#( he sees duplicates and he has to apparently )

[invoncible]

I’d love to see Invincible!variants meeting OG reader with powers/super strong because in their world, their reader is normal. I’d like to see their reaction when they’re expecting someone weak and then they suddenly fly off or get decked in the face!

INVINCIBLE VARIANTS & reader who can put them in their place ✧˚. ft. nogoggles!mark, mohawk!mark, viltrumite!mark, the surviving 8 cw. canon typical violence

— this is so funny ily nonnie but uhh rereading this i feel like i lost the plot, hope u enjoy nonetheless lol <3 ! — reader is with MAIN!mark & has scarlet witch type powers

when multiple versions of your boyfriend were zipping around the planet causing indescribable amounts of destruction, you were a little confused. all of these guys... were mark? what mark could've been if things went a little different?

you held back a little when fighting them because they had the face of the boy you loved so much, but after seeing them in action... they had to go.

you were flying beside your mark, the only good one apparently, when cecil barked in your ear.

"y/n, i need you." your comm buzzed to life with cecil's instructions.

"kinda busy, cecil." you muttered under your breath.

"please, i know you're done with me. i know both of you are. but don't turn your back on the people who're in danger."

"what does he want?" your mark snapped, the distaste evident on his face.

"help." you answered him with a sigh, your moral compass guilting you into seeing where you were needed. you promised mark you'd be back soon.

"just tell me where the problem is." you shot back at cecil.

NOGOGGLES!MARK

"i need you at guardians' HQ."

you narrowed your eyes in concern. "the guardians are down?"

"it's a batshit crazy version of mark, what do you think?"

you rolled your eyes and rerouted your flight path to guardians' base. within minutes you warped right in the middle of the action.

"what the fuck..." you whispered in horror. kate and her duplicates were out, shapesmith was ripped in half—immortal was the only one still going and even he was struggling.

"nice, they sent someone else!" mark stopped immortal's punch nonchalantly with one hand, grinning down at you from where he hovered in the air. he squinted then gasped, throwing immortal to the ground.

"y/n? why would they send you?" he floated down to you, approaching you like a wild animal.

"you know me?" you stalled, eyes darting around your periphery to make sure that the others were at least alive.

"do i know you?" he laughed, figuring that was a good enough answer to your question. he circled around you with an approving hum. "aww, you playing dress up? i like this color on you—"

activating your power, your tendrils of chaos magic snaked around his body, picking him up and throwing him across the room. you flew to where he landed, lifting the debris of his prior battle telekinetically and sending the slabs of concrete crashing into his body.

your feet touched down on the ground as you walked calmly towards his fallen body squirming under the projectiles. he shot up and out of the pile of rocks with a feral grin on his face.

"holy shit. you're nothing like my y/n." he set his fists and accelerated towards you.

you stopped him with the raise of your hand. his punch stuttered in time and space as he tried his hardest to push past your power and land a good one. you ducked under him, yanking at his ankle and slamming him to the ground so hard he bounced.

"yes," he chuckled lowly, wiping the blood dripping on his chin. "yes. can i take you home with me?"

"no."

"i'll fight you for it," he stood up, rolling his neck. you cringed when you heard the cacophony of cracks that followed. "wanna fight me for it?"

"s'not gonna be much of a fight." you smiled, shifting your weight before taking off again, gaining altitude and using your power as a jet engine to collide your leg with his face.

to your shock and horror, he just stood there and took it with a smile, his body skipping across the floor like a rock over a lake .

"oh..." he grinned, sliding to a stop and licking the blood off his teeth. "oh. i love you."

you blinked in confusion, tilting your head. your body warmed as you channeled your power again, a ball of energy accumulating over your palm. "i'm... going to kill you."

"i know!" he laughed, punching his fist into his palm as he got hyped up again. "that's the best part."

"you're actually enjoying this." you meant it as a question, but there was no room for debate. this mark was 100% delighted by the fact you were trying to kill him.

mark swayed on his feet, blood dribbling from his split lip. his breathing was uneven—you couldn't tell if it was from exertion or excitement—and of course that fucking grin was still there.

"you’re so fun," he groaned, licking his teeth. "i love my y/n, but i bet they could learned a thing or two from you—"

you didn’t let him finish. with a flick of your wrist, your energy surged forward, wrapping around his throat. his words choked off into a strangled gasp as you lifted him into the air.

"i'm not them," you said, voice steady even as you watched him gasp for air.

then, with a sharp twist—you snapped his neck. his body dropped to the floor, limp. you stared for a second, waiting for any signs of movement. nothing. finally, you let out a breath and turned away.

"ugh..."

you froze and spun around. his voice was wet, choked with laughter.

"you're not making it easy to stay away from you."

MOHAWK!MARK

"the penitentiary. prison's getting ransacked."

you were at the scene within the minute, zapping into existence just to see mark with a fuckass mohawk fighting off some heroes tasked with taking him in. they were unsuccessful of course, as when you arrived they were in piles of limbs and blood on the concrete.

his eyes flickered to you, widening in recognition. "y/n..?"

you raised your eyebrow. guess he knew you, or a version of you in his world. it didn't matter to you.

he lit up and tossed a severed hand to the side. "oh, hey!" he walked towards you. "what're you doing here, babe? i know you love when i go crazy but this is a biiiiit dangerous—"

you restricted his movement, pulling him towards you with your magic. you squeezed and squeezed until you heard his breath hitch. "i'm not your y/n."

"yeah, i can see that." he crooned, feigning an impressed tone. "you got a little power now? if you wanted me close, you don't have to be rough. just ask. i'm happy with any version of you." he failed to hide his little grunt, squirming in your hold.

if your grimace was any indication of your sentiment, he didn't take it to heart. he took it as motivation. he broke through your magic, pummeling through the air towards you. unfazed, you slapped him off course with a bolt of magic. he crashed into the wall with a groan.

mark stood up, the dust and rocks falling off his back. "my y/n was a sweetheart."

"i can be sweet," you mumbled more to yourself, brows furrowing as you strategized how to finish him off quickly.

"just not for me, though." mark grinned. "i see how it is. is it the hair?"

"kinda." your eyes flickered up to his hair and you couldn't stop the little smile on your face. all you could think about was your mark with that style. it worked on him, not that you'd admit it.

you picked him up and slammed him down, picked him up and slammed him down again, over and over until he was hanging limp in the air.

satisfied, you synthesized restraints from imagination and fastened them over him. you barely climbed out of the sunken crater you carved with his body when he coughed up blood, eyes fluttering.

you pressed a finger to your ear. "cecil, send someone else to bring this guy in. i've got to get back."

"you just gonna throw me around and leave?" he scoffed, words slurring together from the beating.

"someone's gonna take you in, and you're gonna tell us everything about how you got here." you sigh and barely spare him a glance over your shoulder.

"i won't talk." he sang teasingly.

"you will."

"i'll do it maybe if you come a little closer." he egged you on, a stupid little smirk on his face. "got something real special to say to you."

"shut up."

he groaned petulantly and started to push against your magical binds.

"stay." you narrowed your eyes.

his eyes darted up to yours, staring for a moment before huffing a short laugh. he leaned back against the caved-in pavement, man-spreading and getting comfy against the slope. "yes, ma'am."

VILTRUMITE!MARK

"he's off fighting spawn. the poor guy's probably already dead."

"got it."

"watch out for this one, y/n, he's..." cecil sucked in a breath. "i dunno. full viltrumite indoctrination?"

"i can handle him." you reassured him before phasing over to the variant's location.

you watched as he ripped the hero apart, flying him into the highway below for good measure. you soared down behind him, saving all the cars that were launched from the road and setting them down at a safe distance.

mark watched as the cars were gently rescued. he turned around like he had all the time in the world and looked pained upon seeing you.

"please no." he sighed softly. "they shouldn't have sent you."

"why not?" you humored him, stepping gracefully over the rubble.

"i won't stop all this. not even for you, my love."

"i'm not your y/n..." you pursed your lips, getting a faint sense of deja vu. you felt like you said this a few times already.

"don't worry, it'll be over soon. why don't you wait all this out—"

you teleport before he can finish, reappearing behind him mid-air. a surge of energy coils around your hands as you slam a concussive blast into his back. he stumbles forward, muscles tensing from the impact.

he spun around in a flash, hand gripping your throat as he shoves you back-first into the nearest building. the collision sent shockwaves rippling through the complex, glass shattering, debris crumbling to the ground.

"cute tricks." he breathed against your ear. "this is new. but don't make me fight you."

you stabbed your fingers into his pressure points, channeling your power through his nerves. his grip faltered for a fraction of a second, enough time for you to flip, plant your feet on his chest, and kick him off you.

mark spiraled back, barely catching himself mid-air. he wipes the blood from his lip from being effectively electrocuted, chest rising and falling.

"join me," he whispered, watching you in awe. "join me. we can rule the universe together."

"the fact that you think you can ask that and get a good answer proves that you don't know me at all."

"i do."

"you don't."

"we could have everything." he floats towards you. "power. control. be reasonable, won't you?"

you phase behind him again, placing one hand on his back and charging up your energy. he tries to turn around, but you're a second faster, releasing the pent-up force directly into him. mark grimaces in pain as the blast sends him spiraling into the air, flipping and tumbling before crashing into the ground below with a deafening thud.

you crashed onto the ground, unwilling to let him have another opportunity to get up. he saves you the trouble and holds a hand up in surrender.

"i won't fight you." he says simply.

you shake your head incredulously. "it's not a choice."

"i'll come find you when this is all over." he dismissed you easily, walking off your attacks.

"what—?"

he took off at supersonic speed, leaving you in the dust.

THE SURVIVORS

"they're all hovering over mark's house."

"what?! is—"

"debbie and oliver are fine. they're safe elsewhere." cecil cut you off.

you groaned and teleported over to mark's house. unfortunately, they were in your usual spot, hovering over the roof. you hung there in the air for a split second before they all pounced on you.

"we can't all have a y/n, can we?" full mask mark exclaimed, being the first to grab you and spin away from the group with you hidden safely behind him. "i'm taking them and mom back with me."

"you lost mom and y/n?" omnimark shook his head, like a father disappointed in a child. "how can you be trusted with this one?"

you narrowed your eyes. "i'm literally right here—"

"shut the fuck up." prison mark snapped at full mask mark, pushing past omnimark and jabbed a finger at the soft one of the bunch. "i'm tired of your bitching and whining. keep mom, i guess, i don't fuckin' care. but give 'em back."

"i hate you guys." sighed omnimark.

"who said you were getting them?" unmasked mark scoffed and crossed his arms.

"no one's getting me." you broke up the fight, momentarily forgetting that they were all mass murderers just cuz they had your pretty boyfriend's face.

"yeah, cuz you'd rather settle for that stupid fucking mark from this world."

"why'd you say his name like it's a slur?" you deadpanned. "aren't you all technically mark?"

"we're getting off topic." omnimark held out a hand to calm the congregation. "for what it's worth, i have my y/n safe and sound back home—"

"oh for fuck's sake."

© invoncible

[gloireceleste]

chuck's just... going to slide a cup of tea to the tired divinity he sees on his dash. being perfect is hard. he knows.

[divadepreshawn]

𝑬𝒂𝒓𝒏 𝒊𝒕

Aaron Hotchner × Fem!reader

Summary: Patience has always been a constant in your life, until an impossible case breaks it, making you revisit traumas you thought you had overcome. Warning: mentions of silent treatment, difficult childhood and some generalized anxiety. Physical aggression (slapping). Aaron being an idiot. WC: 2 020

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You are known for being a calm person.

The kind of person who doesn't get stressed about almost anything – because it's not worth the wrinkles.

Did you receive duplicate emails? Okay, answer one and delete the other.

Is someone asking stupid questions? Answer with a polite smile.

Is someone having a bad day and giving you blunt answers? No problem, just stay out of the way.

Patience is perhaps one of the few virtues that you have always maintained with some kind of consistency throughout your life.

But everything has a limit and you were reaching yours.

Seven days.

Seven long, drawn-out days, in which you survive on a thin bed, bad coffee and questionable local cuisine.

This is, without a doubt, the worst case you have ever worked.

The crimes are brutal and happen in quick succession. There is no pattern or signature. The geographic profile is distinct, incoherent. Victims with diverse appearances and no apparent connection. No witnesses. No slip-ups.

It's like hunting a ghost.

And it's eating you up inside.

Everyone is exhausted, a hair's breadth away from a meltdown. Shoulders hunched, dark circles under their eyes, and slow steps.

Derek and Penelope no longer have the energy for their usual teasing.

Reid's hand is shaking slightly, a consequence of the absurd amount of caffeine he's ingested.

Rossi has an ocular tic due to stress—an irritating twitch in his right eye.

JJ's lips are chapped, chewing the skin on his lips until it bleeds as he reviews the testimony, desperately trying to find a pattern that connects the victims.

Emily paces back and forth in front of the whiteboard, eyes scanning the notes, trying to see if she missed any details.

But without a doubt, the worst of all for you is Hotch.

Everything about him screamed tension: his jaw clenched, his posture rigid, his gaze unfocused for too long, his answers as sharp as a blade.

You've been together for a year. Long enough to notice what others don't.

You know the suit is irritating him by the way he breathes – three short breaths, followed by a long, tense sigh. You know that sleep deprivation distorts how he receives and interprets his surroundings.

He was on edge – you can tell by his clenched fist – and you risk saying he was on the verge of a breakdown.

