#hope you have a lovely day x

[roseverie]

is there anything on your to read list? plus movie recommendations? The recent tag game you did and the movie you mentioned looks so lovely 🫶🏻

I’ve answered some questions like this in the past that may be helpful— poetry recs and a past to read list here <3 But I also regularly add to my list, just the last few recently added…

- Wrong Norma by Anne Carson, The Library of Night by Alberto Manguel, Biography of X by Catherine Lacey, In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado, The Easy Life by Marguerite Duras. Also have some manga I would like to get to…

Besides the one I mentioned in the tag I haven’t actually been watching much films recently lol (I’ve been watching tv shows more) but I have faves mentioned here, and some more that I forgot to add to that first list:

- My Own Private Idaho (1991) / Crimson Peak (2015) / Girl, interrupted (1999) / The Assassin (2015) / The Banquet (2006) / House of Flying Daggers (2004) / Angel’s Egg (1985) / Black Swan (2010) / Possession (1981) / Suzhou River (2000) / Long Day's Journey into Night (2018)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

oh noooo or whatever

bonus aka The Real Motive Behind This:

SURPRISE double bonus. textless ver of the first pic under the cut

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[secondary-colorentimy]

ooookay, so i didnt plan on drawing idia, but somebody kindly asked that i do, so i did!

just like with the rest, below the cut is a closer look at his makeup, that i drew onto his sprite :]

[sollucets]

THE EIGHTH SENSE

aired march 29th - april 26th, 2023

[boysbeloving]

apo with kitties for @discluded

Happy Birthday, Kyuu!

[myokk]

💘

[luxaofhesperides]

Surprise husbands + "How are you real?" ; requested by @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff!

They may not have planned to get married, or even wanted it all too much at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to treat each other right. It was rough going, with both of them coming out of relationships and having secret identities, but time had softened the hurt feelings and allowed them to actually get to know each other.

And Danny, Duke has discovered, is a really good husband. 

Neither of them ever saw themselves as married at 20, but sometimes life throws horrible curses at you and the embodiment of balance and life and death swoops in to save your life. Via marriage. 

His life is weird, okay? Duke has made his peace with it.

The thing is, if they had met naturally and started off as friends, Duke could see himself falling for Danny and asking him to marry him in a far off future. Instead, they’re doing everything backwards: married, then going on dates to know each other, and finally feeling close enough to be friends. 

It helps that Danny does his best to communicate and that helps Duke find the words he needs as well. 

He’s sweet, too, so kind and doting and affectionate. Like a really lovable cat, honestly. Duke’s never been cuddled so much in his life and he’s loving every minute of it. 

He… might be falling in love with his husband. What a revelation.

“Duke?” 

He blinks, looking up from his half-empty plate, pulled out of his thoughts suddenly. Tim and Dick stare at him, concerned, and he realizes he’s missed the entire conversation because he was so preoccupied thinking about Danny. In his defense, it was their one year anniversary the night before and Danny had kissed him for the first time after a date night spent playing video games and talking shit about their respective rogues. 

Tim snaps a finger in front of his face, and Duke startles. He got distracted by his Danny Thoughts again.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You okay? You’ve been out of it all day,” Dick says, clearly concerned.

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s all good. Just… adjusting.”

“To what? Did something happen?”

Duke shrugs, scooping up another forkful of pasta to shove in his mouth. “Yeah, I… this is going to sound kind of stupid, but I think I’m in love with my husband.”

Tim, taking an ill-timed drink, chokes and spits out his Zesti. Dick springs back, trying to get out of the spray zone but doesn’t move far, shocked still by Duke’s words.

“Oh, yeah,” Duke realizes, “I didn’t tell you guys, did I?”

“You’re married?!” Tim shrieks as Dick clutches at his chest, eyes wide.

“You didn’t tell me?” Dick asks, offended.

“Seriously? That’s what you focus on?”

Duke smiles as they begin to bicker. They do it constantly, but this time it’s halfhearted, as if they’re just going through the motions of something familiar to distract themselves from the bomb he’s dropped on them.

In all fairness, Duke did forget that he didn’t tell them that he’s married to Danny. He’s also only mentioned Danny once or twice and heavily implied that Danny was just a classmate at GCU. And then forgot that he didn’t tell them, assuming that they’d figure it out eventually being Batman trained detectives, after all.

Well. 

Oops.

Clearly that is not the case. Duke hurries to finish his pasta before Tim and Dick finish their joint freak out and get their senses back together enough to interrogate him. He can’t escape it, but he refuses to have this discussion with an empty stomach. 

He just barely manages to scrape the last mouthful off the plate when his fork is being yanked out of his hands. Tim and Dick close in on him, standing to either side of him, trapping him in place, and look at him with knife-sharp smiles.

Here we go, Duke thinks tiredly, and resigns himself to clearing up this misunderstanding.

Somehow, he manages to explain the situation (I got cursed, he saved my life, we ended up married because magic is bullshit, he treats me so well) and Tim and Dick both agree to not hunt down Danny to show him the wrath of older brothers on one condition: Danny has to join them for a family dinner.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch everyone up on your… situation,” Dick says, pulling on his jacket to head out. Tim is already on his phone, no doubt telling someone already. 

