Ghostlights as college roommates and maybe some identity shenanigans thrown in would be so fun! Maybe dannys doing a little vigilante work on the side as well to up the secret identity mayhem
Danny would like to say his college career is going well. Gotham isn’t where he was expecting to pursue higher education, but the engineering scholarship he got through the Wayne Educational Foundation was just too good to turn down. It even covered the cost of an apartment! Although, the apartment is shared with another student who got a Wayne scholarship.
Even with that, Danny lucked out and got a great roommate. Duke Thomas is chill, kind, respects Danny’s space and doesn’t throw wild parties or invite random people in at all hours of the day. He even joins Danny twice a week for study sessions!
Really, it would be the perfect college experience except for one thing: the ghosts.
Danny thought they’d stay in Amity Park. They had no reason to stray from the city where the portal was, and his parents are more than enough to keep most ghosts away. It took his friends, Jazz, and even Vlad to convince Danny that he wasn’t abandoning Amity Park and that the city wouldn’t fall while he took a few years to focus on himself.
He worried right up until he got to GCU and walked the campus for the first time. Then he decided to enjoy the four years he had on the scholarship to get his degree and live his own life like a normal person.
To say he’s pissed about the ghosts is an understatement.
The one thing he was looking forward to most is not being Phantom. Gotham is home to the Bats and they’re more than capable of handling everything in the city. It means there’s no need for him here and he can focus on school and enjoy going on invisible flights without worrying about being hunted down or having to fight a ghost.
“Are you fucking kidding me,” he mutters under his breath as he feels the familiar chill race up his throat, A cold mist wafts out of his mouth, curling around his words, and Danny quickly ducks his head and hides it from sight.
“Did you say something?” Duke asks, looking up from where he leans against the kitchen counter, squinting at a recipe on his phone.
“Nah,” Danny lies. “Just stressing.” He gestures to the papers he has spread out on the dining table, then stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk. Maybe that’ll get my brain to work correctly tonight.”
“Got your phone on you?”
Danny reflexively drops a hand to his pocket, checking that his phone is where it’s supposed to be. It’s what Duke asks every single time Danny mentions going out, worried about Danny being unprepared for Gotham. It’s nice of him, though Danny does wish he can say that he’s survived a lot worse than a few muggers.
“Got it.”
“Alright. I’ll try to work on dinner while you’re out.”
Danny nods and offers Duke a small wave before pulling his shoes on at the door. He grabs his keys and heads out, double checking that the door is locked behind him.
Then he glances around the hallway, checking that the coast is clear, and pulls up the chill of awareness in his chest. Slowly, he breathes out, watching the blue mist waft out and lead towards the stairwell.
“Wonder who it is this time,” he mutters to himself, going into the cold, concrete stairwell. It always feels a little off in there, as if he’s been removed from the rest of the world when the door closes behind him. His footsteps echo oddly in the space, so Danny chooses to fly instead, keeping his feet off the floor.
A few flights down is when he sees her: pale and translucent, a faint blue glow around her. She’s a familiar face. Emilia is one of the first of Gotham’s ghosts he’s met, leading to the rather unpleasant realization that ghosts don’t only come from the Infinite Realms. There’s a strange sort of magic in the very foundations of Gotham that makes it the way it is, creating ghosts that are different enough from what he’s used to that it leaves him off balance.
Gotham keeps her dead. Few get to pass on peacefully, and most have to wait until they grow weak and wither away, a second death, before they can be released from the living realm. The ghosts of Gotham are pale and weak, for the most part, and try to cling to him so grow stronger from his ectoplasm.
Most want him to help them pass on, or give them a way into the Infinite Realms. Some want him to bring justice to their killers. Others want to kill him and take his ectoplasm for their own so they can continue their reign of terror in Gotham, unable to be stopped even in death.
Emilia gives him warnings. It’s not always her, but she tends to be the one to draw him out of his apartment, pulling him into a vigilante lifestyle because he can’t bring himself to refuse anyone who asks for his help, and the dead in Gotham have no one else to ask.
“Danny,” she greets. “Nueve is out again. He’s going after the ghosts near Chantilly Street.”
