#I love her so. I think abt her a lot
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bunch of pms, a bundle
#homestuck#homestuck exiles#peregrine mendicant#pm#I love her so. I think abt her a lot#third drawing was me wanting to give her a fit based on the eldritch princess prototyping. might go back to it eventually
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It seems there's a new lawyer in town!!!
#I think she's one of the most underutilized characters ever I will DIE on this hill#she can hear people's feelings that is the COOLEST concept ever#you get people who can hear thoughts a lot and that's cool but hearing FEELINGS is such a sick and unique concept#AND SHES A LAWYER#THATS THE COOLEST CAREER YOU COULD GIVE SOMEONE WHO CAN HEAR FEELINGS THAT OPENS DOORS FOR SO MANY GOOD STORIES#I'D LOVE IN AA TO PLAY CASES AS HER WHERE YOU HAVE TO WORK BACKWARDS FROM PEOPLE'S EMOTIONS TO FIGURE OUT MYSTERIES#IT'S A WHOLE NEW SIDE TO THE EVIDENCE#AND SUBTLE HIDDEN FEELINGS KEEP GUIDING HER AND PPL JUST CANT KEEP UP WITH HOW SHE WORKS... STUFF LIKE THAT WOULD BE INTERESTING#WHY ISN'T IT UTILIZED WHY DO WE JUST HAVE PSUEDOSCIENCE MINIGAME#ATHENA IS SO LIKEABLE AND CHARMING AND FULL OF LIFE TOO#PLEASE CAPCOM#I LOV E HER PLEASE#GIVE US A CRAZY MOMENT WHERE SHE TAKES PHOENIX ASIDE HALFWAY THROUGH A CASEAND TELLS HIM HIS CLIENT WAS JUST ELATED AT THE SIGHT OF A CORPS#OR DO IT IN THE GAMEPLAY WHERE THE PLAYER SPOTS IT IN THE MOOD MATRIX#omg yeah actually that'd make me shit my pants that'd be so cool#proper ghost trick moment#THERE'S SO MUCH COOL STUFF YOu can do fuck okay sorry there are so many tags now#can you tell I got feelings abt this character I LOVE HER so much Im in love w her tbh and she's also so me#ace attorney#athena cykes#my art#have a good day thanks for looking at my art haha
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COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO
synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.
word count; 4.6k
contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues
a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33
”holy shit!”
the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.
”satoru, it’s too early for this...”
”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.
your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.
(snowing.)
with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.
satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.
maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.
it’s beautiful.
satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.
all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.
the first snow of the year.
and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.
there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.
like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.
and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.
(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.
and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)
high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.
and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.
a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.
he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.
— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.
satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.
(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)
”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”
he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.
it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.
so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.
satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.
”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.
”never.”
a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.
a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”
and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.
his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”
his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.
he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.
when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.
you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.
hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.
satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.
because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.
what more could a man want?
”hey, idiots!”
the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.
”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”
”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.
suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.
(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)
with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.
”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.
then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”
satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”
a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”
a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”
and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”
satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.
despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”
”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.
”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”
satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.
suguru sighs.
”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”
his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.
he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.
when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.
the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.
(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.
and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)
suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.
when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.
that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.
”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.
satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”
but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”
a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”
you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”
a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.
and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.
his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.
and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.
(i'm sorry, you big baby.)
satoru grins.
you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.
”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”
he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”
”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”
”and don’t play dumb, either.”
a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”
said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.
and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.
”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”
satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”
you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”
”hmph.”
suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.
and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.
that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.
this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.
(married.)
sometimes he still can’t believe it.
”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”
and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.
and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.
your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.
his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.
(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)
and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.
a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.
and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.
”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”
”— you’re disgusting.”
the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.
and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.
you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.
then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”
”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.
silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.
”… santa can only do so much, baby.”
two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.
”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”
you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”
”of course not! blasphemy.”
a moment passes.
”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”
a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.
then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.
he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.
and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.
he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.
for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?
(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)
— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.
it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.
and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.
warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.
he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.
and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.
he hopes it never goes away.
#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3#i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother#i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u#but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it#and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child#im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto x reader x gojo#gojo fluff#geto fluff#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#satosugu x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#……… thats… a lot of tags.
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do yall ever think about bruce/batman!clone danny standing in front of his bathroom mirror after finding out he was a clone and silently tracing his face. The slope of his jaw and point of his chin. The high angle of his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, the curve of his brow bones and the shape of his nose. The volume of his hair and the way it curls and gets fluffy when it gets too long.