“Great,” Duke says, unenthused. “You’ll also be answering all the questions because I’m not in the mood. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to figure out a day that works for all of us, and then I’m going to kick my husband’s ass in Mario Cart.”

He walks out the door, grinning as he hears them scramble after him, then twists the ring on his finger (not a wedding ring, but a magic portal making gift) and steps into the portal. It closes quietly behind him, leaving him in Danny’s lair, a comfortable, spacious house with high ceilings and little bits of his personality scattered about. There are soft rugs with geometric patterns on them, star maps on the wall, stained glass windows that throw colors across the floor, and a giant couch and pillow pit in the living room.

Danny’s asleep in it, curled up and looking completely at peace. Duke toes off his shoes and carefully makes his way over, footsteps silent so he doesn’t wake him up, all plans of Mario Cart fading away instantly.

Danny doesn’t get much sleep, with the stress of school and an internship and ghost fights to worry about. It’s why his lair is so quiet and comfortable; it’s what he needs, and he doesn���t let anyone else in without invitation, rare as it is.

Duke is allowed to waltz right in thanks to the ring Danny gave him. It never stops making him feel overwhelmed by how much trust Danny puts in him to allow him unlimited access to what is his only true sanctuary, letting his lair be a place of safety and respite for Duke as well. 

He crawls into the pillow pit, There’s no way to do this without waking Danny up since he can’t fly, so he isn’t surprised to see Danny blink his eyes open, still looking soft and content. He smiles when he sees Duke, reaching a hand out to him that Duke gladly takes, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his palm.

Sitting up, Danny tilts his head up in a silent request. Duke happily obliges, still reeling over the fact that he’s allowed to do this! He can kiss his husband whenever he wants! 

Yeah, he’s going to be riding that high for a while.

“Hey,” Danny murmurs, sleepy and quietly pleased to see him.

“Hi honey,” Duke returns fondly, “Have a nice nap?”

Danny nods, leaning into Duke and closing his eyes again. “Mhm. How long are you staying? I wanna cuddle.”

“I got nothing going on today. I’m all yours, baby.”

“C’mon,” Danny tries to tug him down. Duke goes slowly, covering Danny’s body with his own, but holds himself with one hand before he blankets his husband completely.

“Wait. There’s something we need to talk about.”

Immediately, the sleepy haze is fading from Danny’s eyes, leaving him alert. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Not really? You know how we agreed to keep our marriage a secret until we weren’t in danger anymore and all those cultists and sorcerers were taken care of?”

“...Yes?”

“Well.” Duke sucks in a breath and offers a bashful smile. “Guess who forgot to tell people we were married after that whole mess was dealt with?”

The nervousness clears from Danny’s gaze as he stares up at Duke with incredulous amusement. “No. No way.”

“Yeah. Kinda dropped a bomb on them and they started freaking out over me being married. Anyways, they want you to come to dinner?”

“When?”

Duke leans back, sitting on his heels. “Let me check.” He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to the group chat asking for a day they could have a family meal to meet his husband.

His phone is bombarded with texts and calls immediately until Barbara, bless her entire soul, forcibly mutes all of them and puts in a poll with a few dates, setting the poll to close in 24 hours.

“Okay, well, they’re deciding now, but probably soon.”

Danny nods. “Alright. I know these aren’t normal circumstances at all, but I’m so excited to meet the Bats.”

“You do not mean that after hearing all my stories about them.”

“No, I do!” Danny laughs, surging up to wrap his arms around Duke and pull him back down to lay among the giant pillows with him. “They sound nice!”

“The Bats sound nice?!” Duke repeats in horror. “Did you hit your head?”

“They do sound nice! You talk about them so fondly, and yeah they have problems and are dysfunctional, but they’re heroes. Of course they have problems. Even with all their baggage, they’re kind. And you clearly love them, so I do too.”

It’s hard to resist the urge to hug Danny tight enough to make him squeak while peppering his face with kisses, so Duke doesn’t. He just goes and does it, because he’s allowed to shower his husband (!) with affection (!!!) as much as he pleases.

“How are you real?” he says against the corner of Danny’s lips. “How are you so perfect! To me specifically! Honey, if we weren’t already married, I’d be going down on one knee right now.”

“I mean, you still can. We never got a proper wedding either. Think if we offer them a chance to help plan our wedding, they’ll forgive us for secretly being married for so long?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Duke says. He’s already giddy, just imagining what their wedding will look like, what song they’ll play for their first dance, where they’ll have the ceremony… He should create a Pinterest account to start putting ideas together. 

Later, though. He wants to woo Danny properly and take him on so many dates.

Dates which include dinner with the Waynes and Wayne-adjacents, apparently.

“You sure you’re okay with meeting them over dinner?” he asks, just to be sure. He knows how intense they can be, even when pretending to be normal civilians. It took him years to get used to them, himself, and he doesn’t want to push Danny into doing something he’s not ready to do.

Danny cups Duke’s face in his hands and gives him a quick, reassuring kiss. “I’m sure. If nothing else, it’ll be fun to see how long it takes for them to realize I’m not fully human.”