“The sun isn’t even down yet,” Danny grumbles. Nueve, an old gang enforcer who died a few decades ago, cannibalizes other ghosts. It doesn’t destroy the other ghosts, not really, but it makes them feel pain when they shouldn’t be able to feel much at all. Taking their limited reserves of ectoplasm makes him momentarily stronger, and he uses that stolen strength to try to harm the living.
He’s been successful a few times. Danny makes sure to rip him apart as much as possible these days; he won’t be here forever, but he’s hoping that within his four years at GCU, he’ll be able to permanently stop Nueve.
Times like these, he misses having a Fenton Thermos with him. Though he’s not entirely sure it would work on Gotham’s ghosts with how different they are.
Emilia follows him down the stairwell to the ground floor. Once there, Danny shoves his hand into the floor, taking out the backpack he’s hidden in it. He’s done this change of clothes so often he can do it in just a minute now, hiding his face and pulling on gloves beneath a large hoodie with old ectoplasm stains along the sleeves and hem. A gas mask is pulled on as well, covering the bottom half of his face, a necessary addition to his Ghost Work Outfit™ after he almost got caught in some Fear Gas during Scarecrow’s last attack.
“Alright,” he says, “Lead the way.”
Emilia takes off through the wall and Danny hurries to follow, going invisible as he hits the streets.
It’s still early evening, the sun not yet fully set. Plenty of people walk along the sidewalks and cars pass by endlessly, honking at each other as they try to go twenty above the speed limit. Danny does his best to avoid running into everyone, deftly dodging the reaching hands of a few ghosts who spot him as he sprints by.
They only go a few blocks away from his apartment building, turning into a dead end alley where a group of teens (living, for once) are stuck with their backs to the wall, clinging to each other as they warily watch the man in front of them carelessly twirl a gun around his finger.
The man makes a strange clicking noise in the back of his throat, and it takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s trying to talk.
Still invisible, Danny sneaks around to stand in front of the teens, ready to bodily protect them. The man looks alive, and Danny see any ghosts around save for Emilia, standing at the mouth of the alley. There’s something strange about him; his movements seem just a little off, not quite as fluid as they should be. It’s not the movement of someone on drugs. It’s something that screams uncanny valley.
The gun’s handle drops solidly into the man’s palm. He makes another few clicks, then raising the gun to point at the teens.
“Bad idea, pal,” Danny says dropping his invisibility. The teens behind him startle, gasping and trying to press themselves further into the wall.
The man’s eyes flash weakly and the pieces click into place in Danny’s mind. Nueve must have gotten strong enough to possess someone. That is… alarming, to say the least.
He rips the gun out of the man’s hand and tosses it aside. Then he pushes away the man’s arm when Nueve makes a clumsy attempt to punch him. With his chest left wide open and undefended, Danny takes the chance to shove his hand into the man’s chest, feeling for the familiar chill of a ghost.
And then he wraps his fingers tight around it and pulls out Nueve, leaving the man to collapse.
The teens behind him scream and Danny winces.
Pulling out a faintly glowing human figure from someone’s physical body does not look good. It’s the best way to end a possession, but it does look alarmingly like he’s just ripped someone’s soul out of their body.
Keeping hold of Nueve’s ghost, Danny steps to the side. “You guys should go now. Take care.”
The teens don’t need any more prompting. They take off in a run, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.
Danny spares a glance to the man unconscious on the ground, but there’s nothing he can do with an angry ghost in his hands, so he has no choice but to leave him there as he flies up to a rooftop farther down the street.
“How many times do we need to do this, Nueve?” he asks tiredly, shaking the ghost.
“These streets should be mine!” Nueve howls, trying to break free of Danny’s grasp. But he’s quickly growing weak, his energy fading, and Danny’s holding back his own ectoplasm as tightly as he can. “They may have killed me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still take what I’m owed!”
“Dude, you’re dead. There’s nothing here for you. Move on.”
“You don’t get to speak on this, outsider. You think a freak like you has an say over us? You can’t stop us. You don’t even know what’s coming.”
Danny squints at him. “What, are you planning a heist or something? With your gang of dead people too weak to lift a piece of paper?”
“We’re not all dead. We’ve got living folk helping us and we’ll be taking you out first when we hit the streets.”
“Good luck with that,” Danny says flatly, “Begone with you.”
Without giving Nueve a chance to say another word, he rips Nueve’s head off his body. His ghost wavers, then dissipates like smoke, fading away.
