#technically gets a mention

[sesamestreep]

13 (Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions) for Matt/Foggy

(from this list of prompts)

Matt wakes up with a violent start, feeling hazy and slow and just wrong somehow. He knows instantly that he’s not in his apartment, because the bed feels different—it smells different, clean in a dull, itchy, cloying way that he doesn’t associate with his usual detergent—and there’s a bunch of sounds that he can’t identify, but they’re not the city sounds he’s accustomed to or the shuffling, mundane sounds of his neighbors going about their lives. There’s people about, certainly, but a lot of them, he thinks, and they sound urgent, even though when they speak, it’s at a whisper and when they move, it’s never at a run. But if he tries to sense much more than that, he just…can’t. It’s like there’s a wall inside his brain and it’s made out of cotton balls. It’s almost nice.

“Did you just say ‘balls…nice…’ to yourself?” Foggy asks, groggily, from his left. Matt realizes belatedly that the heartbeat he’d heard up close was Foggy’s and he’s just so used to it that his mind unconsciously filtered it out as background noise. God help him if Foggy ever goes rogue and tries to smother him (or just comes to his senses and tries it finally), he’ll have an exceptionally easy time getting past Matt’s defenses.

“Cotton balls,” Matt replies, even though that doesn’t really explain anything. Trying to string words together is exceptionally hard at the moment; it’s like the right ones are floating above his head but reaching for them only knocks them further out of his grasp.

Foggy yawns. “Oh, sure,” he says. “You’re in the hospital, by the way. And on massive amounts of painkillers, in case that wasn’t immediately obvious already.”

That explained a lot, including why the world felt so small to him suddenly. Any medication stronger than aspirin dulled the edges of the world for him significantly. His senses just didn’t reach as far and his reflexes were much slower. This is why he avoided painkillers normally. He didn’t enjoy this feeling.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to sit up. His body doesn’t feel terribly sore—thanks to the medication, probably—but it does feel stiff and misused. He’s got a bandage on his forehead and a few on his torso that he can feel and when he shifts—yep, that pulling sensation is stitches. Great.

“I don’t know,” Foggy answers, sharply. “I was really hoping you might be able to shed some light on the matter for me, considering you were there.”

“There was a…trade being made. Down at the docks, a warehouse by the river,” Matt explains, even as the details seem hesitant to rise to the surface. “It was that weapons dealer I’ve been following. Maya tipped me off—Oh, God! Maya!”

“Maya’s fine,” Foggy interrupts. “She’s the one who brought you to me.”

“What? Did she say—?”

“My ASL is trash, Matthew, I don’t know! She texted me from your phone, I came and got you, she disappeared into the night. And looked much cooler doing it than you ever did, can I just say?”

“Is this your way of telling me to get a motorcycle?” Matt quips, holding his ribs.

“God, just what I need!” Foggy grumbles. Even with his dulled senses, Matt can hear the crunch of the bones in Foggy’s neck when he attempts to stretch and wonders how long Foggy’s been sitting there waiting for him to wake up. He feels suddenly very sorry, on top of everything else he’s currently feeling.

“What time is it?” Matt asks, sheepishly.

“Just past four. In the morning, that is.”

It’s not as bad as Matt was expecting, but it’s still not great. “You should go home, Foggy.”

Foggy snorts sarcastically. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I’ll do, buddy. You read my mind.”

“Well, what exactly is the point of you sitting here and watching me sleep? You’ve got—We’ve got clients coming in to—today and you haven’t slept at all, I imagine, and—”

“Karen will handle things at the office,” Foggy cuts in, “and the point of watching you sleep is watching you sleep.”

“That doesn’t…make any sense.”

Foggy doesn’t immediately try to explain himself. Instead, he sits in silence for a long moment, before he laughs. “Do you know, if I had to pick a superpower—any superpower in the world—I’d want to be able to put people to sleep. Instantly.”

“That’s pretty specific,” Matt says, carefully. “And a little silly.”

“Not really,” Foggy says. “I’d knock you out cold every single night. Hell, I’d put you down for afternoon naps here and there too, just to make up for the years you’ve neglected your sleep cycle. And then you wouldn’t be able to go out fighting bad guys every night and cracking your ribs and bruising that pretty face of yours. And I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

“But I wouldn’t help anyone anymore, either.”