“I really am glad it’s you.”

“Yeah, me too. I’d choose you all over again if given the choice.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Duke laughs, wrapping an arm around Danny’s waist.

“Can we nap now? Now that you’re here and holding me, it’s taking everything I’ve got to stay awake.”

“Yeah, we can nap now.” Duke settles into the pillows, Danny cradled in his arms and closes his eyes to bask in the quiet easiness of it all. 

He really couldn’t ask for a better husband, unexpected as he was. The others will see that too, once they meet him. It’s impossible to not love Danny once you meet him; Duke knows this all too well.

He loves his husband.

And his husband loves him back.

Duke is fully prepared to keep making that choice for the rest of his life.

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 thoughts

you know who i just remembered ALSO has long hair? Vlad. Vlad Masters. Danny's worst enemy and biggest pain in the ass ever since he sent those vulture ghosts after his fucking dAD. Danny having long hair would make Vlad so inSUFFERABLE. Like look!! Proof that you are much better off as MY son. We have matching hair lengths! Come be my son! I will make you a halfa like me and we will become powerful allies together!

Danny almost chops it off out of spite. He ends up not doing it because he likes his hair long, actually, very much so and he's not growing it out again just because you're crazy! He's attempted to take a pair of scissors to Vlad's hair though -- THAT was a fight that got ugly. Danny's go-to threat whenever he sees him after that is that he's going to chop off vlad's hair when he's not looking - just you watch, Masters. He'll do it. HE'LL DO IT.

And if Danny wasn't keeping it a tight secret, he'd turn around and taunt Vlad about being a) a clone and b) a clone of BRUCE WAYNE. he'd say stuff like:

"How's it feel knowing my parents cloned a man richer than you"

"you're just mad that bruce wayne is more my dad than you'll ever be!"

"it could've been you that my parents accidentally cloned instead of Wayne, but instead you fucked off for twenty years instead!"

but also its a constant question Danny asks himself how he and no one else ever figured it out sooner that he was a clone. He doesn't understand how Vlad of all people didn't realize it when he went to college with the man with his parents and was also stinking rich, before remembering that he doubts Vlad remembers anyone who wasn't his parents in college, and has been a rich, recluse loser this entire time.

its a good thing though, danny's pretty sure vlad would attempt a hit on the man if he found out out of pure jealousy and indignant rage. And then he'd get his ass beat by Batman and his army of children.

All in all, Dany is a pure menace towards Vlad whenever he gets the chance, as is normal, and then Vlad's suffering gets doubled after he makes Ellie - of which she is even worse than Danny because she's the halfa that Danny Is NOt and thus has the powers to break into his house easy peasy and wreck shit. She steals his obsidian black card and goes on a shopping spree. This is a regular occurrence.

(and for anyone who isn't aware - Ellie is the same age as Danny in clone^2 bc i thought it'd be fun)

And then it gets tripled once Damian joins the family and gets caught up to speed on all of Vlad's tomfoolery and whoops, Damian's got better stealth skills than Danny and looks like Ellie has a partner in crime whenever they need to sneak into vlad's house to cause him grief.

Vlad's walls are the first canvas for Damian to test out his new spray paints on once he gets them :)

next up

Wes weston! i love this guy, he's so funny and he definitely knows danny is the Phantom in the clone^2 au. it's not as easy to figure out as it is in canon since its not just a simple colorswap, but perhaps he sees Danny taking off his mask after a daytime fight. and after that he becomes determined to reveal that quiet, strange fenton is the vigilante phantom.

he's putting some real,,, detectiveness? stalkerish? skills to use because catching photos of phantom is not as easy as it is if he were a halfa. He can't just snap a few dozen photos of fenton and phantom and then color compare the two of them either - Phantom wears a mask, and works primarily at night or in evenings, and typically avoids the living during the day. And he doesn't speak to the living either. Wes has to put in some extra work into his investigations and evidence.

He also makes the dumb mistake of cornering Danny in the bathroom one day early on and telling him he knows he's the Phantom -- now that Danny knows that Wes knows, he's going to be even more careful not to get caught. He puts in a little extra work in both Fenton and Phantom - another layer, perhaps a jacket, as Phantom, and baggier pants and boots he never wears as Fenton. His hood stays up in the daytime.

He was already putting in some extra effort to appear creepy and unsettling as Phantom - things like crouching low, tense movements, fluid movements. If he's perched on something he does a kinda-crawl like movement - think a mix between a bear and a gorilla crawl. It's weird, creepy. And he stares. Danny's mastered the art of not needing to blink for long periods of time, so if he sees you and sticks around he stares. It doesn't help that you can't see his eyes that well through his mask - its just two piercing green.

It helps endear him to ghosts and his enemies though - the annoying little human boy is engaging in ghost culture! That's eliciting some form of begrudging respect from his enemies.

And then compare that creepy, almost cryptid-like behavior to Fenton who, while considered a freak, really isn't anything more than just some dorky weirdo with occasional heart problems. He's kinda unsettling - he has those 'stares into soul' eyes - but its leveled by the fact that he's kinda just... dorky. It reads as normal, awkward kid behavior, and then gets disregarded completely as he gets older and it bleeds into 'very chill teenager'. Fenton being Phantom doesn't compute that much.