Another side effect of whatever it is Gotham does to her dead: their ghost forms are remarkably fragile and it takes only a bit of strength to tear them to shreds, giving him some peace before they reform again. It won’t stop Nueve from striking out again, gathering enough strength until he’s able to possess some other unfortunate soul, but Danny’s bought himself some time to figure out what the hell was he talking about?
There are living folk involved with whatever he’s planning. It’s probably another gang, maybe someone with magic who is able to see ghosts? Which is not great. Danny doesn’t know much about magic; even when facing ghosts who used magic or magical artifacts, his go to method of dealing with them is to start throwing hands like there’s no tomorrow.
Well.
It’s a problem for later.
For now, Danny needs to get back to his apartment and work on his calculus homework. Hopefully he can finish it before he gets frustrated enough that he gives up and lies face down on the floor until Duke manhandles him onto the couch, where he’s less of a tripping hazard.
He’s just about to get back to street level when his Fenton Luck strikes again and he hears someone land on the roof, just a few feet behind him.
“Hey there, stranger,” the Signal says. “You know, we run into each other so often it feels rude not to introduce ourselves. Why don’t you go first?”
Danny turns to face the daylight vigilante, standing with his arms crossed as if that would make him look any more approachable. He’s been popping up wherever Danny’s out dealing with ghosts, which is very not great for Danny’s plans to have a peaceful, normal college life.
Biting his tongue, Danny gives the Signal a quick two fingered salute, then goes intangible and drops down through the building. His invisibility sweeps over him and then he’s running through the streets, hoping it’s enough to keep the Signal from following him to his apartment.
He skids to a stop in the stairwell, dropping his intangibility just in time to crash into the wall. Panting, Danny waits for a tense minute to see if he’s been followed.
When the door to the stairwell remains closed, he lets out a slow breath, then pulls off all the pieces of his Ghost Work Outfit, shoving it back into his bag. He takes a moment to fix his hair, messy from the hood, then shoves the bag back into the floor, safely hidden from curious eyes.
Then he very casually walks up the stairs to the fifth floor and walks down the hallway to his apartment. His keys clang together when he opens the door, and Duke usually hears it when it does, but just in case, Danny calls out, “I’m back!”
He’s learned to announce himself after a few late night walks almost ended with him tackled to the floor when Duke thought someone was breaking in.
Duke doesn’t respond as he toes off his shoes. The stillness in the apartment feels off, as if the world is holding its breath. Cautiously, Danny walks in, trying to find his roommate.
He’s not in the kitchen. The living room is empty. Duke’s bedroom door is open and he’s not in there either.
Something cold lodges itself in his chest.
“Duke?” he tries again, looking over their apartment again for any sign of struggle, or something terrible happening, or even a mess that Duke needed more supplies to clean up.
There’s nothing. The apartment is as it’s always been, just with an empty space where Duke should be.
Worried, Danny stands in the middle of the hallway, trying to figure out what he should do next. It’s because he’s standing so still, surrounded by silence, that he hears it: a light thud outside the window.
Danny turns and he can swear he sees something large moving outside the window, disappearing from sight just as Danny takes a step into Duke’s room to check on it. He rushes to the window and pushes it open, looking down at the street, then side to side, and finally up to the last three floors of the building.
Nothing’s there.
Slowly, Danny pulls his head back inside, closing and locking the window. “Must be my imagination,” he says, trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal.
He leaves Duke’s room and begins pacing down the hall, anxiety building steadily in him.
His phones in his hand before he can think his actions through, Duke’s contact pulled up on the screen. He should call. He should make sure Duke is okay, but Danny hesitates. Is this something to be freaked out over? Would Duke thing he’s clingy and nervous and a bothersome roommate? He doesn’t want to risk Duke asking for a new roommate next year when the lease renews.
But he’s worried. It’s Gotham and Danny just dealt with a violent, murderous ghost threatening him. Duke can deal with a stressed out, worried Danny if it means he’s alive.
He hits the call button before he can talk himself out of it. It rings on and on and on until Danny starts to panic about having to find Duke’s ghost to avenge his murder.
The front door is thrown open so suddenly and so loudly, Danny jumps and his phone clatters to the floor.
“Danny! Hey!” Duke says with a bright smile, trying to catch his breath. He’s still holding onto the doorknob, slightly hunched over as he pants for breath. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m totally fine.”
