#i have religious trauma sue me

[jofayewrites]

Afraid of the Dark

The ‘70 Chevelle is an omen of death.

With its maroon paint almost as dark as a hearse and bloody history, the car is as infamous as it is haunted… and its driver just as deadly. In the tape deck is a two sided cassette — an odyssey of terror. 

Featuring a tracklist including: queer longing, an autistic protagonist, Achillean romance, and a classic creature feature, AFRAID OF THE DARK imagines Buffy Summers (or Dean Winchester) as a gay man with a haunted past in classic horror noir.

Rated R for explicit sexual content, strong language, religious blasphemy, and horror violence. Parental Advisory: Explicit Content

[darkrpfinders]

(Warning: this plot deals heavily with dub con, manipulation, religious trauma, co-dependency, and obsession. The religion in this setting is entirely fictional, and not meant to mock, demean, or belittle *anyone’s* beliefs.)

A religious zealot finds himself seeking reprieve outside familiar territory to take to prayer and fast, only to find himself an unsolicited witness of y/c in a certain state of undress. A seminarian, he touted himself to be, on the cusp of his ordination into priesthood and soon to be an elevated figure of his small community. The religion itself is something he cares little about, but finds the consequent power of such a status tempting beyond his understanding. He demands recompense with y/c on her knees for tempting one of God’s elect. No, not for prayer or confession, but for something much more sinister and far from holy.

21+ writers only. If you’re in search of experienced partners who like to tackle the twisted and depraved worlds of fictional criminals who have no one left to fall in love with but each other, flock to me, my fellow reprobate 🦢 I’m a cis woman, but have a particular fascination with writing terribly corrupt male muses who unfortunately have cocks as large as their egos. I love all manner of licentiousness and unprincipled little fucks who ruin the lives of everyone around them– sue me. I do have few expectations though, and they are to 1) please participate in the plotting, 2) understand I love communication, so if the plot feels stagnant, we can find some way to switch things up, 3) simply be respectful and know that I want you to put your outside life first, always. Now come at me with your favorite despicable muses, and let’s craft something that will drop the jaws of the government personnel spying on this message. Please interact with this post if you’re interested 🕊️

.

[rockermazy]

All singing in the show is canonically diegetic - meaning that all singing 100% takes place in-universe, for all the characters to hear and potentially participate in.

In the first (non-pilot) episode, the " Story of Hell" book, as read by Charlie, states that Lillith "empower[ed] demon-kind with her voice and her songs - and as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power." After the extermination began, Lilith's "dream was passed down to her precious daughter, the Princess of Hell", who is presumably Charlie herself. Two scenes later, Charlie is in musical-notation hammerspace with other denizens, being the cognito hazard that she is.

In episode 7, Rosie invites Charlie to rally Cannibal Town in defending the hotel during the upcoming extermination. When Charlie initially fails, Rosie asks how she normally explains her hotel. Charlie replies, "Through singing". Singing is canonically a gift of both Charlie and every demon - both Hellborn and Sinner.

Which leads me to a theory: One thing that's been nagging me since the pilot, is how Lucifer and Lilith have been fucking for nearly 6,000 years, but only NOW decided to have a daughter in the 21st century. It makes Charlie's existence look almost Mary Sue-ish*. After watching Helluva Boss, it made more sense that Charlie might be an "insurance baby", much like Octavia is to Stolas' lineage. Lucifer might not be unkillable. Carmine and the hotel battle of episode 8 have both demonstrated that angels can be killed with the right ammunition. But why was Charlie born now, in the 21st century? My theory is that Heaven asked Lilith to leave Hell, hoping she'd take her song with her. Heaven knew that Lilith was the one making Hell stronger through her songs. Charlie uses song to rally the people around her.

Husk used song to heal.

Song, even when used to butt heads, (ex: Lucifer vs Alastor), will make combatants drop valuable info, basically outing themselves to everyone within earshot in this universe.

My guess is that a conversation sometime in the past went something like this: Heaven: Lilith, bitch - we see what you're doing. Stop teaching Hell how to sing - the bonding and wholesomeness is threatening our status quo." Lilith: No. Heaven: Fine, we'll exterminate. Lilith: (years later, looking at Carmine's charts) hmmm... the number of sinners getting exterminated each year seems to be climbing. Heaven might want all of us dead. Hey, Luci-boo... get your depressed-ass over here. You wanna make a kid this time? (Waits til Charlie is somewhat grown, and asks Heaven for a "meeting".) Lilith: ok, I have got an offer you cannot refuse - I will never EVER sing again, and my power will leave with me - IF you give me a spot in Heaven (or Earth - I should technically be immortal since I never touched the Forbidden Fruit). Heaven: um... win for everyone? ok! Charlie herself (for lack of a better term) might be Lilith's "ace in the hole" herself. Also, this makes me wonder if the only way to avoid lying is to avoid singing on the topic XD

*I have nothing against mary sues. I'd been wanting for years now to do something visual describing the internal turmoil that religious trauma caused in my The-Cell-starring-J-lo --like inner worlds. Telling personal stories and Mary Sues are inextricably intertwined. This show has inspired me to either keep pursuing that or just quit. Because picking apart past trauma for analysis can be more trouble than its worth - especially if you are ready to forget. u.u I still get deep chills every time I hear Emily and Charlie's duet in "You Didn't Know", even though I've officially considered myself atheist for like, what, three months?" This shit was an essay. I'm just going to play Warframe instead. Peace.

[prpfz]

(Warning: this plot deals heavily with dub con, manipulation, religious trauma, co-dependency, and obsession. The religion in this setting is entirely fictional, and not meant to mock, demean, or belittle *anyone’s* beliefs.)

A religious zealot finds himself seeking reprieve outside familiar territory to take to prayer and fast, only to find himself an unsolicited witness of y/c in a certain state of undress. A seminarian, he touted himself to be, on the cusp of his ordination into priesthood and soon to be an elevated figure of his small community. The religion itself is something he cares little about, but finds the consequent power of such a status tempting beyond his understanding. He demands recompense with y/c on her knees for tempting one of God’s elect. No, not for prayer or confession, but for something much more sinister and far from holy.

21+ writers only. If you’re in search of experienced partners who like to tackle the twisted and depraved worlds of fictional criminals who have no one left to fall in love with but each other, flock to me, my fellow reprobate 🦢 I’m a cis woman, but have a particular fascination with writing terribly corrupt male muses who unfortunately have cocks as large as their egos. I love all manner of licentiousness and unprincipled little fucks who ruin the lives of everyone around them– sue me. I do have few expectations though, and they are to 1) please participate in the plotting, 2) understand I love communication, so if the plot feels stagnant, we can find some way to switch things up, 3) simply be respectful and know that I want you to put your outside life first, always. Now come at me with your favorite despicable muses, and let’s craft something that will drop the jaws of the government personnel spying on this message. Please interact with this post if you’re interested 🕊️

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

[rphunter]

(Warning: this plot deals heavily with dub con, manipulation, religious trauma, co-dependency, and obsession. The religion in this setting is entirely fictional, and not meant to mock, demean, or belittle *anyone’s* beliefs.)

A religious zealot finds himself seeking reprieve outside familiar territory to take to prayer and fast, only to find himself an unsolicited witness of y/c in a certain state of undress. A seminarian, he touted himself to be, on the cusp of his ordination into priesthood and soon to be an elevated figure of his small community. The religion itself is something he cares little about, but finds the consequent power of such a status tempting beyond his understanding. He demands recompense with y/c on her knees for tempting one of God’s elect. No, not for prayer or confession, but for something much more sinister and far from holy.

