#at least your parents

[waluigisgaybf]

Have now figured out a lil bit about Durges childgood by desperately diving around on google

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

[yuukirita]

Here you can see the exact moment his spark broke in half

Here's where you can read this au!

[lazylittledragon]

steddie alt dads but it's just gareth and eddie being goblins

[markscherz]

‘But I am very poorly today & very stupid & hate everyone & everything’

- Charles Darwin. Letter to Charles Lyell, 1 October 1861

[literaila]

Reader meeting gojo parents when since they’re confirmed to be alive ☹️

the next time gojo satoru claims to be a “grown man” you’re going to pull his annoyingly soft hair and shove him down a sink drain.

this child, this infant—the very same one who got lost exactly one minute after you told him not to wander off—is going to be the death of you.

you’d always thought that you might go out peacefully, in your sleep or lying in a hospital bed. or, at least, heroically. saving some innocent bystander, leaving the world with some witty last remark.

but no.

instead you’ll die of a heart attack. instead you’re going to look for gojo and accidentally wander into some den of cursed spirits and die before you get the chance to pull on his ear at least one last time.

even tsumiki doesn’t get lost this much—and she gets distracted every time she catches a glimpse of pink in a window.

you walk amongst the crowd, looking for long legs and a stupid blind-fold, thinking about how you should’ve brought megumi. he’s more observant than you are—he’ll look for any chance to get gojo in trouble.

namely, this one.

you sigh, dialing his number again. but you can barely hear it ring as you hold it to your ear, you can barely hear the, “it’s gojo, you must feel sorry that you missed me—“ before you hang up. he’s not going to listen to any short of breath voicemail you leave anyway.

he can teleport home, you suppose. it might be nice to have a couple of hours to yourself, to teach him a lesson for once—

(and no, you won’t miss him. that’s a ridiculous suggestion. why would you miss a third child that clings to you, and whines every time you’re not paying enough attention to him, and whispers sweet things in your ear when he’s bored, and follows you wherever you go, and always trails his hand down the small of your back because he knows—

no, okay? no.)

you’re thinking about how gojo satoru is the worst person you’ve ever met—and you’ve had to sit through meetings with the higher ups, so—when you run into someone.

you get your obliviousness from gojo, thank you.

“i’m sorry, i—“ but you look up and you’re met with the same smile you were just cursing out in your head.

though, maybe not quite the same? it’s usually not so pained and he’s usually sticking his tongue out a little bit—

“baby,” he breathes, chest inflating.

you frown. “i thought i told you to stay by me. i’ve been looking for you for, like, fifteen minutes, are you—“

he turns, just slightly, and usually you would pinch his cheek for trying to deflect but… there’s a woman standing there. looking at you—at him—like she’s seen some sort of ghost.

satoru has that effect, you suppose.

“oh, sorry,” you say, stepping so you wave at her. “did i—am i interrupting?”

“no, we—“

“it’s nothing—“

they both stop. and satoru may be blindfolded, as ridiculous as he is, but you can practically see the glance that they share.

the quick look away, awkwardness floating through the air like dust.

you tilt your head, brows furrowing.

satoru doesn’t necessarily like talking to strangers, but the man doesn’t know what social expectations are. and he’s certainly not awkward.

you wrap your hand around his arm, feeling the release of his technique (and yours), as you consider them. “satoru. who’s this?”

“she’s…” he makes a vague gesture with his hand, trying to telepathically communicate with you, and winces again.

you give him another strange look.

but the woman clears her throat, gesturing to satoru. “i am his mother.”

you still, keeping your eyes on satoru. he doesn’t look back towards you, doesn’t nod to confirm or acknowledge her in any way. his head is tilted up, eyes to the sky.

eventually, you look to the woman.

suddenly you see it, like a flash of light. her eyes are blue, and though not as breathtaking as satoru’s, still light enough to be beautiful.

her hair is a glimmering silver and her entire body is tense.

but she doesn’t look like satoru at all, you think. satoru is always smiling, always moving a million miles a minute. he’s gesturing and trying to make you laugh and he’s never nervous, he’s never caught off guard.

except for maybe now.

some hindrance in your mind thinks about how megumi resembles satoru at times—the model of his smirk or the tease in his eyes. you recall tsumiki’s laugh, the mimicry of sound when she’s laughing with satoru.

it’s not biology, you hear, but connection.

the way you mold each other, the tight grip that admiration has on the very material of your soul.