So you try to lighten your load a little, you rearrange the statements in chronological order to help the team. You fix small things so the team only has to talk to him when necessary. And you ignore the blunt answers he gives you, taking a deep breath and swallowing a fitting response, because you are mature enough to recognize that this is not your Aaron. This is Agent Hotchner.

But you hate doing this. You hate it because it reminds you of your childhood.

It's like being five years old again, living in an environment surrounded by tense adults with a suffocating silence. Having to walk on eggshells. Feeling like everything you touch is made of extremely fragile glass, while trying to go unnoticed so that your frustration isn't taken out on you.

You've been to therapy, and by this stage in your life you should have gotten over it, or at least learned how to deal with it.

But the armor always breaks when you get angry, and in cases like this, you need twice as much self-control to remind yourself that they're not mad at you, and that the silence isn't meant to punish you.

However, some habits just won't change, and no matter how hard you try, you still end up repeating them – like avoiding speaking out loud, drinking or eating anything around them, swallowing the lump in your throat every time you have to interrupt someone to ask for help.

It's frustrating, to say the least.

You want them to relax a little. You need them to give you a half-smile or at least soften their eyes as they look at you.

A little tea for everyone should help.

You need confirmation, a visual sign that you are not the root of the problem.

It’s pathetic, you know the problem is a killer and not you. You know it. Yet your idiot brain refuses to accept the logical explanation.

So you make the tea, handing out a cup to each one – receiving nods and sighs of relief – making sure they are okay.

You stand there for a moment, your eyes blurry, your stomach churning with exhaustion and anxiety. A persistent lump in your throat. Everything inside you is screaming to leave, to hide in some dark corner and cry yourself to sleep.

When they finish and decide to call it a day, you go to Aaron, leaving a sandwich and a coffee on his desk.

“You should take a break, just for ten minutes,” you mumble, gripping the edge of the desk to hide the trembling in your hand.

“I need to finish this,” he replies, not taking his eyes off the report. The crease between his eyebrows deepens with each word he writes.

“The brain consumes 25% of every calorie we ingest, you won’t be able to think on an empty stomach.” You place the sandwich closer to his hand.

He stops writing, putting down the pen and raising his eyes to yours. “No, this isn’t about me. This is about you! I need to focus on this case, and it would be a big help if you would stop doing that. What? Do you want a reminder every five minutes that I’m not mad at you? Should I set it on my phone alarm?”

oh, that hurt.

Your body reacted before your brain. Your hand went up on autopilot. Automatically regretting it as soon as the heel of your hand met his right cheek.

The sound of the slap echoed. The tingling sensation in your hand and the combination of his skin starting to turn red resonated with you, regret sinking into your chest.

You swallowed hard, the hurt and regret being replaced by anger. Because how dare he? You care for him all the time, caring for his health and safety, caring for and protecting Jack as if he were your own. So how dare he be so petty?

“Who the fuck do you think I am?”

His eyes flickered, realizing what he had just said. He came closer, trying to touch your arm. “Honey, I’m sorry-”

“I’m trying, Aaron. I’m ignoring your rudeness, organizing what you need to review, and fuck, I’m trying to spare you simple questions, splitting them into five because you’re tired.”, you sigh, rubbing your temples, “I’m trying hard to understand you and not take this personally. Because I love you. And because this case sucks.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he tries to get closer again, getting up from his chair and walking around the table to get to you.

You pull away from his touch, letting out a dry laugh, your eyes flashing with anger.

“You’re going to use what I told you against me? Seriously? Who do you think you are?” You step closer to him, placing your index finger on his chest. “You motherfucker, do you think I’m not taking this seriously? I motivated your ass Aaron, who held the fort when you gained more responsibility at work? Who took care of your son when you were swamped with reports?”

He swallows hard. He’s never seen you so nervous, not even during the most intense interrogations. Not even when an unsub insulted you.

“I-I..”

You raise your hand, he immediately shuts up, unable to think of anything he could say to redeem himself.

“No. Treating me like this, do you think you’ll get another one like me? Even if you have to go all the way to hell!” you scoff, the words dripping with venom, as you walk away from him. “I’m done for today.”

You walk towards the door, not waiting for an answer.

— The slap wasn’t enough.

And as if the silence had swallowed him – the empty room, reports, lack of evidence. All of them now silent, reminding him of the mistake he made. Because that was it. A stupid, gigantic, irreversible mistake.

You pulled away from him as if his touch had shocked you.

And honestly? How could he blame you? You should have hit him harder. Slapped him again.

“You’re going to use what I told you against me? Seriously?”

He can still hear your voice in an incredulous tone, it was as if you were sticking a dagger in his chest. Because he knows. He knows exactly what you meant. And he hates, with every fiber of his body, being the one who took you back to that place.

He sits down slowly. And as if gravity had multiplied, his shoulders slump. The report unimportant now. Just him, the messy table and the untouched sandwich. A bitter reminder, you were trying to take care of him, even if he wasn't capable of taking care of you.

He should never have said that, you are so constant with your generosity. And the fact that you can convert your suffering into benevolence is so noble, he loves that about you.

—

The bedroom doorknob turned with a soft click.

Aaron walked in slowly, trying not to make any noise. You were in bed, lying with your back to the door, the smell of soap and body lotion filling the room. He knew you weren’t asleep yet by the way your back moved as you breathed.

You heard the door close, but you didn’t turn around.

He puts his bag on the dresser more carefully, his movements restrained, as if he were about to break something – again.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he asks, his voice low.

He waits for an answer, some sign that you’re paying attention. All he gets is silence – it’s not a punishing silence, you never do that. It’s just you pondering your answer, and what he did needs more time to be forgiven.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I know that nothing I say now will be able to erase what I said. Your care will never be a negative thing. And it will never, ever be a weakness.”

Silence.

It’s okay, even if he feels his heart sinking with every second that passes without hearing your voice. He deserves this.

“I can see if Rossi is still awake and spend the night there, I know you want to be alone-”

“I didn’t mean to hit you, I’m sorry,” you murmured, turning to look at him. The guilt and shame were eating away at you—no matter how much he hurt you, aggression is never the best way. “I really didn’t mean to do that. My body just… reacted automatically.”

Aaron shakes his head slightly, not looking away. “No, it’s okay, really. I honestly think it was an appropriate reaction.”

You looked away, playing with the frayed thread of the blanket. “You’re not my father, Aaron,” your voice is soft, “but you made me feel like I was back in that house.”

He holds his breath, the words piercing him like needles, piercing every muscle in his body. Guilt weighs like lead in his stomach.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, it’ll make your lower back pain worse.” You finally say, turning your gaze to him.

Aaron continues to stand by the furniture—his shoulders tense and his eyes hesitant—unsure of what to do with his body.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low, almost scratchy.

“When I take care of you, I’m taking care of myself and Jack. Because relationships are a two-way street. I’m not saying to give myself a prize every time I do this, I just want you to acknowledge it and let me take care of you.”

“I know that I’ve been an idiot this week,” he confesses, his voice low. “Just saying sorry isn’t enough, but I’ll… I’ll earn it.”

“No, it’s not enough,” you agree with a small smile, “but it’s a start.”

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

English is not my first language are sorry for any mistake :)

[sakuravalenp]

Don't eat anything else - Part 4 - DP X DC

Previous part

Masterpost

Danny tried to ignore the black dots that were appearing in his vision, keeping all his concentration on making sure the duplicate in front of him remained stable. He was in his Phantom form, while the duplicate was in his human form, just standing there, the two of them looking at each other while keeping the fireballs in their hands burning. He didn’t need to look to his side to know that Vlad was observing him. 

They've been here in this position for hours now, or at least he was pretty sure that's the case with how exhausted he's feeling. The view must be underwhelming, and Danny himself would be bored if he weren't putting so much energy and concentration into keeping this up. But apparently, it's entertaining enough for Vlad. Obsessions are like that; Danny could also stare at the stars for hours, even if they remained the same throughout the night. 

Vlad had started the training the same day Danny had moved into the manor. He hadn't really listened to his instructions back then; he has learned better by now. Vlad had forced Danny to learn all his powers in the first weeks and has been constantly training him on them since. He's been “advancing well,” which pleases Vlad. What Vlad didn’t like as much was Danny having powers he didn’t have. He had prohibited Danny from using them, which lasted until Danny started freezing one morning. Now he had permission to release some ice every night. 

When Vlad had to accept that Danny had powers he didn't, he tried to do the opposite, develop Danny's powers himself, which didn't work. Vlad might insist they're the same, but they're not. They're both hybrids, but Danny's a true Halfa, while Vlad's only called a Halfa for simplicity. Vlad just got an explosion of ectoplasm in his face, he’s closer to being ⅓ ghost, just like Ellie is closer to being ⅓ human. 

That’s not the case for Danny, a portal opened over him, he’s the perfect balance between both realms. He has the potential of acquiring any and all ghost abilities in existence, if the opportunity presents itself. Danny had been terrified of the idea when Frostbite had first told him about it, but he was thankful for it now. Who knows how much torture Vlad would have put him through before accepting he was not going to be able to acquire his abilities?

“Well, that's enough for today.” Vlad finally says with a clap.

Danny's duplicate disappears with a pop, as he lets the fire in his hands extinguish as he stops giving it fuel. It's hard getting his eyes focused, but he can blurrily see the red tinge in his hands. They probably got burned again, but the exhaustion doesn't let him process the pain. Just because he can learn any ability doesn't mean they’re all easy or suited to him, and his body didn't really get along with fire.

“Now, drink your ectoplasm. You still need to work on your control. You're wasting too much ectoplasm on such a small fire.” Vlad extended a vial of ectoplasm.

Danny isn't sure when he got so close, but he's too exhausted to even flinch. Vlad hadn't given him permission to drop his Phantom form, so his mind was still preoccupied with that. He numbly received the vial.

“Thank you, Vlad.” Manners were something else Vlad made sure he got early on.

He started drinking the green liquid slowly. Just the sensation of ectoplasm going down his throat helped calm the exhaustion. It wasn't as big a portion as he would have liked, but he knows better than to complain. It'll be enough to at least take the dizziness away. He could get more in his bedroom anyway.

“You can drop your transformation.” Danny's light ring passed through him before Vlad could even finish his sentence. The man placed a hand on his head, and Danny is too used to it to even think about pushing it away. “You did well today. I'm proud of your advancement little badger!”

A tension that had been in Danny's chest from the beginning of the training session eased, and for a second the idea of leaning into the praise crossed Danny's mind. He shut it down fast, reminding himself that the sensation was just relief. That he's just relieved Vlad was happy with him today because it means there won't be any punishment soon.

This isn't love; this isn't affection. He remembers Jazz's rant about trauma bonding, and remembers not understanding how anyone could get attached to their abusers. He gets it now. He has to keep reminding himself that there's nothing affectionate about the way Vlad treats him. 

Vlad withdraws his hand from Danny’s head, “We'll start with three duplicates tomorrow! Now, go take a bath. I'll go collect the meat for the day.”

Danny pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to get the image of corpses out of his mind. He's already butchering a corpse in a couple of hours, he doesn't need the mental reminder of how they look, thank you, brain. By the time he takes his hands off, Vlad is long gone. So Danny starts walking to the training ground showers. 

Water is falling down his back, and Danny isn't sure at what point he actually got into the shower. His body must have gone in itself out of habit. 

It's honestly so Jarring. The day is going like any other. Like yesterday never happened. Like the Waynes never visited. Like Danny hadn't received a text from Sam and Tucker telling him not to worry, and that they would take care of everything. Like there was no plan to take Vlad down going on out there. 

Part of him is wondering if there actually wasn’t one. If his mind just made up everything that happened yesterday.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

When the bell rang, announcing it was time for recess, both Tucker and Sam hurried to the back of the school. The school had implemented a metal fence after one too many unannounced visits from the GIW, making it clear they were not welcomed on school grounds without a warrant. It had been a huge relief for the three of them back then, but also a huge obstacle when attending ghost attacks outside school property.

Danny was quick to make a hole in it behind a shrubbery set. It became basic practice to sneak out of school through it without anyone noticing.

Once on the street, Sam and Tucker only shared a passing glance before rushing in opposite directions. There was no need to talk about what they had to do, they had spent most of last night talking things out, and they only had the recess time to get it all done. They had no idea when the Justice league would show up, but hopefully it would be soon, so it was better to have everything prepared. 

The plan for this little escapade wasn’t anything elaborate. Not long after Danny’s death, when it became obvious that the ghosts were not leaving any time soon, they began planting emergency kits around the city. A precaution, so that if there was a ghost attack, they had everything they would need regardless of where the attack happened, from ecto-webs to ecto-dejecto.

Which was a good thing, since they had lost anything that had been in the lab at the moment of the explosion. They had split what they needed to collect between the two of them.

First things first, the anti-shadow equipment. Vlad depended a lot on his overshadowing abilities, and with superheroes, that was clearly what they had to tackle first. There were some bags with specter deflectors, but those were too obvious, so it was better to get the Phantom lucky charms.

It had taken a lot of practice, and help from Dora, but eventually, Danny was able to make small amulets with the anti-overshadowing properties but without any of the zapping. Danny had been delighted when he finally managed to protect them from being overshadowed while still being able to hug them. The advantages of having ecto-magic. Sam was taking care of getting those.