“Where were you?”
Duke straightens up and closes the door, kicking off his shoes. “Oh, just… out. Shopping. For dinner.”
Danny looks over his empty hands doubtfully. “No luck finding what you needed?”
“Nope!”
“What did you need? Maybe I can go to a different store and get it for you.”
“You don’t need to!” Duke says. “I just needed… tomatoes?”
Danny blinks at him. “We have tomatoes. Did you not know we had tomatoes in the fridge?”
“Oh, do we? Good to know.”
There’s something very weird about this conversation, but Danny doesn’t pry. Duke is weird sometimes, but it’s fine because he kindly ignores some of Danny’s oddities that come from being a halfa and a semi-retired hero.
“Do you… maybe wanna sit down? Catch your breath? I can make dinner tonight if you want.”
Duke waves a hand in the air. “No, no, it’s fine. I got this. Anyways, how was your walk?”
He definitely shouldn’t talk about the cannibal ghost and his threats to take out Danny with his gang. “It was nice. Very quiet. You know, for Gotham.” He punctuates this with an awkward thumbs up and immediately regrets it, but it’s already done so he commits to it.
“Cool! Great. Just wondering, did you see anything weird?”
“Depends on what you’re asking about?”
“Just some guy wearing black with a hood covering his face. He’s been active in this neighborhood and I saw some people talk about him online. Apparently he just appears out of thin air.”
Danny tries not to wince. That’s him, alright. Gotham’s newest neighborhood menace. “I don’t think so, but there’s a lot of people in Gotham that were all black and walk around with their hood up.”
“True,” Duke concedes. “Well, just be careful when you go out, alright?”
“I always am.” He gives Duke the same two fingered salute he gave the Signal. Duke stares at him for a moment, eyes dark and almost dangerous, then he smiles and walks into the kitchen.
“Wanna make dinner with me? I think we can figure out this recipe together. Unless you need to do your homework.”
“It can wait!” Danny hurries to join Duke, grateful for an excuse to push off calculus a little longer. He understands what he’s doing in the class, there’s just… so much work. He doesn’t even want to think about the tests. The tests make everyone cry.
“Alright, let’s get to it, then!”
“You’re in charge, chef,” Danny says, laughingly, and bumps against Duke’s side. He expects a light shove in return, something Sam and Tucker always did, but Duke goes tense instead, letting out a sharp breath that Danny is all too familiar with. “Wait, why are you hurt? What happened?!”
He goes to lift up Duke’s shirt to inspect his shirt, see the damage for himself, but Duke smoothly moves out of the way, grabbing Danny’s wrists and stopping him in his tracks. “I’m fine, Danny. I just got hit. Lightly. Minor bruising, really.”
Danny looks at him doubtfully, then wrenches a wrist free to lift up his shirt before he can move again.
Minor bruising is not how Danny would describe the blues and purples that decorate Duke’s entire side. He can see the outline of Duke’s ribs through the bruising. “How is this being lightly bruised? What hit you?”
“A car?”
“A car?!”
Duke winces, then pulls his shirt down. “I’m fine, Danny, really. It was just from a car that didn’t want to stop at a red light. I stopped another person from being hit, but the car got me pretty solidly. You know how bad Gotham drivers are.”
“Sit down!” Danny says, pulling Duke out of the kitchen. “I don’t understand how you’re still standing. I’ll get some ice, and I’ll handle dinner. You just stay there and stop pushing yourself for no reason.”
“Playing nurse for me now?”
“If I have to.”
“Would you wear a nurse costume for me, too?” Duke jokes.
Danny looks him dead in the eye and says, “If I have to. Would that make you follow my instructions? A tight little nurse dress?”
Duke sputters, cheeks darkening, and looks away. Danny grins, victorious, and darts back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack from the fridge.
“Maybe I’ll wear one for you anyways, once you’re all healed up. Only if you’re good, though.”
“Danny, you’re killing me here.”
“Better me than a car.”
Duke laughs and takes the ice pack, pressing it against his side carefully. “Oh, for sure. Thanks, Danny.”
“Hey, what are roommates for?” Danny shares a warm smile with Duke, then pats his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen to start making a simple pasta dinner.