“Is that how you see it?” Foggy asks, pained. “Is what you do all day with me and Karen that meaningless to you? You think we don’t help anybody?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I think I’d do the world twice as much good knocking you out every night as you’ve ever done as Daredevil,” Foggy spits, as his heart hammers away in his chest.

Matt winces, feeling his shoulders tighten and his blood rush in his ears. It doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t hurt Foggy, not for the world. Not physically that is. And he’s not exactly in the right shape to even try it right now, anyway. Still, he doesn’t like that anyone in the world has the cheat codes to make him this angry this quickly. It’s too dangerous.

“Foggy,” he says, breathing through his nose to calm himself down, “I’m the one on drugs right now. I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying shit I can’t take back. Not you.”

“Sorry, Matt, but you wouldn’t even be here, getting proper medical attention, if you had it your way. If you hadn’t been fucking unconscious, you’d have dragged yourself home and treated your fractured ribs and busted skull with baby aspirin! So don’t talk to me about—!”

“Hey, how are we doing in here?” a soothing voice cuts in. A nurse, Matt imagines, based on the unfazed energy and the sound her shoes make on the ground as she crosses to his bed. Foggy’s voice must have started to carry. “Good to see you awake, Mr. Murdock.”

“Thank you,” he replies, mostly to cover Foggy’s scoff.

The nurse proceeds to ask him a bunch of questions about his pain level (which he lies about as naturally as breathing), his symptoms (looking for a concussion that Matt can tell from experience he doesn’t have), and whether there’s anything he needs (to leave right now, but he knows he hasn’t engendered enough goodwill to broach that topic yet). She then looks at his chart and fiddles with his I.V. before urging him to sleep again if he can, which Matt suspects won’t be up to him at all if she, as he imagines, increased his drip.

“Can I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?” she asks, sweetly but with a hidden edge. Matt’s baffled by this for a second before he realizes she’s speaking to Foggy and not him.

Foggy clearly hesitates over whether to indulge her, given what he knows of Matt’s hearing, but clears his throat and eventually responds, “Of course.”

The hallways offers them no privacy from Matt, but it clearly affords the nurse some confidence, because she says, the moment they step out, in an urgent tone: “You know, I should kick you out of here for all that!”

Foggy sighs. “I’m sorry. I know. You made an exception…”

“And I’m regretting it now,” the nurse mutters. “That’s how you talk to your partner after he’s been mugged?!”

“He—this happens a lot more than you’d think…”

“I don’t care if it happens every night! He could have died!”

“I know,” Foggy replies, solemnly, and his tone clearly catches the nurse as unaware as it catches Matt.

“Is there something going on?” she asks, sincerely concerned now. “Are you…hurting him somehow? Do you need help for…something? Anything?”

“No. Nothing like that, I promise. But thank you.”

“Is he hurting himself?” the nurse asks, after a long pause. “Because we can find help for that too.”

“Not…exactly,” Foggy says, and Matt can hear him shifting uncomfortably, crossing his arms. “He’s just not as careful as he should be. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more and put your mind at ease, really, but I can’t.”

The nurse pauses, clearly making sure the coast is clear, because her voice is lower and more conspiratorial when she speaks again. It’s also shaking, for that matter. “Are you in danger?”

Foggy laughs, and then evidently regrets it. “Maybe, but I’ve got…a guardian angel of sorts.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Not to you, no,” Foggy says, and Matt feels himself flush. “I appreciate the concern, but if you make Matt rest for a few more hours and resist his charms when he asks to be allowed to leave, you’ll be helping me more than you can ever imagine.”

“Okay, then. We can make a deal there,” she replies. “You know, I usually have a good sense when it comes to people and I was going to be really mad if I misread you when you came in.”

“How did you read me?”

“Really good boyfriend,” she says, and Matt doesn’t detect the slightest hint of flirtation in her voice, which…doesn’t make any sense, given her words.

“Thank you,” Foggy replies, sincerely. “I’ll keep it down, I promise. I’m sorry for the outburst.”