After that, well… Danny had been clear on what he deemed appropriate to give the heroes, but after checking the inventory log that Sam kept up to date, they found they didn’t have any individual ecto-shields in any of their emergency kits, and they weren’t willing to give them the zone ones.

Sure, they wanted them to be able to defeat Vlad, but they couldn’t let them have enough power to go against multiple ghosts; not when they could turn against the infinite realms at any moment. They decided to replace them with some Phantom brass knuckles to add some close combat options instead. Sam was taking care of getting those too.

Tucker was getting a small, modified ecto-gun. It wasn’t as small as Sam's lip balm laser, but it would go unnoticed. They had given a lot of thought on giving the heroes things that wouldn’t be obvious. Everyone knew the Justice League hadn’t taken any interest in the ghost issue, to the point of ignoring the distress calls sent during the first few months of attacks.

Vlad would assume they were unprepared to go against him, they wanted the Justice League to keep that misconception for as long as possible. But that was the full extent of the weapons they were willing to provide. These were heroes; it should be more than enough. They couldn’t risk more. 

It might seem that the balance of what they were collecting was off, but Tucker had something else to focus on, something more important than weapon retrieval: Making sure no ghost attacks could happen while the heroes were here. 

Tucker wanted to believe that the heroes he had grown looking up to would not ignore the obvious sentience of ghosts. That they would not look at his best friend’s ghost form and declared him undeserving of basic rights. That, at the very least, they would treat ghost rogues humanely, like they would with any other villain taken into custody.

But they couldn’t know that. There was no way to stop the heroes from getting their hands on a ghost once they were armed with ecto-weapons. If they decided ghosts needed to be taken into custody, there would be nothing they could do, and they couldn’t allow that. Not while the ecto-acts were still in place. A ghost attack simply could not happen.

Only problem? Ghost attacks were almost impossible to prevent, especially when they came from natural portals. Artificial portals were somewhat controlled entrances, even if the Fentons never bothered to control theirs. Natural portals, on the other hand, were completely unpredictable. Which left only one way to manage them, suppress natural portals entirely while the heroes were in town.

The ecto-EMP, created by the Fentons not long before they died, was able to disrupt ecto-signals in its radio of action. A genius but reckless invention, as it was usual from his best friend's parents. The machine's interference abilities made it impossible for natural portals to stabilize. But in a place like Amity Park, where everyone was at least a little liminal, it felt awful. 

Danny had, of course, been the worst affected the first time the fentons tried it out, well, the worst Amity Parker affected. He had felt completely out of energy, almost too tired to stay conscious. They had worried he had caught some ghost bug and rushed him to Frostbite, just for him to feel as good as new minutes after entering the Infinites realms.

It had been worse for full ghosts. They said it felt like being violently shaken over and over again. Many of them overshadowed objects in a desperate attempt to stay stable. Jazz had helped disable the machine quickly.

Later, Frostbite confirmed it didn’t leave any permanent effects. The worst it could do was push ghosts in a temporary hibernation while their cores stabilized. So Danny had decided to look closer at the mechanisms. The two of them had managed to expand its range while lowering the intensity. In theory, ghosts should be able to evacuate before feeling the need to overshadow anything. 

Unfortunately, they never got to properly test it. It was always meant to be a last-resort method anyway. And if anything qualified as a last resort, the Justice League visiting definitely did.

So that was what Tucker was focussing on. He had hidden the device in the gardens just a couple of blocks from his house. They had agreed never to keep any obvious ecto-weapons at home, for everyone's safety.

These were still experimental weapons, and no one really knew what could go wrong. The Fentons' gear exploding without warning was not unheard of, and as careful as he and Danny tried to be, even some of their own creations had done the same. Ectoplasm was not an easy material to work with. 

Ergo, Tucker made his way through the streets that had seen him grow up, knowing that the hoodie he had thrown on that morning would be enough for people to overlook him. Amity parkers didn’t question things too much, it was probably the only reason they had adapted so quickly to ghosts in the first place.

The streets were as empty as they usually were at this time of day. Kids were at school, adults were either at their jobs or in their homes, everyone busy with their own routines. He passed mostly older folks that were taking advantage of the quiet hours to run errands.

He ducked his head when he spotted Ms. Darlene, a regular at the restaurant where his mom worked. Hopefully, the woman didn’t recognize him. She was a lovely old lady, but she was absolutely the type to snitch to his mom. And if his mom found out he was skipping school, she would undoubtedly send him straight to the infinite realms. No ghost powers needed.

The thought left a tense weight in his limbs for the rest of the walk. Tucker had never been able to shake the anxiety that came with sneaking out, not like Danny and Sam did. Sam sometimes teased him for it, but he had real reason to worry. 

Sam's parents avoided getting involved with the general public for more than business, and nobody wanted to be anywhere near Danny’s parents if they could help it. But Tucker's parents? They were part of the community. His mom knew how half the town liked their meat cooked. His dad was the first to lend a hand whenever someone’s tech broke down. 

For Tucker, every pair of eyes on the street was a potential lead straight back to his parents.

He quickened his pace, avoiding eye contact with the growing number of people coming and going from local businesses. When a massive Eastern Redbud tree finally came into view, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. Half the job was done.

The tree had grown to be as large as a white oak after one of Undergrowth attacks, its roots pushing ever so slightly above the ground like those of a silver maple.

Sam had once ranted about how Amity Park would become a hot spot for botanists if they ever discovered all the bizarre flora that had sprung up here over time. Tucker didn’t doubt it. The research division that had been poking around Amity’s forest before Undergrowth, had surely grown permanent roots in the city after all the new flora.

Tucker didn’t get the appeal outside of the other worldly aesthetic, he wasn’t into botany like Sam, or biology like Danny, but the big trees were definitely useful for hiding things. 

Tucker had made a hole beneath one of the roots to stash the designated emergency kit. Just a couple of roots over sat the ecto-EMP (Phantom name still pending).

He circled around the three until he was facing a Pharaoh symbol he had carved into the tree, then counted two roots to the left. Sam always insisted he should be able to find them without the “stupid little markers” by now, but spatial awareness was never his strong suit.

They had a thousand hideouts scattered around the city, and having tellers that functioned like simple algorithms helped him remember where they were. So, he’ll keep using them, thanks.

Crouching beside the root, he brushed away the fallen flower petals and leaves, revealing what looked like a simple rock embedded on the ground. In reality, it was the lid to the emergency kit. He pushed it aside, the hidden mechanism engaging with a quiet click that let the rock slide easily to the side. 

Tucker reached in and pulled out a sturdy bag by its straps. Inside were three modified ecto-guns. He picked the smallest one and tucked it into his sling bag, securing it carefully before glancing around to make sure no one had spotted him.

The emergency bag was quickly placed back in its hiding spot, and the rock slid back into place over it. He moved to the roots on the right, finding the next rock.

The ecto-EMP was only a few centimeters bigger than a Rubik Cubik. For such a powerful device, it was remarkably compact, though Danny had unsuccessfully tried to make it even smaller. Who knows, maybe after he’s finally out from under Vlad’s grip, they could get back to refining it.

Tucker holds the cube carefully in his hands before slipping it inside his sling bag, checking it wouldn’t accidentally activate. 

They hadn’t yet decided when to activate the ecto-EMP. Sure, Team Phantom's version wasn’t as intense as the Fentons original versions, but there was still an effect. In theory, it could cover the entire city, and in theory, everyone even slightly liminal within its range would begin to feel an underlying fatigue. They didn’t want to leave it on for longer than absolutely necessary. 

Tucker’s PDA buzzed, letting him know he had 10 minutes to make it back to Casper High.

He cursed under his breath, shoving the rock back over the now empty hole and walking as fast as he could without seeming suspicious. The familiar faces on the street once again made him nervous, and he swore to himself to bring something to cover his face next time, even when he knew he wouldn't.

In Amity Park, trying to cover your face made people look harder. 

With his attention more on the clock than the sidewalk, the walk back felt shorter than the one to the tree. He reached the hole in the fence just as the bell rang. Sam was already on the other side of the fence, panting. 

“You look like you ran a marathon.” He commented, squishing his way through the bushes.

Sam glared at him, accommodating the coffin shaped backpack on her shoulders. “I might as well have. My things weren’t all neatly in the same place like yours.”

“Right… Did you get everything?”

“Of course I did. Now let’s hurry back to class. There would be no point in rushing back if we get in trouble anyway.”

Tucker groans but follows Sam into the halls regardless. He had never hated school as much as he did this past few months. It all felt insignificant with everything going on. 

Thank the Ancients that the Red Huntress was able to handle the few ghost attacks that were happening. If they’d had to deal with that on top of everything else, they would’ve burned out completely. 

They hadn’t seen Danny in months. Tucker had been tracking every bit of news, rumor, or glitch that might lead back to him. They’d known he was in danger even before he confirmed it last night. And now, with a visit from the Justice League on the horizon, they still had to sit in class and act normal?

They got to the classroom just before Mr. Falluca closed the door. The maths professor raised an eyebrow, but swung the door back open to let them in.

“You need to be more aware of the time, Miss Manson, Mr Foley. You should be back in the classroom no later than ten minutes after the bell,” he reminds them, before letting them go to their seats.

Tucker wanted to scream that math class was the least of his concerns. Instead, he mumbled an apology alongside Sam and shuffled to his seat. Sam took her usual spot, second row from the door. Tucker headed to his place beside the window.

Mr. Falluca had reorganized them by last names after one too many “disruptions;” the A-listers just had to ruin it for everyone. Danny would have been sitting right in front of him, but he didn’t get to start their sophomore year with them. Vlad had long taken him from them by then. 

Tucker hated that there wasn’t even an empty desk to acknowledge his existence anymore.

He rubbed his poor eyes, which ached from the days he had spent awake. Just a little longer. Soon, they would have Danny back.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

[dp-marvel94]

Real -Chapter 1

Summary:

While hiding from his parents in Gotham, an ill-timed encounter with his neighbor, Jason, has Danny pretending to be his own twin. Fortunately for Danny, the more he pretends the easier it gets. Until he is not pretending at all. Or: Danny names a duplicate and via ghost logic, said duplicate ends up becoming real.

Next->

Also on AO3

Notes:

This story was written thanks to @jackdaw-sprite who commented on a Tumblr post a wrote asking what I should write next with "I haven't read nearly as many of your works as I'd like to before saying which ones I'd like to see continued, but there's one where Danny names a duplicate, and because of ghost logic, the duplicate becomes real. It feels like such a neat idea to play with!" So here I am writing a whole fic about it! Structurally, this is still very much half-fic outline with some important scenes written out. I'm not planning on expanding it beyond what it is. Still, I hope you enjoy the story. :) A note for readers, those here for the DC content especially: this is very much a Danny heavy fic. The focus will be on Danny and Jamie's relationship as the clone goes from just a duplicate without its own life, to a real person with his own identity. The Bats, Jason especially, will be present, and important for Jamie becoming his own person. But those relationships are definitely secondary to Danny and Jamie's.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny runs from his parents and the GIW. Soon, he finds himself living in a crummy apartment and trying to keep a low profile. He doesn't have very much, so he is very excited to find an actually in decent shape couch that someone was throwing out. It's late so, figuring no one will see him, Danny duplicates to have two pairs of hands to get the furniture up the stairs and into his apartment. 

Of course, Danny does get spotted by his neighbor, Jason, who offers to hold doors open and help with the unwieldy couch. Names are exchanged: Danny and, after a pause as Danny realizes he has to come up with something for his duplicate, Jamie. The "three" manage to get the couch inside. But now Jason is worried about what appears to be a pair of twins, 16 years old at the most, living alone in the apartment with one ratty couch and a bookbag between them. Jason isn't pushy or overly concerned, but he does make a point to check on his new neighbors regularly. 

After the second time running into Jason and being asked about "Jaime," Danny realizes he's going to have to pretend to be his own twin. Duplication is very helpful for that, though he tries not to do it too often and for too long; it does use a lot of energy. He'll just have the "twins" make regular, short appearances together. It's not like he's trying to get close to anyone in Gotham 

But inevitably, short appearances escalate into having dinner with Jason. The first is a one off; man claimed he made too much and Danny didn't really have money for food. Plus it was really good. Accepting the hospitality just this once wouldn't be that bad. Of course, "Jamie" has come to dinner too.

One dinner leads to more meals with his neighbor, to Jason trying to teach "the twins" to cook more than easy mac. 

Jason's youngest brother meets the "twins" when he pounds on the door during dinner and barges in, complaining that "Father is being unreasonable" and had ground him.

Damian and "the twins" end up huddling in Jason's apartment during Danny's first rogue attack since he arrived in Gotham. Jason ran off as soon as the alert went off, claiming that he was needed at the fire station where he worked. He pointedly says that Damian can stay and look after his non-Gothamite neighbors since he's grounded. The preteen is prickly but does stay put. Danny starts to get restless, unable to re-merge and starting to fear that his energy will waver and "Jamie" will pop out of existence. He nervously eyes the door and Damian threatens to stab him if he tries to leave, saying that "Todd is apparently fond of you both and will be quite peeved" with Damian if something happens to Danny and Jamie. 

Well.... Jamie will definitely disappear if Damian stabs him. So Danny manages to maintain his duplicate for five hours, more than twice as long as any time before. By the time the threat is over and Danny can go back to his apartment, he is straining, desperately trying to hide how exhausted and shaky he is from the excursion. He loses hold of the duplicate as soon as the door is closed.

