and isn't allowed to be Batman.

So Tim decides to use the money he made to revive Drake Industries. He'll need a bunch of very loyal workers who know how math works to fill out upper management to make sure there isn't any corruption and wouldn't you know it. He has a couple hundred of exactly what he needs stolen from ras who are getting antsy about not having anything to do.

It only takes a year, maybe two at the most, for Drake Industries to raise to rivaling Wayne Enterprises and Lex Corp like it used to before Tim's parents died. There are rumors though, that it's impossible to rise beyond a certain point in the company as all those positions are filled already and if a new one opens, it's given to someone that no one has ever heard of before (more defectors from Ras). All the people on the board are weirdly young (is that Olympic Gold Winner Cissie King Jones???) And one of them just had a big scandal go public about being Lex Luthor's illegitimate son that he kicked out for being gay?? This is not at all what happened with Kon, and Lex has been trying to calm the rumor mill around it but the gossip collums have taken this and ran with it.

You would think that with a board of directors so young and a company so new that's so big, corporate espionage on them would be *easy* but that's to the fact that every single member of upper management would die for Tim, none of it happens. His company is massive and air tight. People who try to bribe his workers into selling secrets often end up in strange accidents. After all, you can take the person out of the Ninja Death Cult, but you can't take the Ninja Death Cult out of the person.

Yes! There is a series not quite like this, but dear to me. "Where Bats and Birds Roost" by Mouse_in_this_house has BAMF Tim Drake with ex-LoA agent spy network that he hides via the Neon Knights initiative.

However, I love that your AU had Tim make it from the corpse of his parents' company. Instead of using Bruce's resources, Tim used the ones that only belong to him. I also like his rehabilitation plans for all the defectors and their loyalty to him because of it.

Tim should go around snatching up people from his enemies because he has better benefits, way less chance of the job killing its employees, and charisma. Maybe Bruce gets a little annoyed cause WE employees also prefer to work at Drake Industries (probably not, but it would be funny).

Also, YJ working for DI? Brilliant ^^

This type of chaos and the BAMF Tim are spices I need more of. Let Tim use his whacky ability to befriend his enemies for his benefit!

[vivwritesfics]

Lando Norris Masterlist

All of my Lando imagines, blurbs and series can be found here

NAVIGATION

Series (I have a lot of Lando series to be written)

Rich Kids Club

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Set The World On Fire

Imagines

Petit Monstre

Lando Norris + Y/N Leclerc = In Love LandY/N + Charles Leclerc = One very angry big brother

Lando Norris HC's

Exactly what it says on the tin

Horse Girl

High school sweethearts Lando and Y/N are very in love (she also happens to be Flo's best friend and they met through their yards)

Saying Goodbye

This is another one for the horse girls. A social media AU dealing with Y/N losing her horse and the grief that follows

For You Page

Lando finds his girlfriend TikTok, it isn't what he expects

On Stream

While Lando streams, his girlfriend tries to study. Except she couldn't study, not when her boyfriend was so damn distracting (and he was really trying his best to be distracting)

Rockstar GF

lando is obsessed with his rockstar girlfriend. His rockstar girlfriend is obsessed with him

Hurry Up Little Norris

Lando and his wife are expecting

Little Pig

Lando, his girlfriend, and their unconventional pet

Three Apples Tall

Lando and the readers son is insecure about how short he is. But he got his height from his dad and it was one of the reasons reader fell in love with him.

Best Dad Ever

Lando is the best girl dad. When his little girl wants to ride horses, he makes it happen

Little Terrors

Lando Norris wants to jump his wife's bones. She has to remind him of the consequences of unprotected sex

What Could Have Been

Lando Norris is dead. He isn't human, he doesn't remember being human. Well, he didn't remember, not until he saw her. Until he saw her and her baby bump.

