#I love writing this little family

[roosterbox]

October Almost-Drabbles 10/22: Costume

Pairing: Cherik

Word Count: 621

Additional tags: trick or treating, family fluff, pietro is an absolute adhd terror but we love him

Side note: I cut out like 300+ words of mostly boring exposition, so this is much more streamlined than it was at first. Other than the descriptor calling Wanda a witch (because she’s dressed like one, obvs), everyone else’s outfits are un-described. Mostly. So feel free to use your own imaginations. And yes, everybody did dress up. Even Erik.

———

The little family made quite a picture, walking down the brightly lit sidewalk.

“Careful with that, Wanda.” Charles called out. The little witch was swinging her candy bucket enthusiastically, losing bits and pieces out of it. At his urging, she calmed her motions, though there was still a lot of swinging involved. As per usual, she was significantly calmer than her twin. Pietro was running loops around all of them. Up the street, down the street, into walkways, occasionally into yards (“Mind the grass!” Erik told him, multiple times). He couldn’t get far, thankfully - the metal bits subtly sewn into his costume made sure of that - but he tested the boundary at every chance he could.

“Alright back there?” Erik asked. He couldn’t see over the top of the dozing child on his back, but he knew Lorna was bringing up the rear of their little caravan.

“I'm good, Dad.” She was eating candy. He could practically hear the caramel as she answered. And more importantly, she was happy. All four of the children were. Even David, who smiled even in his tired state.

“So what do you think, guys? Trick-or-treating? Fun, huh?” Charles smiled, ruffling Pietro’s hair as he ran by. He didn’t really need to ask; he could feel their joy as bright as a beacon. But he always tried to encourage verbal communication. Especially in public, though they were mostly alone on that particular sidewalk.

There was a chorus of affirmations.

“Can Auntie Raven come with us next time?” Wanda asked. Charles made a show of considering this, though truth be told he‘d had a similar thought. It would be interesting, he reasoned, to bring along someone who didn’t need a preprepared outfit. Who could potentially change their appearance from house to house.

“Why don’t we ask her when we get home?” He gave Wanda a nod. She grinned and nodded back before slipping back behind them to walk with her sister. Aside from the red and white blur that was Pietro running around them, and their older boy being carried by Erik, the two parents were somewhat alone. Charles bumped their shoulders together gently.

So. We all survived.

That remains to be seen, Erik projected back, eyeing their running and giggling youngest son. The little terror. I’m only surprised he hasn’t run every single one of us ragged yet.

At that moment, the boy ran a little further out than either of them were comfortable with. Almost offhandedly, Erik reached out with his power, grabbed the metal threads in his costume, and pulled him back over. Pietro paused just long enough to say “sorry, dad,” before taking off again. He’d probably have long since spilled his candy everywhere had Charles not commandeered his bucket fairly early in the night.

And you’re already planning for next year. Erik shook his head, though he was also smiling. Doing his own planning, no doubt.

Maybe a little. But, Charles was quick to add, we’ve still got at least an hour or two of candy sorting ahead of us. “And it’s way past certain individuals’ bed time as it is.”

“Not tired!” Pietro said, zooming by.

David grumbled sleepily.

“I understand your point, however. Once the candy has been sorted, and the costumes put away, then we can do what all parents do after October 31st.”

“And that is?”

“To never think of Halloween again for the next eleven months or so.”

At that, Erik laughed. He shifted David a little, adjusting his position. “I’m gonna hold you to that, I hope you know. Also not looking forward to the mountains of candy to sift through.”

“Liar. You’ll be drowning in butterscotch for weeks. What a burden.”

“Quiet, you.”