“oh,” you breathe out finally. but you don’t say anything else to her, can’t think of anything you might want to. you turn to satoru, leaning closer to him, hand gripping his arm. “satoru, do you want to—“

he finally looks forward, towering both of you. “this is my wife,” he interrupts, smoothly. “we were just shopping.”

“it’s lovely to meet you.”

the woman is trying to smile but it doesn’t mean much to you. she keeps glancing at satoru—staring like he’s some public attraction, hesitating like he might bite if provoked.

you pull on his arm a little bit, dragging him a step away. you don’t want to ask in front of her—dont want to take that means of distance away from him—but you don’t have a choice.

“do you want to go?” you whisper to him, wishing you could meet his eyes. “we don’t have to stay.”

his mouth opens, then closes. “i’m not—“ he swallows, stopping.

you’re about to say something—to tell him that he doesn’t owe her anything, that he doesn’t have to be afraid—but she clears her throat again and you turn, ready to say whatever you can to get your satoru back.

the one who’s never left speechless, never left not knowing what to say.

“satoru,” the woman speaks, saying his name like she deserves to. like it’s different when it’s in her mouth—a possession no one else can have. “i have to go—we aren’t supposed to be in the city for very long.”

you frown at her and satoru continues to stare at the side of your head.

“here’s my phone number. i would like—love. i would love to speak with you, if you have the time. whenever you want. if you want.”

she holds her hand out to him and you already know that he’s not going to reach out to her.

you already know that even if he did—she would never get past the world of space between them.

so you reach out instead, grabbing it from her. “thank you.”

“no—thank you. i am…” she pauses, looking away, finally. “i am glad you’ve found happiness, satoru. i… have to go. it was nice seeing you,” she blinks at you, a slight bow as she takes a step back. “and meeting you.”

you don’t say anything but wait, watching for satoru as she walks away from the two of you—keeping him safe for just a moment.

and as soon as she’s gone, you turn to look at him, not sure what to say.

it’s not like with your mom—if satoru understands your childhood at all, you’re completely lost to his.

“you okay, baby?” you ask, staying close to him. maybe it’s a defense mechanism—trying to keep him from shutting you out—or maybe it’s so he knows that you’re there.

“i didn’t think i would ever see her again.”

“did she…” his eyes meet yours, even through the fabric, his mouth a straight line. “did she say anything before i showed up?”

he shakes his head. “no. she just stared at me. i—i didn’t realize who she was, at first.”

“that’s understandable.”

“i don’t know why she would be here.” he looks around, seeming to come to, and then finds you again. “did i get lost?”

you laugh, a bit shocked, pushing your forehead into his chest. “ran away, more like.”

his arms wrap around your back, holding you in place. “sorry. i smelled dessert.”

“of course you did.”

he takes a deep breath, then pulls away. “okay. more shopping? did you check out at the gift shop?”

“are you okay, satoru?”

“i’m fine,” he answers immediately. you stare at him, unblinking, and wait. after a moment, he licks his lip. “okay. yeah. i don’t know.”

“that’s okay.”

three years ago, he wouldn’t have said anything to you. two years ago, he would’ve feigned indifference and hidden himself away for a week.

but you’ve learned to move past these walls, learned how to fill the space and not push too hard.

and you love satoru. too much to let him fall away from you, now.

he sighs after a moment, shaking his head again. “she.. she looks different.”

“it’s been at least ten years, right?”

“yeah.”

you wipe his cheek, adjusting his blindfold for him. “do you want to call her?”

“i don’t—“ he frowns, just minimally. “i don’t know.”

“that’s okay. but you can, you know?”

“would you help me?”

“help you dial her number?”

he grabs your wrist, his cheek quirking. “help me talk to her.”

“hmm…” you tap his nose with a finger. “maybe if you beg.”

“this is why i ran away,” he says, just barely pouting.

and that’s how you know you’ve gotten your satoru back. as annoying as he is.