21+ writers only. If you’re in search of experienced partners who like to tackle the twisted and depraved worlds of fictional criminals who have no one left to fall in love with but each other, flock to me, my fellow reprobate 🦢 I’m a cis woman, but have a particular fascination with writing terribly corrupt male muses who unfortunately have cocks as large as their egos. I love all manner of licentiousness and unprincipled little fucks who ruin the lives of everyone around them– sue me. I do have few expectations though, and they are to 1) please participate in the plotting, 2) understand I love communication, so if the plot feels stagnant, we can find some way to switch things up, 3) simply be respectful and know that I want you to put your outside life first, always. Now come at me with your favorite despicable muses, and let’s craft something that will drop the jaws of the government personnel spying on this message. Please interact with this post if you’re interested 🕊️

,

[emocl0wnpp]

Part 3 of introducing my creepypasta ocs: Wicked Vicky

(SMALL NOTE IF YOU HATE "CRINGE MARY SUE OCS" SHUT UP)

(Also some old art again cuz i used to draw Vicky a LOT)

(Again i forgot Vicky's actual name sooo)

♤Basic info♤

Name: Wicked Vicky

Age: would be 34 now if that says something-

Birthday: 1990/08/26

Nationality: german

Gender: yesn't (biologically female)

Pronouns: any,Vicky doesn't care at all (i use they/them for simplicity)

Sexuality: pansexual

Height: 160cm/5'2

Personality: literally Discord from MLP, chaotic,hyper,literally batshit insane, manipulative, two faced,aggressive,hella smart but acts dumb and naive to trick people, again Vicky is literally Discord from MLP-

Stuff i can't categorize(so basically backstory elements)

Religious trauma.

Both parents were german

Hyper Christian mom and alcoholic dad = whatever Vicky is(nothing against religious people btw don't take it the wrong way😭)

Got locked into a basement from 6 years old until 12

Accidentally summonned a demon(a whole ass goddes)

Made a deal with said demonic goddess and got posessed (that's why their eyes are like that...and why they have black goop coming from their mouth)

Ran away from home at 12 and haven't looked back since

Somehow Jason(the toymaker) stumbled upon little Vicky,and him being him,thinking they wouldn't last around him for long,took them home

Worst mistake Vicky still didn't try to leave-

Jason is like their father figure and Vicky loves and adores him<3

Somehow they and Candy(Pop) ended up together (YES ANOTHER OC X CANON THINGY FIGHT ME)

(Now) best friends with Claws,Alma and Jade(i haven't introduced her yet,she'll be next)

Claws is actually terrified of Vicky (lol)

Alma thinks Vicky cool as hell tho

Jade is like their mother figure

Back to the being posessed thing,Vicky is still working for that demon

Fun facts!!

Like I mentioned, Discord from MLP

With that said,Vicky has the ability to control time,they can stop the time for up to a minute...which is more than enough for Vicky to cause havoc,though they rarely use their powers anymore

Able to bend and stretch in cartoony ways

Their hat has a little dimension in it with lots of clocks and mirrors(they're used to watch over different universes)

Their hammer is H E A V Y,like over 5 tons

Vicky is sort of a demigod,so they have huge strenght

And they're also buff(but still chubby cuz <333)

Would fistfight god

Did fistfight a god before

Poor Vicky never really learned how to read or write,but they're still able do both..just a bit slowly

Absolutely devoted to any person they love,would and will kill anyone for their friends and family

Has the thickest german accent imagineable

Had to be stitched together because of accidents

No sense of danger at all,not like they can die anyway

Even if Claws is terrified of them,they still look up to her a lot,Vicky sees her as a cool aunt

Now Alma is the cool older sibling they can drag into crazy shit

ICP fan (me too Vicky me too)

Used to be my self insert in 2019😭💀

Somehow managed to have triplets with Candy (he was proud of himself for that)

Not the best parent but still managed to give their kids an amazing childhood<3

Closing it with something less wholesome,Vicky ate mice before (said it tasted like cow meat((never tasted cow meat before)) )

The dimension in their hat

(Old aahh drawing💀)

And a playlist

And this template thing

[nanathott]

im back!!!!

1. mafia

2. sometimes pregnancy

3. corruption

4. love triangle but only when its too obvious (like the mc has to choose between some shitty love interest who treats them bad and a nice love interest)

5. BAD BOYS W TRAGIC PAST, ur bad person bc ur bad person not bc ur mom died when u were 5

6. “everything was a dream” i did not cry my eyes out just to be a fucking dream

7. lowk A/B/O

8. mary sue

9. stalking/yandere shit

10. bad boy/good girl (i can make some exceptions)

11. miscommunication (JUST FUCKING TALK STOP STRESSING ME)

12. pick me girls/boys protagonist (cant stand u)

13. anything dub-con/non-con or incest

14. bully/victim stuff, thats not romantic

almost sure im forgetting something but idk, this is pretty much everything

1) i agree, for the most part this trope is so overdone and exaggerated, i have yet to read a book with the mafia troupe that i love (not ruling it out tho, if i find a book that does it well then W!!

2) anything that ha to do with pregnancy i hate, esp if it’s when the fmc just got to her full potential and has a kid and now she doesn’t do anything but stay at home (absolutly nothing against stay at home mothers, it’s just like… if ur gonna do that troupe with a badass character why not keep her a badass?? why change her character completely??)

3) i sometimes agree, ive read a few good “religious corruption” books where the mc deconstructs her spirituality and it’s usually super heartbreaking and angsty, i like

4) i hate love triangles period

5) REAL ur trauma does not excuse the horrible shit u do to people *cough* any “dark romance” love interest ever *cough*

6) HAHAHAHAHHAHA FUCKING FR

7) yeah, i’m not a huge fan of this either

8) no idea what this is💪

9) YOU GET ME!!! getting stalked is one of my biggest fears, idgaf if the dude wants to burn down the earth for me, he can burn it down with himself on it!!

10) i kinda like this troupe… but sapphics do it better

11) YES. FUCK.

12) like ur insufferable. someone needs to humble u and quick

13) 100%

14) i also agree 100%

[novella-writers]

(Warning: this plot deals heavily with dub con, manipulation, religious trauma, co-dependency, and obsession. The religion in this setting is entirely fictional, and not meant to mock, demean, or belittle *anyone’s* beliefs.)

A religious zealot finds himself seeking reprieve outside familiar territory to take to prayer and fast, only to find himself an unsolicited witness of y/c in a certain state of undress. A seminarian, he touted himself to be, on the cusp of his ordination into priesthood and soon to be an elevated figure of his small community. The religion itself is something he cares little about, but finds the consequent power of such a status tempting beyond his understanding. He demands recompense with y/c on her knees for tempting one of God’s elect. No, not for prayer or confession, but for something much more sinister and far from holy.