[kugiscki]

i cannot wait for yor’s eventual backstory chapter because holy shit. if twilight’s was heartbreaking, yor’s might just send me into psychosis.

this whole idea of this young girl who is forced to grow up extremely fast and single handedly fill in the gaps her recently deceased parents left in her and her little brother’s lives. to drop out of school so she can take on dangerous jobs and ensure her brother is happy despite all the turmoil he’s faced. to have sacrificed everything she could’ve been to guarantee her brother always had a roof over his head, warm (although often inedible) food, and a bright future ahead of him.

then, for her to reach adulthood and feel all the work she did was for nothing because, in her peers eyes, she’s inadequate and bizarre. she doesn’t fit the societal expectations of a woman; she’s considered too masculine, too ditzy, too independent and a woman who doesn’t need nor want to rely on a man—all things looked down on by society at that time.

but then her inner conflicts are finally seen by loid who also had to grow up way too fast. and then she finds a family where she is accepted for who she is—shortcomings and all. and now it feels like everything she did to reach this point in her life finally has meaning: to give back to the next generation of kids what she did not have the luxury of receiving— a stable life without the constant threat of war looming over them.

in short… that chapter and its implications will destroy me.

[deusfoundry]

luke and kieran helping sylus' teenage daughter sneak out of the manor for a date only for sylus to catch them, wrapping his evol around all 3 of them and dragging them to the living room (the twins very notably getting harsher treatment and bumping into a few pieces of furniture). the way theyre seated in the couch as sylus stares down at them is awfully reminiscent of you and the twins all those years ago when you pull a prank on sylus.

[demaparbat-hp]

In your Spitfire AU, since Zuko is looking after Lu Ten II, what happened to Ursa?

Zuko is slightly older in the Spitfire AU. He was banished at fifteen, his head a little clearer and denial a little weaker than in canon. After his first look through the Air Temples, Zuko decides that if he can't find a myth, he might as well search for the next best thing.

Finding Ursa isn't easy, but in time he makes it to a secluded house in a near-forgotten part of the world. His mom is there, older and stronger and alive.

But she isn't alone.

And Zuko, as it turns out, didn't keep the best company during his search.

When Ursa is discovered and her secrets are laid bare for assassins (for Ozai) to find, she begs Zuko to take his little brother and run. She'll do anything it takes to protect her children, even if that means leaving them behind to keep a target off their back. Ursa diverts attention from them and allows Lu Ten's ancestry to be kept a secret. She orders Zuko not to follow her again, and disappears.

Zuko is left with a little three-year-old brother to raise and a mother he cannot hold onto.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #72

One thing Danny hated about being a halfa is you don’t age. Unfortunately this also means that when you’re de-aged to age 10 you stay at age 10. The GIW did some awful things before they were disbanded but Danny stayed in the realms. He was their king after all. Thousands of years go by and the Justice League decides to summon the Ghost King to deal with a major threat (you can pick what it is) and they summon a 10 year old. Danny decides he’s going to mess with the people of this world.

[desaturate-worlds]

everyone expected wade to be the overly affectionate one of the two, especially when it came to public interactions. logan was stoic, easily angered, even more easily annoyed. he would probably have a difficult time tolerating wade, much less showing affection towards him.

but everyone who thought this (wade included) did not take into account the fact that the wolverine was safe for the first time in what felt like his entire life. he had spent years burying his grief and loneliness under layer after layer of anger and alcohol - he needed to if he was going to survive it. emotions threatened to eat him alive, he could have gone insane with the grief. he almost did. and the only way he got back to himself (as much as possible, anyway) was to shove it all down as far as he could and cover it with harsh words and whiskey.

he’d never had anybody to share the grief with before. he hadn’t had anyone to make feeling worth while, hadn’t had a family. but here, in wade’s shitty apartment, he was finally home.

logan and althea had gotten along beautifully. sure, in the beginning he still had hard edges and bristled easily, but that wasn’t anything al couldn’t handle. she could hold her own, and each clever insult she hurled at the men had logan grinning privately to himself. as cold as her words could be, he knew she loved wade. and she was letting him stay, too, so he couldn’t be anything but grateful.

althea and logan were quick friends, walking the dog together in the mornings, watching shitty reality tv together, bullying wade together. logan decided very quickly that if anything happened to al, he would kill anyone involved in a way that was particularly painful and torturous.