“You’re worried. It happens.”

“Thanks.”

They part ways, then, with the nurse going off down the hallway and Foggy turning back to linger in the doorway. Matt flops his head back onto the pillows and waits. Foggy comes back in after a moment’s hesitation.

“What was that about?”

“Your dumb ass got me in trouble with the teacher.”

“Typical me,” Matt says, with a weak smile. “Always leading you away from the bright future you deserve.”

Foggy comes to stand by the bed, his fingers tracing anxiously over the starchy hospital sheets. “Matt…”

“You were such a nice boy before I came along.”

“I’m still a nice boy,” Foggy says, sadly.

Matt takes his hand because it’s slid close enough to capture and he can blame the drugs for it later if he needs to. Foggy squeezes his hand in reassurance before Matt can think twice about it. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“But…?”

“What does being sorry mean if nothing ever changes?”

“The law was never going to touch the guys I went after tonight, Foggy. You know that as well as I do.”

Foggy sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

“There’s got to be some recourse for where the law leaves off, I’m just—”

“How are you having this argument with me when you’re on a truckload of painkillers? I saw the nurse give you more…”

“Years of practice,” Matt says, even though it is getting difficult to keep his eyes open. “You and that nurse are in cahoots against me.”

“I need all the help I can get,” Foggy replies, and Matt feels the mattress dip beneath him as Foggy sits down on the edge of it. “She wasn’t supposed to let me stay. No overnight visitation, normally.”

“But she let you anyway, because she thinks you’re cute…”

“What? No, I don’t think—”

“She called you a good boyfriend just now.”

Foggy laughs so hard and so suddenly that it makes him cough. “She meant I’m a good boyfriend to you, Matt,” he says, when he’s caught his breath. “You fucking moron.”

“Why would she think you’re my boyfriend?”

“Emergency contact. Different connotations of the word ‘partner,’ which I have shamelessly exploited before and I have no doubt I will again. The look of blatant horror on my face when I brought you in. Take your pick.”

“Huh.”

“If that bothers you,” Foggy begins hesitantly, like he’s about to apologize, “too fucking bad.”

Matt smiles, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Don’t make me laugh. I did something to my ribs, I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Murdock.”

“Yeah, I assume that’s the only reason you’ve stuck around this long.”

Matt doesn’t hear what Foggy says to that, but whatever it is, he drifts off to sleep to the sound of his familiar voice, still holding onto his familiar hand.

[borfungus]

been a few loops since ur last touch therapy huh Lulu

[muffinlance]

I appreciate the lovely science museum volunteer who saw my four-year-old and started carefully explaining basic magnetic properties

I appreciate EVEN MORE that when firstborn went "oh, like a maglev train" and "that's an electromagnet!", said lovely volunteer totally code-switched, and we quickly ended up at

"Want to see a gaussian rifle?"

Oh boy did firstborn EVER

[h20milk]

in conjunction with this [ post ] please read i want to hold aono-kun so badly i could die!

[lena-thinks-too-much]

It is so, so important to me that people understand that Tim didn't figure out the bats because Dick was a "Show off". Like yes, Dick Grayson is the most flamboyant, dramatic ass man you will ever meet.

But the quadruple somersault? There's no way that was because dick was just showing off. Because you're telling me Bruce Wayne, who's so committed to hiding his identity that he literally acts like a completely different person out of the mask in public just to ward suspicion, would miss the fact that Robin regularly uses the flying Grayson's trademark move? There's literally no way.

In the comics we see Tim explain his deductive process to Dick and Alfred and they're both surprised impressed whatever. We don't see him explain it to Bruce. I think Bruce would be surprised and shocked that a 9 year old was able to put the pieces together but I don't think he'd be surprised that the quadruple somersault gave it away.

So if Bruce was possibly aware of such an obvious give away, why let it continue?

I'll tell you why.

It really comes down to the physics

So Dick was 9 when he started out right? That means the most he'd have likely weighed was 43kgs or roughly 95lbs in freedom units.

But Dick and both of his parents are gymnasts who tend to be smaller. So he was likely less than that.