Rock The Ship

Pirate Captain Norris has something very special in his possession. Until its stolen from him. He'd do anything to get it back, and I mean anything

Blurbs

Heartbreak boy

Comatose P1

Comatose P2

Comparative

Smitten

Colours

Home Cooked

Had Enough (the burnt out student)

Lando and bimbo reader

Lando's too big

Lando's girlfriend has tattoos

Finger sucking with Lando

Reader Finds out she's a bet

Aftercare with dom lando

jealous lando x musician reader

best friends drunken mistakes

dom lando against his car

lando sneaking reader out of the house after one night stand

verstappen hears them fucking

there was only one bed

sex injuries

horny chocolates

migraines

Lando and his pr manager

lando x bookwork reader

lando's girlfriends have cats

Lando x sick reader

baby = papaya

First time together

magnet collecting

lando isn't aware of his own strength

hufflepuff!lando

lando + situationship

Little spoon lando

lando's girl can drive

they're defo not sleeping together who said that

drunk lando

can't fall asleep

jealous lando

period

the bracelet thing

lando x volleyball

lando x horse girl

phone sex

verstappen

Fuck everything else

Ferrari fan

throatpie

teasin'

lando win thing (fluff)

choking kink

post race blowy

moving

waking up in the same bed

supportive Lando

Little Lando Norris

demon lando

play fighting

friends to lovers

grumpy

scary dog privileges

Frat boy! lando 3+1

original frat!

nipple piercings

dick suckin'

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

We've seen the list of things Redson isn't allowed to do, but what about a list of things he IS still allowed to do (if there are any, which I'm guessing there either isn't, or there are a few but he's only allowed to do so when supervised)

Oh, wow, this is a new question. Hm... I've never really thought about this in depth before now, but I've written down a few things that MK would think about. He would be very confused about you asking what his partner is 'allowed' to do and say Red's allowed to do whatever he wants, but if you convinced him to answer the question...

Oh, also, this is written in code. Have fun! Trigger warning for forced affection and implied domestic violence.

Red is encouraged to give affection to MK! (And to It. It doesn't have any care for the affection itself, but It likes feeling in control.) MK loves kisses from his partner, even if they're the chaste, little ones that his wife gives him after one of his days when he's stuck in his head. He's fighting so hard against The Curse he's barely keeping Red safe from it. Honestly, those chaste kisses are a blessing on those days. A reminder of how lucky he is that Red is staying by his side. It must be so scary, when he gets lost in his head. Does he just go blank entirely?

Red is allowed (barely) to keep flowers! He loves flowers, but they have to be fake. He'll cry if they're real, but MK's forgotten that. He has what seems to be a million vases full of fake flowers, they line every hall of the castle. Red loves them so much, so MK... MK doesn't like it, but he knows Red cares about it an awful lot so he designated an entire room of the castle to be the flower room! Anything for his partner.

Red is allowed to tend to his own wounds. Red is so silly sometimes, and he breaks his vases on his own and hurts himself, which makes MK panic and feel awful and want to throw up, so Red patches himself up. MK doesn't even have to ask or see or know, which is really nice of Red. MK feels awful, not being able to comfort him, but he knows Red would come to him if he needed it, because he does. His wife loves him forever, always, right next to him.

Red is allowed to spent time next to MK. Usually he's just sitting there while MK's doing something which is a bit weird, but MK doesn't... MK doesn't question it because it's perfectly normal. That's just how Red and him are, other people wouldn't get it. MK still draws, he loves it, and Red sits and watches. Red brushes his hair with his dainty fingers, because he won't touch his comb anymore (and that's good), while MK works on a sketch. As they settled into marriage—what a thought, HE married RED SON—he'd learned Red was far quieter than he had any right to be. He's quiet, meek even, and it unsettles MK a fair bit. And he'll be sat there, in his absolute silence, until a voice (that's still too loud) says "Your art keeps getting better, N- My Love. How do you do it?"

Red is encouraged to go to MK for comfort. MK notices that Red does this once every couple of months, and when he does this he does it for weeks at a time. It's nice. Night after night, curled up with his partner, soothing whatever worries he has. MK couldn't know what worries he has, Red never tells him, and Red doesn't have any royal duties, MK doesn't think, but he knows it's (not important) all he can do to hold Red and cuddle against him until he feels better. Sometimes MK asks and Red starts to tell him, but then Red remembers his place and shuts his mouth.