and then there was the aforementioned dog. mary puppins (AKA dogpool, of course) was the princess of the apartment. logan could only pretend that he was grossed out by her for so long before he caved (you can only get caught kissing her head and calling her an angel so many times before people know that maybe you like her more than you admit). he had become the dad that didn’t want a dog, but was now obsessed. to be fair, everyone obsessed over mary. she got treats, pets, and love every time she walked into a room - with that adorably ugly little face, how could anyone possibly say no?

and finally: wade. wade wade wade. logan would be lying if he said that wade didn’t take up a decent amount of his thoughts at any given time. wade had offered him a home, offered him friendship. and he was quite possibly the only person alive who had the capacity to understand the wolverine. that was something logan didn’t know how badly he needed until he got it.

part two

[worlds-evilest-cat]

School doodle again :3 (I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE MOVIE EVERYONE IS SAYING IT'S REALLY GOOD!)

[bonefall]

Dunno if they properly count to be recycled but in 'Into the Wild' Dawncloud mentions having more kittens she doesn't want to be killed which can't be Blossom or Swamp who are dead by this point.

I'm counting them. I haven't named them yet, but in my notes, they're marked down as "WindClan Massacre 1" and "WindClan Massacre 2."

Dawncloud is a mess in-canon. She's an apprentice who's supposed to be an old queen with several litters, and a mate so old he should have been dead before she was born. The way I've decided to approach her is by making her more accurate to her TPB appearance; an old queen.

She is now Raggedstar's littermate.

A friend of Yellowfang's youth, along with Ashflame (previously ShC Ashfur).

Finchflight was a total git. The kind of husband that you really hope she divorces, but never does.

Nasty to her friends, really full of himself, a fantastic warrior who doesn't let you forget it.

"Dawcy, what do you see in that guy?" "Ohh, you don't know him like I do."

Together, they had several litters of kits. I'm still working out the nitty gritty details on how many litters and how many kits in each.

The oldest were the two who eventually die in the massacre. There weren't as many ShadowClan casualties as WindClan casualties that night, but they were strong warriors in the initial strike squad.

I'm thinking of giving them bird names-- Drake and Harrier, maybe. Finchflight would want his firstborn kits to have names like him, and Dawncloud would oblige.

Scorchwind is in a later litter. He was born after his uncle earned the honor title of Raggedpelt, and Dawncloud adored her brother's old name.

With his blessing, the unused, "lucky name" was passed to Scorchkit.

There's another "maybe" cat who might be hers-- a Glitch Warrior, the "Not Brokenstar" forest rogue from Rise of Scourge.

His WIP name is Braketail. A brake is a marshland dominated by one species of plant. I'm tempted to make his name Brakebone though.

May or may not stay in the Dawnkin family, though. Depends.

Since BB!Brokenstar both does not have the "child soldiers" plotline and has a much longer rule than his canon counterpart, Dawncloud is now the progenitor of some "kit saves."

Currently, Mossthorn is her lastborn.

Finchflight died while they were young, so their temperament is vastly different from his older siblings.

From there, Swampfang, Volewhisper, and Blossomfrost are grandchildren now.

Discopaw and her unnamed sibling (current WIP name Poppaw) may also be Dawnkin, depending.

I'm still deciding who the parents were, though.

Current draft is giving Swamp/Bloss/Vole to Mossthorn, but I might give them to one of the dead firstborns. I like the idea of Volepaw getting horribly mauled while rushing to his parent's defense.

Dawncloud there in the camp, burying two children and unsure if her grandson will survive his injuries, deciding in that moment she cannot lose another kit.

Sadly though, this doesn't have a happy ending. Dawncloud's family is devastated by Runningnose's plague.

Dawncloud, Mossthorn, Volewhisper, and Pop are taken out as Nightstar sympathizers. Disco and Swamp are targeted too, but survive.

Blossomfrost wanted to be a Cleric. She begged Runningnose to let her help, not knowing it was him who had unleashed it on the Clan that "betrayed" Brokenstar.

