[FR] Vendredi 13, c'était il y a 2 jours mais comme à la fin de la journée, ma main commençait à me faire mal, j'ai dû arrêter de faire la colo sur Photoshop. ^_^" Bref, découvrez un nouveau fanart de Claw Noir (ou Griffe Noire en VF) sur mon compte Instagram!
[EN] It was Friday the 13th two days ago but at the end of the day, my hand was starting to hurt me so much I had to stop working with Photoshop. ^_^" So discover my traditional fanart of Chat Noir (or in this case, Claw Noir) for Friday the 13th only now on my Instagram account!
>>> Follow me on Instragram! <<<
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never in my life have i been so grateful that the Danny Phantom fandom refuses to fucking die
-> thrive you glorious undead bastards
anywho, JOHNNY 13 Y'ALL
"Kitty."
"Mm?"
"Kitten."
"Yes?"
"Babe."
"What, Johnny?"
Scratchy stubble brushes Kitty's cheek as the man, in one of his clingy moods, adjusts on her shoulder.
"Whatcha doin?" the greasy man asks, like he didn't have two working eyes.
"My make-up, Johnny."
"How come? We're not goin' anywhere today."
She can feel him pause, useless breaths puffing against the skin of her neck as he nudges his nose under her jaw. Like a puppy begging for attention.
"Are we?"
They were not, but damn. He was cute like this. It wasn't often Johnny wrapped Kitty up in his arms all soft- koala like, instead of pushing some cool, slicked up image- but it was so nice.
Kitty was just a girl.
"...no," she eventually gives in, unable to keep the fondness out of her voice as she feels him grow antsy, "But a girl likes to feel pretty sometimes."
The soft brushes of peppered kisses against her neck come to a pause as he processes her words.
"You're always pretty, Kitty." he says, arms twitching around her waist as he stops himself from rocking them side to side, "Hah, that rhymed."
Dumb, stupid, charming man.
"Say that to my eyebags," Kitty pouts, and leans closer to the mirror to get her mascara just right, "Oh, you're lucky you don't have to deal with this, Johnny."
Really, whoever decided to give this greasy playboy the longest eyelashes known to mankind should be fired. Or given a raise.
Whichever was easier.
"Lucky, huh? Guess I need a new nickname."
And...
Kitty finds herself laughing. Despite it not even being a joke, she finds her lowering the wand from her eyelashes to giggle and squeeze his spindly hands. He grins against her neck as his girl reaches up to squeeze his cheeks.
"That was awful, 13," the biker chic teases.
"D'you think I should cover up my freckles?"
It comes so far out of left field that it's from another ballpark. Kitty feels her mirth shrivel up like a stage performer that's got the zorros.
"Johnny 13," Kitty starts, forcing him to face her, "Who told you that?"
Because what?
She'd kill them. On her afterlife, whoever planted such a blasphemous idea in her dear Johnny's head would get a tire to the teeth.
He, at the very least, as the decency to look sheepish.
"Nobody, nobody," he waves off, and privately- Kitty mourns the loss of his arms around her waist, "I just thought-"
"You thought wrong, greaser!"
Very wrong! She couldn't imagine Johnny without his freckles. That was like Johnny without his motorcycle, or- or Kitty without her fishnets!
It wasn't right!
"Was it the ghost boy?"
"Kitty.."
"Desiree? Ember? No, I bet it was Skulker."
"Kitten-"
"No! It was Penelope, wasn't it? She's always been-"
"Babe."
"WHAT, JOHNNY!?"
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