[weebsinstash]

I'm not typically a fan of pregnancy au stuff for hazbin because it introduces a hell lotta new questions, but anyways, I DO find it absolutely entertaining thinking about a Reader who did the nasty with Alastor and had kind of a friends-with-benefits situation with him and he does his whole 7 year disappearing act without warning you or telling you anything at all (assumedly because he did not have a choice or opportunity) and he comes back, knocking on your front door, "say, doll! What's say we mosey on over to our old favorite jazz club to catch up on old times?"

and suddenly peeking out from behind your back is just the cutest little fawn with a head full of curls who is very clearly Alastor's son, clutching at your apron, "Mama, isn't he the man you listen to those old recordings of? He sounds the same"

Alastor feeling this, this WARMTH in his chest as you invite him inside your home and it's completely different from the last time he was there, filled with everything your son could need, his drawings and report cards from that nice school you break your back to afford stuck lovingly on the fridge and a hot home-cooked meal currently cooling on the stove as Alastor's invited for some food... if he feels comfortable. You and him discuss privately where your son can't hear as you get all weepy, "I'm sorry, but when you disappeared, I couldn't... ASK you what you would have wanted... I didn't want to have some kind of, of PROCEDURE and you hate me for it... and even from the very first scan, I loved him so much... he's my entire world... I couldn't even CONSIDER... getting rid of him. He's my beautiful smart baby boy and i would die for him"

Genuinely I think it would be real funny if Alastor is initially quite jealous actually for having to share you with a CHILD, but the more time he spends around the young boy, the more he realizes, oh, this is quite the upstanding young fellow! His mama raised him right and he likes to help around the house, likes to read lots of books, loves all kinds of music, helps his mother on all the crosswords and word searches and puzzle books, and he's smart enough to suss out pretty quickly, "sir are you my father"

and the second your son receives an answer, just, KICKING THE RADIO DEMON IN THE SHIN, "You're a horrible man!! You call yourself a gentleman but you left my mama to raise a baby all by herself!! You're terrible! Incorrigible! Disrespectful! Untoward!--" Your young son is breaking out the goddamn dictionary and synonyms on this man, "you lying, deceitful, devious, DEPLORABLE--"

And Alastor is watching this little kid threaten to beat his ass and not even caring that he's up against The Infamous Radio Demon, just shouting at Alastor until the young boy is absolutely changing colors in the face, getting SO SO upset for his mama that he's ready to FIGHT OVER IT, and Alastor is just, essentially, breaking out into laughter, "oh, so you ARE my son!! Aren't you a gutsy one!! Put JUST a little force behind that next one and it might actually sting a bit!" and pats the boy on the head. That settles it; he's accepted as Alastor's son like THAT

Of course, Alastor now caring for this boy does not come without its... complications. There might be some 'incidents' if you, for example, have other positive role models for your son, other men who are regularly coming around, making Alastor's new position as the boy's father and your not-quite-husband (yet) feel threatened and unstable and encouraging the Radio Demon to 'act out'. You're so happy to have Alastor back in your life that you don't even notice things are a little off until your son starts mentioning things like "Mama where did Mr Thomas go? He used to come by every Thursday to play chess but I don't remember seeing him for a while?" "Mama I know Benson has bullied me and pushed me down and stolen my things but I saw his mom crying outside the bookstore earlier saying he's gone missing and I think we should help look for him" "Mama I know Mr Alastor said we don't need her and he can teach me but I also like my old piano teacher. Could I have some lessons with her and some with Mr Alastor instead of just all of them with him? I miss Ms. Mason"

But like... you don't want to deny Alastor a relationship with his child after they both have already lost so much time and you don't want to deprive your son of his father without a good reason, so you stifle some of your suspicions. It's all for your son's sake, isn't it? And you can't help but, get a little selfish when Alastor insists on taking you and your boy out, going to see live bands, going to local events, taking your son to the county fair and you feeling tears in your eyes as, your boy finally gets to spend time with his father. It's like... it's like you're a real family... you've always wanted something like this, for him, for them, for yourself--

But... Alastor doesn't... see you THAT way, does he? He displays his emotions much differently than you, and there were even times in the past where Alastor himself drew the line in the sand that, oh yes you two were quite close friends, he has such a deep affection for you, but... romantically? Sorry, sweetheart, but no

... or so he thought. Now that he's back, he sees how deeply you love his son and sacrifice so much for him amd how much your son absolutely adores you and how, completely by yourself, without any of Alastor's help, you raised him into a fine young man that... the Radio Demon could see himself helping raise, a boy he can't help but feel a little pride in helping make and, can't help but feel a little sad he missed all sorts of important milestones for. And of course, of course of course of course, he missed YOU ever so much, and when Alastor looks up from his paper to see you at the stove, hair all out of place and your hands messy as you cook a meal for your son and his father, your little boy dutifully helping clean as you go, he can't help wish that THIS was how he spent his last 7 years.