Paulina: you think Phantom is Fenton? Wes: I don't think, I know he is! I have proof-- Star: Just because they both have black hair doesn't mean they're the same, Wes. That's like saying Paulina and Manson are sisters because they also have black hair.

Wes's attempts to out him as Phantom means that Danny is a little more wary of him than he is in canon, since his vigilante identity isn't an entirely different ghost form its just him, so he has to be careful about where or when he takes off his mask in case Wes is around. Especially during daytime fights.

But other than that he has a lot of time messing with him. Wes is trying to convince his table group at lunch that Fenton = Phantom (again) and Danny just so happens to be within earshot of him and starts making fun of the idea.

"You think I'm Phantom?" and he's got the most disbelieving grin on his face that's only partially convincing. "That's totally bogus, man. The Phantom famously doesn't get along with my parents, why would I be a ghost hunter and not work with them?"

He has this most shit-eating, delighted look in his eyes that Wes knows is pure manic glee at being able to mess with him and get away with it. Wes is going to strangle him.

"Besides, dude, did you forget I have a heart condition? I can't be chasing around ghosts - my heart would give out from all that running and jumping."

Although Danny can get really serious at the flip of a coin if need be - especially with Wes when he gets too pushy about him being Phantom. A notable instance is when Wes cornered him in an empty bathroom to again talk about him being Phantom.

Except Danny, who had been working on a really difficult cold case about the death of a child, and hadn't gotten much sleep in the last 72 hours, plus a plethora of other stuff (like recently acquiring Damian, fighting ghosts, etc), wasn't in the mood to entertain him. It ended with Weston getting pinned to the wall and lowkey threatened by Danny. He apologizes for it afterwards but it's not forgotten.

Additional note: Wes Weston having a crush on Danny Fenton is a hilarious trope to me so Wes absolutely has a crush on Danny and the only one in denial about it is him. Everyone else - except Danny because he's more focused on the fact that Wes knows his identity, and has other things to worry about - knows about it, and everyone chalks up his obsession with Danny as being part of said crush.

Wes' friend: you know usually when you have a crush on someone you normally confess, maybe ask them out, pine from afar....

Wes: i dont--

Wes's friend: not accuse him of being the local ghost-fighting vigilante. Seriously, wes! His parents are ghost hunters!

Wes: i do not have a crush

Wes's friend: and ghosts aren't real! everyone knows that's a lie!

next up

Dan! Or Dante, but i'll call him Dan for the time being. Even if I dislike the name with a passion. Much like Wrath from my Childhood Friends au, Dan here is pretty different from his canon counterpart. Mostly because I wanted to experiment with Dan and different interpretations of him, and I thought; hey, where no better than an au where Danny has no powers?

so, dan? Dan is not a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost halves -- now, don't get me wrong, danny still ends up under vlad's custody care after the death of his family, but he just doesn't fuse with Vlad's ghost.

So, what happened? What happened is that Vlad convinces a grieving Danny that he should let him make him a halfa (despite the fact that he has no idea how) because the he could go find his family in the ghost zone. Danny is in no mental state for any kind of experiments, but his hope and want to see his family and friends again gets him to agree.

It backfires. Vlad doesn't make Danny a halfa, he just ends up killing him completely. Danny comes back instantly as a ghost however, and enraged over being lied to, betrayed, and murdered, ends up killing Vlad in furious cold blood. He doesn't fuse with his ghost half, there's no ghost half to fuse with.

So a grieving ghost, Danny flees into the ghost zone. And, in this iteration, doesn't end up destroying the world. So how does TUE end up happening? Well, ten years later - with Danny remaining a forever 14 year old ghost - Dan ends up finding out about time travel. He finds out a way to travel back into the past, and he does.

So he can take over his past self's life. Danny just thinks he's fighting a weird doppleganger ghost, but ends up getting overshadowed. It's like being in a weird limbo, and Danny's not really sure what's happening - but his friends figure something out. After all, its been ten years since dan saw his friends, something has to give.

And that episode happens. Danny ends up meeting clockworth, beats Dan. But, well, it's not really happily ever after - somewhat. Ehh.. sorta. Danny's been traumatized by Dan's overshadowing - making him realize that despite everything, there are things ghosts can do that danny simply cannot and he needs to prepare for it. Onset paranoia, anyone?

Dan tells them his whole tragic backstory - there's a chance for redemption here, for him. For forgiveness. Not immediately, not yet, but its there. And he doesn't want to go back to the future - he's alone there. He's tired of being alone.

But he ends up being convinced - he needs to learn to look forward, not cling back. He can build himself up again, find new family. He doesn't have to be alone. So Dan goes back to the future.