21+ writers only. If you’re in search of experienced partners who like to tackle the twisted and depraved worlds of fictional criminals who have no one left to fall in love with but each other, flock to me, my fellow reprobate 🦢 I’m a cis woman, but have a particular fascination with writing terribly corrupt male muses. I love all manner of licentiousness and unprincipled little fucks who ruin the lives of everyone around them– sue me. I do have few expectations though, and they are to 1) please participate in the plotting, 2) understand I love communication, so if the plot feels stagnant, we can find some way to switch things up, 3) simply be respectful and know that I want you to put your outside life first, always. Now come at me with your favorite despicable muses, and let’s craft something that will drop the jaws of the government personnel spying on this message. Please interact with this post if you’re interested 🕊️

Like if interested!

[asexxxualauthor]

I am always a little dubious of people who immediately view any god in a fictional work with distrust. Not to say there wouldn’t be reasons for those views, but that I always find myself staring over at them and going “…so how much religious trauma did you say you have again?���

It just kinda takes me out of the setting a bit. A cleric could roll up to the adventuring party and say they were the chosen champion of Mr Feel-Good McHappiness who blesses all his followers with their own puppy and hugs every morning, and there would be one person in the party who would immediately start plotting how to murder them the second they did something even mildly selfish, with the only excuse being “people have done terrible things in the name of some righteous purpose”. Yeah, Sharon, maybe in the real world! But this is a fantasy game where I can shoot fireballs and make my friends be able to pull off 360 slam dunks by the power of music. Maybe you’ve got some ptsd around Christians ostracizing gays and doing the Crusades, but this is a make believe game. If a god shows up and does nothing but good for millennia, sue me, but I might just trust them, alright? And if it turns out they were evil the whole time, well shame on me for expecting that in a world where the concepts of good and evil are real, physical, universal constants, that the beings that represent unwavering good would actually stand for it, unlike the institutions that we struggle with on a daily basis.

Your fantasy escapism is murdering a god because you feel yours abandoned you—my fantasy escapism is trusting in a god because I hope mine will embrace me as I am. We are not the same.

[the-black-manor]

Ok so I might have religious trauma, and I might be projecting it onto my OC. Sue me.

[algerian-lady]

i gotta be the last person to watch Carrie (1976) on earth fr, i've been slacking off doing it and then i finally did and i liked it sm i had to watch the other versions just to make sure that the first is indeed the best, i gotta buy the novel tho to check if i like it better, saw some Stephen King books in a library in the center, i haven't been there in a while, i'm sure i can find it elsewhere tho. I just think the first movie is amazing, it's so beautiful, well made and deep i have a loooot to say about it, i'd watch it again for sure, the 2014 movie was good too, althou i don't like all of Chloë's movies, she's really pretty and did great but i just don't like actors who have one face in every movie, it's not always their fault, but i can't project into the character when it looks exactly like every other roles they have done before, ofc its the same person, but it also looks like the same persona (do i even make sense rn) but that's just me, no hate tho.

One thing i kept thinking abt is how Carrie's mother is def insane, it's not just abt her being religious, she's just batshit crazy, like there's religious then "there's not wanting your daughter to have her periods" or "no sex after marriage" kind of nuts. I get it if she's celibate or wanted to be a nun, but she just sounds like she had been abducted and r**ed in a forced marriage while she still had a kid's (who had been in a religious order/family) mind, she's much too extremist. It's either that or King has no idea over religious women (or women in general).

Another thing, (well i'm sure there's 21455623212 Carrie analysis out there that pointed this out already) but Carrie seems to have Hemophobia, her reaction at getting her first periods (even if zaama she never heard of these ever, which really Stephen? just sounds insane) thus freaking out, even then it's still exaggerated for just a shocked reaction (esp in the first movie) she looks like she's completely out of it, also breaking down and having a panic attack until her teacher slaps her to get her out of her extase like state.

Instead, i kind of feel like this unlocked this trauma or Phobia (could be either, could be earlier), talking abt the first movie still, this is why when the pig blood was thrown over her, she doesn't look like herself anymore, her eyes are wild open, blown out, and she really looks in a trance here, like she's completely in another world and doesn't know what she's doing, and at the moment when she's in her bathroom, cleaning out the blood out of her skin, we can see a sudden switch in her expression as if she was no longer hypnotized and she freaked out and realization washed over her. At least that's what i really felt happened in the 1st movie, she acted really different afterwards with her mother.

Third point is about how adorable Miss Desjardin is, she's what i strive for to be as a teacher or an adult in general, responsible and witty, kind and compassionate. She had interfered when she saw the others bullying Carrie, comforted her, punished the bullies, checked out on Carrie when she was sulking and gave her a pep talk, she felt that Tommy and Sue's action were fishy so she looked into it, warned them, came to cheer on her and check on her date in the prom, said some supportive things, looked delighted when Carrie won, honestly her only slip up is not noticing that Sue had changed and refused to listen to her when she tried to warn them but she did that with Carrie's best interests in mind, so honestly she did better than any other teacher i've seen in any teenage movies to date.

I felt really bad for her ending in the first movie, glad they fixed it by the third (can't talk abt the second much bcz i couldn't finish it tbh) i had wished for a different ending, that she'd end up adopting or taking care of Carrie which brings me to my fourth point.

I really really feel like Roald Dahl took one look at Carrie and told himself "welp, let's fix that", because Matilda really sounds like an AU for Carrie now (that i've seen, i can't unsee it,) if it was a children book and she had found her refuge in books and her loving teacher earlier in her life.

I'm ofc not accusing him of copy rights infringements, ofc not, the two stories are completely different with only the Telekinesis ability in common (as well as the abusive family and supportive teacher), but hear me out, who hasn't looked at a work before and told themselves it deserves a happier ending? there's even a whole fanfiction genre called fix-it fics and i know i've read and even Privately written a few esp for the JJBA anime and especially for the first season, two lines underlining Dio Drando, because he's my favorite character ever and i always wished things were different for him. Which is my last point, but let's talk about Malida/Carrie for a bit first.

If i ever did a Carrie fixit fic, it'll end up looking pretty similar to Matilda, the idea of it being inspired from it in any way makes me giddy in the stomach because that's what i'd have wanted for Carrie, to have found a lifestyle to keep her sane and leveled up, despite all the abuse going on around her, to find smn to take care of her, to not have fallen to the darkness, this would have been the perfect AU and i'm sure there's some written abt her out there, along with so many other good ideas ofc. I've read some theories that Carrie and Matilda are atleast from the same universe which sounds reasonable.

My last point has to do with smth i feel Stephen King wanted to say through Carrie's insane mother, when she saw her in pink, predicted she'll come back in red, said she attempted to kill herself when she was about to have her then about to give her to god, but she was weak bcz she loved her and couldn't do it, she ended up being the devil though. It feels too much like smth similar Speedwagon said in JJBA s1 (and which feels like it's Araki's plot narration) when he said that Dio shouldn't fool them with his rough upbringings and difficult childhood, that the guy was evil from birth or smth, this also reminds me a bit of smth Zodd (i think?) said to Guts in Berserk, abt Griffith and his nature, although it's not compltely similar, none of these cases are but they have smth in common.

I hate the implication, (even by a side character which feels like the author speaks through him) that a person was inevitably going to become evil, and that it was decided from birth, that despite all the shit they had to go through in life, none of it counts as much as smth they have no control over and it was decided from birth and they are just evil and they'd have been anyways even if they grew up in different circumstances and didn't face any shit in their lives, it just goes against all of my beliefs.