He warned her that the plague was dangerous, and that there were serious risks involved. She could have distanced herself from the infected, stayed safe. But she didn't.

Her death was unfortunate collateral. She was a bright young warrior with a good heart. A waste.

I'm unsure if Discopaw will stay in this family, but it's definitive that Crowfrost will be descended from Dawncloud. What defines this family is their bright, two-colored irises. Crow has cobalt ringed by brilliant blue frost.

To add insult to injury, I imagine Nightwhisper's name is a direct reference to Volewhisper. Probably Runningnose's idea; to have the first warrior that Tigerstar names be a repeat of the first title Nightstar gave.

'Let this be the sight you die seeing, Dawncloud,' Runningnose's subtle smile and gleeful eyes silently declare, 'I've taken your kits. I've trampled their honor. Everything you betrayed your Clan for was for nothing.'

It's only the beginning of TigerClan's tyranny, a droplet of the bloodbath to come.

[lazylittledragon]

Your novel excerpts are incredible and I would love to see more. The warmth and care you put into it shines through and I just want more of it!

On a side note, incredibly unfair that you can draw AND write so masterfully. A true power house, haha.

aaAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH :'DDD

as a treat you can have some more akdffd

if the main plot is 'Fantasy Murder Mystery' then the biggest subplot is probably 'Snow is Not Doing Well'

[deusfoundry]

uncles luke and kieran who are tasked with picking your daughter up when sylus finds himself stuck in a meeting he really can't get out of and you're busy on a mission assigned to you last minute. they pull up to her school with the intention of immediately going back to the manor (well, maybe they can afford to stop for a quick ice cream trip if she asks) only to find her sitting on the curb of the street in tears. she tells them that a group of kids were making fun of her and though she's been raised with self-assurance and confidence instilled by you and sylus, sometimes kids can be mean. luke scoops her in his arms, pats down the knots in her hair, makes a show of dramatically wiping her tears away and tells her he knows of ways she can get back at them. kieran buries his face in his hand, sighing into his palms as he can quite literally see the gears working overtime inside luke's mind.

he knows what's coming next, but if it's in the name of your daughter he's grown so fond of, then he doesn't mind cleaning up after another one of his twin's mess.

[luxaofhesperides]

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents. 

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside. 

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream. 

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high. 

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face. 

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep. 

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating. 

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head. 

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe. 

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment. 

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian. 

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist. 

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said. 

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body. 

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional. 

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks. 

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her). 

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath. 

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not. 

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together. 

There’s no one he’d rather do this with. 

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

[gothamite-rambler]

Talia: Bruce, give up your code—

Robin!Dick (9 at the time): No!

Talia: Bruce, it is in your best interest to ki—

Robin!Dick (answering again for Batman): No!

Talia (annoyed): I simply think you could benefit from using more lethal—

Robin!Dick (jumping in front of Bruce): Nooooo!

Talia (glaring at the child): Do you mind?!

Batman: He's giving you my usual answer. Thank you, Robin.

Robin smiled with a nod.

-----------------------------------

Talia: My father is the greatest, bravest, and most intelligent man, and you will not insult him!

Robin!Dick (13 at the time): The man has the unbridled charisma of a Taco Bell buffet!

Talia: You wanna go, kid? I will hit a teenager; I don't give a fuck!

Batman: Touch him, and I'll beat the shit out of your father.

Talia (pointing at the teenager): He started it!

Robin!Dick: I'm just an innocent kid speaking my truth.

Batman: He hasn't said anything wrong. Leave now.

Talia growled and stormed off.

---------------------------------

Before Bruce discovered he had a son.

Dick (looking at Damian): What a cute kid. Where’s his mom?

Jason chuckled, pointing at Talia.

Dick: She’s his… adopted mother?

Damian: Am I?

Talia: He’s mine! I pushed him out of my vagina! So there! And guess who is the father!

Dick looked closely at Damian, and it clicked instantly.

Dick: No.

Talia: He is!

Dick: He can’t be!

Talia: But he is! How does it feel? You were wrong! I told you I’d bear him a child, and there he is! I win, you lose!