His hair is black the same way a crow's wing is black. His dad's hair is black the same way a black bear's fur is black. His dad's eyes are blue like the ocean is blue. Danny's eyes are blue the same way a glacier is blue.
His dad has a square jaw and straight flat hair, and he tans and gets a face full of freckles when he's out in the sun for too long. Danny burns like a lobster and his face remains untouched. Danny has a sharp jaw and tall cheekbones, and Sam says when he's not smiling there's almost something regal about him. You would never call Jack Fenton "regal" when he's not smiling.
Sam says when he's not smiling he looks scary the same way a stone statue is. Jack Fenton when he's not smiling looks scary the same way that german shepherd staring at you across the street is.
Do you ever think he grew up wondering if he was adopted. Because of course, he has black hair and blue eyes like his dad. But having the same color doesn't make you someone's child.
Or, worse, things he's heard from the other kids and the other parents and even some of his teachers growing up; that he was the product of an affair. And that his dad was just too stupid to notice. And Danny would defend his parents until the day he died, because Jack Fenton wasn't an idiot and Maddie Fenton wasn't a cheater.
But doubt comes in with fickle tongue. his parents swear up and down that he is their child when he asks about either. That Danny just had his grandparents' features, but he was their son and they loved him.
But Danny doesn't look like either of his parents. His mom's eyes are blue like an aquamarine and Jazz's too. And they burn like lobsters in the sun too, but Jazz gets freckles on her face and so does Maddie. And as Danny grows up he doesn't bulk up or get stocky like his dad did, and when he hits puberty he doesn't shoot up like a tree like Jack Fenton did.
He stays small, and they say he's a late bloomer (and he is), or that he just has his mom's height. But he's fast and has good stamina, and some days it feels like he's built entirely different from his family. That the things they went through growing up just didn't apply to him. Jack and Maddie Fenton both had acne and breakouts when they hit puberty, and Jazz inherits it and he's seen the amount of skincare products she keeps on her side of the bathroom.
And then he hits puberty and breaks out maybe once or twice, but his skin stays clear for the most part and the problems and changes his dad went through just don't happen to him.
And the truth is worse than all of the lies.
How horrifying.
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danny fenton is a clone#clone danny fenton#clone danny#thinking about the inherent trauma that comes with growing up as a clone and not knowing and questioning everything about yourself#thinking about the amount of effort and lying that Jack and Maddie would've had to to do if they wanted to pass Danny off as their bio son#the MEDICAL RECORDS#danny's medical history is completely different from theirs. any generational health problems the waynes have would/could be passed down to#danny and he's completely oblivious to it up until the reveal. he'd have no idea about any medical risks until they hit him before that.#so many little things and inconsistencies that would just build and build and build until it finally came to a head and the truth came out#forever and ever and ever fascinated by the underlying horror of being a clone. there's a horror in being cloned but there's also a horror#in BEING a clone. like yes he could've always known from the start and that comes with its own set of issues BUT. just. him not knowing#for the longest time. the lies and deceit and betrayal. you know how adopted kids come out and talk about how they didn't know they were#adopted for the longest time and how traumatizing and betrayed they felt when they're finally told 15-20 years down the line? yeah that#i imagine finding out you're a clone is a lot like that.#i read a book in middle school once abt a girl moving to a new town with her family and getting these horrible nightmares and noticing how#everyone was acting strange around her. one of her nightmares was about the 30yo police officer being a shambling corpse talking to her#and at the end of the book she finds out she's actually the clone of a dead older sister and the police officer was her sister's boyfriend.#and she was in gymnastics but quit and her parents were so disappointed bc the og sister was a champion/award winning gymnastics player#and i never did finish the book but god am i reminded of that.#i love reading the dpxdc clone danny posts and they usually have him brush off being a clone which is literally totally fine but duUUDE#just imagine his own horror over it. its SOOO good
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NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???