Lucifer have mercy on anyone who tries to disrupt his new utopia of peace and tranquility. Could you even imagine, could you even fucking imagine you and Alastor are walking with your son and nearby TVs snap on and it's fucking Vox, showing your family on TV, talking shit to Alastor, using HORRIBLE language in front of your son--

And Alastor feels his love for you grow all the more as you use your own magic to surge through the television and begin strangling the newscaster right on the air, "DONT YOU DARE SHOW MY SON'S FACE ON TV YOU FUCKING--" and Alastor starts lovingly conversing with his son about how important it is to stand up for your family and your values as the pair of them watch you throw Vox around his recording studio in a frenzied rage, "You and your disgusting Vees always trying to peddle your worthless garbage to kids, you CREEPS!! BABIES DON'T NEED IPADS, RETINOL CREAMS, SKEEYEE DANCE ROUTINES, AND ATHLEISUREWEAR LEGGINGS THAT GO UP THEIR ASS, YOU CONSUMERIST IMMORAL SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING--"

Snapcut to you rejoining your family on the sidewalk with your hair a mess and visible blood on you while Vox is facedown on the floor in his broadcast unable to move before it cuts to a "technical difficulties, please stand by" screen. Alastor is oh so genuinely joyfully smiling, "Now who wants to go and get some waffles? I say we should celebrate any victory over our enemies with some tasty grub!!" and he takes you and your son's hands and is all but skipping down the sidewalk while his hated rival is bleeding out in his tower somewhere. Oh, Alastor will give the Television Demon his own revenge for daring to try and shame the lovely beautiful mother of his child and his beloved boy on that disgusting show. What kind of degenerate uses children for content, let alone threatens their safety? Alastor will be back for him later and do much, MUCH worse than you did.

For now, though? Alastor just wants to enjoy the sight of you and his son sitting in a booth with him while you all scarf down some hotcakes. A family of his very own, huh? How wonderful. If only his own mom were here to see it...

[starsfic]

(The Stolen Prince au) Keep calm Xiaotian, Keep calm the monkey demon heard the doorbell ring "that must be my babas! Wow, they got here fast!"

Sandy chuckled slightly as he got some dumplings out "Wukong and Bajie were always fast when it came to food" he muttered to himself as Xiaotian got the drinks out

Outside was...awkward.

"Pigsy."

"Wukong."

"Tang!"

The monkey and pig both glanced at the scholar. "Why did you say your own name?" Pigsy cocked his head with his question.

His husband's face was pink with an embarrassed flush before shrugging. "I mean, we were all saying names and mine didn't get said." Pigsy and Wukong exchanged glances before they opened their mouths but Tang shoved past, knocking on the door. "We're here!" he called. "And it's AWKWARD OUT HERE!"

"IT IS-"

"-NOT AWKWARD!"

The door swung open, revealing Long Xiaojiao. "It's gonna get even more awkward," she warned. The three raised a brow in eerie sync. She sighed, nodding behind her. "Red's here, and he's making Xiaotian flustered."

Wukong stepped forward with a strained grin. "I see," he sighed. "Where is he?"

Red's voice shouted from behind the young woman. "I'm in the middle of feeding a kitten! Leave me alone until I'm-" The kitten mewled and Red's voice returned, asking her "Oh, you're done?"

Wukong chuckled evilly.

[cupcakeslushie]

First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

[eyesthecolorofarson]

The Demon Children

Dp x DC AU where both Jazz and Danny are Al Ghuls. Born Jasmina and Danyal, their primary caretaker is the Fenton couple. They grow close with them, and when Jasminas training starts when she’s seven her surrogate parents can’t stand to see her go through such brutality. So, five hours after her first lesson, they take her and three year old Danyal far, far away from the Leauge to a town that doesn’t let anybody in or out.

Talia is pissed when she finds out. All those years, wasted. Not only had Bruce declined her offer to join the LOA, but her two best bargaining tools had been stolen. In a fit of rage she orders the geneticist that had created Jasmina and Danyal to use their DNA as well as her and Bruce’s to Frankenstein create a new child. She decides to go from absent to the point of nonexistent to helicopter parent with her new tool, Damien.