Despite the hardship, maintaining a duplicate is somehow so much easier after that. He can stay duplicated for longer and gradually, he realizes controlling the secondary body is becoming easier. At the beginning, he needed a lot of effort and control to pilot the duplicate, having to mentally direct it to speak or move. He played "Jamie" as being shy and quiet, so there was less talking to dictate. But overtime, the need for mental prompting becomes less and less. Playing "Jamie" became more automatic, more instinctual. Almost like the duplicate runs on auto-pilot, mostly acting how Danny himself would, though more reserved. To an outside perspective, it looks like "Jamie" is finally getting comfortable and coming out of his shell. But to Danny, this was a relief, spending less energy running his duplicate and less time worrying about being found out.

Slowly, Danny meets more of Jason's family. One of Jay's brothers, Tim, runs into him at his coffee shop job and, blinking sleepily, asks which twin he is, before realizing that Danny is wearing a name tag. This leads to Danny's coworkers finding out about "Jamie" and his "twin" visiting him at work.

As the act grows and more people end up meeting "the twins," Danny spends more and more time pretending to be a pair of twins in more and more ridiculous situations. Playing both of them gets easier and easier, more and more comfortable until the twins can banter, share inside jokes, and tell stories from their childhood. Maybe it is intentional, maybe it's subconscious. But slowly, differences develop to differentiate the twins. "Jamie" is growing out his hair. He loves toast and watching documentaries about history. Danny, more and more convincingly, pretends to have a brother until at some points... it no longer feels like he is pretending.

Despite his new friends, Danny is still so lonely. The apartment is still almost bare, the money he gets from his job barely enough. It's never the job he wanted; he wants to be in school now, applying to colleges so he can get into NASA. But he can't do anything to draw attention to  himself, not with the government breathing down his neck or the danger of the vigilantes running him out for being a “meta”. And he misses his friends and sister so badly.

One particularly hard night, when he is heartbroken and hurting, Danny lies on his second-hand mattress in the dark, weeping. He mourns his parents turning on him, his heart aching for Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. He wishes more than anything that he was not alone right now.

Suddenly, there is a yanking on his core that leaves his gasping. A full body pulling sensation that almost feels like being peeled, except somehow it does not hurt. A second later, it is over and through his blurry eyes, Danny can barely make out a figure kneeling in front of him. Arms coax him into sitting up and pull him into a hug. Danny cries for a long while, not thinking about what just happened, not thinking about what... or who... is holding him. He just accepts the comfort, savors the feeling that he is not alone.

Finally, after the tears slow, Danny pulls back and looks. He lets himself realize what he is looking at. And as he takes in eyes like his, the feeling is something between awe and fear. There is a light in the blue eyes, a spark that he does not recognize. 

And as the brow wrinkles in confusion and the mouth slowly works, words spiral out. Words that Danny could never have predicted.

"If we... if you keep doing this..." Each word is slow and deliberate, as if each takes great effort. "This...." One hand motions slowly, vaguely, as if un-used to movement. "Jamie won't be a lie anymore."

Danny is stunned. He stares for a long while, unable to process. He does not understand what the words mean, why the spark in those eyes makes him just as elated as it makes him afraid.

So he takes the duplicate's hand and pulls the ecto-energy back inside himself. He reabsorbs it and "Jamie" disappears. And Danny thinks.

Slowly, he realizes how easy staying duplicated has become, how distant and foggy memories from his duplicate's perspective are. He replays the words in his head. 'If you keep doing this... Jamie won't be a lie anymore.' He wonders if they mean what they suggest, and most startlingly.... he wonders where they had come from, if not from himself.

For a few days, he avoids anyone who has met the twins or claims that his "twin" is busy whenever someone asks. But inevitably, his trusty neighbor Jason notices the avoidance and invites himself over to cook dinner. Reluctantly, Danny duplicates; there is clearly no avoiding this conversation.

The dinner is awkward. Danny has a hard time looking at Jason.... and an even harder time looking at his seeming twin. None of the three say much and by the end, their neighbor huffs a sigh and says his piece. 

“Look. I know that no one, especially two teens, live in a shitty apartment in Crime Alley if they can avoid it. I don't know if you got kicked out, ran away from home, are hiding from something. And I don’t care. I won't ask. But I was an alley kid. I lost my mom younger than both of you, ended up on the street. I know what it's like just scraping by, trying to survive all on my own.  That's why I look out for the kids here. I want to help you guys, no matter what your story is.”

Danny stammers out a disbelieving thanks. He is touched, really, despite the fear of discovery, of vulnerability quivering in his heart. Jason is a good guy and it feels good to have someone who cares. But... the maybe-not-a-lie sits on the couch beside him. A story he could never hope to explain...

Jason smiles, ruffling both of the twin's hairs. He stands to leave. "Take care," he says, almost afterthought. "You're lucky to have each other."

"Jamie" seems to lean, just the tiniest bit closer to Danny at the words. 

Jason leaves and it is just Danny and his duplicate. The half ghost releases a breath, letting some of the tension release. He reaches to reabsorb his double and-

A shaky hand grips his forearm. Danny looks, meeting the blue eyes. The spark is back, just the smallest hint in the posture that something is different. Slowly, the brow wrinkles, becoming something worried.

"What is it?" Danny finds himself saying, as if he expects a real response.

"Have... each other." Again, the words are slow as if just the act of thinking is hard. "Not a lie."

Now Danny's brow is wrinkled. "Not a lie? Are you saying that's true? Or asking if it is?"

"Not a lie." The words repeat. "Jamie not a lie."

Danny's stomach knots. He’s heard his duplicate speak dozens of times, even been surprised by some offered puns. But this…

“Not a lie.” One more repeat, this one faster, surer, almost desperate.

Danny looks up again. “Jamie.” He says the name. He’s spoken to his double before in front of other people, as part of the act. But this… it feels as bizarre as it feels right. “Jamie…. Are you… real?”

For just a second, there is something like hope in the other’s eyes. Then, the brow furrows in great effort. “Yes… No….” One more longer, unsure pause. “Becoming.”

“You’re… becoming real?” The words are breathy. Danny isn’t sure whether they make him feel that same hope, or if he feels sick.

The half ghost looks away, staring down at his lap. He doesn’t know what this is, how this is  happening. A moment of panic stabs. Is he sick or insane? Or… is it a trick? A trap?

Danny reaches with his mind, trying to feel. A parasite infecting him? Another ghost, trying to overshadow. There is a connection, a bundle of a dozen fine threads. It is a link to… something not quite separate. Danny feels the almost presence at the end, the not-quite himself he is speaking with. And… It is like cradling a baby bird. Small, fragile, and so young. No malice, just pure innocence.

The half ghost looks up again. His hand shifts, feeling the cold flesh. His fingers press, the almost flutter of a heart beneath the skin.

The awe from that late night rises, a question echoing in his head. What happens if he lets this  continue? 

He… won’t be alone. Danny remembers that night, crying on his mattress and desperately wanting comfort. And all those times hanging out with Jason. The jokes and banter started as an act to sell the lie. But… weren't they so much more now? Danny had pretended to have a brother and in pretending had imagined one… Now that brother, that twin sat beside him. 

But at the same time… fear spiked. What would happen if he didn’t stop this? Could he even stop this if he wanted to? It feels inevitable, unstoppable. Not if he stays living next to Jason. But… if he tells the truth? Or if he runs, starts again somewhere else. He could reabsorb his duplicate now and let this whole thing fade into memory. Jamie would disappear…

A wave of fear surges from outside himself. Danny meets terrified eyes. Something in him softens, crumples.

“Jamie?” Danny asks again and can almost feel the heart-flutter solidifying. “Do you want to be real?”

There is a pause, the fearful face becoming something narrowed eyes and sure. “Yes.” So much determination. Danny feels the one thread of dozens snap.

“Alright then.” Danny heaves a sigh, deciding. 

He will hold out as long as he can. He will stay duplicated, keep Jamie here until he’s not a duplicate at all. Jamie will be real.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Tell ourselves a good lie

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 11

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: fluff, Matt and reader falling for each other, Matt being charming, swearing, Valentine's Day references

a/n: Hi everyone! Thank you for being so patient with me, it's been a rough few months. I'm hoping to post a chapter every 6 weeks or so but we will see if the muse cooperates. As always, if you enjoy please let me know by commenting/reblogging!

w/c: 5.5k

Vanessa Carlton might be the antichrist. It had been ages since you’d set foot in a church, but you vaguely recalled tales of the seven plagues. Massive displays of divine wrath served as punishment for mankind's many sins. The earworm that was “A Thousand Miles” was definitely a consequence of humanity's freewill.

Cringing as the dissonant speakers blasted the familiar chorus, your body recoiled viciously. You wanted to shrivel up and dissolve into ash, remnants to be swept up and disposed of at the end of an employee's shift, eventually discarded and forgotten. Apparently your sulking demeanor was palpable, because Matt huffed out a laugh as he took his seat next to you, sliding the cardboard tray with your coffees onto the table with a smirk.

“Not a fan of the music?” He asked, clearly amused with your displeasure. Lifting his monstrous paper cup from its nest, he took a generous sip, humming in approval. With a slight frown, he spun towards you, shoving your drink further into your line of sight.

Moping momentarily paused, you reached for the coffee, removing it from the cupholder with far less grace than Matt had. “Thanks, trouble. And I guess I'm somewhat tired of this song.”

“Considering that it plays at least once every hour, that's understandable.” Matt replied. “And given how often we come here, it's a miracle we haven’t been driven insane.”

“Speak for yourself.” You groused, sinking further into your chair as you guzzled down the liquid-gold in your cup. “It's been half a decade and Jen is still obsessed with this song. She and Oscar sing it to each other all. the. time.”

“That's sweet.” Matt chuckled, biting his lip to stifle a laugh at your incredulous glare.

“It is not sweet, Matthew. This song takes up far too much space in my mind, and, frankly, it has overstayed its welcome.”

Snorting at your snarky comment, Matt shook his head. One of his thumbs traced over the cardboard band encircling the cup, catching on the heart-shaped sticker next to the cafe's logo. Lips twisting as he became slightly puzzled, Matt's fingertip followed the curve at the top of the image, trying to use the nerves there to determine what the shape was.

Your stomach fluttered, a small smile breaking through your sullen attitude as you observed his curiosity. Gently taking his hand, you guided his movements around the perimeter of the small addition. “It's a pair of hearts. For Valentine's day, I think.” You explained, withdrawing your hand as heat slithered over your cheeks.

Matt smiled softly, continuing to duplicate the shape with the pad of his thumb. “Ah, festive.”

“You have no idea. It looks like Saint Valentine threw up in here.” You shook your head, taking in your surroundings despite the pit of despair churning in your stomach. “There are streamers hung up across the ceiling, red, pink, and white ones all twirled a little bit so they look like helixes? Does that make sense?”

Nodding demurely, Matt's cheeks were tinged pink, his chin angled towards the table as he spoke. “Are they pretty?”

Blowing out a breath, you jostled your head from side to side. “Yeah, Matty. They're pretty. There are stickers on the windows too, more cheesy than pretty, cartoon cupids–like chubby babies in diapers, those cupids.”

Laughing in surprise, Matt's nose scrunched in distaste. “Not quite what I was expecting.”

“Stick with me, Murdock. I'll describe decorations around Manhattan that are FAR worse than half-naked adolescent deities.” You snorted, biting back a sigh as the bell chimed–signaling the entrance of yet another happy couple.

Normally, you weren't this cynical about Valentine's day. As a child, you'd loved the celebrations and opportunity to show your appreciation for your loved ones, even if the love wasn't romantic. While others complained about the holiday and its tendency to highlight loneliness, it had always been a time of gratitude for you. It was ironic, and almost humorous, that the first time you truly understood people's disdain for February 14th was when you were in a serious relationship.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you wanted to have a cliche, romantic Valentine's with your boyfriend. You wanted to get dressed up and go out to a nice dinner, and this random mid-February Thursday was an opportunity to convince him to do that. Or it would've been. If he hadn't asked to take a step back.

You weren't on a break. At least, Everett claimed you weren't. Each day that went by without you seeing him or hearing from him made you increasingly anxious that it was a break. That he was out finding someone better and you were stupidly twiddling your thumbs waiting for him to return to you because you hadn’t received the memo.

The sheer number of romantic gestures you'd witnessed recently didn't help. Walking around campus, everyone you saw seemed to have met their soulmate. Boys opening doors for their girlfriends who would kiss them on the cheek as they passed. Students in your class talking about the reservations at the high-end restaurant that their partner had fought tooth and nail for. Even the rats that lived under the dumpster outside your building seemed to have been affected by the atmosphere, if their horrid shrieks each night were indeed what they sounded like.

As if your thoughts of sickly-sweet couples had summoned them, two familiar faces appeared in the vestibule, ambling through the door with their hands linked. ”The Lovebirds have arrived.“ You mumbled to Matt, trying not to sound aggravated unsuccessfully.

Plastering a pleasant expression on your face as Foggy and Marci approached, you tried to tamp down your frustration from a boil to a mild simmer. Matt grinned as the chairs across from you screeched across the floor.

”Nice of you to join us.“ One of his brows was raised, his comment directed at Marci in a slight challenge.

The pair of them loved to butt heads whenever possible, constantly trying to out-do each other in and out of the classroom. It wasn't awkward or aggressive, though. It was a game for them. Foggy had confessed he liked it when Marci demonstrated how cutthroat she could be, and you weren't one to turn down free entertainment.