#personal#i am emotional yes#over the years ive had this blog I've made a few posts abt being femme#nd whether they're serious or jokey..... inevitably someone in the tags goes “ohhh yeah bc pink”#or in the case of what inspired this post: someone going “what about the pink ones” on my praying mantis post#and im just.#sick of it. im sick of femme being equated to pink and frilly girlie behaviors.#im sick of femme being equated to skirts and heels. to makeup. to skincare. to pristine nails exactly almond shaped.#im sick of ppl acting like All femmes aspire to this shit. im sick of femms being reduced to this shit.#and i love pink! i love pink! my phone theme is quite literally just black and pink all over.#im just. so tired of any expression of Femme identity being shoehorned into being a Specific type of femininity#especially as someone who DOES get dysphoric wearing skirts. wearing dresses. embodying the femme aesthetic yall are so set on making#if u guys wanna rb this i truly dont care#i just needed to scream#and this is one small thing#but the 2nd largest category of anon hate i have gotten since making this blog is str8 up homophobia from other “queer” folks#saying i cant be femme bc of how i present. calling me slurs (and using them as such) bc they cant understand femme as anything but that#my wife and i have our users in our personal discord server set as 2 different things of anon hate ive gotten#i have had OTHER FEMMES tell me i am not femme. femmes who Know im femme who still call me butch. femmes who ive corrected and been blocked#-by bc of it. the number 1 largest demographic of queerfolk who have me blocked rn is TME femmes who embody pink also#and i dont think its a coincidence at all. (and i know this bc i go to try and follow these ppl bc they get rbed on my dash & i cant)#and ik their blogs arent deleted bc some of them don't block my wife (tall. white. butch) and it cant be politics cause her and i rb#a lot of the same political shit (fuck. i think she rbs More than i do even. this is genuinely mainly a nsft blog)#and usually i don't say anything but im having a bad day so i get to be angry about this and if anyone fucking tries me i will block u#idc if we've been mutuals 4ever. im judt so tired of feeling like i am not Enough as a femme bc i dont embody this shit#im sick of this lameass lip service to he/him gnc femmes etc when the thin white 50s housewife femme is still what is preferred and loved#im sick of this lamesss lip service when y'all feel entitled to theorizing on other femmes genders bc u cant conceptualize a femme who does#wanna be hypetfeminine. im sick of it. im sick of it. im sick of it.#celebrity bun
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I can teach you how to be just like me
crying all night, sleeping till three
#did I mention that she’s really sad when she isnt trying to forget the unbearable boredom of being immortal#I heard this song to an animatic and I thought it really suited her so I added it to her playlist lol#I normally draw her in fun bright colors but a lot of the sadder parts of her story get pushed to the side#even if none of my oc stories are really fleshed out I know she has an insatiable nature. her star motif is loosely tied to this I think?#ungrounded and instead of ambitious she can just never find contentness with what she likes or what shes doing#she can definitely be happy though!!! but it always feels fleeting that shes scared the rest of her life is gonna be spent chasing highs#which is way less exciting when u think abt how long you’re gonna be around before everything loses its excitement#what tuck everlasting does to a mf#I think this also kinda bleeds into her relationships and tries to keep her distance so she doesnt get tired of someone she actually likes#it can be confusing since she can be really cuddly utterly in love one second and then kind of distant the next. but she still loves you#her brother I think is on the other end of the spectrum where he tries to live in the moment to avoid thinking abt the future#the avoidance siblings#my oc#oc#Augusta#doodles#my art#myart
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brienne but she's wearing 1949 cocteau's beauty and the beast inspired fit!!! this is the inspo pic i used if ur curious.