In physics, rotating objects build up angular momentum (this is how bikes stay up right for example). The more rotation, the more momentum. And objects with less mass build up that momentum much faster than those that are heavier.

Robin constantly has to fight people who are nearly 3 times his size. I teach 8 year olds, they're tiny. A quadruple somersault for a small boy that weighs less than a hundred pounds is a brutal weapon. Especially if you add in the acceleration from gravity as he drops in from above.

And I can guarantee you this logic tracks because Dick literally utilizes this idea, without the somersault, in the 2009 teen titans cartoon.

Yeah, that's right. We're talking about the infamous knee drop.

Like it is borderline savage. Add in a quadruple somersault and the resulting force is nearly fatal. It's likely the main reason Batman would ever allow him to do it with the cape on.

Also, Dick landing feet first on the penguin in the first image probably gave the guy severe back issues

[mxmarsbars]

if i had a nickel for every au i have that involves c!bdubs wanting to bite c!impulse, i would have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.

anyways uh clethimpdubs apocalypse au i might draw more of one day idk no promises!! but i like it a lot it’s been in my brain prison for a long time

[babygirlgiles]

I know that in the comics Matt travels the world (mostly as Daredevil) and even lives in San Francisco twice, but Netflix/MCU Matt has the vibe of a guy who has never left New York City except for maybe like a high school class trip to DC. Like this is a man who went to Jersey once six years ago for Foggy’s sister’s wedding and has never crossed the state line ever again. Him and Foggy house-sat for a law school professor on Long Island and Matt seriously considered making up some excuse to leave Foggy alone and head back home early. New Rochelle is “upstate” as far as he’s concerned. I know this in my heart.

[krazydraws]

Into a void we filled with death

[masond-jar]

for context, i think wind can get messages through millennial trees roots just by standing on the forest floor. im making my own silly lore and story with them. fire spirit asking the real questions

bonus:

[harbingersglory]

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, transfem arlecchino {☆} warnings 18+ content, breeding kink, degradation, stomach bulge, dacryphilia, restraints

"Arle, hah..please. I can't– I can't wait any longer."

The pleading, almost pouty, words had her letting out a deep, husky chuckle as she fiddled with the buckle of her belt, admiring your body as she stepped up to the bed. Her knee sank into the mattress as she knelt down, pressing a placating kiss to your brow and gesturing for you to turn over.

"Come on, dove. Be a good girl, or I'll treat you like the whore you are." Arlecchino clicked her tongue, firmly grabbing your hands and tightening her belt around your wrists, giving the leather a firm tug to test its strength– and to make sure it wasn't too tight. "I'm in a good mood. Don't spoil it by being a brat, little dove."

The pout it drew from you made her grin, canines flashing beneath her lips as she settled in behind you, cupping your ass in her calloused hands with an appreciative grumble. Your panties were already sticking to your cunt, the fabric soaked. She couldn't help but drag one of her digits across the fabric, teasing your folds beneath it.

"Lucky I adore that pretty mouth of yours or I'd have cut out your tongue," She gruffly spoke, her tone neither in jest or too serious– perhaps she would, maybe she wouldn't. She liked to keep you on your toes. "Hm. Maybe I'll use your throat after– shut you up properly. You look so pretty gagging on my cock, you know?"

Arlecchino slid her fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to see your slick cunt, her fingers pulling the folds apart. Fuck, she could feel her cock throbbing against her boxers at the sight– she'd never get tired of it, just like she'd never get tired of using you like a toy.

"But in the meantime.." She finally pulled down her own boxers, her aching cock slipping free and slapping against your thigh– she slid right between your thighs, forcing you to squeeze them together around her. "Fuck, that's it." She growled, pumping her hips a few times before she was satisfied, lining up her cock with your entrance.

She had the decency, at least, to sink in slowly at first..let you adjust to her size for a brief moment before she snapped her hips forward and sank fully into your cunt with a sharp hiss.

Arlecchino typically enjoyed teasing you first, making you practically beg just for her to give you her cock at all, but she had other plans tonight– she wasn't going to waste time playing around this time. Her hand slipped down to your stomach pressed against the mattress, a low chuckle building in her chest at the distinct bulge her cock left. It was a wonder she fit at all– but she'd make it fit even if she hadn't.