Rolling her eyes, the blonde tossed Matt a sly smirk. “It's called being 'fashionably late', Murdock. Besides, it's not like we're holding you back from your important plans.”

Foggy snickered. “She's gotcha there, bud.”

Matt sniffed with exaggerated offense. “And this is why I only bought a coffee for Bug.”

“Woah!” You threw your hands up in surrender. “No need to drag me into this, trouble.”

Marci giggled, batting her lashes at Foggy. “Foggy-bear, will you order for me? You know what I like.”

“Of course, babe.” Foggy nodded eagerly, kissing her lips gently before scurrying to the counter.

“Be warned that I'm keeping a list of everything he purchases for you. If you ever break up, we will be pursuing damages.” Matt's lips curved up, his posture straightening confidently as he leaned forward.

“Oh please,” Marci waved off the implied threat. “Haven't you been paying attention in Contracts? There's no way you'd be able to prove unjust enrichment without proof of expectation of repayment. No legal remedy for wasted gifts, hun.”

Matt hummed, chin bobbing with a tiny nod. “Just making sure you've been paying attention, Miss Stahl. Would hate for you to embarrass yourself tomorrow.”

Shaking your head at their antics, you placed a hand on Matt's arm before changing the subject. “So things are still going well?”

“I mean, you tell me!” Marci laughed, looking over her shoulder at Foggy as he conversed with the barista animatedly. “He's more likely to tell the two of you if he isn't happy.”

“Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.” Matt smiled, leaning back against the frame of his chair. “He's willingly wrapped around your finger.”

Chuckling in agreement, you gave an emphatic nod. “Seriously, Marci. Head over heels.”

“He's not the only one.” She muttered wistfully, cheeks flushing bright pink as Foggy waved from his place at the counter.

“Awww.” You and Matt cooed in unison, making Marci shrink in her seat.

“Shut up.” She hissed, face continuing to turn a shade of crimson as Foggy returned with two cups in hand.

“Are they being mean, babe?” He asked with a frown, passing her the taller of the cups.

She nodded with a pout, looking at him with wide eyes. “Never leave me alone with them again.”

“Shame on the both of you.” Foggy scolded, throwing an arm over his girlfriend's shoulders. “Harassing this defenseless woman.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you crossed your arms. “Ok, I know you're trying to be sweet but let's not pretend she's incapable of holding her own.”

“Yah, bear. That's almost sexist.” Marci huffed, bringing her coffee up to hide her smile as Foggy stammered.

“Ok, that's not what I meant, we all know that.”

Shrugging, you raised your cup, mirroring Marci. “Intent is irrelevant.”

“Exactly.” Marci agreed, gesturing to you.

Looking between the two of you, baffled by your straight faces, Foggy threw his hands up. “You two are impossible.”

Giggling in tandem, Marci held out a fist for you to bump, the action only spurning Foggy's irritation. “Keep it up, Marce. See where it gets you.”

Snatching him in a hug, Marci kissed the long-haired boy's cheek. “Sorry, Foggy-bear. We were just teasing.”

“It’s all fun and games, ‘til I go to Tartina alone next week.” Foggy narrowed his eyes at Marci, waiting for her response to the threat. 

Gasping dramatically, Marci cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me?”

Melting at his girlfriend’s earnest stare, Foggy grinned. “Ok, I guess you’re forgiven.” 

Marci squealed, nearly falling out of her chair as Foggy yanked her into a hug. Next to you, Matt stuck his tongue out, sending disgusted grimace in your direction. Clapping a hand over your mouth, you stifled a laugh, only chuckling harder when the pair of entangled lovers scowled at the sound.

“Laugh it up, bug. We’ll uninvite you from dinner.” Your long-haired friend shrugged, clearly possessing knowledge you didn’t have. 

“Fog, I’m not sure you can use your date with Marci to threaten me as well–as much as I love the ingenuity,” You scoffed, tipping your coffee cup until the dregs of your latte dripped into your mouth.

“Well, actually, we thought it would be more fun–” Foggy started in a low voice, igniting something akin to fear in your heart.

“And less pressure!” Marci chimed in.

“And less pressure,” Foggy reiterated. “If you and Matt joined us for a group date!”

Silence descended over the table. Sneaking a glance at Matt, whose face had flushed bright pink, your lips parted, allowing you to stumble over your words. “Um, what? I mean–”

Linking her fingers with Foggy, Marci twirled a strand of hair around her pointer finger, looking quite determined. “C’mon, it’ll be fun! You can bring Everett, Matt can bring his hussy of the week, we’ll all eat amazing Italian food until we burst. Don’t tell me you have other plans!” 

“Well, it is five days out, Stahl.” Matt snorted, squeezing your shoulder with a rough hand. “And while I might not have a conflict, I’m sure Bug was–”

“I actually don’t have plans.” You mumbled, eyes falling to the seam of your cup as you peeled it choppily with a fingernail. 

The statement captured everyone’s attention like a magnet, their heads tilting with confusion and pity as they processed the statement. Matt’s brows knit together, his tongue trailing across his lips. “What do you mean? It’s Valentine’s day.”

“Thanks for the reminder, trouble.” You chuckled sourly. “But I should be free. If you’re ok with me being a fifth wheel, of course. Evs isn’t interested in going out this week.”

“Fine with me!” Foggy chirped, unbothered by the slight alteration to his expectations. His roommate sat silently as he schemed with his girlfriend about timing.

With a flick of your hand, you attempted to spin your mostly empty coffee cup like a top, resolutely ignoring Matt's concerned side eye. Unfortunately, Matt either couldn't tell or didn't care.

Elbowing you gingerly, he pushed his lenses up the bridge of his nose–shielding the blank irises from your field of vision. “Everett 'isn't interested' in going out for Valentine's day?” His voice was hushed, his question posed only to you, rather than the table.

Letting out a single solemn exhale, your lips quirked up as you forced a smile, which ended up feeling more like a grimace. “Don't get me started.”

“Did something happen?” At Matt's small question, your brain was drawn back to the argument you'd had with your boyfriend, and the reason for said argument.

Heat flew to your cheeks. “Yes.”

“Did you want to–”

“No.” You interrupted, warmth blossoming to the tips of your ears as your embarrassment grew.

“You're still together?”

There was a color to Matt's words that seemed almost..hopeful? “Yes, it's just...” You lifted a hand in a half-hearted gesture, pretty accurately conveying the confusing mix of emotions you were feeling about your relationship.

“Complicated?” Matt smirked at you, his face tense behind the small movement.

“Precisely.” You laughed, winding your arm with his. “Thanks for checking up on me, though.”

“Always, bubs.” Matt turned back to the more animated conversation coming from across the wobbly table, fingers subtly grasping the crease of your elbow.

“Ow, FUCK!”

Frowning at the distant yell, Matt angled his senses towards your apartment to the best of his ability. He was still a few blocks away, but he could sprint to you if–

“Blinding yourself with a mascara wand. That takes talent,” Matt smiled, relief and amusement mingling in his chest as he tuned in to your frustrated mutters. Thankfully, it seemed that you were battling an inanimate object rather than an intruder. More annoying than dangerous, he hoped. 

You were still getting ready, he should have expected that, given that it was nearly an hour until you were expected at the restaurant. But after about an hour of anxious pacing, he’d decided that showing up to your place early was preferable to sitting alone in a dark room while he descended into madness. It was peculiar, his reaction to today’s pseudo-date. Though, you tended to bring out paradoxical reactions in him. The knowledge that today’s activity was inherently more romantic, and trending away from the platonic balance he’d managed to achieve, scared him to death. There were infinite possibilities to overstep the fine line he’d been balancing on, to reveal how he felt about you–which is the exact realization that had ignited his pacing.

Yet, with every step in your direction, he grew eerily calmer. The cellophane-wrapped bundle he’d been slowly mashing with a fist crinkled as his fingers spread into a relaxed grip. Closing in on the familiar building, Matt let out a breath. Less than two blocks away and he could finally hear your heartbeat. Soft and steady, ticking rhythmically like his own personal metronome. 

In his time after the accident, Matt had quickly realized that heartbeats are unique, like fingerprints. Each person influenced by a combination of factors out of their control, creating a distinctive sound within their rib cage. A deep thrumming beat not dissimilar to a wooden drum. He’d found that technology and media often distorted the noise, exaggerating the convulsion and adding an ominous quality. In reality, Matt adored this sound. Walking the streets of Manhattan, he was constantly surrounded by a gorgeous soundtrack, akin to the murmur of rain against a window. 

It wasn’t off-putting, like some people thought. It was his constant reminder that he was alive, surrounded by the living. A sign of a body’s electrical current, each unique tone contributing to the world’s most expansive harmony. 

Of all the pulses he’d experienced, yours was one of his favorites. It encapsulated you perfectly–consistent and restrained, soothing and cautious. A beacon of safety in a tumultuous sea. Matt never tired of it, quite the opposite in fact. On days like these, when he was deprived of your presence, he teetered on the edge of suffocation–his teeth clenched so hard that he struggled to breathe. Your heart beat, the reminder that you were alive, that someone cared for him had become invaluable. Living without it wasn’t living at all. 

…Maybe his reasons for showing up on your doorstep early were more selfish than he’d originally thought. A bit late to turn back now, wasn’t it? 

His hand clasped around the cold steel rod attached to the entrance of your building, tugging it open before he slipped inside. Taking the stairs two at a time, he leapt up the flights, landing in front of your door before he could chicken out. Momentarily catching his breath, his trembling fist made contact with the door, pounding out a knock. 

You nearly broke your ankle answering it, the instability of your stiletto heels aggravated by your rush to let Matt in. Toppling into the door frame, you caught yourself with a shoulder, no doubt giving yourself a nasty bruise in the process. 

��Damn, bug, didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet,” Matt joked, holding out an arm for you to steady yourself as you hobbled backwards into the apartment.

“Ha ha, very funny, asshole.” You groaned, gingerly pressing on the spot of impact. “I wasn’t expecting you, I thought we were meeting at the restaurant.”

Shrugging, Matt gave a flimsy excuse. “I figured we could walk together.” 

“Sure,” Whatever jewelry you were wearing jangled as you nodded. Carefully lowering yourself onto the couch, your fingers rasped over the smooth fabric of your gown. “What about your date? Are we picking her up?” 

“Oh, um,” This was the part he was dreading. Scouring the depths of his being for every ounce of courage he could find, he confessed. “I-I didn’t ask anyone. To come with. To the dinner.”

Your eyes narrowed, confusion building as you looked between his face and the bouquet in his hands. “You brought flowers.”

A chuckle burst out of him. The simple observation had caught him off guard, obliterating his apprehension. “I did. They’re for you.”

Your lips parted, unleashing a barely audibly gasp. Matt’s hair stood on end, his entire body flooding with warmth over the tiny puff of air. For some reason, the fact that you weren’t expecting anything made him more determined to show you exactly what you deserved. If your boyfriend couldn’t step up, then he would. Tracing a finger over your forearm, Matt nudged your hand open, settling the bunch of stems into your palm. 

“For me?” The plastic sheet holding the roses together rustled as you brushed it with a thumb, focus locked on the bouquet. Your voice was adorably soft and completely awestruck. “Why?”

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day, bug.” Matt explained gently. “And since I’m filling in for Everett today…I just figured you’d like them, I guess.” 

“I love them, trouble.” Your throat was tight with emotion, the scent of salt wafting towards him as you wrapped an arm over his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Matt whispered your name reverently, leaning into your embrace. “I’m sorry if that’s weird–”

“It’s not weird.” You objected, your lips parting with a tiny smile. “It’s so sweet. I’m sorry you couldn’t work your magic on some unsuspecting girl this week though. Are you sure you want to go to this thing?”

“Oh yah, I’d rather hang out with you anyways.” Matt snorted, flushing when he realized what he’d said. “You and Fog, I mean.” Intently scanning your body for signs of tension, he let the built up tension roll off his shoulders as you brushed right over his freudian slip.

“I get that, Matty. Dating’s for the birds.” You grimaced, turning the flowers over in your hands. “Did you carry these all the way here? You aren’t wearing gloves!”

“I mean, yes, but it wasn’t–” His voice faltered when your warm hand took one of his, tugging him to your couch while you bustled off to set the flowers in a vase. Before he could regain the ability to speak, you plopped down next to him, tenderly taking hold of both his hands. Warm flesh wrapped around his fingers, squeezing lightly in a line down to the tips, an attempt to bring more blood flow to the affected area.

Tutting in disapproval, you maneuvered his hands until they rested on a blanket, his palms touching both his own thigh and yours as you continued caring for his numb extremities. “You're freezing, Matt. It's too cold to be out there without layers.”

“I was wearing layers.” He muttered, far too endeared by your concern to sound convincingly petulant.

“Clearly too few.” You replied, dragging the back of one hand over his cheek. He hadn't realized how cold he truly felt until your skin collided with his, every cell sapping your heat with the ferocity of a dehydrated creature at a puddle. His body lapped up the touch, tilting into your hold as you gently brushed over his nose, beneath his eyes.

Your nails were coated in lacquer, the smell lingering on the tips of your fingers. The sharp alcoholic tang prickled in his nostrils. You had clearly put an extensive amount of effort into your appearance. He could smell the powdery scent of various makeup products, practically tasting the cloud of hairspray you were still carrying around. As his own hands drifted over the edge of the blanket, they fell near your waist, grazing the cool fabric of your outfit.