gonna be posting more of this redesign thing (and also jaime's ver) some time in the future but i just wanted to share this one <3
#brienne of tarth#asoiaf#mine.#u know literally just as i finished colouring this i found that some theater made an opera version of this batb#and they made belle's dress BLUE...which is a win for me and also not bc they made it light blue#but here it's supposed to be velvet.. idk if it comes across as velvet but that's the fabric of choice lol.#but im gonna ramble because i really like the concept... i love brienne in pearls!! i feel like pearls will be her jewellery of choice#and i talked abt this before in some post but i think tarth regalia would have a lot of pearls just bc they're an island#and i think they would export pearls alongside marble lol#i love brienne in silver and pearls BUT the reason why the flower thing on her cape is gold bc in the film#the pearl chain was actually a gift from the beast. so she's wearing jaime's gift. and i made the cape more silvery white (leaning on white#to resemble his cloak so it's like... jaime gifting her his white cloak..... hihihIHIHIhhihihihihi......#tbh i drew that concept before too BUT I JUST LIKE IT!!!!!!!! i want it to happen actually....please....thank u..#also the feathers in her hair is bc i want to accessorize her in a brienne way BUT ALSO supposed to be like the plumes knights wore in thei#helm. she's wearing trousers in the fit btw only the upper half of the design is based on beauty but the silhouette mimics beasts' more.#but anyway i really like this design!! bc it's a bit ott but also not in a way that seems out of character for her? idk LOL
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rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening
#let’s talk about sayaka miki for a second#genuinely the fact that her whole character is centered around tragedy almost to a shakespearean extent#she’s selfless and brave and values her justice and righteousness above all. calls herself an ally of justice#in fact i think it’s rather intriguing how her whole character is centered around “justice”#her story being a more twisted retelling of the original little mermaid#how she is initially portrayed as a very heroic and confident character even before becoming a magical girl. always shielding madoka#selling her soul to heal the boy she loved out of a selfless desire to see him well again#her being absolutely distraught abt being robbed of her humanity and betrayed by kyubey#she combats this harrowing realization by immersing herself in her duties not caring that she is slowly deteriorating in the process#becoming numb with pain and fighting recklessly and psychotically trying to drown out the pain#finally coming to the sickening conclusion that humanity doesn’t deserve her saving and she succumbs to a fate of her making#last words being “i was so stupid” which trumps her previous statement of “there’s no way i’d regret this”#ALSO? the fact that her costume and weapon are symbolic of a knight. she rly portrays this hero of justice who will protect and defend ☹️#i think abt the fact that homura said that sayaka’s wish was so selfless it was only a matter of time before she died#sayaka being the example of what happens to magical girls who go through the entire cycle and eventually become witches is so sad to me#genuinely just like. sick and twisted#very very fucked up.#characters who have their own misconstrued interpretation of “justice” or who are centered around justice in general.#you will always be dear to me.#sayaka reminds me a lot of akechi in some ways ngl#harboring an almost idealized vision of justice but it slowly rots and festers and corrupts their hearts the more immersed w it they become#actually losing their sanity when they fight bc of how much pain they’re in but refuse to acknowledge it until they break#refusing any help and wallowing in misery despite having ppl who love them and want to save them#last words are those expressing regret for being such a fool. for being ignoring#being used by yhe main villain as a stepping stone towards their true goal. they were merely a pawn#also doomed in every version of their reality. always doomed by the narrative no matter what choices they make#i have a type i fear#HAHAHAH ALSO the fact that they’re both dressed so regally compared to everyone else in their respective series#meant to portray them in a virtuous and princely light. only made more apparent by the sword being their weapon of choice#i’m gonna shut up now but they’re soo eerily similar its unnerving tbh 💀
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and! barbarian!fig! its her
#fantasy high#dimension 20#figueroth faeth#fh class quangle#if u look at the junior year design and think tifa lockhart: yeag#I already thought the cleric!gorgug junior year design kinda is very aerith so. lol#but! I do feel like these designs maybe portray the clearest arc out of all of them so far. I like that#some of it came from a bit of necessity which is really fun that mirrors the actual play format thats cool#(necessity being freshman year riz is pretty much a huge block of red flannel lmao. kinda stole figs canon color coding for a bit)#(and he's got the owlbear jacket from taping the games in sophomore year... so I cant give fig the big red blocking until#junior year lmao. coincidentally this forced me to be a bit more dynamic with her concept which is great)#her second pair of shoes very sonic tho. I kinda enjoy that lol#tbh I really love that canon gorgug is like in a pair of chucks 24/7 that is SO funny for a barbarian I hope to keep the energy going#with class swap fig I think a barbarian who wears like collector sneakers is awesome. the foot support is so important to their work#the general idea of a hyperfem girlypop barbarian still ticks for me tbh. idk enough abt the zeitgeist to know if thats passé now or not#but doing Fashion on ur job of bodily tearing ur opponent apart with the least flourish possible is just a hit for me#her knee brace is from like an injury back in her cheer days that she got by overexercising in hope of being good enough that#the team couldn't let her go. the team then used that same injury as a pretext to let her go#I think abt her arc tbh... fig's thing in canon junior year abt the point of her rebelling. I feel like a lot of it can also apply to rage#both knocking things over and holding onto things don't like. make anything new. destruction without at least a glimpse of a vision#of the after is ultimately a cynical defeatist point of view... strategic barbarianism for fig babeyy#yay! once again its time for me to Fucking Sleep. but hopefully I can hammer out a proper ref for riz and gorgug both in the#following week inbetween doing my job. its that time of da year lads (<- fully seasonal worker)
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the ending of when harry met sally is my favorite romcom ending of all time for a lot of reasons but one thing that always gets to me is that when harry starts running to get to sally at the end, it’s not because it’ll be too late if he doesn’t — she’s not about to get on a plane and leave forever or marry someone else — he’s running to her because when he realizes that he loves her, he literally just can’t wait another second to tell her that he loves her. his sense of urgency isn’t because of some deadline or time limit, it’s because he loves her so much that he has to get to her in that moment. he could tell her the next morning, he could tell her any other time, but it has to be that moment because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!!! peak romance!!!!
