#The terrified kid who was bolting across the Lake trembling with fear is a different person from the powerful senior warrior he is now

[bonefall]

Are you keeping Hallowflight's and Ivypool's odd friendship they had going on in the DF as apprentices? I know the Erin's forgot about it after the great battle, but honestly thought it was kinda sweet how they became friends in literal cat hell and how Hallow tried to comfort Ivy after she perma-killed Ant. I just thought it was neat and something unique.

I see Hallowflight, after the BOTTE, as really wanting to distance himself from the friends he made there.

With his new Honor Title and this almost immediately legendary story, he went from an outcast loser to suddenly being a hero. His bully Mossyfoot died, and his other bully Troutstream changed her tune. Cats wanted to know him, calling him brave and commending his turnaround.

But that's not the case in the other Clans. ShadowClan outright exiled Redwillow, with the other two being killed in the fight. WindClan is furious at their trainees, and ThunderClan has the guy that almost snapped his son's neck.

Hallowflight's life got better because of his time there, but everyone else is worse off, and associating with them hurts his own shiny new reputation.

And like... that isn't something he's proud of. He knows better than anyone that ALL of them got pulled into the DF because they were angry, lonely, looking for meaning. Almost everyone who was a hard ideologue (Thornclaw, Whiskernose, Ratscar) DIED fighting for those ideas.

And yet, still, he is willing to stay quiet about Dodderheart, Shredbloom, and everyone else, only exchanging an awkward nod at Gatherings, not offering himself as a counterexample in their defense.

If they want to think he's a coward... so be it.

But of all the DF trainees, he's definitely closest to Ivypool, and I think he's willing to throw an endorsement of Harespring once he's out of his Dishonor Title and acting as deputy. He simply won't endanger his own reputation; Hallowflight has a family to consider.

(And then he loses two of his kids to the Impostor anyway, on both sides of the conflict, and Harelight's view of him is forever damaged... so, see how well neutrality worked out in the end.)

[buckleyirondad]

xi. stitches

Once a month, Clint stopped over for lunch and brought Nathan along too. 

Nathan and Morgan were best friends, much to Peter's envy. In actual fact, Peter took care of them, while Tony and Clint talked. Talked? It was borderline gossip, it was essentially bitching, about everything and anything. Especially, Steve’s decision to go back in time, and marry Peggy Carter, without even discussing the idea with anyone beforehand. The front door opened, and Nathan barged in, Peter and Morgan weren’t with him. “Nate?” Clint circled the breakfast bar and knelt, to greet him, “Hey, buddy. Where’s Peter?” Nate scooted past his dad, and raced over to Tony, he tugged his trouser leg to get his attention. Clint narrowed his eyes and muttered something about favouritism. Tony rolled his eyes, as he got down to his nephew’s level, “Hey, Nate.” He ruffled his hair and offered him his goofiest smile. Nathan was a few months younger than Morgan but was born five years before her, Tony would never wrap his mind around how that worked. Even though he was the one who invented time travel. The lucky thing was, Nathan would be going to school with Morgan. So, they already had each other. “You're Morgan’s daddy?” Tony narrowed his eyes, “Yes, I am.” His heart sank in his chest. He couldn’t hear either of his kids outside, and he was starting to worry. Why weren’t they with Nathan? He prayed that Nathan had lost track of them one of Morgan’s expeditions of the woodland. “Are you Peter’s too?” 