"Be a good girl now and don't complain." She grumbled, leaning down to press you down into the mattress with her body, nipping at your ear before she pulled her hips back, hissing at the way you clenched around her in response. She took a moment to sit there, letting you ruminate and squirm at the lack of movement– only to grab a fistful of hair and start pounding you into the mattress before you can even think to whine about her lack of movement.

How quickly, how easily, you turn into a blubbering mess as she uses you like a toy for her own enjoyment. Not that you won't enjoy what she has in plan for you– just maybe not as much as she does. The mental image of filling you with her cum..it drives her thrusts harder, faster. She wants to fuck you stupid with her cock, fill you to the breaking point until her cum pools on the sheets, unable to be fully plugged up. Just the idea of watching her cum dripping down your thighs makes her control slip just the slightest bit.

She's already big enough to bulge your stomach with every thrust, but she wonders if she can push it further.

She certainly wants to, and she intends to.

The fat tears rolling down your cheeks only got her more excited, her hands gripping your hips so tight she can already imagine the bruises in the shape of her fingers against your skin.

"That's it, dove, give in," Arlecchino hissed, a low growl rumbling in her chest as she continued to pound into them relentlessly, her thighs already stinging from the sheer force of it. "Fucking take it, you whore."

Her muscles flexed in faint restraint, the shifting of your arms against her as you nearly screamed at the intense rush of pleasure making her sink her teeth into your shoulder in warning– a futile effort, really, as your body twitched when you came so hard she briefly considered if she had to stop..but you were still moaning even through the tears rolling down your cheeks, rocking back into her thrusts weakly, unable to keep up.

She wasn't too far behind, either. Her teeth dug deeper into your skin, muffling the growl as she plunged into your soaking wet cunt, bucking into you in much shorter thrusts until she finally felt her cum spilling into you. It was almost enough to send her over the edge again– fuck, you were practically sucking her in with how tight you were, squeezing around her cock.

Her head slumped against your shoulder as she pulled her teeth from your skin, taking a moment of respite to catch her breath and let the sting and ache settle in deep– she welcomed it, if anything. But she wasn't done.

She was going to fuck you till you were full– fill you up until she couldn't fit another drop.

For now..she pulled out, admiring the way her cum dribbled out of you. She didn't mind all that much..she was going to replace it tenfold, anyway.

She couldn't wait to plug you up and see you squirm during the meeting tomorrow, full of her cum and unable to find relief– maybe she'd make it a toy, see how long you last before someone realizes what's going on. She was going to enjoy it thoroughly.

[5-pp-man]

no you don't get it. i literally love stories where they dive into people's hearts/minds (literally or figuratively) sm it's my favourite type of storytelling.

[dandp]

The way we've manifested almost every piece of content we've wanted over the past year or so except for when we get convinced we're getting a new day in the life and we whiff so fucking hard every time

[starscreamingg]

Okay I'm so sleep deprived so pardon whatever this is but something that's got me FUCKED up about ai generated pictures songs writing is that it just fucking kills the ability to analyse for me because there's no fucking INTENTION behind it. Like why was this decision made why were these colours used what does that say about the work NOTHING because a bunch of programming took work that DID have intent and theme and purposeful choices and turned it into SLOP. Like I COULD analyse this but it doesn't MEAN anything it's EMPTY I want to EXPLODEEE

[quadrantadvisor]

DP x DC, revenant!Jason Todd

Shortly after meeting, Danny and Jason have a late night conversation about what it means to come back. 1281 words

On AO3

-

Danny woke groggily, in a dark place that he didn't recognize, and took a moment to get his bearings.

He felt the warning ache in his neck that came from being propped up against an arm rest. There were two sources of dim light in the room—the glow of city street lights, muffled behind a curtain, and the green eyes of the man whose lap Danny's feet were propped on.

Right. Danny hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the revenant’s—on Jason’s—couch, but they’d been talking for so long, he must’ve dozed off.

Jason had had so many questions, about ectoplasm, about the zone, about Danny’s own experiences. Danny had done his best to clear up everything he could. A revenant may not be quite the same as he was, but still, it made Danny happy to be able to pass on his hard won knowledge and maybe save someone else a bit of the hurt and confusion that he’d gone through. It was what he’d always wished someone would do for him.