Ofc i'm not accusing the creators of these works (i haven't even read king yet so i'm not judging that) or putting words in their mouths, they aren't excplicitely saying these characters are inherently evil, but it's the underlying subtext that ticks me off, and it doesn't have to be all the story that carries it, it could just be the mantra of one character (like in the first 2 cases), suggesting just a different perspective but still it always leaves a sore taste in my mouth.

Like dudee, nobody is born evil or the devil or whatever (idc if it's fiction on this point) that implication is just stupid and ignorant. I'm not saying that smn should hide behind their environement and background to justify their actions, ofc not, those have an effect but in the end of the day, the decision is ours, always, we have a free will.

So we should be judged over our actions, yes, our background should be taken into consideration in the long run, but not as an exuse to the actions we took on our own accord, a crime is a crime, whoever did it. But going as far as to dismiss any relation between these things is just wrong and putting it on our very nature and essence from birth is all kinds and shapes of wrong, it's such a loathable idea to me istg lol

[apostateoverrubies]

How Do You Do Fellow Heretics?

Hi, everyone! My name is Sue, I use she/they pronouns, I am bisexual and I am 20+ years old. As of the time of me making this blog, I have recently become an ex Pentecostal and have become agnostic after trying to hold on to my Christian faith. So it goes without saying that this blog focuses on deconstruction, religious trauma and overall ex religious stuff.

Though my blog will focus primarily on ex Christian stuff for obvious reasons, I will also be reblogging stuff from other ex religious people like ex Muslims and such since I think we should make this community more open so more people can be seen and heard.

I know the fact that I use pronouns and announced my sexuality should make it obvious but this a pro-LGBT blog so homophobia, transphobia and acephobia of any kind isn’t welcome here. I am also a feminist and a woman of color so I’m not having shit like misogyny or racism/colorism either.

I want my blog to be a safe place for people like me, especially ones in a position where they feel trapped in a religious society more than willing to throw you away for daring stray away from what they believe.

Don’t come trying to bring me back into Christianity. I’ve heard everything under the sun so it simply won’t work. Don’t waste your time trying and leave me be. I know how to use the block button and won’t waste my time with debates for the most part.

With all that being said, welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy what you see! And if you don’t, that’s your problem and not mine.

[adventuringblind]

hi!! i just want to know who hurt you /j how did you get the idea to write 'Drowning beneath your weight'

Okay, so, due to the nature of dbyw I'm adding a a cut.

Buckle up! This is a long one. Also known as Ren trauma dumping on main again....

Warnings for below the cut: p*dophilia, drugs, alcohol, religious trauma, r*pe, SA, grooming, and probably others....

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE!! I am not responsible for making you feel comfortable and my inbox is not a place to make it known you ignored the warnings.

So, the initial idea actually stemmed from my mom. We were watching DTS (sue me) and my mom saw Zak and Lando on screen together and lost her shit.

(Please keep in mind that my mom IS a victim of grooming, molestation, rape, and pedophilia. She has also worked with kids and youth who had been through some hard situations.)

She can't stand Zak Brown, and every time she sees him, he will pray on his downfall. Specifically because of how his relationship to Lando looks in her eyes.

Neither I nor my mom know these people personally. I can't say that's accurate or not because truthfully, I don't know.

The idea originally was also not meant to have any kind of twincest, forced or otherwise. It just wasn't there. Lexi wasn't even a thing until I was planning (plotting, more like) with my beta reader. Lexi was originally supposed to he younger than Lando by a couple of years, and when Lando is later asked about I her age, he panics and lies, saying they are born on the same day. As in, he claims them twins when they aren't. I then ran with the idea of what if they WERE actually twins. Then I had to re write the entire damn thing because I wasn't going to actually put the twins in a scenario where they are romantically involved.

Ironically, I think that dbyw has a lot less to do with my own trauma. From a personal standpoint, I've been sexually assaulted and raped, but not in that kind of context. It's all (as far as I know) always been people my own age.

The bdsm au was an excuse for me to write in collars and throw in some fun extra ways of interacting. It's also my own way of creating what would be a traditional way of looking at things. I have been in an environment, specifically religious, where it's easy to get preyed upon and groomed because someone is in a position of authority. It's why Norris family, in this scenario, has a traditional view of things. They are more concerned about whether their kids are successful and making them look good, then if they are safe. Which is, unfortunately, how I was raised to act. How my family was being perceived was more important than me getting the mental health treatment I needed and what got us into some really fucked up situations including my mom being raped by one of those authority church members and for image sakes calling it an affair. An abusive dad that never got talked to about his actions despite everyone seeing it because they needed him to lead, and him being hailed a hero for taking my mom back.

I couldn't really fit that kind of power dynamic in through religion because of how the story is laid out. The AU works so much better and gets across that point still.

Lexi is actually based on my younger sister. NO, WE'VE NOT EVER DONE ANYTHING LIKE THAT! I just mean personality wise. She's an artist like Lexi and communicates a lot through her creativity. Also, like Lexi, she has been through a sexual experience where she purposefully got herself drunk and did drugs to help make her look like she was enjoying it. She was about 14/15 when this happened.

In dbyw it's Zak doing it to Lando and Lexi, but the initial idea stemmed from that situation.

So yeah... the idea stemmed from a lot of different things. I'm planning on writing the original version of the story where Lando and the OC are not twins just to share with yall how far it spiraled.

Hope that answered your question!!

[jittersbitters]

Splintered Hearts (1)- "First Impressions"

Story summary: Two people of differing backgrounds; Both religiously traumatized (in different ways), both college friends of Foggy, and both not having the most stable of lives- romantic or otherwise. One looking to become a lawyer (and a savior) for the people of Hell's Kitchen, while the other chooses to be a doctor for those entering an early grave. Two vastly separate lives finally starting to collide- for better or for worse? Secrets and lies always did make kisses far more sweet.

Chapter summary: Foggy has a friend at the hospital that Matt has been dying to meet. Through circumstance and luck, he finally gets the chance to meet them one-on-one. Hopefully, the chicken and dumplings he brought are enough to smooth things over.

Word count: 7k

Chapter Mood board

Tropes: Strangers to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, daddy issues, might be some friends to unknown enemies to lovers (We'll see how I feel when we cross that bridge), friendship to love to hate to love again, Food is the easiest way to anyone heart (Trope or just facts?). Catholic x Pagan (guilty pleasure), lawyer x doctor, vigilant x reformed criminal (pending...), sex first love later, Oops we fell in love type story, slow burn, mutual pining, both fell first and then fell harder

Content Warning (Strap in folks; bolded is what appears in this chapter): FMC is named (I can't do that Y/N shit or constantly typing just she/her and vague gender descriptions, I have war flashbacks from my Wattpad days. Sorry fam oc is being slapped in here- I don't care it feels better), Possible Inaccuracies (I'm reading the script sue me), The subtlest hint of daddy issues, Vaguely mentioned age gap between Matt and Amilia (FMC), Religious trauma, Matt went one-way and Amilia went the other, mentions of drug use, Descriptions of drug use, Mentions of addiction recover, Falling off and going on a bender, Mentions of past criminal active, Descriptions of murder scenes, Descriptions of violence, FILTH, SMUT IS TO COME I promise, Just got to sit through the slowest slow burn ever, Detailed descriptions of dead bodies, She's not like other girls she likes to play with the dead, I'll add more when we get farther into this- editing has transformed this from the original plot- its BETTER

part one

A/N: If you would have told me 3 years ago I would be posting this, I would have laughed in your face- but here we are. Special thanks to @knightofthieves and a couple Matt Murdock pages for giving me the confidence to edit and post this. It turned out better than expected, I hope you like it. I'm hoping to post this on the same schedule as my therapy visits. We will see.