“Yes.” Tony noticed that Nathan’s eyes were slightly bloodshot as if he’d been crying, “What’s wrong?” “He got hurt,” Nathan said, pointing to the door. “Hurt?” Tony knew Nathan was young, he couldn’t exactly shout at him for an explanation. Usually, when Peter got hurt, it was on patrol. So, Happy had to deal with a lot of crap from Tony, because manners went out the window whenever his kids were hurt. He’d owned Happy a present or something, the guy put up with a lot of shit. Nathan was different, he was four-years-old, and it’d built up the courage to tell Tony in the first place, “How did he hurt himself?” “He fell out of the treehouse.” Clint scooped Nathan into his arms, alert and ready to bolt out of the house in the hunt for Peter and Morgan, “How hurt is he, bud?” He asked as Tony turned and grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard. “He was asleep…” Nathan started. So, he was unconscious, “Then he woke up, and said his arm hurt.” Injured arm? Tony and Clint could handle that, “He tried to stand up but he fell over…” He either has a concussion or a leg injury. “Morgie told me to come and get their daddy.” Morgan’s responsibility one out of his children? Wow, he was doomed. “Thank you, Nate.” Clint hurried to the door, with Tony hot on his tail, “Where’s the treehouse?” He asked as he charged down the patio steps. “Left, and then keep going straight.” Tony bolted ahead, “You won’t miss it!” Tony heard Morgan before he saw them either of them. She was humming ‘Black In Black’ but it was quite obvious in the way the tune wobbled, that she was also crying. It was one of those rare moments when Tony was both proud and terrified. He found them, sat together. Peter was leant up against the tree, under the shadow of the treehouse. His skin was chalk-white, and Tony could tell by the way his eyes were drooping shut, he was on the verge of passing out. Peter having a concussion wasn’t a surprise, it was a sheer drop from the treehouse to the ground. It wasn’t your everyday treehouse, it was a Stark!Treehouse. Fully equipped, and foolproof. It was safe, guaranteed by Friday and Tony, himself. The problem is Tony had never considered having to make it ‘Peter-Proof.’ It was obvious that Peter had tried to test his new web formula but it had snapped and he’d fallen. Morgan was crouched down by his side, holding his hand, “Daddy..” “Hey....” Tony knelt, pressing his hand against Peter’s cheek, “What have you gotten yourself into? I leave you alone for ten minutes.” “I’m sorry.” Peter slurred, as he tried to smile. “It’s my fault,” Morgan cried, her lower lip trembling as she clung to her brother. Peter shook his head, “No, no…” “I wanted to see him swing…” Morgan hiccuped, “Nathan wasn’t watching--” Nathan didn't know Peter was Spider-Man, not yet. His siblings did, but Clint and Laura thought it was best for him not to know yet because apparently, he wasn’t the best at keeping secrets. “And then he fell…” Morgan sobbed, holding up her arm, “And he wouldn’t wake up, Daddy...I didn’t…” Tony noticed the alarm etched across Peter’s face as he desperately attempted to reassure his sister, “It’s not your fault, baby.” Tony told her, “It was an accident. Peter’s webbing was faulty, that’s all it was.” “He..” She swallowed the lump in her throat, “He cut his arm.” “I know.” Tony turned, rolling up Peter’s sleeve. The cut was quite deep, and it needed stitches, straight away. They couldn’t dawdle or he’d be left with a nasty scar, “Okay bud, I’m gonna have to stitch this up.” “No…” Peter groaned sleepily, “Leave it.” “I can’t leave it, kid.” “Everything alright, here?” Clint circled, placing Nathan down onto his feet, “Oh…kid.” He knelt, “Do you need me to do anything?” “Um, I’ve gotta stitch this up…” “I said no!” Peter shouted, on the edge of throwing a tantrum. He only ever snapped, if he was genuinely angry at Tony, or he was injured. Clint’s forehead creased because he’d never seen this side of Peter before, “He’s scared of needles.” Tony explained, Clint sighed in realisation. “I won’t let you,” Peter said, through gritted teeth, but Tony didn’t take that threat to heart, especially because Peter was more than likely going to pass out before they made it back to the Lake House. Tony brushed a hand through Peter’s hair, “I’m sorry, kid, but if we left this…you can kiss goodbye to patrol for...hmm, what do you think, Barton? Six weeks?” Peter’s eyes widened.

Clint raised an eyebrow, “I’d say nine.” “Okay, okay…” Peter groaned, “You can do it.” “Good.” Tony looked up to Morgan, “Hey darling, you’re gonna have to let go of Peter’s hand.” “No.” She shook her head, tugging Peter’s good arm closer. “I’m sorry, baby, but Petey’s got…” He leaned in, so Nathan didn’t hear, “Super strength, and when he’s hurt he can’t control it, so he might hurt your hand.” “I don’t care!” “Hey, Morgs.” Clint stood up, defusing the situation, “Why don’t you come and stand with Nathan? And I’ll hold Peter’s hand for you.” “Okay.” Morgan leaned in, kissing Peter’s cheek before she rushed over to Nathan. Clint crouched down, taking Peter’s hand. Tony started preparing the needle, “Are you sure, birdbrain? The kid’s pretty strong, and he’s got a death grip...you won’t escape.” “I’m pretty sure I can take it, Stark.” Clint quipped. Tony decided not to advance his warnings, Clint had signed his warrant by being a dick about it. “If you’re sure.” Tony turned to Peter, he brushed his fingers across his cheek, “You can close your eyes, kid. This won’t last long, I promise.” Peter scrunched his eyes shut, and bit down on his lip, as he tensed. Peter only flinched for the first three stitches then he relaxed, Tony kept asking him if he was conscious, and the kid muttered back half-hearted replies. It wasn’t until Tony was almost done when he realised why Peter wasn’t reacting, he was taking out his fear on something else. That something else was Clint’s hand. The archer’s face was devoid of all colour, and he was biting down on his lip to conceal his reaction. He’d signed up for this, in a highly arrogant way, so he wasn’t going to lose this battle. He said he could do it, he was going to wait it out until the end. “You alright, Clint?” Tony asked. “Shut up.” Clint said breathlessly, “Hurry up, hurry up.” Tony snorted a laugh, he finished the last two switches and released Peter’s arm, “Well done, kid.” He praised, brushing a hand through Peter’s curls. “Peter, let go.” Clint tugged his hand, “Kid, can you...please let go now….” Peter released his hand, and Clint jolted back, cradling his bruised hand as he turned away, trying not to swear with children present, “Jesus Christ.” Tony bent down and hoisted a semi-conscious Peter up into his arms, “I did warn you.” Clint turned, and glared at him, “Well, you’ll be ready for next time.” “Next time?!”