Life in Gotham is weird and stressful and full of ghosts and heroes who won’t leave him alone. But it’s not all that bad, really. He’s happy with how he’s doing in college, and he’s beyond lucky to have Duke as a roommate. So long as Duke never finds out about his halfa status, then he’s sure they’ll be able to last all four years rooming together.
He just needs to keep a secret.
Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
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creds to @epiimetheux !!!
i kept coming back to this beautiful artwork and i got inspired by it so here you go...
(disclaimer: i haven't completed a fic in forever, let alone published one, so i'm very anxious about this, i apologise if it's a mess •~•♡ love you guys)
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tom watches from the side as his husband steps forward to his coffin. pete's head is bowed, but he can see the trembling of his lips and the coiled muscles in his jaw.
oh my love.
what i'd give to embrace you one more time.
he knew he couldn't reach his husband anymore. his time had passed.
that didn't keep tom from standing next to pete's side. keeping watch. protecting his wingman, as they'd promised to each other years ago on that fateful day.
when repressed feelings and pretentious rivalry finally made way for the unconditional love thay had never wavered once.
partnership that had lasted 33 years.
tom watched as pete took the wings off his uniform, laying them onto the smooth oak.
the gun salutes were no more than background noise, tom's sole focus lying on the man in front of him.
the moment he saw pete punching the wings into the coffin he felt an incredible warmth spread through his chest.
such a feeling had been limited to very few moments in his life.
in the cockpit of his plane, soaring above the clouds with ron at his back and pete right by his side.
the return from the layton mission.
aching and sweaty and all kinds of shaken up but alive, thriving on adrenaline and pent up energy.
they had only seen each other then.
not iceman and maverick, but tom and pete, right there on the deck, what ron had later jokingly called their "confession".
their wedding. finally being allowed to slip a ring onto pete's finger while surrounded by all their loved ones. to call him his husband for everyone to see and hear without having to fear anymore. forever and always - the ending of both of their vows.
when their son had come back to them.
pete, bradley and himself crying with relief in their kitchen as they embraced for the first time in years. pete almost losing it as bradley started called him 'dad' again, and tom almost following suit when 'pops' returned back to daily use.
in that hospital bed, when he'd kissed his husband for the last time. he had wiped the tears on pete's cheeks with trembling hands, mapping that gorgeous face he knew better than the back of his own hand.
hushed i love you's in the quiet of the room, both signed and said out loud as they held each other.
the last words he felt pressed against his forehead being 'forever and always', before he slipped away into neverland.
tom looked over his shoulder just as pete stepped back from the coffin.
the wings on his back were strikingly white. glossy and strong feathers fluttered softly in the wind, and tom couldn't help the smile that spread on his face.
i will protect you, my heart.
my wingman.
my everything.
carefully he guided his wings around pete's sides. shielding him for just a moment. providing the endless support he couldn't give in person anymore.
pete looked up towards the sky, just like the rest of the crowd, watching as the missing man formation flew by.
everyone watched the sky, but tom couldn't tear his eyes away from his husband. how the dusking sun reflected in those tender green eyes. the curve of his nose, and the sweet lips he'd kissed so very often, now being worried at between pearly teeth.
i love you, forever and always.
as if he heard him, pete echoed his words.
"forever and always, sweetheart."
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Hi there!! Your milgram drabbles are actually giving me life. If you're still taking requests (if not, totally fine!!), how about Haruka and Colours? :)
Aww thank you so much!!! :D Thank you for the request ooh, it's such a fun prompt for him! I ended up going with something for him and Muu between the first two trials, but I still wanted the main focus to stay on his voice and growth 👍
“This is your wardrobe?” Muu's eyebrows raised. “That's all there is?”
“W-well, I don't own much else that I, I really like to wear. Sorry." Haruka’s mind whirled into a panic. His new friend had been in his cell for less than two minutes and he was already a disappointment. She knew a lot about clothes and fashion, but he didn’t know a thing about that. They’d have nothing in common. She’d grow bored of him, and hate him, and --
“Aw, you don't need to apologize! The warden should be sorry for making you wear this. Muu will have to fix it.”
“Fix what?” He bit down on his thumbnail. He knew there was a lot of him that needed fixing. That’s what he’d been told as long as he could remember. But what did she plan on doing that no one else could?