[akanemnon]

Well, she isn't exactly wrong

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[introspectivememories]

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[dismas-n-dismay]

There’s something so poetic and heartbreaking about Mary not wanting to hurt her mother. It’s not out of pity or wanting to ease the strain of the divorce it’s just purely a daughter’s love for her mother who’s always been there. Her mother who has never tried to make Mary feel outcasted or othered or unloved.

Even when Mary KNOWS that something is wrong in her bones, she cannot force herself to do anything but trail after her mother and try and make her proud even if what she’s doing could get her hurt. She loves her mom. And it sucks that the last she saw of her was her mother trying to kill her.

Mary, you will always be famous, my little dart frog

[freyadragonlord]

How do I explain how married Han Yoojin and Sung Hyunje are in the post-epilogue Side Stories without sounding like I am exaggerating or making things up...

[inamindfarfaraway]

In the first episode of Season Six, “Startouched”, a white-haired girl in her late teens has emerged from a body of water onto a beach lit by the sun, and seen her not-actually-dead father who she lost two years ago restored to complete life with a dark magic spell that demands blood be spilled. She’s distraught after the intense trauma of killing another member of her family. Her father made peace with passing on, but she selfishly couldn’t bear losing him and acted to keep his spirit tethered to the mortal world, hurting him in the process. She stands, then falls. Someone she loves dearly, the male former high mage of Katolis with brown hair who has repeatedly used dark magic but solemnly sworn off it, embraces her and she returns it. But then he abandons her. She is unbalanced, despairing, directionless and lost.

In the last episode of Season Six, “Stardust”, a white-haired girl in her late teens has emerged from a body of water onto a beach lit by the moon, and is about to see her not-actually-dead father who she lost two years ago restored to complete life with a primal magic spell that demands blood be spilled. She’s relieved after the intense catharsis of enabling other members of her family to die. They made peace with passing on, and she selflessly accepted losing both of them and acted to heal and free their tethered spirits. She falls, then stands. Someone she loves dearly, the male high mage of Katolis with brown hair who has repeatedly used dark magic but solemnly sworn off it, embraces her and she returns it. He will never abandon her. She is mature, hopeful, purposeful and found.

[hyperfixatinator]

I have a DP x DC AU brainworm about Danny and Tim being long lost siblings (twins or otherwise).

Because both of them have faced evil future versions of themselves who've almost ended the world in some way through altering time. If Clockwork had been watching Danny's world-ending timelines, then who's to say he wouldn't keep tabs on Tim's as well?

Imagine that the brothers had to be temporarily separated at a young age to ensure a peaceful future. Danny had to be in Amity Park to gain his ghost powers and become the new Ghost King. Meanwhile, Tim had to stay in Gothem to become the new Robin, something he'd have been less likely to do if Danny stayed in his life.

However, their separation was only supposed to be temporary. What if both Dan and Future Tim were from futures where they never reunited as teens? Heck, what if both of them were from the SAME future?

The Nasty Burger explosion happened, Danny killed Vlad and absorbed his soul, and became Dan. Dan grew too powerful for the GIW to handle anymore, so the government tried reaching out to the Justice League. But oops! Future Tim already killed off and tore down that whole organization, meaning the world no longer had it's protectors to stop this new foe.

Though they were strangers, the future brothers unwittingly collaborated in sealing the world's fate.

Back to the present, the Observants wanted Clockwork to get rid of Danny and also Tim before that timeline came to pass. What they didn't understand was Clockwork's plan.

See, the Infinite Realms needed a new monarch to replace Pariah Dark, but not just anyone would do. In timelines outside of Dan's future, the U.S government would've started a war with the Infinite Realms anyway. One that would guarantee Earth's destruction and offset the balance of other realms near it.

The war is set to start in Amity Park, but the information blackout is preventing it's citizens from getting outside help. Mid-to-late teen Danny can't bring down the Anti Ecto Acts alone. He'd be struggling to keep the Realms beings from invading his home as it is. And the government's iron grip on the city makes it nearly impossible for news to get out to the masses.

Danny being the brother of a vigilante detective across the country is another story.