"But come tell me if Vlad's giving you trouble --" and he smiles something wicked, "I'd be happy to handle him again"

and finally

not so much as any concrete thoughts as it is just me being emotional over Danny and Damian's brotherhood in this au and also Danny's hands. Again.

lIKE.. I put it in the tags of my reblog of my "danny's scarred hands' ficlet but im putting it here and its just?? Danny grabbing the blade of Damian's sword. Him grabbing the sword multiple times despite the fact that he knows it will hurt, that he will hurt himself. That he will keep hurting himself until Damian himself stops.

its just like??? whats it mean to spill your own blood just so that this little boy you've just met won’t have to ever again. he doesn't know any english and he is hurting you and yet you take him home and get him new clothes. he runs away and you go looking for him, every single time. you teach yourself arabic first so that you can converse with him.

this boy is a clone and so are you. you're a clone of his father he's a clone of your son - by nature of your existence this is your child. except its not your child, you don't have one, its just a little boy who happens to share the same dna as you. and you take him home and he becomes your little brother.

what's it mean when its you whose been hurt rather than him? whats it mean when you’d hurt yourself again just so that he can start to heal, so that he knows that he’s worth it? you cut your hands on his blade, catch its swing, just so this boy can know, can learn, that there’s someone who will bleed for him. that there's someone who will scar their hands just to make sure that you wont scar yours.

you’re a bleeding heart and its spilling out onto your palms. you take bloody fingers and wrap it around your little brother’s and say "its okay. it’s okay. you’re safe. no one will hurt you here. i promise. i wont let them. no one will hurt you so long as i'm around."

"put the sword down. i can show you how. let me show you how."

and damian in this au just reminds me of the song "eight" by sleeping at last. like?? the lYRICS. he is sO "eight" coded

'show me how to lay my sword down for long enough to let you through.' 'here i am. pry me open. what do you want to know?' 'im just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut and bury my innocence' 'but here's a map. here's a shovel. here's my achilles' heel. im all in palms out. im at your mercy now and im ready to begin. i am strong enough to let you in.'

"by nature of our existence we are father and son, but by choice we are brothers. we are brothers we are brothers we are brothers. and i love you"

[hedwig221b]

happy birthday to wonderful @goddessofsteel 🎉💕 hope this makes you smile today!

read full version

Stiles woke up with a jolt. Opening his bleary eyes, he licked his lips and looked around, thoroughly confused as to where he was.

Then his gaze fell onto Derek.

The man was fully dressed. He was currently putting on his watch but kept his eyes on Stiles. A small amused smile lightened his face, and Stiles immediately wanted to hide from it.

“Good morning, beautiful,” said Derek.

Stiles blinked at him.

Derek chuckled, walked up to the bed and sat down beside him. He cupped Stiles’ face and gave him a light kiss on the lips, before letting him go with a small flick on his chin.

“Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” Stiles raked a hand through his hair and sat up. The covers fell to his lap, and Derek’s eyes immediately slipped down his body.

Stiles didn’t try to cover himself, though his gaze did make him want to squirm.

“I’ve booked this room till three,” said Derek, watching him. “It’s all yours. The mini-bar is paid for, and there’s a nice jacuzzi.”

Stiles’ gaze slid down Derek’s clothes. “And you?”

“As much as I would like to spend time in your company, I have to go.”

Oh.

That’s how it ends, then.

“Okay,” said Stiles, because what else could he say. They were nobody to each other. He could’ve demanded his attention and put on more charm to keep him close, but Stiles was too worn out from yesterday to do anything.

Some of the disappointment must’ve slipped through, though, because Derek smiled again. He caressed Stiles’ cheek with a finger, watching his own movements.

“I had a lot of fun last night,” he said.

Stiles stared at him.

What does that mean? Was there supposed to be a “but”?

“Me, too,” Stiles croaked, unsure of what was happening.

Derek seemed pleased. His hand traveled down Stiles’ neck with his thumb tracing the prominent veins and eventually fell down on Stiles’ covered thigh. The man seemed to have trouble keeping his hands off him.

“Want more?” he asked eventually and arched an eyebrow.

Hell, yeah.

Stiles squeezed his lips together to keep a smile in but wasn’t sure he was successful. A fiercely warm jolt of excitement sent shivers down his body.

“Yeah,” he said, keeping what he really wanted to say (fuck yes, please, please, please I have to get my mouth on your dick and feel a beard burn on my thighs) to himself.

Derek’s pleased and somewhat relieved grin was beautiful. He caught Stiles’ hand and kissed the back of it.

“I’m taking you out to dinner tonight, then.” The man was literally glowing. Stiles fought a laugh at how easy all of it was.

“Awesome,” came out of Stiles’ mouth and he quickly shut it, but Derek, thankfully, laughed.

“I gotta go.” He kissed Stiles in the corner of his lips and stood up. “I’ll text you. Take your time and relax, okay, baby?”

And all these fucking nicknames… Stiles had never been called that before, but he found himself liking it.

“I will.”

Derek left, after tearing his gaze away from Stiles’ body and saying goodbye one more time. Stiles fell back on the bed with the silliest grin and stretched, sighing in pleasure.

He was going to have so much fucking fun.

[shimishimii]

six degrees of separation [first part]

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn reader

⎯ [wc: 2.5k] fluff to angst, has proper closure, but it’s part 1 of a mini six-part series, taglist is open, have a lovely day thanks for reading!

⎯ exes to enemies to lovers

| main masterlist | ♡ | next |

“who made your first love experience tragic, and you almost tear up every time you remember it?” your friend asks, you glance at the folded polaroid behind your phone case.