"It isn't the red ribbon that binds us together.

The root that unifies us, does not derive from a tree on the wall.

This bond knows no genetics.

Friendship is a peculiar seed.

No matter the season, the weather,

nor the time of the day.

When planted on a nourishing soul,

it will always bear fruit." -Clairel Estevez

~-~

‘240 N. Pleasant Ave. Bronx, NY 10462’

This had been the place her nurse had mentioned. Taking people in, like her, with nowhere else to go. Wayward kids and adults with habits that made them undesirable to society. 

That's what she was at this moment, unwanted and pathetically useless. 

With no skills to manage a normal life, this was the last choice she had - rehabilitation with nothing more than a voucher and a bag of belongings. She had been lucky an attending had been nice enough, kind enough, to her to shove a piece of paper in her hand before ushering her out the door. Three simple lines containing the information and resources to get somewhere safe.

 Now, the letter with the address card was held, crumpled, in her hand. Thinning for days spent reading the smudged words, a reminder of a fresh start. A start that had the slouched woman, draped in the shadows left by the broken lamp post, looking up at the old Georgian-styled house in front of her. Sticking out like a sore thumb, presenting as some sort of illusion made from the smog and grey drizzle. Potted plants and windchimes hung from the porch rafters, the sound of the crystals sitting almost eerily in the air. The glow of the interior lights giving a warm backwash that set shadows across the front lawn, reached the tips of her shoes.

It made her anxious. Being out, prancing up to a random stranger's house. It was almost uncanny. A normal house, a normal neighborhood. Complete with the green yard and a slowly aging white picket fence. Flowers were even planted to perfectly line the bottom... It was an oasis in the New York chill, made to allure those passing by. It was only a thousand miles from home and the complete opposite of everything she had grown to know. It made her feel insignificant and self-conscious, small. Worried that her clothes would have the lady of the house turning up her nose in disgust. Button up wrinkled and disheveled from the bus ride, obviously heavily slept in and smelling of humid sweat. She had done her best to freshen up at the bus stop, nervous about making the right impression for the first time face to face. She just worried that the effort hadn’t been enough.

She’d think it was excitement, butterflies fluttering in her gut like a teenage girl going to prom if it wasn’t for the acid that was climbing up her throat. Burning bile that had her stomach in knots, turning over and over till she felt like she was about to lose her lunch. A clammy, cold sweat dripped between her fingers. She cringed at the salty texture; hastily patting her palms dry on the sides of her legs and shoving the paper into her coat pocket. Finally looking around at something other than the house, she peered around the dead residential street becoming acutely aware of just how long she had been standing out front. Tsking crudely at her absurd behavior, calling herself a child as she picked at the fraying seam of her pants.

“Fuck, FUCK,” she said bitterly through her teeth. Hearing the grind of them in her ears as she fixed her sack. The strap dug into her shoulder, loaded with all her earthly possessions, as she finally stepped into the light of the driveway. Making the agonizing journey to the front door, stalling on the steps of the porch as she saw all the trinkets and planters. Not being able to help herself, tutting at the stereotypical rocking chair by the front door - fit with the dog bed sitting beside it. The rattling of the bench swing creaked next to it as a breeze swept through, chimes ringing behind her. 

Guess she really was a Grandma…

When she came to the front door, she remembered to breathe, steeling her overzealous nerves, and taking one last look around before knocking on the door. Making it quick with false vibrato before she lost her edge. Instantly, she regretted it as someone seemed to bounce up and shuffle toward the door, obviously expecting her arrival. It had her inching side to side, smoothing down the wrinkles in her button-up, tightening her ponytail to hide tangled hair. Still fussing over her appearance like a schoolgirl, when the door opened- stomach sinking to her feet. The light from the entrance basking her pale face, the smell of some type of cookie wafting through the air. Her stomach growled as she felt drawn inside forgetting she hadn’t eaten since she stepped foot on her bus here. Mouth watering at the same time her lips felt parched, her throat begging for a glass of water.

“Ah, Darling! You must be Ms. Boteo! Rachael told me to be expecting you tonight.” An elderly woman opened the door, tanned skin wrinkled with age and blotted with freckles. A smile that could rival the sun brightened her face as she took in the young woman's tired appearance. A small frown twitched at the sides of her lips as her eyes scanned the bags under the lady’s even darker eyes. Growing the tiniest bit unsettled, disappointed, by the dead look behind them. Not even the light from her house was managing to brighten them. Somehow just made the amber look hauntingly soulless, fading into the black ring of her iris. It had the woman pushing down a shiver, rubbing her hands together like the chill of mid-October was getting to her. Hiding a frown in a brightened smile.

“Why- Why don’t we get you out of this cold? I’ll introduce you to everyone…” She led the newly arrived women inside with a hand on her shoulder, shocked when she felt nothing but ice. Even with the leather jacket, she shouldn’t have been that cold. “And maybe a nice cup of tea, hmm?”

~-~

Seven years later…

“Nelson,” The sharp voice of his boss cut through the air like a knife. It made both men freeze in the middle of their work. Both turned to answer her, Foggy feeling like a deer in headlights as his pen slipped from his hand and the office phone pressed into his shoulder dangled precariously. The air felt thick in their closet of an office as she looked between the two interns with a passive gaze. “I need you to sit in on my meeting with the Agnelli accounts.”

The panic that went through Foggy was palpable. “Yes ma’am.” He gave an awkward nod of his head, enough to satisfy his boss. He looked between her departing back and his notepad, finishing his call- obviously disgruntled. “Yes, Yes, thank you, Bobby.” 

*Click* 

Foggy fell back into his chair, tense as he pushed the phone away from him in a huff. “Shit! I was supposed to go to the hospital for lunch…”

“You still haven’t got the list?” Matt turned his head toward Foggy’s voice, hands grazing over the documents before him. “I thought you went to see them on Monday?”

“No,” He pulled the word out, turning inward to their shard desks. “They were called to a scene as soon as I arrived. Walked out the door with a pat on the back and a ‘I’m sorry, I'll see you whenever Franklin’ before whipping out the door and leaving me with TWO servings of Taiwanese noodles. With all our overtime, today is the only time we both have available for a while. I won’t be seeing them till after the trial at this rate.”

Matt’s fingers stopped mid-page. 

Foggy was desperate. The case was going to court in 3 days, and while they had a case without paperwork from the hospital, it wasn’t perfect. It had holes, and their boss didn’t like holes. The records would be the cherry on top. Impress the boss and make the trial MUCH easier to breeze through. Two birds, one stone. Besides... Matt had never been allowed to know so much as the name of whoever this friend was at the hospital. This could be his chance, as selfish as it was- he was far too curious to care anymore.

“I…Could go?” Matt tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. Leaning in his chair as he swiveled to the side. Without paying attention to anything else, Matt could still feel the disdain at the idea, heavy in the air like smoke. The way Foggy fidgeted and gave him a shrewd once over to discern Matt’s intentions. However, before Foggy could shoot him down like usual, Matt raised a hand to interrupt him. Let him try and convince him. “Think about it. I don’t have that much work and you have this meeting now. When’s the next chance you’re realistically going to have to go to the hospital?”