“All white does not do you justice. I'll request some things for you, okay? Let’s see…"
She spun away from the clothes to examine him. He squirmed under the sudden, intense gaze. She looked him up and down, without saying a word. He hugged his arms to his chest. He had too many painful memories of people looking at him like that. But at the same time, he hoped she would never stop…
Her lips twisted into a gentle pout. “See? You poor thing, you don’t feel confident in that at all.”
“W-well, it’s only that --”
“-- Don’t worry about a thing. Muu will get some neutrals, and a few accents. That will help bring out your eyes.”
“My, uh, my eyes?”
“Mm, they're your best feature.” She said it as if he were crazy for not knowing. His mouth gaped. He had a best feature?
“Speaking of, I'll have to grab some pins to keep your hair back, so you can actually see them…” She reached out to brush some of his hair aside. He flinched, but let her touch him as she tried out a few things. While poised over his face, she looked at him seriously.
“How do you feel about purple?”
He swallowed. How did he feel about purple? Haruka thought it was a strange question, but if Muu was being so nice to him, he should trust her. He should respond perfectly. He went back and forth on what the right answer could be. How did everyone else feel about purple? How did Muu feel about purple?
“Nevermind.” She put her hands on his quickly raining shoulders. He relaxed them. “I think I’ll go with green.”
He sighed with relief. “Oh! Okay!”
Muu continued muttering to herself about different colors and styles, to which he nodded along. If she thought it would help him, he believed her.
———
He stepped into the dining hall for breakfast. The prisoners were used to their routine by now, so nothing really caused disruption anymore. It was why Haruka was unprepared to be a disruption himself.
“Haru~” Mahiru called. “Wow!”
His eyes widened. As he scrambled for a reply, Mikoto nodded from another table. “So colorful!” All the eyes turned to him. Even Es turned from where they were speaking with Jackalope in the kitchens. They all smiled at him.
“How fashionable!”
“It suits you well.”
“Aw, look at you!”
The sudden praise forced his hands up to cover the huge smile on his face. “Me?”
He could feel his cheeks redden, but his heart raced in excitement. At their request, he did a stiff turn to show off the whole outfit. “Ah… it’s only because of Muu…”
“And it looks like I did a great job!” She appeared beside him, pressing her palms together. “You look wonderful.”
With so many kind eyes on him, he couldn’t help the giggle that spilled between his fingers.
“Buuut Muu can’t take all the credit,” she said. “Or your clothes. This is you. You look happier. You’re holding yourself differently.”
“I didn’t know…” He hadn’t meant to do that. That was a good thing, right? Haruka felt his legs shift, as he thought too hard about how he was standing.
Is this why he was forgiven? People were finally seeing him. Es really looked at them during his interrogation. The prisoners had noticed him more and more. Even the voices that whispered in his cell at night had taken a strong interest in him. And now, everyone was showering him with their praises. Muu was right, it was more than the bright colors he was wearing.
“Yeah, you seem more confident.”
He lowered his hands to return her beaming smile.
“I… I think I am.”
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🤧😩😭💦😳📝 for chu//uya and go//jo if u would like to please 👁👁
Hello ily I am so insane about them and I am losing my mind at getting an excuse to rant about them so AHHHHH!!! thank you 💗💗
~From This Ask Game~
Gonna make this two posts because it's... it's gonna be so long.
Part One: C/huuya~
~~~~~
🤧: What does their sneeze sound like? (Description, spelling, or both!)
Something little but fiesty, like him <3 Sooo, kinda vocal, you definitely can hear his voice in it, and if you know him well enough, you'll be able to tell from another room that it was him. Somethin' like "hh'ayshhhuh-! ak'yiezzshoo-! kih'tiezshhiew-!"
BUT, if it's a bad itch, or allergy, and he's not managing to stifle, it'll sometimes dip into rapid, and that's more like "ashh- yieshh- ayyshhh'oo-! arshhh- krshhh- kashhh'oo-!" but those are more rare for him.
He also stifles or half-stifles quite often. "engxt-! nkKxt-! hk'enXTiew-! nkXGT'shiew-! hd'tshhiew-!"
😩: Do they tend to sneeze just once or twice, or multiple times? Do they have fits frequently or rarely? Does how many times they sneeze depend on the cause?