It was magnetic, the lack of resistance his calluses were met with. They slipped over your curves with ease, gliding down the smooth garment.

“This is..is this silk?” Still stroking your dress, he bit his cheek, marveling at how it clung to your equally soft skin, as if you and the dress were one and the same.

“Uh, yah I think so.” A nervous laugh tumbled out of you, a small wave of heat caressing Matt's hand as you began mirroring his touches over your abdomen. “Marci's friend let me borrow it. I'm pretty sure it's worth more than my entire closet.”

“I bet.” Matt whispered, flushing as he withdrew from you. Sheepishness dug into his throat, reminding him of the platonic line he'd drawn in the metaphorical sand.

“I wouldn't have agreed to wear it, but Marci was sort of adamant that we match. And I thought that was kind of sweet, like she wanted us to be more of a group?” You clasped your hands, curling in on yourself as you rambled, your heart rate climbing. “And, I don't know, she has a lot of 'girlfriends' but they're all the sorority type, and it seemed like she might want to be our friend too, so..I said yes.”

“That's sweet of you, bug.” Matt smiled, a slimy glob of jealousy rising in his stomach. “Indulging her, trying to be friendly.”

You clearly picked up on the hint of bitterness in his tone, scoffing affectionately. “It's one night, Matt.”

“No, I know. I think it's nice, really!” He lied through his teeth, trying desperately to pitch his voice so it sounded genuine. “And I'm sure Fog really appreciates you making her feel welcome.”

“Welcome into what?” Your tone made it obvious you were raising an eyebrow, amused by his sudden burst of envy.

“I don't know, our group, I guess?” He shrugged, chin nearly hitting his chest as he ducked his head, your scrutiny needling at his skin.

“Woah, I'm not sure I'm ready to go that far, trouble.” Unraveling from your hunched position, you scooted until you were pressed against him, leaning into his shoulder. “I kinda like our little troop how it is.”

Nuzzling a kiss into your hair, Matt grinned. “Me too.”

The two of you remained tangled together for a while, basking in the sound of each other's breathing. When your pulse abruptly spiked, Matt smiled despite himself, rubbing a circle over your back. “You ok?”

Pulling away from his neck, you huffed incredulously. “How on earth do you do that?”

“Do what?” He asked innocently, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“It's like you can read my damn thoughts, trouble.” Face pooling with heat, you brought a hand to cover your mouth. “Oh my god, you can't read my thoughts, right?”

Well, that was an intriguing worry. Were your thoughts so sinful? “No, of course not, bug. You just got quiet.”

“So did you!” You giggled, shaking your head. A stray hair trailed over his cheek.

“Fair enough. But your answer to my initial question was almost an informal admission.” He quipped.

“God, you're such a law student.” You snorted, exaggerating the annoyance in your words.

“Stop deflecting.” He scolded, still smiling at you. Jabbing you in the side with a knuckle, he sent a stern glance somewhere in your direction. “Spill.”

Sighing heavily, you wriggled until your face was buried against his neck. “I'm just worried this will be weird.”

“What, the dinner?” Matt clarified.

Your forehead tugged at his skin as you nodded. “What if it's, like, awkward?” When the question was met with expectant silence, you reluctantly explained. “I guess I’m just not in a super romantic mood, and we barely know Marci, so..”

He hadn’t considered that. In his mind, you’d view this as any other meal with him and his roommate. After all, you weren’t harboring hidden feelings for your best friend. Why would it be nerve wracking for you? At your admission, however, a fond smile twitch at his lips, urging him to draw you close. “We could make a game out of it?”

“How?” You asked shyly, fidgeting with the seam of the throw. 

“Every time one of us feels out of place or Foggy gives us second hand embarrassment, we take a drink?” He chuckled, only semi-joking.

“We aren't of age, Matt.” You laughed, clearly seeing through his attempts to get your mind away from its impending spiral.

“Crap.” He hung his head dramatically, grinning at the giggles that burst out of you.

In the end, you decided on an over-under bet of how many cliche “romcom moments” you'd endure as the respective third and fourth wheel on this date. 

Matt, always the risk taker, guessed thirty-five. You stuck with a more conservative fifteen. The two of you had come up with an elaborate list of possible rewards for the winner by the time you reached the restaurant, finally agreeing to gamble on the price of dinner. Constructing and debating the intricacies of your wager, and what constituted a “romcom moment”, had seemingly swept your anxiety back under the rug. As the two of you inched forward in line towards the hostess, your pulse flapped gently, much slower than the rapid staccato he’d been trying to calm. Your breaths fanned gently over his jaw as you beamed up at him, delightedly listening to his retelling of a roommate escapade you’d missed. 

“I knew Foggy snored, but sleepwalking? That’s new.” You stifled a giggle, accepting the outstretched arm he offered as an invitation to slide into the corner of the booth you’d been assigned. He scooted over the fabric until your thighs pressed together, preening at the relieved sigh you released when tilting into him. 

It felt so natural, this casual affection you both seemed to crave. As if you were made with him in mind. 

“Thank god for semantics,” You muttered under your breath, interrupting his wandering thoughts with the amusement dancing over your tongue. “If there was alcohol in our cups we’d be blackout by the time entrees were ordered.”

“Tell me it’s not that bad already,” Matt chuckled, tuning in to Foggy’s heartbeat, desperate to know if he was already ahead.

“There's a giant pink teddy bear, Matt. I'm talking toddler sized. She's struggling to hold it.” You leaned into his shoulder, swallowing a chuckle as you waved your friends down.

“Oh, Fog.” Matt shook his head, smirking as you wound a hand over his forearm, twisting your fingers into his.

“Thank god you're here, trouble. I'd never make it through tonight without you.” You blew out a breath, your posture straightening as you plastered on a polite smile to greet the happy couple.

Feeling heat flood his cheeks, Matt's brain stuttered as he processed the comment. You couldn't have meant that, right? Not in the way it sounded to him, at least.

“Earth to Matt! Come in Matt!” Matt flinched as a hand waved at his face, fanning air over his lips. “Did we lose ya, buddy?”

“No, just, taking it all in. I hear there's a large carnivorous mammal joining us?” He raised a brow, shooting a smirk towards the cloud of Marci's overwhelming perfume.

The girl scoffed in response, throwing a furry object at him—the limb of the teddy bear, by his estimations. “Don't be so jealous, Murdock. It's not cute.”

“I can go buy you a matching bear,” You offered, concealing your sarcasm with a lilting smile as the fingers of your free hand stroked the fur of the plush creature. “If you're that upset, Matty.”

Grinning as you snuggled into his side, he nodded enthusiastically. “I'm honestly a bit offended that you didn't think of it earlier, sweetheart. What's next? Will I be buying my own heart-shaped box of chocolates too?”

“Christ, Matty. You can’t expect so much from me! I’m not a mind reader.” You jested, your voice barely audible over the creaky table shifting around the two newcomers’ weight. 

“And here I was thinking you truly wanted to put in effort for little old me.” Matt sniffed, turning his nose up with a pout. “My mistake.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, handsome. I’ll make it up to you.” You purred, leaning impossibly closer before Foggy made a retching sound.

“You two are especially gross tonight.” Matt’s roommate shuddered, picking up a menu. 

“Says the man who spent the majority of last week sucking face.” Matt snorted, lifting his own glass up to his smile as you choked on a mouthful of water beside him. “Jeez, you ok, bug?”

“Yup!” You sputtered, waving off his concern. “You caught me off guard with that one. Fog, any rebuttal?” 

Across the table, Foggy and Marci’s blazed with heat, only widening Matt’s smirk. “Guess not.” He quipped, turning to face you as you both erupted into laughter. 

“SO, lamb chops sound good,” Foggy tried to redirect the conversation, ignoring the pair of you resolutely. 

The night progressed in a similar fashion. Each time the actual couple did something romantic, a spark of mirth would shoot through you and Matt, encouraging your teasing. Your combined goofiness eventually wore off on Foggy and his date, forcing them to go to even greater lengths to entertain you.

When Foggy put Marci’s order in as well as his own, Matt followed suit, sending you a sly smile when referring to you as “the lady”. Somewhere during the meal, Foggy smeared mint puree over his lip, letting Marci swipe it off with a finger. You narrated the moment to Matt, stifling a chuckle when he cooed at them fondly. The two of you even copied them when they decided to share dessert, giggling when you nearly dropped spoonfuls of ice cream in each other’s laps. 

When dessert plates had been scraped clean, the four of you groaned in tandem, remarking about the quality of the food for a bit before Marci and Foggy darted off–giving some half-assed excuse about other plans after paying their half of the bill. 

You watched them with a knowing smile, head pillowing on Matt’s shoulder as they made their exit. “Ugh, the love birds.”

“Tell me about it,” Matt scoffed. “I feel like we just gave our blessing for their marriage.”

“We gave our blessing for somethin’.” You giggled, squishing his hand in your own before digging out your wallet with a melodramatic sigh. “Alright, trouble. Time to settle up.” 

Before you could lengthen the accordion-style pouch, Matt’s hand settled over yours. 

“No need. I got it.” Swallowing around the embarrassment in his throat, he slipped his own wallet from his jacket, removing a card. 

He could practically hear your confused frown as you watched him. “But..you won? I’m supposed to pay for dinner.” 

“I never said I wanted you to pay.” He shrugged, smiling at the waiter as he passed his card over. 

Your eye roll was obvious.

“You clever bastard.” You whispered, crossing your arms as he broke into a grin. 

“Why else would you agree to let me pay?” Matt asked, laughing brightly as you shoved him. 

“You are too sneaky for your own good, Murdock.” Slipping your arms beneath his, you squeezed him tightly. “Thank you. For dinner..for everything.”

Pressing a kiss to your head, Matt’s heart glowed with warmth. “Anything for you, sweetheart. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Join my taglist! 

OOAI Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind @supervoldejaygent @dorothleah @zomtart @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @rev-glut @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @daisy-arien0 @yarrystyleeza @cometenthusiast @harleycao @for-hearthand-home @chwlogy @valhallavalkyrie9 @notthebrighteststar @dumb-fawkin-bitch

[pushing500]

As if we would go anywhere without our loyal android. Alistair is coming, and... I think he's probably happy about it in his own way. Perhaps seeing the majesty of the first Archonexus structure will be the catalyst for his awakening? Who knows?

That does leave us with one last choice to make. I think this one is the one I'm most unsure about the result of. I had a pretty good idea where the other three were going, but this one could be the wild card. Let's find out!

For the very last time, here are our options...

Why should we bring Tokori?

- He has an expertise in first aid, which will likely be an essential skill in setting up a new colony

- If his medical skill doesn't work, he can also raise the dead (nine more times, at least. Then he's out of fingers to sacrifice.)

- He's got a detoxifier lung and a detoxifier kidney, which could both be useful for dealing with pollution in our new colony

- We only just met him, so it will be a good opportunity to get to know him more

- He's a delight to draw and still has both his natural eyes so I can have fun drawing them

Why should we leave Tokori behind?

- We only just met him, so we wouldn't miss him as much as some of the others

- Mechi and Kwahu are both accomplished doctors, so we don't really need a third one

- It would feel really bad to leave Lansa all on his own at Sparks

- He would be sad if we didn't get plumbing and a bathtub set up ASAP

- Addiction to coffee in more than one person may be difficult to keep in check while we set up a new colony

- Seeing the same face drawn over and over again will surely become tedious eventually, right?

Why should we bring Lansa?

- He's still getting used to being alive and needs someone responsible to keep an eye on him

- He's got untapped psycaster potential that we still need to explore

- He is the only Jones boy NOT addicted to coffee so we don't have to facilitate that in a new colony

- He's a delight to draw

Why should we leave Lansa behind?

- He's grumpy and rude and dislikes most of the other colonists already

- He hasn't been alive in this colony for very long so we won't miss him as much as some of the others

- It would feel really bad to leave Tokori all on his own at Sparks

- His bionic eyes are less fun to draw than they could be

- Seeing the same face drawn over and over again will surely become tedious eventually, right?

Why should we bring Melissa?

- Having a colonist with unnatural healing abilities akin to reusable healer mech serums is op as hell and also very cool

- Even if she didn’t have creepjoiner healing powers, she has fun cancer powers

- Every new colony benefits from a creepy blind grandma

- Mechi and Kwahu owe her for saving them from duplication sickness

- She’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Melissa behind?

- Everyone hates her more than usual because she’s super ugly

- She’s blind

- Apparently the creepjoiner unnatural healing has the potential for nasty side effects

- We haven’t had any creepjoiner negative side effects from her yet, but she’s been at an outpost which might have paused the countdown for it to show up

- She’s polyamorous, which means she’ll constantly be sad that she’s not in a relationship

Why should we bring XiaoLiang?

- He’s always been there for Mechi and co., it seems appropriate for him to follow them and continue to help out

- He’s very cool

- He’s got an expertise in sharpshooting which is bound to be useful

- We might run into his grandpa Paul again and it’d be nice if they met

- He's 100% got a crush on the Jones boys and that'd be funny to watch

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave XiaoLiang behind?

- Perhaps it’s time for XiaoLiang to go back to being a wandering Man in Black

- He’s an undergrounder, which means he’ll get upset if we make him go out to hunt or otherwise put his shooting expertise to good use

- He’s polyamorous, which means he’ll constantly be sad that he’s not in a relationship

- He's 100% got a crush on the Jones boys and they would be extremely annoyed having to deal with it

- His grandpa Paul might show up to Sparks again, and it’d be nice if they met

Why should we bring Flapjack?