Batman's mentorship would give Tim the training needed to eventually track down his lost sibling. And through Red Robin's connections to the Justice League, Danny could get help overturning the Anti Ecto Acts while he keeps declarations of war at bay on his end. Danny and Tim's combined efforts could be what's keeping the world at peace instead of ending it.

Long story short: Clockwork kills two birds with one stone by uniting a pair of long lost brothers through the prevention of an interdimensional war.

[upsidedog]

god the scene in season one where jonathan comes home to joyce and lonnie on the couch drinking together is harrowing. it makes me want to cry just thinking about it, your brother is dead, your mom is horrible mental state and is now also introducing your abusive father back into your house. what a fucking nightmare.

[multifandom-nerds-blog]

I'm rewatching Trollhunters in the background right now, and the disfunctional mother son relationship between Jim and his mom is making me crazy.

Like, he's taking care of the household and his mother for years as a teenager and before probably. She is sometimes giving half hearted comments about him not having to do so much, but very obviously she's not gonna make him stop do all the cooking and cleaning. Y'know. Both because they've been living like this for years, and because it's obviously also very comfortable to have someone do all the house work.

Then Strickler comes into the picture, and if we ignore the whole Troll and changeling side of the story, Barabara gets very offended cause Jim doesn't want her to meet him privately. Again, ignoring the whole magic and trolls stuff, STRICKLER IS JIMS TEACHER. If Jim hadn't figured out that Strickler was a changeling he probably wouldn't have a problem with it, but the fact that he does, no matter the reason, should be enough for Barbara to put a stop to the relationship. Her child is clearly uncomfortable with her seeing/dating that guy, for whatever reason, and even clearly vocalized it. But she doesn't care about, or rather, she tells Jim that she "wouldn't expect something like that" from him. Obviously not, cause she may see him like her child/teenager he is, BUT DOESN'T TREAT HIM LIKE ONE.

And then Jim, unknowingly to Barbara, becomes the Trollhunter, and his behavior changes. He's suddenly doing reckless stuff, sneaking out, getting bruises, landing in detention and even at the police station, barely avoiding a police report. What does she do? Asking him what's going on? If everything's alright at school? If he has any other problems? Maybe trying to lower his workload around the house, which again, he's doing most of that as a teenager and longer probably.

Nah. She doesn't do anything until he lands in the hospital. Except for again, dismissing him rather negatively at the one topic he's openly expressing any negative opinions about (Strickler). And after he lands in the hospital she now starts not asking questions, but demanding answers. Demanding answers from a teenager in a difficult situation who is also now acting much more like a teenager than he ever did before, from her point of view at least. Except she obviously doesn't know how to deal with a teenager, cause she has never had to raise or live with a teenager. She instead lived with a child pretending to be an adult for years, that was partly much more of an adult than she was, who did way to much work even before Jim became the Trollhunter. So she throws punishments at him and grounds him, but does he listen?

No. Cause why should he? Not only is he dealing with things much more important than being grounded, yknow, saving the world, he's trying to protect her from the sheer knowledge of the supernatural and physically protecting her from getting harmed. And again, for the majority of the time since his dad left he pretended to be an adult. He was and is the main adult in the household, dealing with important things she doesn't even know about.

The only one's treating Jim like a teenager are teachers, other children and Blinky and Aaargh sort of when they're not in the middle of Troll business. Strickler, in the first episodes where Jim doesn't know about his true identity, is much more of a parental figure to Jim (also after his redemption later on tbh) than his mother.

In summary: Barbara is treating her son like an adult, almost like a partner, instead of a child/teenager. And when that isn't possible anymore she doesn't know how to properly treat him. She also doesn't really care that her son is uncomfortable with her being around Strickler, or Strickler in general. And it takes Blinky telling her (when Jim is 16) that Jim might be affected by his father leaving when he was five years old.

Jim meanwhile is treating his mother more like a child/teenager instead of the adult and MOTHER that she is. Seeing her as his responsibility. Cooking for her. Cleaning for her. Telling her to rest and take breaks.

They obviously love each other other. And their relationship might not be toxic, but it's very much disfunctional. In a way that is mostly negative for Jim.

[serpentface]

Don't get too attached