Kuroo Tetsurou did. But you shake his name away from your head, “just someone who likes this ice cream.”

As the summer breeze warms your cheeks and melts your ice cream, you felt you were back to when it started.

Classes were cancelled that day due to the high heat index and walking home under that sun would be brutal. Or maybe you are just making excuses when you see a raven-haired guy, a popular face among sophomores and freshmen. You notice he often stops by at the convenience store near your university. Maybe it sells some amazing snacks, you thought.

You began to like this specific popsicle the convenience store sells. It has cute designs, some based off on cartoon characters. But what you like about it the most was the short message engraved in the popsicle stick.

Days after, next thing you knew, you were always stopping by at the same convenience store, buying the same ice cream, sitting at the same corner, looking at the same guy.

His eyes were hazel from afar, and you wonder if you would see hints of gold and honey if you could just see him closer. His eyes are often narrowed and piercing, reminds you of a cunning feline's gaze that when he catches you sometime staring at him, it’s as if he has every answer for the questions you have yet to ask.

He’s definitely the athletic type. He could reach the tall shelves in the store and would sometimes help out the staff. He holds out the doors for women and elderly, greeting them when they walk in. He tells the little kids which snacks they should pick, helping them compute the total amount before paying. You also tried out his food recommendations and oh boy, he does not fail. He dances to some convenience store songs, sometimes he does it awkwardly, but most of the time he is actually talented.

You like seeing him smile, that soft genuine smile that appears not so often, but you could only look at him for a few seconds, because god you get weak when he smiles like that. You start to observe the things that makes him smile. His friends, eating, some science jokes you overhear, but so far no relationship partner. That was what you remembered. It was a relief.

You prepared a few conversation starters, but only your gaze tracing his silhouette could pass on the words left unsaid.

You bought the same popsicle you always like, hoping the message engraved on it would be different this time. You got the word unlucky marked on the popsicle stick yesterday, and also the other day, and some days before that.

Today may be the day your streak of misfortune ends before you could even see the message on the popsicle stick. Seems like luck is on your side this time because the guy you find cute takes the seat beside you. That’s new, you think. He was always with his friends. On the opposite table, near the counter, that was their spot. Today, he is alone.

Your hand felt sticky. The popsicle was dripping.

He points at your long-gone ice cream. “I really like that flavor” He smiles. “And that design too.”

You smile at him. I know. You always pick them at the bottom most part of the fridge. You compare their sizes even if they look controversially the same.

You look away after a few seconds, processing the features of his face like how he does have specks of gold in his eyes and that he smiled back. That damn smile. The dripping syrup slowly becomes a hazard to your fresh from laundry white pants. It did not catch your attention. But fortunately, it caught Kuroo’s.

“Excuse me, but your ice cream's got a mind of its own, it seems,” he says. “and you would not want that on white pants.”

“oh no,” Too late. You panic scooping out the falling liquid, still, a few drops painted your pants. “but I just washed this” you say, frowning.

He chuckles lightly, offering a tissue, “here, use this, ice cream stains can be hard to remove,” he hands you the tissue. “I just know”

I know that too. You once bought an ice cream sandwich, bit and kept it at your mouth as you played some games, and forgot you were eating an ice cream. Your white shirt was a disaster after.

“thanks” you took the tissue, cleaning your hand. You tried to remove the stain on your pants after. “that probably looked embarrassing” you kept scrubbing, smiling apologetically.

Kuroo places his hand at the back of his head. “Not really, it happened to me once or twice too”, he looks away, muttering softly, “…and you still look pretty.”

some imaginary audience cheers at the back of his mind, and other side of audience were gripping tightly, unsure if the smile on your face meant ‘that was cringe’ or ‘thanks’

He can’t believe he brags about his natural way with people but took weeks before having the courage to start a conversation with you. His friends would definitely ask him why. He was simply glad you like that ice cream flavor too and he has spare tissues.

you may have traded off a piece of your health from consuming ice cream every day before this conversation happened, but you still thank your past self for that sacrifice.

You remember the first time you met whenever you look back at those two popsicles sticks with engraved messages framed on your wall.

“you know, we could have known each other from jogging in the morning or at a gym” Kuroo looks at you with a raised brow, “but no, we both just have to be unhealthy.”

Kuroo replies with a soft smile, “we had an unhealthy first meet that’s because I was meant to take care of you”.

It started good. Because the feelings that bloomed in your heart may be the same to what Kuroo feels. The evidence of love and affection was written all over the year of your relationship. In each polaroid photo displayed across the wall of your room, you know cupid did his job well.

The first photo, marked on the first month you met, when Kuroo lets you lean on his shoulders while he plays whatever game he just discovered.

Second photo, on the fourth month, there was barely any context, it’s simply a photo of you together smiling. Because when Kuroo smiles, that smile you always love, you know that meant he was happy to see you, how he feels light and at ease with you.

Third photo, the seventh month, you are in Kuroo’s arms, his embrace gave warmth on that day he first saw you cry.

Fourth photo, the ninth month, in an expensive dinner date where you laughed with him because of his clip-on tie. Kuroo was too nervous that he felt his necktie choking him, and changed it minutes before you go out. That clip-on tie had pink paw prints design.