- He’s a little bit good at every skill which is very useful for starting a new colony

- He is kind, which means he’ll get along with everyone no matter how disfigured they are by flesh whips or cut-out eyes

- My brother says he has a "cool beard" and you "can't beat that"

- Looks a bit like Jesus

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Flapjack behind?

- Not a particularly interesting colonist so far

- He’s just sort of got NPC energy

- Looks a bit like Jesus

- Good at lots of skills but not great at any

Why should we bring Jut?

- He’s a good boy and I love him

- Incredible melee ability which is useful for defending a new colony

- Can explode people with his mind

- We already know his creepjoiner downside (it's the "disturbing" trait) so we don't need to worry about anything more serious popping up in the future

- Sanguophage powers might be useful

- Speaks French

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Jut behind?

- He’d need to steal other people's hemogen from time to time

- He’s "disturbing" and makes the others uncomfortable sometimes

- He’s blind

- He’s French

Godspeed everyone. Put your best vote forward.

First | Next | Previous

[bokettochild]

Social Butterfly

Sometimes I just want to touch on the fact that Legend is not, in fact, the worst possible human being

He has friends

He has so many friends!

"No, Time, don't shoot that Dodongo! No, yeah, that's my old friend Demitri! He totally is chill and won't keep attacking if you stop hitting him, guys. Wait you want proof? Okay! Hey, Dimitri! It's Link! Yeah, see? Told you!"

Or you know, there's also Ricky and Moosh. Twilight is over here complaining about Wild's choice in steeds and Legend is sitting there wondering if now would be a bad time to mention that he got carried around in a murder-rabbit's front pocket, or that yeah, he's ridden bears too, but his flies.

Oh, the robbers who are holding them up on the road? The other heroes are all preparing for a beat down but Legend just groans and starts chewing out Ghanti because, seriously girl? You've filled the quota for how many times you can rob me this year! Find another sucker!

And when they run into the actual goddesses? Legend greets them all so chill, just a "hey, Din! Long time no see, how's things with the circus troupe? Nayru, how's Ralph doing? Did he finally master a spin attack or is he still struggling with that? No? Aw well, sucks to be him! And hey, Farore! Yeah, I'm going okay, how are you?"

Meanwhile the other heroes are just...okay, yeah, this is happening. Legend's friends with the goddesses and some strange animals. But then there's the witch girl who keeps running into them, seemingly targeting Legend? And every sage seems to know this guy, but there's like.....14 of them? And no matter where they go, it's just like "Hey, Vasu! Got any bigger ring boxes in? No. Aw well, I have some duplicates to trade." The librarian? The random seed farmers? The village mayors? The soldiers?

Legend knows literally everyone. The heroes can't even keep track of the names but they still keep coming. Legend finally starts telling stories of his adventures and the amount of people he names is just confusing. "No, no, Syrup is the old witch and Irene is her granddaughter." "Who's Rosa? Oh, she's a pop-star I dated this one time." "Raven? Oh, well, he's sort of a hero but not a chosen hero and he looks like Time but minus a decade and most of the trauma. Also he's my ancestor. Anyways..."

He just...knows everyone.

No one is sure how to reconcile the wary and guarded hero they know with the apparent social butterfly he just has to be to know all these people!

[darks-ink]

Welcome back! I saw you are taking story ideas so I wanted to submit two of the prompts I wrote for Phic Phight.

1) Danny's excuse when someone notices the resemblance between Fenton and Phantom and comes too close to his secret: The ghost is his dead twin who he ate in the womb. This might have more truth to it than he originally thought.

2) Long ago Clockwork had and lost a child, the young Ancient of Space. Even with his Sight of time, he could never see what became of them, only that they disappeared. Now another being that evades his Sight has crashed into his existence. Another child, and this one a boy with the stars in his eyes and the cold of space in his veins.

I hope you like either of these!

Thank you! I went with #1, but admittedly it turned out a little short.

Duplicity

Rating: Gen Warnings: focuses on vanishing twins & the formation of ghosts, especially in connection to each other Words: 770 Additional Tags: Post-reveal, Good Fenton parents

[AO3]

---

“You know, one thing still confuses me about ghost cores.” Danny resisted the temptation to fidget when three pairs of eyes turned to him. “Or, uh, the cores of half-ghosts, at least?”

“Do tell, Great One, and perhaps I can answer.” Frostbite turned further to face him.

“Well, um.” Danny’s eyes darted over to his parents, briefly, before returning to Frostbite. “Isn’t it kinda weird that my core is more stable than Dani and Vlad? Like, I thought Dani was just because she was a clone, so she was destabilizing, but apparently Vlad got really sick as he was developing his powers? But I was, well, fine?” He shrugged, unsure of how to put his thoughts into words.

His mother hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t say anything. Neither did his dad, though he did frown.

“Of course not. Both other half-ghosts you refer to had to develop their own cores, growing them from scratch. You, on the other hand, absorbed yours from another ghost, thus stepping past the initial growing pains.”

Danny felt his heart stop. His core freeze. Thoughts grinding to a halt.

“Excuse me?” he blurted out, automatically, incredulously. “Are you telling me I killed another ghost?”

“No, no.” Frostbite lifted his hands, voice dropping into a soothing tone. “Although it is not unheard of for proper ghosts to fuse together into one, this sort of core-binding is only possible with blob ghosts.”

“And blob ghosts aren’t truly sentient, right?” Maddie hummed in thought, saving Danny the effort of trying to figure out what, exactly, Frostbite meant. “They’re barely more than free-floating ectoplasm, which is common here in the Ghost Zone.”

Frostbite nodded. “Indeed. A more developed ghost couldn’t have been absorbed in such a manner, so there is no need to worry, Great One.”

“That’s a relief.” Danny heaved a sigh. It still felt weird to imagine that his core wasn’t originally his, that it had developed separately, but, well. At least he hadn’t killed someone in the process.

“Although,” Frostbite suddenly started, interrupting Danny’s thoughts. “It is very unusual.”

“Oh?” Danny felt like slapping himself. Why did he ask for more information? He regretted asking in the first place. Knowing more wasn’t going to make himself feel better, was it?

But his parents would probably have asked if he hadn’t. Right? Yeah, definitely.

“Typically, ghosts require some form of connection to be present to bind together. Two fully-formed ghosts can fuse over shared goals or other such traits, but such a thing isn’t possible with a blob ghost. To absorb one of those, a more tangible connection is required.”

Frostbite eyed Danny, but he couldn’t quite read the emotion in his eyes. “Obviously the power of the Ghost Portal let you bypass the part where you weren’t a ghost yourself—” or perhaps he was dying and turning into a ghost anyway, “—but that connection would’ve still been necessary.”

But how. What? Who? The blob ghost must’ve come from somewhere, something, someone, but Danny couldn’t imagine, couldn’t think—

“Oh, that makes sense,” Maddie said, voice casual. “Danny absorbed his twin in the womb, so it makes sense for him to do the same thing with his twin’s ghost.”

“What?” Danny blurted out, turning to her in shock. “I had a twin? A twin I absorbed?!”

“Well, yes.” Maddie nodded, looking at him in confusion. “Of course, it happened fairly early on, so he wouldn’t have become a real ghost. But the impression of it, the potential of a twin gained and lost, that would’ve been enough form a blob ghost.” She turned to Frostbite. “Right?”

“Right.” Frostbite nodded back. “And yes, a connection like that would have worked quite well. A connection of blood and spirit, an action repeated. An echo between life and death.”

Danny shook his head. Well. Jerked his head side to side. “Are you serious? Why are you all acting like this is—this is normal, totally expected?”

“I thought you knew, honey.” Maddie was frowning at him now, confusion deepening. “Weren’t you the one who started using it as a cover?”

“What?” He blinked at her, then realized. Yes. Yes, he had been using that as an excuse for the resemblance between Danny Fenton and Phantom. A dead twin, a ghost which looked just like the living Danny. “I didn’t—I didn’t think it was real.”

“Oh.” She shot an uncertain look at Jack, then Frostbite, then turned to him. “Well. You know now?”

Danny stared at her, incredulous. Then shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do now.”

But what the hell was he supposed to think of all this?

[rainbowpopeworld]

The 15th Doctor definitely knows that the TARDIS doesn't have any chairs. It's literally the first thing he says when he's on 14's TARDIS and 15's is a duplicate (plus a jukebox, from what we can see). He's also yelling at himself about how no one ever comes round, but he almost always has at least one other person on the TARDIS.

I love that Moffat* apparently decided to point out the ableist trope about spaceships often not having chairs, presumably to make filming easier, which is not great for the humans who are supposed to live on them. But this seems a strange way to do it.

*there is very little I love about Moffat

The following gifs are the same as the video above.

[suzukiblu]

tim/match if it’s not too late

“Well, doing it that way was just easier on my end, honestly,” Tim says, figuring he should avoid letting them get stuck on that particular realization. Apparently it had not, in fact, actually occurred to Kon and Match that both of their bodies might react the same way to the same treatment. 

He’s just going to assume that was just them both deliberately not having that particular realization in self-defense, because neither of them is stupid and if nothing else, it really has been very, very goddamn obvious that they both like being touched in the same ways. 

“Uh–right,” Kon says, then visibly steels himself and flashes Tim a too-quick grin that’s just a little too tight. Tim represses an instinctive frown. “Like, either way, man, it’s definitely our turn to do some experimenting. I dunno, test out some tubes, maybe.” 

Tim snorts; Match rolls his eyes. Kon’s grin loosens up a little, and he slides a hand up the back of Tim’s thigh and squeezes just under his ass. Tim resists making another joke about “duplicating results”, considering the other two still seem a little sensitive about their increasingly obvious issues around the idea of touching each other instead of just him. 

Honestly, Tim is not a hundred percent sure if he’s not just a convenient excuse for them to see each other like this, whether either of them’s gotten up the guts to look yet or not. At least on Match’s end, anyway. He has a hard time imagining Kon doing anything like that without asking him first. 

Though that’s assuming Kon’s doing it on purpose, obviously. 

“Oh, so you’ve got a hypothesis in mind?” he asks mildly, and Kon grins lazily at him, and Match looks unimpressed with both of them. Though that’s pretty typical, in Tim’s experience of him; he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Match impressed by anything. The closest he’s even seen him to enjoying something was when he’d had his hand around his dick, and even that he’s only mostly sure Match was enjoying. 

Well, at least the other didn’t smack him across the room with his TTK for it, which coming from Match seems like a ringing endorsement. Tim wouldn’t mind a bit more “endorsement”, honestly, but also he knows when to manage his expectations. 

“Only if you wanna be my hot lab assistant, Rob,” Kon teases, and Match sighs in irritation. “Lab coat optional, obviously.”

[radiance1]

Hc where Vlad genuinely loves Christmas.

Like, it's not even to drive Danny up the walls for his hatred of it, bro just genuinely loves Christmas. It's how that even someone like Vlad could stand by and not break the Christmas truce despite his personality.

The one day a year where Danny gets left alone before Vlad somehow, someway, got redeemed and became an ok-ish guy.

Danny, genuinely, thought it was because Vlad being the careful fruitloop he is, doesn't want to get dogpiled like Ghost Writer did when he, himself, broke the Christmas Truce.

But no, biggest reason is that he genuinely loves Christmas.

Unfortunately, Vlad has no one to celebrate with.

So, he celebrates with himself, using his many duplicates of course!

Danny finds out when he encounters one of his many duplicates trying to buy gifts for himself, Danny sees it as very sad honestly when he found out, but was he going to do anything about it?

No.

Vlad can go bugger off to his mansion for the holiday and leave Danny alone for one day a year. Fudge, the guy even seemed to be aware of it by saying that he wouldn't want to oppose when invited by the Fentons, even though he's literally obsessed with his mother.

When Vlad somehow became redeemed, and stopped being a creep towards his mom and trying to force him into being his son he... sorta grew a conscious. I.e, going over to Vlad's mansion and dragging the man out to join his family in celebration.

Apparently, he still never got the hint that he's invited, like, at all. So Danny has to drag him over, every. Single. Year.

At the very least, the man made great non-living treats.

This, has gone on for years, Danny still looks 14, Vlad for some reason stopped aging at 45 and everyone else in the Fenton family knows that they're half ghost and has no problem with it (Jack and Maddie don't anymore after realizing everything they knew and thought were wrong) and celebrated Christmas just as hard as before, if not more so.

Even Dani stopped travelling the world to come back and join in.

It eventually turned into a tradition at that point, and after their family lived and died at a rip age (they never became ghosts) it sorta put a damper on the mood.

Then Vlad left, suddenly thinking he isn't invited anymore since Danny hates Christmas.

Danny, come next year, proved him wrong by showing up out of nowhere, as Phantom, wearing a Santa hat and star cape in the shape of a tree that Vlad stitched himself, with Dani also in ghost form also wearing one with a Christmas themed gas mask on her face.

Danny then just floated down towards him, took him by the back of his Christmas themed cape (Yes, Vlad is also in ghost form), looked at both the heroes, and villains who decided to fight on Vlad's personal property since he was probably funding one of either, or even both sides.

Then said they were taking him, his treats (Dani picked them up because she missed them) and excused themselves.