Meanwhile Jasmina now Jasmine and Danyal now Daniel grow up with their eccentric but loving parents as normal as two children of mad ghost scientists can be. They learn how to fight with non-Leauge moves, they grow their own interests and grow as people, and when Phantom is revealed to be Danny his parents welcome him with open arms. He’s been their son this long. Why give him up now? Their complete lack of surprise is suspicious to Jazz, but she lets it go. She has more important things to think about, like collage.

Meanwhile a few years after Damien goes to live with Bruce they find out somehow that not only does Damien have two older blood siblings, meaning that with his adopted siblings and his age he’s mega last in line for the mantle, but he was created using freak-amalgamation genetic manipulation to replace not one but two people all for the purpose of being a weapon.

[cryptidclaw]

thoughts abt my WC Medieval au...

First off- Im thinking about calling it Warriors: Knights and Kingdoms (W:K&K for short)

Second lemme ramble about the royal monarchy drama im thinkin up for Thunderclan... Thunder Kingdom? Kingdom of Thundering Skies?? idk -

I am planning on using close to normal royalty succession rules- ie., the children of the king/queen are next in line, then nephews and nieces are, so on and so forth. One change is that Monarchs are able to adopt children and those children can be chosen as their heir (though it is very controversial).

Sunstar in this au is Pinestar's younger brother, he was made King after Pine ran off to be a peasant or some shit... Sunstar then married Moonflower and her kits (Blue and Snow) became possible heirs to the throne. Previous to this Thistleclaw (Pinestar's son) was the only heir (he had not become king bec he was a child at the time!). However Sunstar preferred Blue and Snow over Thistle as possible heirs, despite not actually being of the royal bloodline.

Blue was specifically lined up to be the next queen HOWEVER she became pregnant (out of wedlock GASP) and she feared that Sun would pass her up for Thistleclaw (who would be a terrible king) because of this. So Blue gave up her kit(s? I haven't decided if imma let all these cats have 3 babies at a time yet) and Blue is made Queen.

Thistle is PISSED about this, he believes that his rightful position as king was stolen by someone who was not even of true royal blood. He raises his sons, especially his oldest (Tigerclaw) telling them this, and emphasizing the importance of their bloodline. Thistle passes on the want for the throne onto Tigerclaw... and as Tiger is Bluestar's nephew through Snowfur and Blue never had any (known) children he is the next heir to the throne. And so spawns his attempts to assassinate his aunt so he can take over the kingdom...

Warrior cats game of thrones babyyyy !!!!

(oh ya also Bluestar ends up adopting Fireheart so he inherits the throne as like a 25 yr old lol)

[munariplans]

cold | natasha romanoff

synopsis: AU to the spidey!reader and natasha series, wherein a bad argument leads to unsaid misunderstandings and forever guilt between natasha and her love, just before christmas.

natasha romanoff x spidey! reader

word count: 2.2k words

warnings: major character death

a/n: i have to emphasise that this is an AU for these two once more, or i fear i may not make it out alive for christmas from your wraths as well...

masterlist

cold had been the one word you would describe the look in her eyes, as she told you to get out. to get out, if it made you happier going out on that stupid mission than spending time at home with your family. that stupid mission that no one could deny was not only dangerous, but life-threatening. but you were confident in your abilities. you knew that if anyone could survive it, you could. you also knew that bringing the stolen artefact home could add a nice year-end bonus that would chip in heavily to the new play room that was being built for your son. 

you didn’t mention any of that to natasha, of course. she was already enraged enough as it is, standing by the christmas tree the three of you had decorated together. your son was a greater help than you, she would say, as you carried him on your shoulders and allowed him to choose where he wanted to hang the ornaments beside natasha. you remembered those moments fondly. 

“get out then,” she bit harshly, “get out on that stupid, godforsaken mission if you have to. i could care less about trying to convince you otherwise anymore. it seems that whatever i say these days doesn’t even matter.”

“nat, of course what you say matters.”

“you don’t love me enough to have it matter.”