#just thinking abt how a lot of romcoms are like ‘you have to go get her before it’s too late!’#but this scenario is so much more romantic bc he’s literally running at full speed just bc he can’t wait to tell her he loves her WAHHHH#sorry i love this movie so much. going crazy abt it at all times
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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.
#ghostlights#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp fic#prompt fill#my writing#thought a lot abt what the favor could be but i could not resist the idea of surprise co-parents once i thought of it#here's a kid who clings to someone she knows is safe bc she is scared and alone!!#heres a stressed out hero trying to take care of a kid with no knowledge of how to do that!! and the kid is a ghost!!#heres a ghost king expecting to be used as a weapon and called in for a big battle suddenly finding another halfa!!!#so much going on here. so much to think abt with this!!!!!#i do love found family like this where they all kinda stumble into it and do their best to make it good#also could not resist making yet another oc. chelsea has my whole heart i love her <3 shes my daughter first#the bats dont know abt chelsea yet!! bc she can go invisble. its all been instinct every time they pop over to visit duke#soon she'll be able to control it and meet them properly#by properly i mean dukes gonna go over for sunday brunch and a little girl is gonna pop out from behind him like 'hi! im new!'#they will all love her of course. they will be shocked but happy!!#and a little less happy abt the GHOST KING duke has been hiding in his apartment that hes co-parenting with#sorry for the long tags im obsessed w this idea i want to Expand on it#maybe one day... with my other wips out of the way...
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My personal headcanon is that Pony got his love for reading from Darry. When Darry was in high school he’d read the books he got in class out loud to Ponyboy and straight up just handed him some of the easier ones so they could talk about it later. In my brain the reason Ponyboy clings onto it so much is because it’s one of the things he and Darry REALLY bonded over when he was a kid and it just brings back good memories of when they got along better.
#he begged Darry to keep reading ‘just one more chapter’#one of his favorite memories is reading an entire book one day with Darry#this comes from me and my siblings ngl#my sister used to hand me books she liked and told me to tell her all of my thoughts on it#she was REALLY happy I read above my grade level enough that I could talk to her about it#and I read the books out loud to my brother bc he CANT read above grade level#I have a five year age gap with my sister and a five year age gap with HIM#so like#the books r pretty complicated#today he was mad I didn’t wanna finish reading the book to him which was so cute#the downside to having to read out loud is my voice gets tired#but the bright side is I get to explain everything he doesn’t understand in depth and it’s a#well I wouldn’t say BETTER bonding experience bc I love my sister#but it’s different#more…. connected ig#damn I’m yapping a lot#just imagine it’s all abt pony and Darry#that’s why he read out loud to Johnny#it’s like something he thinks of as an ultimate bonding experience#guys trust#they’re besties#the outsiders#the outsiders 1983#ponyboy curtis#darry curtis#the outsiders hcs
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to stay the same sad, sorry mother
#resident evil 7#resident evil 8#mia winters#rosemary winters#eveline re7#rose winters#resident evil#resident evil fanart#blood#do u guys ever think abt how insane the mia development is in such a good way. like being an alone single(ish) mother w a bioweapon baby#who just wants a family. then they kill that kid and they escape just to be doomed to the same life again. i dont think shed EVER view her#life w rose as punishment dont take it like that. but more so her life is a punishment to pay for her sins via the cycle of being given#everything back. just to end up with the same isolating issues she had in re7#her motherhood is so interesting!!! i think shed have a lot of complexities w it.. a balance of unconditional love out of fear of how badly#she messed up the first time. oh my goddd#i love herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr shes my fav re chara ever and like. all time top faves in general. i love her so much GRRRRRRRRRR#idc if this looks kinda ass n rushed but i had to put it down ^.^#a childs loving grip too LOL *goes insane*
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was testing out mspaint style and. .. transfem chay. ... shes real ... .. .