“...”

Silence was good. Silence wasn’t a no. As long as he held it long enough, he was bound to break eventually…

“... You’ll need to pick up the order from MeiMei’s.” That was NOT entirely too far from the hospital. “It's Friday so she will be counting on the usual from there, she’s particular about these things.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Matt gave a little shrug of the mouth but got nothing but silence again in return. He sensed Foggy becoming more anxious about the idea, having to contemplate if he was actually going through with this. Was the report really worth exposing his ‘mystery man’? Years of excuses going down the drain, opening a door he wouldn’t be able to close.

“You’ll behave yourself?” Even without context, Matt got the subtext in that accusation. It was the first domino tipping, sewing the downfall of all the rest.

“So they’re a woman, then? Interesting” The upward twitch in his lips gave Foggy all the proof he needed not to trust his friend. Resigning with a sharp glare and an exaggerated sigh that Matt couldn’t help but laugh at. It didn’t help his case, only ended in another sharp look shooting his way.

“No. No! The answer is no.” Foggy turned away, starting to pack up papers for the new meeting. Surrending himself to the absence of that report, not like they needed it. It would be fine. There was always the next case, another opportunity to impress the boss would always arise

“Okay, Okay,” Matt put his hands up, showing his capulation. Though, still smiling at his friend's obvious discomfort and exasperation. “I promise it will be nothing, but my best behavior.”

Foggy rolled his head toward Matt. Even though he knew Matt couldn’t see him, it didn’t stop Foggy from giving his office mate a ‘do I look stupid to you’ stare. Looking the most unamused he had ever been with Matt, it was almost a shame Matt didn’t get to witness it. “See, that?” he thrusted an open hand toward his partner. “That is the problem.”

Matt snorted, raising his eyebrows. “What now? How is that the problem?”

“With you it is. You’ll talk nice and butter her up, then next thing I know I’m being canceled on for lunch because you wooed her, or whatever it is you do,” he was waving his hands around, becoming more eccentric as he continued to shove papers and files he needed into his case.

“Wooed her? Foggy-”

“No, I’m not losing my only client before I’ve even started.” He clipped his briefcase shut, doubling down. “Took me way too long to convince her lawyers aren’t the devil, I’m not letting you take that away.”

“Hey, now. I’m just trying to help,” Matt leaned farther back in his chair, a convincing smile never leaving his lips. “I will keep my distance, I swear it.” The uptick in his tone told Foggy not to trust him, track record not being taken into consideration… but he did trust Matt, even if now it might have been misguided. If he made it clear she was off limits then, he was more than sure that Matt would stick to it… Right?

It was a beat before Matt heard the victorious spleen sigh of Foggy relenting. Leaning over his desk to write a note, scribbling it quickly before stuffing it in Matt’s shirt pocket. “Give that to her boss, he asked me to look into the legality of something for him.”

“Oh?” His satisfaction was quickly replaced with confusion. What could that mean?

“You’ll... Find out soon enough…” Foggy gave a shrug, nodding his head side to side. “Probably.” He stole his briefcase from his desk, reaching for the door. “Go to the hospital and head to the morgue, she’s a resident there.”

“The morgue?” Matt gave him a befuddled look. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that.

“Yeah,” Foggy laughed, finding his own amusement. His turn to smile now. “The morgue.”

Matt was left with nothing else as Foggy left quickly after, not fully closing the door to their office in his rush. He didn’t know what he felt more, surprise Foggy gave in and let him go in his stead or that uncomfortable feeling that has your skin crawling when you look down your basement stairs. Matt chose to focus on the surprise, for his sake.

~-~

Upon entering the Morgue, Matt is hit with a strong wave of chemicals and burnt coffee. It was thick enough in the air to make his temples burn with an unpleasant ache. The strong smell of the hospital had hit him a floor up and two blocks away, down here he could taste it on the back of his tongue. It made his throat clog with a metallic taste, it was nasty. How anyone could stomach even the lightest waft of this smell was beyond him. He could hear the whirling of a centrifuge buzzing off to the side, someone sitting next to it was tapping their pen against the table. He hears the click of the top before the scratch of it gliding against a piece of paper. No doubt jotting down some sort of note, the person too absorbed in work to take notice of his presence.

Stepping farther in, his cane hit the edge of the doorway, leading into a sunken room with a couple of stairs going down to it. The woman in front of him had a steady heartbeat but her breathing was shallow.  She's exhausted, he can hear it in the slight cracking of her back and joints when she shifts in place. He almost feels bad for disturbing her while she is in such a state, it barely being passed 1 p.m. no less. The burnt coffee smell stong in her direction, she practically reeks of it. No creamer, maybe a spoon full of stale sugar. The mild soap and linens smell a mild undertone compared to the caffeine aroma staining her white coat… and… Pomegranates.

Matt doesn't get the time to reconsider, not that he would. Not when his chance to find out more was being served to him on a silver platter. He is barely a step down into the main room when the woman suddenly becomes aware of his presence. A sudden, hungry, chirp cuts through the space between them, like a knife through a crisp fruit. 

“Chicken and rice dumplings?" She sounded as tired as she felt, a dry mirthy tone accompanied an even drier laughter. A meer chuckle as she lifted her head at the smell of the food in the bag hanging in Matt's hand, though not turning her head to see who was behind her. "I’d say you spoil me Percy, but we both know that's not the case.” 

The heavy sarcasm is obvious like a slap in the face. The technician half turned in her chair, still writing down her final notes as she expected Foggy’s usual quip back. Something about how much he needs her, he wouldn’t be able to do half his job without her, voice laced with some sort of exaggerated desperation and false adoration. Something to butter up her ego even more. And Matt being, well, who he was- the gentlemen he is, couldn’t help but feel obliged. In his own way, of course. 

So, with a wide smug smile spreading on his face, showing teeth while replying all too smoothly.

“I’m not this, Percy,” Matt tried not to laugh at the fact that this girl called Froggy by his middle name. “But, I have no problem spoiling you, if that's what he does.”

He expected to scare her a bit, maybe jump in her seat. That he expected. What he didn’t expect was her to shriek like a dying seagull before devolving into a coughing fit as she choked on her spit. Terror shot through her as she was rendered vulnerable in a moment of fear.

That was definitely not her usual lunch buddy.

Horror evolved into shock and embarrassment when she looked over to the door. Finding an older, than her, man with a heavy 5’oclock shadow and a cheeky smile that had her heart skipping a beat in both their ears. Struck silent for a moment as she twiddled the pen in her hand, chewing herself out for her twitterpation. Over nothing but a stranger who had found his way into her lab. Instantly drawn to his striking red glasses that glinted in the fluorescent light, giving him a devilish expression. It caused her a moment of pause before she pointed her pen at him, an eyebrow raising as she tried to figure out who the hell this random man at her job holding her lunch was. “You’re not him…”

She dragged out her words a bit as she attempted to settle her fluttering heart, eyes flicking all over his face. Abashly noting to herself that he had dimples, seeing them very clearly even part-way across the room from her. Etched deep into his scruffy face, accentuating his smile lines.

Pushing out air through her nose, she had to remind herself that staring wasn’t nice. Remebering her manners enough to throw a nervous, flirty smile his direction (aware he couldn’t see it)- setting down her pen to give Matt her full attention. Notes could wait, this was far more interesting.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what happened to him? Finally, bribed the wrong police officers?” She laughed at her joke, standing from her seat and using her foot to push in her stool. Stepping around the room, venturing closer with a drag in her step. Giving Matt time to answer before she got too close, too comfortable.