Ra’s: You having his seed doesn’t mean you won against this strange rivalry with his eldest Robin!

Ra’s sighed, shaking his head while Dick blinked for a few seconds before walking off.

Dick: Oh God! Why did an innocent child have to be born from a crazy woman?!

Jason (who knew about Damian's existence): If it helps, I’m guessing it was a booty call!

Jason laughed as Talia glared at him, then her father when he started laughing too.

[penumbra-mayhem]

Tank's nickname is Tank because they come from a military family.

(TW: suicide, death, violence, war, limb loss)

Their mom and dad are both officers, each coming from military families as well. It is expected that Tank and their older sister will also enlist when they are old enough.

Tank and their sister move around a lot as kids, which is difficult for any kid and even more difficult for shifter kids; not having a pack can be detrimental to an adolescent shifter's development. Tank's parents, though, always insist that the military is their pack (which is total bullshit). So Tank and their sister make their own pack, a pack of two.

When Tank is ten, their father dies in combat.

In response, their mother buries herself in her work. What little attention she had given Tank and their sister beforehand disappears. Tank's sister reacts by becoming a model daughter, a model sister, a model student, and a model future soldier. She is strong and stoic and perfect—everything Tank aspires to be and everything Tank isn't.

Tank feels their feelings deeply and their grief overwhelms them. One day, Tank asks their sister between heavy sobs how she stays so strong. She responds that you have to have armor for your heart, just as you do for your body. She tells Tank that they can handle anything life throws at them, as long as they remember that they're tough.

She teaches Tank how to fight, both with their words and with their fists. Through her example, Tank learns loyalty and honor and perseverance.

When Tank is twelve, their sister enlists.

She quickly earns the nickname "Tank" from her fellow teammates, for how unstoppable she is on the field and how indestructible she is off the field. She never breaks, never gives up.

When Tank is fourteen, their sister dies.

Her squad is ambushed. She tries to save one of her teammates, despite the orders from her higher-ups to retreat immediately. By the time she sees the grenade land at her feet, it’s too late. She loses both her teammate and her legs.

The discharge is officially a medical one, but everyone knows it’s unofficially a dishonorable one. Having disobeyed a direct order, Tank's sister returns home in disgrace, but she tries to keep her head held high. She puts up the armor for Tank.

Two months later, Tank is woken up by a loud noise. Although they hadn't seen it coming, they know immediately what it is. When they manage to get into their sister's bedroom—through the window since the door is locked—they find their sister, one of their mother's guns, and two letters.

The first letter is an apology to Tank. The second is a scathing rebuke of Tank’s sister’s discharge from their mother.

Tank's mother moves with Tank to a military base in Dahlia and takes a noncombat position. Tank starts getting into trouble at school. They fight with their mother daily. In an effort to build their family reputation back up after so much "disgrace", Tank's mother joins the Shaw Pack.

Tank introduces themself to the pack as "Tank", dog tags hanging on their neck with the same nickname etched onto the back.

[thefallenangel2008]

I'm sorry, but the fact that Stan could have become just like his father but he still ended up being supporting and encouraging towards Mabel, Dipper, Soos and Wendy despite everything... I'm- I'm sorry but I love that man so much YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.

[fistfuloflightning]

When Ming Fan finally fought his way through the underbrush to where the Rift had appeared, it was already too late. Shizun and Luo Binghe stood at the edge of the yawning chasm, swords unsheathed and pointed at each other. He hadn’t thought much of it when Shen Qingqiu had flown past him so soon after the earthquake that had torn open the Rift, but he could now see there was something very wrong. Shen Qingqiu’s back was turned to Ming Fan and his face hidden, but he could see plainly the fear and confusion on Luo Binghe’s face. Along with the glowing, damning mark on his forehead. Something demonic.

Ming Fan gripped the foliage, forcing himself not to run out. Not yet. He’d end up dead or wishing he was. He had mocked Luo Binghe early in the Conference, yes, but he knew the younger boy had done nothing to merit this kind of punishment—!