#qsmp#chayanne#i have so many thoughts abt her. i think shes still masc leaning aesthetic wise and it fucks w her a lot#cause she has so much to live up to. phil and technos legacy (both men) and she feels like shes supposed to Follow That#phil does in fact love her still btw. accepts her immediately.#but if youre trans you understand even accepting parents can be suspicious when it comes to You Specifically#so shes nervous.
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Kavik: Nooooo, she didn't! Rangi: She did! She stuck me in the ground and pranced off to do spirits no what! Kavik: Ugh, they really don't appreciate us do they? Rangi: She thinks I can't handle it! I'm her bodyguard, and a lieutenant in the military! I can do anything! But what I can't do is guard a body that's not there! And, she keeps losing pieces of it! I won't have a body to guard at this rate! Kavik: Does she have trouble sleeping too? Rangi: Sleeping. Eating. Functioning! Everything! I have to have Jinpa keep an eye on her for me! But she doesn't listen to him! Kavik: At least she listens to you sometimes! Yangchen doesn't like being told what to do. It's sooooo hard to convince her to do anything! I have to beg her to sleep! She's like a toddler! Rangi: They're both overgrown toddlers! Ugh, they are just the worst I tell you! Kavik: I know! E-especially when they get too-ahem- friendly. *starts to blush* Rangi, blushing too: I don't really mind them taking the lead tbh, just not when my face is busted up! Kavik, blushing harder: I just don't want it to be in the middle of an assembly! Rangi: Same! Kinda, we- Yangchen and Kyoshi, barging in:
#rangi and kavik would get along#i want them to meet so bad ;w;#she'd probs punch him for betraying yangchen tho TT0TT#they put up with the same bullshit but the personality dynamic is reversed kldjsafklj;fajf#yangchen just steaming while kyoshi is in dismay ldksfja;jflaf#rangshi#yangvik#yangchen and kyo are both SWEATING#every other avatar looking at YC and Kyo like “why are you like this?????????” jkldsfjsl;kjfkljsaf#rise of kyoshi#dawn of yangchen#legacy of yangchen#shadow of kyoshi#chronicles of the avatar#yangchen to Kuruk abt kyoshi: Tha-that behavior! She got it from you! you-you degenerate!#kuruk: I'm pretty sure WE BOTH got it from YOU#kuruk 'mr. flirts a lot' and kyoshi 'notorious public display of affectioner to her boo'#they got that from yangchen#yangchen is just in denial#CALL! THEM! OUT!#Katara/Asami/Ta Min: ?????? The fuck are you two putting up with#kavik/rangi: a LOT#asami: Well.....I KINDA get it....Korra did bounce for like 3 years#(i need to re-read the comics. I think that's the worst korra did besides creating a love square kljfaskdfjl TT0TT dunno enough abt roku#and aang is just a bad flirt but nothing too bad from what I remember TT0TT)#vaatu really said 'i'm going to put all the world's suffering on Kavik and rangi' kljflksjdfafas
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"I depend on you..." "Do I or do you?"
My take on the "I depend on you" art trend from Twitter✨ Every now and then I want to draw something with bright colors... and blood
#wren draws stuff#artist on tumblr#art#my art#fanart#illustration#saint seiya#saint seiya fanart#knights of the zodiac#kotz#los caballeros del zodiaco#cdz#les chevaliers du zodiaque#i cavalieri dello zodiaco#saori kido#athena saori#pegasus seiya#i depend on you#art trend#tw: blood#tw: bright colors#This was really fun! I tend to draw with very warm or desaturated colors and soft shades. Changing once in a while is refreshing ✨💪💛💙#The blood wasn't meant to be but the original image has a red fill between the characters so... ain't going to lose an occasion like this 😤#I also thought to draw Athena with her Cloth but the illustration would have become too busy considering Seiya God Cloth is already there#So uhm. She's wearing a basic dress with her signature accessories 😅 poetic license of sort if you will#Not a lot to say here tho. Still thinking abt the ending of the Hades Arc and all the events of Next Dimension... 😔😭#Loved Saori being so selfish to go back in time to destroy a sword to save this one dude while changing the whole time-space continuum#and almost dooming the prev gen of Saints 💖 like girl woah you are a menace <- (affectionate)#on a side note. Imagine becoming a Saint to find your sister and you end up with a fucking sword in your 💖 ain't that crazy#Might add later the “adult content” option for violence because of poor Seiya getting a sword in his chest 😬
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