“No, nothing, like that.” He laughed, shaking his head. Walking farther into the room, taking her movement as an invitation. Careful, after scaring her, not to go too far into her personal space without another enticement. “Our boss called him to sit in on a meeting with a client.”

Matt received another bemused chuckle, listening to her rub her hands in sanitizer before stuffing them into her pockets. "So he sent you?" She was walking around the exam table between her and Matt, both lucky he hadn’t come in while she was in the middle of an active case. "That's… New.” Underneath all her bravo and charm, she was put off. Anxious. The masked stims and raising pulse; rubbing her thrumb over the seams of her pockets, the swinging of her elbows, biting her lip. She wasn’t as happy about his presence as she portrayed.

Matt chose to tread lightly, considering her reaction carefully. Leaning against his cane at his side, using it to balance as he put all his weight on one foot. Mimicking her chuckles, smiling boyishly again to try and soothe her over. Becoming as none threateningly as possible. “No,” His voice was a bit softer, the word coming out as only a breath while shaking his head. “I just happened to volunteer at the right time to bring you your food instead.” Shifting on his feet, he lifted her food, dangling it in front of her. If memory served, Foggy did say that food was the quickest way into her good graces. “I didn’t think it fair for Foggy to keep our best source of information to himself… Plus” He shrugged his mouth, not being able to stop himself from teasing her a little. “Someone needed to pick up your very, specific and particular order.”

He can hear her heart rate jump unexpectedly again as color rushes to her cheeks. Knowing, beyond a doubt that Foggy had said something of her tastes. He always did find her compulsion for routine amusing, if not a little worrying at times. If it was coming from anyone else she might have felt hurt, offended even. Scoffed in their face and told them to scram, she’d rather go hungry. But she couldn’t, not to Franklin and by extension his friend. Not when she knew there was no malice, just humor. Like old friends picking at each other- trying to lighten her mood and her more than obvious discomfort at the sudden change in her lunch plans. If there was anything she was, she liked to at least consider herself decent at social awareness. Even if she tended to be a little dramatic at times. So instead, she took the teasing with an open heart and grinned, laughing even. Stepping closer to him as a moment passed and her inner monologue seemed to cause an epiphany. Curiosity sank in its claws; realizing who exactly she was conversing with.

“Ah!” She snorted, finally close enough to take her food from his raised fist. The crinkling of the bag as her hand brushed against his. Making him jump a little at how cold she was, hands of ice with what he could only assume was connected to a very warm heart. “So you're his partner-in-law, I was wondering when you’d wiggle your way here." She gives him a look over before moving past him to a small office kitchen attached to the morgue, far enough away it wasn’t a health hazard. The smell of pomegranates and that old coffee made him take a deep breath, turning to follow her. 

She set down her food unceremoniously on the rickety discount table, the blue resin top scuffed and stained from years of occupants. Humming at the smell of spices and chicken, she threw a glance over her shoulder to catch his slow creeping approach. Seeing nothing but a confused puppy trying to navigate a new house. The warmer fluorescent lights of the breakroom seemed to cast softened shadows down his face, bouncing through his finger-brushed hair. The first words in her head spilling out before she could stop them. Coming out with all the confidence in the world before they had the chance to go through that liiiittle mental filter everyone was supposed to use.  "He was right, you are pretty." 

It was Matt’s turn to blush, taken aback for a moment; for several reasons. One, the compliment, for him, came out of nowhere. Not entirely unappreciated, is smugly accepted even. Inflating his ego a bit. Two, this made his promise to Foggy a little harder. Foggy hadn’t been exaggerating the fact that this friend had a brass, awkward but charming personality it seemed. Turbulent in regulation, like a kitten falling out of bed kind of way, flipping between overly skeptical and anxious to loose-lipped with unfiltered compliments. She was awkward, and out of her element, but her approach was endearing. Sweet in its own clumsy way. 

And three, the most rather obvious one; Foggy had called him pretty? That ol’ dog. He’d have to remind himself later to bring it up when they had a moment. Real answers could wait, right now this was all far too intriguing not to ride on the coat tales of. Grinning, he laughed at the proclamation, blowing air out his nose as he raised an eyebrow in amusement. “He called me pretty? If I had only known, I would have proposed sooner.” Matt grasped his cane firmly with both hands, planting in front and center of him. Receiving what could only be described as a chortle from the tech.

“Well, you two deserve each other. Bribing a state worker, who taught you two such questionable morals," She tutted in faux disappointment. Practically calling him a kettle, as the documents he would be expecting sat in her purse in the office next to them. If anyone had questionable morals it was the women sneaking confidential information for their boss’s trust fund, business clients. All her ‘big corporations must die’ beliefs going down the drain as soon as her college buddy pops up with tacos from some obscure restaurant she loved. Pushing passed the self-critization, she started to rip open the plastic bag and look through the boxes of steaming food. 

“I don’t think my morals are that questionable,” Her pursed his lips mockingly, causing her to roll her eyes and blow air out through her nose again.

“If I had questionable mortals, I wouldn’t acknowledge it either,” She admired the golden dumplings before shoving one whole into her mouth and looking through the rest of the food. Finding the juices and meat inside better than anything else at this moment. It had been a couple of days, maybe a week, since she had had good and proper food; so maybe it was her neglected pallet talking. “(Mmmm, So good.)”

Catching himself, admiring her sounds a little too much, Matt switches thoughts. Remembering the paper Foggy shoved into his shirt. Fishing it out while drawing her attention again with a cough, clearing his throat. He dares to step closer, edging into the kitchen little by little. She heard her mumble something to acknowledge him as she chewed her big mouth of food. “Mmnnhh?” 

“Foggy said he was asked to look into the legality? of a few things for your boss?” He handed her the paper, taking the opportunity to get closer. Stopping when he was in the area of the table, the strong scent of her perfume and the food hitting him where it hurt. Reminding him he hadn’t eaten lunch, his stomach happy to voice its abuse to him and his surroundings. The sweet smell of pomegranates and cherries, and what he could mistake as mint, not helping the saliva accumulating on the back of his throat.

It was sweet and musky.

Hearing his stomach,  she scrunched her nose. Holding in a laugh she looked up from the quickly jotted legal jarb to give him the once over. Looking at him through the curtaining of her fringe, a gaiety squint of her eyes as she saw him shift slightly. He was aware she had noticed his stomach’s dramatized famine. “Well… “She started awkwardly, swallowing her bite before she had fully finished it. “...This food isn't going to eat itself.”

“Smooth,” He huffed at her, switching his cane from hand to hand.

“I am anything if not smooth,” she waved her hands like she was showing off a painting, bowing her head. She made herself laugh again as she pulled out her chair, pulling the other out for him by leg with her foot. “Sit, you may not be my usual company but you’ll do.”

Matt gave a light-hearted gasp, sending an all-to-chipper smirk her way. Folding up his cane and stowing it in his jacket, he reached for the back of the chair- guiding himself to sit. She wasted no time in planting herself on her own, rubbing her hands like a fly eager for its feast. Rummaging through the remains of the shredded bag for the chopsticks. Tapping them on the table to open them, made it easier for Matt when she handed them over.