In a matter of seconds, Xiu Ya had stabbed forward, Zheng Yang had shattered, and Luo Binghe had staggered back into the Rift.

Everything seemed to still.

Ming Fan sucked in an breath and darted out of the foliage—but it was too late. Luo Binghe’s arm vanished over the edge just as Ming Fan ran past their shizun. He lunged forward the last few feet, fingers clawing at Luo Binghe’s forearm just in time. Caught, held. The sudden weight had him crashing again against the ground and the wind was knocked out of him. The taste of charred earth mixed with that of fresh blood where he’d nearly bitten his tongue in half.

But that was inconsequential. Not when he could feel the weight at the end of his arm that told him he didn’t fail. Even when the only person he needed to acknowledge that fact was someone he couldn’t stand. No one deserves to die like this, Ming Fan thought viciously. Not even him.

Dangling below him, Luo Binghe’s eyes were wide with terror and confusion, at odds with the damning, demonic seal glowing on his forehead. But there was something like gratitude there as well, out of place and so painfully frail.

For a fragile second, it felt like they were breathing the same

“Shixiong—”

With a cry, he was wrenched from Ming Fan’s grip and into the Abyss below. Ming Fan’s cry was strangled in his throat.

He didn’t know how long he remained there, clenching the burned grass with white-knuckled fingers and straining his eyes to see through the acrid smoke that rose from the chasm for even the barest glimpse of Luo Binghe. But time moved on and the Rift sealed shut and when Ming Fan blinked and once more became aware of his surroundings, he realized he was not alone.

Shen Qingqiu loomed over him like a stone Buddha, face cold as jade. His spiritual sword was once more sheathed, his robes neat and not one hair out of place. As though he hadn’t had a hand in what had happened here.

“You… you killed him,” Ming Fan breathed, still unable to fully process what had just taken place. But that’s what it was, a death sentence fed to the hungry maw of the Endless Abyss.

Shen Qingqiu. “He was a stain upon our sect.”

Ming Fan could feel the rage slowly rise. “He was a disciple of Qing Jing Peak. He was your disciple.” Acknowledging it was like vinegar on his tongue but a boy was dead because of him. He stared at Shen Qingqiu as if seeing him for the first time. Stripped of his elegance and his masks…

“He was a demon.” Shen Qingqiu sneered down at him. “There is no need to explain to you why he needed to be eradicated.”

Ming Fan tore burning eyes away from that frigid, impassive mask. He couldn’t bear looking at the man he had so long idolized. Instead he stared at the ground, in fear he would do or say something he could not undo. And beside his knee he saw slivers of metal.

The shards of Zheng Yang, tangled in the burned grass. Ming Fan’s vision blurred and his breath grew sharp and ragged, anger slamming into him full force. He wrapped his fingers around the pieces, the razor pain of their edges grounding him as the rest of his world unraveled like poorly woven cloth. His shizun had failed him.

And he had failed his shidi.

[tackykachowch]

By the way, did we ever talk about how stupid it is that they made Silco the reason Felicia died? I don't mean that he killed her personally, but that he jumpstarted violence on a peaceful protest. Because that's sooo who Silco is, right? A character who makes impulsive and poorly thought out decisions, right? A character who goes into a fight headstrong without carefully planning his moves and strategy and just YOLO-ing it, right? Right?? ......sigh

And don't even THINK about giving me the whole "wElL hE cHaNgEd SiNcE tHeN dUh" crap. Even s2 is smart enough to show us him writing something in a notebook in a flashback, which implies that he was the brains behind the Lanes' creation/revolution as a whole. And if he was he would never sabotage his own plans with something so stupid as throwing a single molotov at enforcers. Literally who does that???? Silco we know would probably organize an attack under the guise of a peaceful protest, but not just. Straight-up ruining just a regular peaceful protest. That's stupid. And Silco is the last character in arcane that would do something stupid. Literally the whole plot of season 1 relies on him being intelligent and sneaky with his plans are you kidding me.