You hold the polaroid. In that photo, you both have wine glasses on your hand with him kissing your cheek. And you remember how he casually thinks of compliments that would make you blush, your hair, your clothes, and even noticing the new lip gloss you tried.

It was love, as you believed. This feeling. Because what else could it be? It was a conclusion you made up without prior knowledge to what love actually is.

You trusted the love Kuroo gave, never asked anything more than it, never questioned it.

Even if everything started to feel like it was not really romantic love. That it was just a thoughtful smile, a concerned hug, his natural way of words, and the love that was from just a friend who happened to like you a lot.

Yes, he was friendly, caring, charming, and thoughtful. You have no right to list a job description for a boyfriend, shouldn't you?

And they say great couples are simply best friends in love.

Looking back at most memories, it felt like you were really just a best friend, who happened to have the privilege of kissing him.

Someone he likes to be with, not someone he falls in love with.

It never was supposed to be a big deal. But people would often mistake you as ‘just another friend’. He was the same with everyone and you don’t want to dictate him to change.

But if he treats everyone the same, then it means what he does for you was not actually that special. It's just his natural way of being towards everyone. You started to think, maybe you were not a priority, just another friend amongst many.

You stay awake past midnight, with your thoughts loud, when you sink into the realization that there might not be really anything special at all. Because everything he did for you, warm hugs, compliments, leaning on his shoulders, those were just the perks of being Kuroo’s friend.

So, who are you in his life?

You know you are more than his friend.

Until less people stopped believing you were lovers, and maybe you stopped believing as well.

“So you’re close with him?” someone asks even if it was obvious you are Kuroo’s special someone. Maybe it did not look like that. Kuroo simply agrees that you two are close. Same likes, agrees with almost anything, vibes a lot. Typical best friend qualities. Of course you wanted to feel it was more than that.

“That’s Kuroo’s special friend” and that might be the worst introduction you have ever received. The word special, losing the meaning it once held.

At least you were someone to him, that still meant something right?

Sure, it was your own demons. How you started to feel like crouching when he stands beside you. His tall figure shining in daylight as you walk down the street during your dates, but as hours pass by and the sun changes position, you notice you have become just a shadow.

Worse, you started to feel like you were not enough when you're with him.

You appreciate who Kuroo is.

Dating him was a gamble against your own insecurities. You know what you were getting into, you know the hole you might fall into. But you haven't learned yet how to get up. As each monthsary gets celebrated, you were falling further and deeper into the abyss of your inferiority. And Kuroo did not even notice you were no longer beside him during parties, or at some special events. He forgot what ice cream flavor you like. He no longer corrects people mistaking you as just his friend.

On your first anniversary, the wine on your glass was gone a few minutes ago, you needed the courage.

Kuroo reaches out for your hand, you held it for a second, squeezing it slightly, and slowly letting it go. He clicks his tongue, noticing your avoidance for weeks. You used to hold hands everywhere you went, but now you avoid touching altogether.

“Can you at least look at me?” he asks.

You shift your gaze from his hands to his face.

"Why won't you look at me?" his voice was firm, almost disappointed.

"Because every time I do, I see what we've become."

It was his turn to look away.

"Do you remember when we first met?" you ask.

"I try not to."

You don’t know what he meant by that.

The silence between you grows louder with each passing day, until it's suffocating. Kuroo is not wearing a clip-on tie, you noticed. He tugs his necktie, adjusting it every now and then.

You try to salvage what's left of your relationship, maybe this anniversary date should do it. But it's like trying to hold onto sand slipping through your fingers.

You pour another batch of wine on your glass before speaking, "You know how you always used to say, 'The grass is greener where you water.' Remember?"

"Yeah, I still stand by that. It's about perspective."

"Perspective? How about the perspective of feeling invisible in a relationship?” Kuroo does not like where you’re going, where this is going. “Do you—do you even still see me?"

"Of course not” He tries to hold your hand again and you hold onto him. “of course I see you.”

Kuroo speaks again. “But sometimes, what you think doesn't really matter.”

You scoff.

“But those are my feelings” your voice is getting higher, you adjusted your seat, you feel like sinking in the chair. "So my feelings don't matter to you?"

"No, that's not what I meant.” he sighs before continuing, “I just think you're overthinking these things."

"Overthinking? Maybe I'm just realizing I deserve better. Maybe, just maybe, I deserve to be seen and valued." you try to catch your breath. It sounded almost like a plea.

His lips stay pressed on a thin line. He was no longer holding your hand. You were looking at his direction. He is looking down, holding his fork, tapping his plate.

You know staying in this relationship could mean getting invisible day by day. Not until he could no longer see you, worse, until you could no longer see yourself.

Sucks to end it that way, you could almost laugh bitterly at this situation, cliche even.

He looks at you, for the last time that he could, then mumbles. "I never wanted it to come to this."

You slowly look away, your eyes betraying a mixture of hurt and determination. "Let’s just leave this memory as a good one” you hold his hand, for the last time that you could, “I don’t want to end things ugly and start hating you.”

Because you know you never could. You wanted things to end while he was still someone you love.