If it's just a natural, no cause, maybe he'll get one/two. But most of the time it's caused by a smell, allergy, sickness, or wine <3. And in all of those cases, he'll be lucky to get less then five. However, in his defense, they're usually a bit spread out, not super rapid. (unless it's a really bad tickle~)
😭: When they’re sick, do they try to downplay their symptoms, or do they treat every little cold like the plague? Do they whine a lot, or do they complain quietly or even just in their head?
Somehow both?? He's definitely a "I'm fine, leave me alone" type of person, denial till the very end, he's ALWAYS okay and will work through anything.
But at the same time, if he's feverish enough, or with people he feels safe with, if he's vulnerable, he'll be the type to complain. Sneeze, whine, gasp, repeat. But this is very rare for him, you can count the amount of time's it's happened on one hand.
He's also the type to complain but about others, not his own symptoms. So if he has a headache, any noise or bright light or annoyance (Dazai <3) is suddenly 10 times more annoying, and worth complaining over. But if it gets into genuine complaining territory, not playful asshole banter, he immediately stops.
💦: How wet are their sneezes? Do they spray barely at all, or are you gonna need an umbrella? Do they try to cover at all, or just let it go? Do they sniffle a lot when they’re sick or allergies are bugging them?
Not really wet, though because he'll have longer fits, and tends to get congested from them, there will definitely be a light mist by the end. He also covers, absolutely, with his gloves, or hat, or an arm, unless he's too feverish, or specifically trying to annoy someone.
Also he does sniffle, like a lot, despite trying to blow his nose to make it stop. It happens anyways, whether from irritation, congestion, or just instinct/habit. He annoys himself with it at times <3
😳: Are they embarrassed by their sneezes, or do they just not really care? Do they apologize after sneezing? Do they say “sorry!” or “excuse me!” or anything like that? If they’re embarrassed about it, why?
Embarrassed. He doesn't like any show of weakness, and honestly... the humanity aspect wrapped up in it makes him a bit uncomfortable at times. He likes feeling human, but it brings up complicated thoughts he doesn't want to address. He won't apologize, though if he's not really thinking about it, (or if he's with people he trusts/respects) an 'scuse me' will slip out here and there.
Pluuuus, his sneezes are rather distinct, with the 'iew' sounds especially, and how much of his voice is in them, so he tends to feel quite embarrassed by their volume. (especially compared to some of his co-workers with MUCH more 'Mafia Appropriate' sneezes.)
📝: Quick! Come up with a scenario for them! It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just something you think would be cute or something you’d like to see with them!
Thanks to you, 'wine snz Chuuya' has been LIVING in my mind, but honestly feverish Chuuya always lives there too, so let's see if I can combine them into something awful~
(feat. Soukoku bc... well... I just can't take how much I love them~)
Dazai arrives at the Mafia HQ, fully intending on tormenting his dear Chibi. I mean, it's been nearly a week since his last torment session, he's going into withdrawl.
He expected a bit of resistance, maybe a challenge, some banter, possibly even a punch. What he didn't expect was to find Chuuya nearly passed out at his desk, empty bottle on the floor, glass precariously tilted in his hand.
He rouses at the footsteps, gazing up at Dazai with eyes clouded by alcohol and... something else. He manages a deeply slurred "H'llo thr D- Dazz... Dahhhzai!" Followed by a barely covered rapid fit.
Well, definitely drunk. Though judging by the congestion soaking through the corners of his words, pretty sick too. This can't be good. With a moment of kindness he'd never admit to later, Dazai takes it upon himself to bring Chuuya home.
Upon touching him, he expects the normal feeling of powers being stripped. The heat however, comes as an unwelcome surprise.
BLAH BLAH he takes Chuuya home, Chuuya drunk snz the whole time, Chuuya too fevered to take care of himself so Dazai has to help him, clingy drunk/feverish Chuuya grabs his arm and won't let go, so Dazai has to lay on the couch with Chibi on his chest, and then some vulnerability stuff happens, including Chuuya admitting that he was drinking to try and cope with the nightmares that come with the fever dreams </3
THAT WAS WAYYYY TOO LONG- I'm so sorry <333 but also thank you for the ask!!! I love my guys 😭😭 NOW ONTO PART TWO!
(and also uh... I very well may write that fic bc I've been wanting to write some more Soukoku angst lately, but I make no promises for how fast I'd do it haha~)
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