Jason was slumped into the couch, but he didn’t look relaxed. Danny examined his still profile, cast in strange shadows by its own green glow, and wondered how long it had been since he’d moved.

Danny shifted slightly, purposefully producing the fabric sounds of a body against upholstery, to make sure Jason knew he was awake. No reaction. Danny gave him one more moment, then asked, “You okay?”

Jason didn’t look at him when he answered, “You told me I’m basically possessing my own corpse, and I’m supposed to not be upset about that?”

Really, Danny should’ve predicted something like that. How long had he spent, trying to pretend that death hadn’t really touched him? It wasn’t an easy thing to accept.

“What’s the difference between a body and a corpse?” Danny asked.

Jason’s eyes snapped to Danny, their glow intensifying. “I am not dealing with riddle bullshit right now, I swear to-”

“No, I’m being serious,” Danny interrupted, pulling his feet from Jason’s lap and sitting himself up. “There’s one difference between a corpse and a living body, and that’s that someone is living in it. Jason—” he reached out, gripping one of Jason’s hands in his “—you’re alive. That’s what matters. The rest is details.”

Jason’s shoulders bent inwards, his other hand raising to rub at his chest. “You don’t get it,” he said, quiet. “People don’t just come back from what they did to me. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“However you died, it’s not-”

Jason huffed an ugly sound, a short and bitter laugh that Danny hurt to hear. “Is it crazy that that isn’t even what I was talking about? I meant after.” The motion on his chest was repetitive, like he was tracing something underneath his shirt, and Danny got the sinking feeling that he knew just what sort of scar it might be. “I was gone, okay? I was gone, and this body was still here. And they took it, and they cut it open and rummaged around inside to figure out what happened. Which is—” he cut off, sniffed, and Danny gripped his hand tighter “—which is stupid, right? It’s not like it wasn’t obvious.” His fingers twitched, and he continued, haltingly, “I mean, I’ve read the report. Pulled it off his stupid files. The smoke inhalation did me in. After everything that happened, it was the smoke.”

Jasons’ hand pulled out of Danny’s, and they both rose to cover his face, cutting off the glow while he curled in on himself even tighter. His voice was slightly muffled when he said, “And then they had to ship me home, right? So they bled me dry and pumped me full of formaldehyde, and they prettied me up so they could pretend I wasn’t just some empty thing, and Bruce held the tiniest most depressing little funeral known to man and put my ass in the ground, and I had to wake up down there.” His words and his breaths were coming too quick, and Danny didn’t know how to help. He didn’t want Jason to stop, not when it seemed like he needed to say all of this, but he could see just how badly the revenant was hurting.

“But you did wake up,” he whispered.

“Woke up in my own mutilated corpse!” Jason snarled. “Everything I’ve forgotten, and that memory is still crystal fucking clear! It stank in there, like death and vinegar and mud, and it was so small, and I couldn’t even try to scream for help because they sewed my fucking mouth shut—!” He broke off into a sob, and Danny couldn’t stand it anymore, had to lean into Jason’s side and wrap an arm around him as he shook with all the emotion he couldn’t reign in.

“Okay,” Danny said. Not you’re okay, just okay. “Okay, so that’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard, and I regularly hang out with a guy who wants to skin me.”

Jason sniffed. “What?”

“Nevermind. It’s just-”

“No, I think we should go back to the skinning thing-”

“I just don’t want you to let it define you,” Danny interrupted. “I did that. I got into my head about it, the whole ‘being dead’ thing, feeling like I was…” Danny gave himself a second, swallowed, “like some sort of freak. A thing that didn’t belong anywhere. But I’m still alive, and you’re alive, and even if we weren’t, it wouldn’t matter, because we’re still here, and as long as you’re here you can find something that’s worth staying for.” Danny rubbed what he hoped was a soothing pattern into Jason’s admittedly impressive bicep.

Jason let out a sigh. “I must really be pathetic if you’ve gotta pep talk me like that, huh?” he said, and Danny pretended not to see him wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he added, “about all this. I’ve got some shit I haven’t dealt with, and this ‘revenant’ stuff brought it up pretty bad.”