Kuroo was not looking at you anymore. He felt a shiver, realizing the absence of warmth from your hand.

“Isn’t it enough that I see and value you?”

“Do you really see me? Or am I just another name on your close friends list?”

He sighs again, longer than the previous, as if he was afraid of speaking more, "Well, if that's how you feel, I’m sorry"

"Is that all you have to say?"

“You know, I—” Kuroo can’t understand why he can’t say those words. It takes three words for him to fix this. He stayed silent. And it took just a fraction of his silence for you to realize there was no use to trying to fix this.

taglist (open):

[michuyox]

Double date

another version without the lighting i guess

[skriblee-ksk]

Smth based off @natsukishinomiyaswife’s fic here! READ IT!! not just for context but bc its sooo good?? Still shocked with how many people she fit in there.

I was SO happy Kiyuu appeared in there!!! But more than that, Jackiyuu friendship in every universe is smth i strive. Although there is only room for one specific Jack in her heart!!!

Time to talk more about Kiyuu!!

She actually has a lot of doubts abt her relationship with Jack, but in a really really weird way??? She got the aromantic doubts out of her system when she confessed to him, so it’s not about that.

Like if Jack liked someone else, she’d happily give him up so he can be happy, but in a relationship herself, she keeps wondering if she truly is the best fit for him?? Like she wants him to be the happiest he can be, so she treats him with care and love (and is extremely clingy, but she’s always like that), but she keeps wondering if he could be happier. And if so, then with whom?

And then she ends of saying stupid stuff she didn’t think of the deeper implications of. She’s too awkwardly honest!!!! But she just wants him to be happy, that’s it!!!!! 😭😭

I cannot wait for the next part!!! I LOVE THIS GATHERING OF OCS AND YUUS TOO MUCH now that i got jackiyuu out of my system, i’d love to draw kiyuu interacting w the other characters!!

Taglist (ask to be added!!): @kathxrat-01 @distant-velleity @scint1llat3 @elenauaurs @boopshoops

@lumdays @venaue @jewelulu @thehollowwriter

[creativesparkz]

CHECK ME OUT NOW, BUG BOY !!!!!!

[ plus an alt version and a little doodle <3 im so crazy for tvbeetle n im even crazier for the idea of pest seeimg scags boss fight model... BIG ROBOT WIFE !!!!!!!!!!!! ]

[dreamsb0u]

Doodle of this by @xpau-official (absolutely baller art btw)

Also I am absolutely balling rn ignore anything that looks funky my style is doing something

[yupthisisshe]

Affections Revealed and Answered - Mattheo Riddle x gn! Reader

A/N: reader could be of any house; language warning (Mattheo says the f-word once); they are making out (that’s most of the plot but I swear it's supposed to be kinda cute); no nudity or sex; very close friends to lovers; the kind of Mattheo that’s nice to his friends and people he cares about but absolutely will get into fights if he thinks the other person deserves it; also I wrote and edited this in once sitting - so yay me! <3

You were sat in Mattheo’s lap, straddling him as you both sat on the couch in your common room. If it were anyone else, they would get weird looks or teasing comments, but people knew better than to disrespect Mattheo, and even more so they knew better than to disrespect you lest Mattheo find out. This intimate position wasn’t unusual for the two of you. I mean, what else were friends for if not comfort? But you wanted more this time. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his shoulder and neck, as per usual, but instead of just laying there innocently like you normally would, you began to kiss at it.

“[Y/n]…” Mattheo questioned, not completely sure of what was happening at the moment, but sure of where it would be going if you continued. You could tell his tone was supposed to come out with a bit of a warning undertone, but all that really came out were questions unasked, but soon to be answered.

“Do you want this?” you asked.

“Fuck yes,” he replied, and you sensed longing in his tone that suggested he’s wanted this more than you know for longer than you know. Rather than go back to his neck, you went straight to his face. You grabbed his face and your lips smashed together. Soon, you were licking at his bottom lip, asking for entrance into the caverns of his mouth, and he couldn’t have been happier to oblige. He opened his mouth and your velvety tongues danced in a composition of longing and affection. Matthew gripped you gently but strongly, one hand against the back of your head and the other arm circling your waist. Your hands had both moved to the back of his head, trying to pull him impossibly close. The light moans and groans you both let out were enough to tell you that maybe you were close enough, but your hearts and bodies couldn't help but want more. You ended up pushing him to lie down across the couch in the process of your affections. You laid across him as he refused to let go. You kissed for minutes, disconnecting for breaths and reconnecting like you couldn't bear to be apart once you caught your breath. After so long, you stopped to speak what felt like the most important sentence in your life.

“I love you, Mattheo.”

He smiled and you both let out a light, breathy giggle.

“I love you too, [Y/n].” He had the softest smile on his face, like it was proof of his words.

You smiled lovingly and proceeded to rest your head on his shoulder. Perfectly positioned for you to apply kisses to his jawline or chin, and for him to apply kisses to your forehead, or nose if he tilted your chin up a bit. He held you in his arms, one arm holding you securely, and the other rubbing you softly and lovingly. You lay there together, comfortable in your new relationship, and already knowing somehow that you would love each other for life.