“how can you–”

but she had put up a hand to stop you. it was enough. she had sighed deeply, and began walking back to the bedroom. it was late, and your son had a preschool play the next day. natasha needed to get up early to put his costume together for him. 

you didn’t see a point fighting her. maybe you should have. maybe you should have gone up to her, wrapped your arms around her, and told her just how sorry you were. that you weren’t going on the mission anymore, because it would be going against her wishes, and you loved her too much to disrespect her like that. maybe things would’ve been different then. 

what you did instead, was sigh irritatedly as well, and began packing up for the mission. getting dressed in your spider suit underneath plain clothing, you slipped your mask into one of the pockets on your jacket. the pendant with natasha’s photo inside of it hung snugly on your neck; your good luck charms. 

natasha watched you enter the bedroom, equipping your web shooters and packing the last of your things. she didn’t say anything. when you were finished and shot one last longing glance to her, she clenched her jaw and looked away. she didn’t want to be the one to give in first. she wished she had. she wished she had just put her ego down, and hugged and kissed you goodbye. it would have alleviated so much of the regret, and sorrow, that she was feeling right now. 

you nodded understandingly, swallowing a particularly difficult breath. coming a little closer, you noticed natasha not flinching when you moved. so you took the chance to kiss her on the cheek, and murmur i’ll be home soon in her ear. she gave a nonchalant grunt and drew the covers over her face. 

but natasha still cared. she cared so much that it hurt; it was inane for her, just caring for you. and so when you left the bedroom and made your way across the hall to your son’s room, she followed.

she watched by the door as you woke him up gently, leaning down to smile at him as he sleepily reached out for your voice in the dark. you held his hand, calling him your little warrior, and then, you leaned down and whispered, just enough for natasha to barely make out, “take care of your mama for me while i’m gone, okay? just like we talked about, my warrior.”

his hands imitated your own when you shot your web shooters; the spider pose, he would say, as you chuckled. you kissed him gently on the forehead then, and tucked him back in. 

“when will you be back?” he asked, eyes wide as he saw your mission supplies. 

you smiled sadly at him. “just in time for christmas, i promise.”

“pinky promise?” he let out his pinky, you interlaced it with yours, nodding. 

natasha disappeared back into the room before you could see her, her own eyes red and brimming with tears. she heard the click of the front door a few seconds later. she wished she had never allowed you to leave that night. 

– 

it had been a mistake; a miscalculation on your part, which led to a mistake with even graver consequences than you had realised. you had slipped in the wet snow running from the enemies, allowing them to catch up with you. just enough for a clear shot.

the first few seconds after the initial gunshot felt broken, silent in the freezing air of the night. your breath was still ragged, desperate to flee, and your reflexes had been working perfectly fine. then came the second, and the third, and you knew something had gone very, very wrong. 

you let go of the artefact, and zipped away out of sight. 

ending up at a rooftop just near the park, you could hear the confused shouts and demands for the enemies to find you. but you knew, that while you were not safe up there, you were hidden. stumbling as you landed, you scrambled to feel just where you had been shot, and why the bullets weren’t deflected from your near-bulletproof suit. you cursed when you felt that they had been designed to mimic the density of arrows instead. 

“oh my god,” you hadn’t realised just how much blood was pouring out of you. you reached out for the wall beside you, but soon enough, standing proved to be too arduous of a task, as you crippled to your knees. your hands drawn back were doused in blood, and you finally felt just how piercing the wounds were, exposed to the cold.

you lay on your back. rolling over onto your back was all you could manage. the lightheadedness was coming quickly; you were so cold, everything hurt. you had tried pressing your hands against the wounds, but even more hot blood coated them while doing so. under the moonlight, the blood appeared thick and black, almost like molasses. 

the crippling fear that you were going to bleed out before anyone could find you began to set in. and through your short, panicked, breaths, you felt something slip out of your pocket. the blood had made the grip in your suit slippery enough to allow your phone to slip. 

there, the wallpaper of natasha and your son shone bright against the dark backdrop of the night. you shut your eyes, summoning the last of your strength to grip it and bring it closer to you. your fingers slipped as they pressed down on natasha’s number from muscle memory. your vision had gone blurry by the time you managed to press the phone against your ear. 

the tone rang once, twice, then, “hello?”

her voice was always sweet like honey. the thought of bleeding out before you could hear that voice for another day would have filled you with the rage of dying, but you had no energy for it any longer. you were so very, very tired. and so very, very cold. 

“hi, my love.”

natasha moved the phone to her other ear. you rarely called her during missions; you had always feared for her safety. there was the soft pitter patter of rain in the background of where you were. natasha didn’t know that in the rain, the water and blood was slowly filling up your lungs. 

“what’s wrong?” you hated how she knew there was something amiss. her voice already carried an air of concern.

you cleared your throat. “nothing. i just needed to hear your voice…how have you been?”