“I get it,” Danny said, and hoped Jason could tell how much he meant it.

Jason sighed again, heavy, like he was trying to release something else with his breath, and said, “It still doesn’t make any sense. Logically, I can’t be alive. Where did my blood come from?”

Danny shrugged. “Do you have blood?”

“I definitely have blood. I’ve seen a lot of it.”

That gave Danny pause. “Just like, around?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jason said, deadpan. “I’ve got a surplus, so I like to leave some here and there, make sure everyone gets a chance to appreciate it.”

“I have no idea how much you’re joking and it frightens me,” Danny told him.

“Weak,” Jason replied.

“Anyways, you gotta not think about it too much. The interdimensional goop is already logic-defying, and you’re mixing magic with it with your special soul willpower or something. Your brain will explode if you try to make it make sense.”

Jason huffed a little laugh, bouncing Danny on his shoulder, and this time it made him feel lighter. “Can I just say that I hate that I’m full of interdimensional goop?”

“Valid,” Danny said.

Even without looking at Jason, Danny could tell that he just rolled his eyes by the way the soft green light moved.

Danny had his ear pressed to Jason’s shoulder, feeling his warmth, and if he focused, he could just make out the revenant’s pulse. Personally, Danny thought it was pretty cool to be full of magic and goop and blood. Much cooler than Danny, who was way more science goop than magic goop. They’d have to compare notes on that sometime.

Maybe Jason would come around to it.

[twinstxrs]

this is such a simple but good bad kids friendship moment to me. fabian being the first one to say hi to gorgug when he shows up in the middle of the investigation, followed by fig. gorgug saying hi but communicating that he doesn’t want to talk & them both not understanding but going “okay.” gorgug saying hi to riz as a form of acknowledgement even though he’s in full blown investigative mode & probably hasn’t realized gorgug is there yet. gorgug feeling comfortable enough to just put on his headphones & unwind while sitting there with his friends. they’ve come so far from freshman year ❤️

[utilitycaster]

re the anti-resurrection poison though like. what the fuck was up with that. Like, I can, as a mediocre DM myself and an avid listener to NADDPod D&D Court understand where it came from: you needed a reason why Will and Derrig were still dead despite Keyleth being there, because that was Orym's backstory, which in turn dated back to Liam's concept for a backup character for Vax, ie, someone who had also lost a partner and would be sent to help Keyleth in the wake of a similar loss. So you come up with the anti-resurrection poison. And this also happens to work out nicely for the climactic solstice battle, because it explains why Keyleth can't just rally after Vax intervenes. It also makes sense as a thing the Ruby Vanguard would have, because of the anti-divine magic and the way that the Weave Mind have similar anti-healing powers.

The problem is, of course, that you've introduced this concept - which is, again, actually very good and elegant and fits in seamlessly - but it's out there and you have to either use it or come up with an excuse not to use it. And you can, I think, legitimately make a case for it not being in play in the Seat of Disdain fight because that came up very suddenly. But then it gets pretty weird that when Bells Hells become a consistent thorn in the Vanguard's side, and Otohan moves from "I need to keep the Ruidusborn alive but fuck everyone else" to "I'm just going to kill them all" and clearly knows they have considerable resurrection resources and access to the rare antidote given Keyleth's return to the stage that she doesn't just coat all weapons with it and nerf all healing to drain their resources.

And anyway this is a consistent problem, of like, there actually was the full setup for the story C3 intended to tell in C1 and C2 and early C3, but to make these entirely unrelated characters actually fit into a pretty specific narrative, you had to add in a bunch of complicated additions. And while some of those were a mess, some were actually really well done, like the initial introduction of the anti-resurrection poison and the gray assassins, and then none of it mattered because they were always just additions to make the core plot fit and there were too many balls in the air so they got dropped without exploration, and anyone paying attention was like "hey you dropped this" and it's like you could have juggled 3 or even 4 or 5 balls adequately, but you had to add in 4 extra balls and ultimately some of them landed on the ground and so the act of barely keeping 3 in the air in the end is undercut by the number you dropped.