Vlad won't lie, he's incredibly touched by this event. But he was also a bit sad because he spent so long carefully manipulating both sides for one final, climatic, giant crash that he could sit back and watch while enjoying his cup of hot cocoa and enjoying his goods on one of the best days of the year.

[surelysilly]

waiting for the sun to smile on everyone

This is a series about the long road home. Danny is an alcoholic. Jason Todd dies. Moving forward doesn't mean moving on, but someday you find yourself having done so anyway. Actions always have consequences, but everything is as it is supposed to be. Probably. (An unrelated and outside POV adjacent to what happens when you punch the Multiverse. A Crisis on Infinite Earths, indeed.)

took me forever to come up with that. but anyway... the post-nasty burger explosion (long) fic i always dreamed of (jk)

(series [rated M] spoilers ahead, [wfts au] is the catch all tag)

lost in the universe timeline (litu au, lol) [AO3]

like, c'mon, Vlad would be the worst person to take in Danny after that, right? He'd try, and be pretty confident he could finagle his way through it, but, uh. yeah, that wouldn't work.

[pre-story] Danny cheats on the CAT. The TUE Nasty Burger explosion happens. He goes to live with Vlad, who is ill-equipped to raise a grieving superpowered child. Danny rips out his ghost half on his own, and then attempts to commit suicide. He does not succeed, and develops not only severe identity issues but also an alcohol addiction. He also stumbles over some new powers and makes a deal with the Ring of Rage and Crown of Flames — he can create doors to the GZ and has empathic abilities in exchange for becoming the Ghost King when he turns 18. He runs away when he turns 18 instead and ends up in Gotham. He spends about a year and half on the streets doing manual labor and illegal meta fighting matches before getting a job at Gotham General Hospital. This overlaps with Jason’s death, resurrection, coma, and escape — canon diverges further when he gets sent to Gotham General again after being picked up by the police before Talia can grab him. Jason doesn't remember anything before his death, and it's just him and Danny figuring themselves and each other out for the first three (four) main parts of the series, which ends with a chance encounter with Dick and Tim. [part 4] Tim and Dick investigate Danny, and determine that Jasper is Jason, and that Danny is a meta. Timeline issues are rampant and apparent. Danny saves their universe from the multiverse collapse/gravity pull to singularity of Infinite/Final Crisis which is happening at the same time as the OG Danny Phantom TUE events in another timeline.

hell is a warm place au

a what if to when Danny was on the street... he almost kills someone in the fighting dens. This impresses Jay, Lark, and Crow, the Penguin's most loyal trio. So, Danny is sorta pressured but jumps at the chance to gain somewhat steady employment. He gets free drinks out of it too, so it could be worse? At the same time, Arthur Brown (Cluemaster) returns to Gotham and just like. Doesn't go back to his wife or kid because why? So Stephanie Brown (who kinda sorta takes Jasper's place in this timeline) doesn't become Robin. She does get a job at the Iceberg Lounge though, and a name even: Finch, from the pariah of the club, Goose (Danny.) She hits him with the brick though.

mr fear au

Danny accidently kills someone in the meta fighting dens, and goes right off the deep end. Turns out he can get the most fantastic high off of Fear Toxin. He also saves Scarecrow from Killer Croc. Johnathan Crane finds Danny very, very interesting. Too interesting. *coughs* Tim (who kinda sorta takes Jasper's place in this timeline) isn't happy about it.

eat the heart au

Time Slip Baby Damian + Danny who is Selina's age (31) by the 'main' start to the story. A what if, concerning a fight between Danny and Gotham from the main timeline. She loses. He loses. Everyone loses, Damian (Ivan) most of all; it's a No Man's Land timeline. Danny has a duplicate named Jake, who is just a funny guy. Identity issues abound between these two. Cassandra makes a friend.

ultraviolet heart au

Danny dies. This is about what's left behind. A (Teen) Titans AU. Umbrax Sees You.

the visitant and the island of misfit toys

post-agit. A Glitch in Time is a by-product of Dark Crisis. Danny is unamused. Klarion is having a great time. Jason would like to get off this ride.

[ladyhoneydee]

WIP Game

Rules: You are given a word - share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of that word!

I have been tagged by three. THREE. people to do this lmao. As such, thanks to @aegon-targaryen for assigning me SNAP, @hurricane105 for CATS, and @karama9 for LINK. With duplicate letters removed, this anagrams to LICKPANTS. I am not sorry.

L - Link followed her through the house, his mismatched socks nearly silent upon the worn wooden floors. (Bodyguard AU)

I - It was this, simply: at some point, he could see his boots, rather than merely knowing they were there. (Wellspring)

C - City people really had a thing for monochromatic rain gear, apparently. (Cherry Bomb)

K - Kor didn’t know people-clothing could do that, but here’s Mr. Hero, shining just as bright as Glee’s heads do. (Korok Gleeok)

P - “Please, call me Link.” Her new bodyguard flashed a straight, white smile that distracted her instantly. His canines were long, and his front left tooth was noticeably chipped; it was frustratingly charming. (Bodyguard AU)

A - A flicker of movement in the corner of his vision catches his attention. (Frog)

N - No. He wouldn’t turn back. He couldn’t turn back. He needed this. Needed to be fixed. Needed to be whole again. (Wellspring)

T - The Frog Princess could catch a frog from a dignified kneeling position with her superior skill and potential magic powers, but he is merely a Frog Peasant, and he will have to crouch and creep like one if he wants to successfully nab his prey. (Frog)

S - “She couldn’t snap me like a twig, I’m broader than she is. She just has that energy, you know, that she could. And would. And I respect that." (Cherry Bomb)

I know I haven't mentioned Korok Gleeok before, so feel free to ask about it if you are confused or curious! I really had to work for a K sentence lol.

Going to tag @kazraza, @sparklyhyperbole, and @korokposting! Your word is WHAT :3

[maniacwatchestheworld]

A Note About the Society of the Blind Eye's Uniforms

I am entirely certain that I am the only person who has ever noticed this and therefore the only person that cares and is bothered by this. But I do wish that when people drew Fiddleford within Society of the Blind Eye garb that they changed his outfit up a little from the standard uniform. Because as the leader and founder of the organization, it would be useful for his outfit to be slightly different in order to distinguish his rank and role in the Society, and it's also a fun excuse to dress Fiddleford up in something a little more fancy!

For a moment I want all of us to take a moment to appreciate the Society of the Blind Eye's standard uniform.

It's a design that is simple, effective, and yet quite visually distinct and interesting. Those deep reds that make it stand out in much the same way that the Journals do.

A simple, clean design that makes it easy to animate and duplicate, but can also be mildly altered to suit the variety of Gravity Falls' different body types while maintaining that cohesive appearance!

But it also has just enough bespoke and little details to keep it from being generic!

The hoods being low enough to cover the wearer's eyes and frame the rest of their faces in shadow, speaking to the anonymous nature of the organization, while also giving them an intimidating appearance.

A little bit of pragmatic design where they have drawstrings to protect the members from the energy blasts of the Memory Gun while they are observing it being used. (Though unless the outfits are like... Lined with some kind of metal, the drawstrings would likely do little more than protect their eyes from the bright lights.) But when the hoods are drawn down like this, it also emphasizes the Society's symbol and in a way make the members of the Society almost look inhuman!

And apparently they're pretty comfortable to boot! They sure look cozy!

But I think that I might be the only one who's noticed... Hey! Ivan's outfit is actually slightly different from the rest!

Unlike everyone else whose hoods flop down in the back to a soft point, his stands up to a sharper point! And his outfit and hood also lack the split down the middle that everyone else's outfits feature!

It's a small difference, but if you know this and pay attention, you can visually pick Ivan out in any scene that he's in!

And within the organization itself, these are likely deliberate differences to distinguish Ivan's role within the Society's higherarchy. Tragically, we never get to see Fiddleford in his Society of the Blind Eye robes, though there is little doubt that he had such an outfit, if he didn't outright design the Society's uniforms himself! And given how Ivan has custom robes, it's very likely that Fiddleford did too. Likely robes that were even more distinguished and fancy than Ivan's!

So please! When drawing Fiddleford as the leader of the Society of the Blind Eye, I would LOVE it if you gave him some little extra defining features to make him stand out from the rest of the Society as a very fancy, distinguished, and important boy! And if I may make a suggestion....... HOW ABOUT A CAPE!???

Now it's possible that this statue might not have been originally depicting a Society of the Blind Eye member and the symbol could have been added later, the details of which will likely be discussed in my next Society of the Blind Eye post but like... Fiddleford could look hella cool in a cape. He deserves it! A cape would be neat! But it's certainly not necessary. I just want to see more varied, silly, and interesting designs with Fiddleford's Society of the Blind Eye outfit is all! :D

[pushing500]

The Jones boys aren't about to leave their little girl behind. They still have so much to teach her, and Ivy loves them too much to let them go anywhere without her.

Alright, that's three down (3 ½ if we include Henry the flesh whip), and two to go! For the second-to-last time, an introduction to our options:

Why should we bring Tokori?

- He has an expertise in first aid, which will likely be an essential skill in setting up a new colony

- If his medical skill doesn't work, he can also raise the dead (nine more times, at least. Then he's out of fingers to sacrifice.)

- He's got a detoxifier lung and a detoxifier kidney, which could both be useful for dealing with pollution in our new colony

- We only just met him, so it will be a good opportunity to get to know him more

- He's a delight to draw and still has both his natural eyes so I can have fun drawing them

Why should we leave Tokori behind?

- We only just met him, so we wouldn't miss him as much as some of the others

- Mechi is an accomplished doctor, even if it isn't his expertise

- He would be sad if we didn't get plumbing and a bathtub set up ASAP

- Addiction to coffee in more than one person may be difficult to keep in check while we set up a new colony

- Seeing the same face drawn over and over again will surely become tedious eventually, right?

Why should we bring Lansa?

- He's still getting used to being alive and needs someone responsible to keep an eye on him

- He's got untapped psycaster potential that we still need to explore

- He is the only Jones boy NOT addicted to coffee so we don't have to facilitate that in a new colony

- He's a delight to draw

Why should we leave Lansa behind?

- He's grumpy and rude and dislikes most of the other colonists already

- He hasn't been alive in this colony for very long so we won't miss him as much as some of the others

- His bionic eyes are less fun to draw than they could be

- Seeing the same face drawn over and over again will surely become tedious eventually, right?

Why should we bring Alistair?

- Just look at him

- Mechi made Alistair with his own two hands, meaning Alistair is probably the closest to a biological son he’ll ever have

- We haven’t seen Alistair wake up yet, there’s still so much to experience

- LOOK AT HIM

- He’s very good at making bionics and enabling Mechi’s transhumanist lifestyle

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Alistair behind?

- He hasn’t awakened yet so there’s not actually any personality to be attached to

- He hasn’t awakened yet so he has no ability to learn new skills that might be required in a new colony

- Mute, so not too much potential for funny conversations to draw

Why should we bring Melissa?

- Having a colonist with unnatural healing abilities akin to reusable healer mech serums is op as hell and also very cool

- Even if she didn’t have creepjoiner healing powers, she has fun cancer powers

- Every new colony benefits from a creepy blind grandma

- Mechi owes her for saving him from duplication sickness

- She’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Melissa behind?

- Mechi hates her more than usual because she’s super ugly

- She’s blind

- Apparently the creepjoiner unnatural healing has the potential for nasty side effects

- We haven’t had any creepjoiner negative side effects from her yet, but she’s been at an outpost which might have paused the countdown for it to show up

- She’s polyamorous, which means she’ll constantly be sad that she’s not in a relationship

Why should we bring XiaoLiang?

- He’s always been there for Mechi and co., it seems appropriate for him to follow them and continue to help out

- He’s very cool

- He’s got an expertise in sharpshooting which is bound to be useful

- We might run into his grandpa Paul again and it’d be nice if they met

- He's 100% got a crush on the Jones boys and that'd be funny to watch

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave XiaoLiang behind?

- Perhaps it’s time for XiaoLiang to go back to being a wandering Man in Black

- He���s an undergrounder, which means he’ll get upset if we make him go out to hunt or otherwise put his shooting expertise to good use

- He’s polyamorous, which means he’ll constantly be sad that he’s not in a relationship

- He's 100% got a crush on the Jones boys and they would be extremely annoyed having to deal with it

- His grandpa Paul might show up to Sparks again, and it’d be nice if they met

Why should we bring Flapjack?

- He’s a little bit good at every skill which is very useful for starting a new colony

- He is kind, which means he’ll get along with everyone no matter how disfigured they are by flesh whips or cut-out eyes

- My brother says he has a "cool beard" and you "can't beat that"

- Looks a bit like Jesus

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Flapjack behind?

- Not a particularly interesting colonist so far

- He’s just sort of got NPC energy

- Looks a bit like Jesus

- Good at lots of skills but not great at any

Why should we bring Jut?

- He’s a good boy and I love him

- Incredible melee ability which is useful for defending a new colony

- Can explode people with his mind

- We already know his creepjoiner downside (it's the "disturbing" trait) so we don't need to worry about anything more serious popping up in the future

- Sanguophage powers might be useful

- Speaks French

- He’s a delight to draw

Why should we leave Jut behind?

- He’d need to steal Mechi (or someone else’s) hemogen from time to time

- He’s "disturbing" and makes the others uncomfortable sometimes

- He’s blind

- He’s French

And so, without further ado...

First | Next | Previous