“it’s only been a week, baby. nothing much has changed since you left.” natasha would regret uttering those words just a few minutes later.

you smiled. “t-that’s good. how was our boy’s play? d-did he outshine the others, like i said?”

“he did, he was easily the best one there,” natasha cooed, her other hand ruffling your son’s hair as he played with his toys while waiting for natasha to complete mission reports in the compound. “he misses you so much.” 

“tell him–” the line crackled as the rain beat down harder on you, “–please tell him–that–that i miss him too.”

the troubled feeling in natasha’s gut only grew bigger. “i will. baby, is everything okay over there? is the mission…okay?”

you drew a ragged breath that natasha didn’t miss. “yeah, yeah of course. mission’s perfectly fine. like i said…i just wanted to hear your voice.”

there was a beat of silence, as natasha held her tongue and you hoped she wouldn’t detect the fading in your voice. it hurt to breathe by then. 

“nat?”

“yes?” she responded immediately. 

“i’m sorry, nat. for going on this mission. for going against your wishes. i’m sorry–” the line crackled, “–that i made you feel small, or your opinions unvalued. you know that…you know that your opinions always matter to me. and–” 

you had drawn up a cough, wet and bloody. “–and i’m sorry for all the times i never made you feel as loved as i should have. i’m sorry for not loving you enough, as you told me. i regret everything about that argument we had, you know. i love you so much, i don’t think i could fathom…the idea of losing you.”

“it’s alright, baby, it’s really alright,” natasha had moved from her office to the main comms room, paging for an emergency meeting, “i forgive you. and i said some nasty things i didn’t mean too. i hope you forgive me as well, and we can move past it, together. i love you too, you know.”

“yeah, i do,” your eyelids were drooping, “thank you.”

natasha could hear the footsteps of the others by then. “baby, are you sure everything is alright? should i call for help? where are you?”

“no, no,” you begged, “please, i’m alright. just stay on the line with me, please.”

“i’m not hanging up.”

you let out another bloodied cough. this time, it was hard to deny that natasha couldn’t hear it, because it had launched you into an even worse state, your suit beginning to grow heavy on your bones from the water and blood. there was no hope by then. 

“nat?”

“yes, sweetheart.”

“it’s just me and you here, right?” you looked up to the moon, wondering if it was the same one she was staring at right now.

natasha shut her eyes in pain, gripping the table before her. fury’s hand wrapped over hers, as the team gathered around her. they had already begun tracing your call, and the avengers were suiting up. “...just me and you.”

you were wincing between every word, “the drawer below where you keep your winter coats. our son’s christmas present…and yours. i–don’t think–i can make it home for christmas on time. will you help me break the news…to him? i’m sorry.”

natasha let the tears run freely then. they had found you. and she had seen just the state you were in. “baby, please. why are you–”

“–please?” natasha shook her head. this cannot be happening. “nat, please?”

“okay, okay,” she reluctantly agreed. whatever to keep you awake. “in exchange, can you…can you hold on for a little while longer? i’m coming, baby.”

you let out a soft exhale as you smiled. “i love you nat. i always have, and i always will.”

“i love you too. so please, can you–”

“–do me a favour, nat. don’t. don’t try. just please…please stop crying for me?”

she had wanted to scream. she had wanted to scream, to find you and shake you so hard that you would wake up and realise that you were killing her just by dying too, and that she had wanted to slap you so hard for even daring to ask her not to cry. but she also wanted to hold you, to hug you and kiss you, and have the opportunity of feeling your touch once more before she said goodbye. she didn’t want this to be the way it all ended. 

she didn’t know how she was going to survive without you. her blood was running cold and she was pacing back and forth in anxiety. the team didn’t dare interfere with how she was dealing with the impending loss of her wife.

your voice was drifting further and further away. you were dying. 

“i have to go now, nat. please forgive me. please forgive me. and please kiss our son goodnight before bed tonight for me. thank you for everything.”

the phone dropped, and natasha’s world stopped. her son would not only know that you weren’t coming home for christmas, but you weren’t coming home at all. and she would know that had she just convinced you a little better, loved you a little harder, you wouldn’t have gone on the mission. and she would still have you by her side for christmas. 

cold had been the body they found right outside yours and natasha's shared apartment. cold had been natasha’s heart the moment she saw you again, the life in your eyes gone and the guilt in her heart needling itself into grief.