His fingers brushed hers again, this time intentionally. Making her heart flutter and bounce against her rib cage. She was swift, pulling her hand away and grabbing for her own utensil to eat. Tapping it on the table again to rip away the plastic. Cheeks burning as Matt took in her reaction, cracking his sticks apart. He smoothed his hand across the table till he found an unopened box of dumplings and noodles, pulling it towards himself.

Now that he was sitting down with her, in a moment of silence, he thought back on his momentary conversations about her with Foggy. He had talked about how proper she was to people, overly so. Awkward and put off by normal social interactions, so much so that she puts up a vague and distant front. Living a very private life, with a very tight schedule. One of a hundred excuses made by Foggy as to why Matt was never introduced. Why Foggy kept his friendship with her so secluded. 

Sitting here with her now, listening to her talk. He didn’t see any of that. Figuratively speaking of course.

She stuffed her face with food in an attempt to distract herself from him, slurping her noodles and shoving a whole dumpling in her mouth with no shame. She didn’t seem to care about manners as she all but demolished her mountain of food. The stereotype of an overworked student resident is all but perpetuated. Too tired to care about her anxiety, too nice to turn him away. Going far enough as to invite him to eat, given it was Foggy’s portion it would have become leftovers or gone to waste anyway. 

He was only left with his questions as he ate his food, a silence settling between them. Only the crunch of food being shared.

Matt had been kept blatantly in the dark about this woman since he caught Foggy on the phone with her back during their first year at L&M. One of their first cases and they were collecting information, simply helping facilitate a deal between two companies. Foggy claimed to know someone vaguely connected to business, apparently, they took courses in college and knew the son of the owner through them. Asked her to talk to the son and convince his dad to ease up on his conditions, and take the next deal that was proposed. Two days and a meeting later, a deal was signed. The man had mentioned that his son was the one to persuade him as he was shaking his new partner's hands.

When he asked Foggy about it later that day, he kept it vague. When pressed even more as Matt followed him through the halls, pestering him with theories and ridiculous questions, Foggy just said they wouldn’t like him. With such a response Matt was, understandably, caught off guard, but relented when he sensed how serious his friend was. However, he would be lying if he said that Foggy’s comment wasn’t the start of a perpetual cycle of agonizing curiosity. His brain itched with questions that started to pile higher and higher the longer Foggy disappeared during lunch or after work for his secret rendezvous, ones that always ended in Foggy having some sort of new edge. Any time Matt tried questioning it, no matter how innocent the question was, he was met with the same answers. ‘They wouldn’t like you’, ‘They’re too busy to entertain both of us’, “They’re very private’, or simply ‘They’re not a people person’. 

It wasn’t till a couple of months ago, did Foggy started to become a bit more lenient about what he said. Letting it slip they worked at the hospital nearby. Sometimes it was just a tossed-in comment that his friend insisted on having authentic Italian pasta with a mountain of parmesan cheese to rival Everest- for just a missing patient record for the case they were building. Sometimes it was more personal, letting it slip that they crashed at his place after Foggy had joined them in attending a fundraiser party for said friend's hospital- in exchange for sneaking him into a person’s room to serve them or get papers signed.

 For months, he lived off small tidbits of information. Slowly forming a picture in his mind of who might have been helping Foggy. Someone who had known him for almost as long as Matt had. He was never able to pry out specifics, Foggy kept all that good stuff to himself. Where in the hospital they worked, how they met even remained a mystery. The simplest of stuff like did they go to the same college as them or if they were a man or woman was impossible.

He was given no clues on how to find them because Foggy, or as he constantly blamed- they, never wanted it…but today had been Matt's lucky day. After so long, Franklin had finally relented. Matt had left L&M’s with a pep in his step. Going over a list of questions he had accumulated over this whole period. However, now with his opportunity to have every one of them answered, he drew a blank on what to start with. 

Indecisive. Matt had so many questions ricocheting through his head, all jumbled up like scrabble. 

‘How did she meet Foggy?

Why did they never meet in college?

Why did she first start taking bribes? Why continue?

Had she been from New York her whole life like them?’

And of course, the newest as of this afternoon: ‘Why work in the morgue of all places?’

A healthy curiosity. 

He had a long time to prepare his questions, with as much as he bugged Foggy some days he should have had them ready to go, but all of them died on the tip of his tongue. So, he was lucky when his new lunch buddy was the one to break their silence. Matt was so lost in his own head he hadn’t noticed how tense it had gotten in the moments passed. 

“I am very aware Franklin made excuses on my behalf," She said through a half mouth of food, speaking through her cheek. "He asked on many occasions to introduce us. I always, adamantly, said no.”

That made Matt pause, lowering his chopsticks back into the box. “So he wasn’t lying when he said you weren’t a people person?” He smiled at her, turning his head slightly in her direction. “Or is it you just wouldn’t like me?” He teased, sensing her coil when he called her out and trying to lighten the mood. 

It seemed to work.

“No,” She rushed to breathe out, after swallowing her bite, with a shake of her head. “Well, I mean, Uh-” She blushed as she started to stumble over her words. Tripping up over her own tongue. “I mean, yes to not being a people person. No to not liking you.”

“So you like me?” The way he said it, the suggestive undertone coating the bottom of his words. It had her shifting in her seat and clearing her throat, hiding for a second in the bottom of a cold coffee cup she had taken the liberty to sip off of during their meal.

“Well, that is... That is to be determined.” She shot back after a moment. Setting down her cup in favor of twirling her chopsticks in her noodles.

“Oh?” He didn’t mean to lean closer, but he found himself doing so. Still staying aware of her obvious personal bubble. “Almost sounds like a challenge,” He braced his arms on the table slightly, chair scooting against the ceramic floors.

She laughed, it was joyful and bemused. It had her setting down her chopsticks fully, leaning back in her chair to look at him. Arm over the back as she held on to her wrist with her other hand. “I suppose it would, to you.”

“To me?” 

“Oh yes- you might not know me, but I do know of Foggy’s college roommate turned office colleague,” She shrugged her shoulders, licking her lips nervously as she glanced around the room, squinting at the incessantly flickering buzz of the fluorescent lights that seemed to fill her head with cotton “Though maybe not as much as I thought, now that we're sitting face to face.”

“We are? Jeez, I thought we were face to back,” His joke earned him a heavy scowl, one he could feel across his face. Tapping his chopsticks against the rim of the heavy, cardboard takeout box, he listened to her puff out air at him. Suppressing a laugh, not knowing if she was allowed to or not.”Really shows a guy, huh?”

“Wow, blind jokes already. Have to say, I’m honored our friendship is moving so fast,” She huffed at him again, tone dry but not humorless as she turned back to the food. Deeming it far more worthy of her attention.

“Friendship, you’ll make Foggy jealous.” Matt jabbed lightly.

“He’ll live,” She stuffed her face again, chewing a bit faster this time. Something obviously catching her train of thought. “However…”

Matt raised a brow, stabbing a dumpling in favor of actually picking up the food properly this time.

“Friends usually know each other's names,” She pushed around the scraps in her box, sneaking a glance at him. “A tidbit I assume Percy failed to mention on either of our parts.”

“Well,” Matt turned his chair with a scrap. “That’s easily fixed,” He raised his hand, offering it for her to shake. Finally able to introduce himself. “Matthew Murdock.”

He felt her smile before anything else. Oddly warming his skin like he had just stepped out into the morning sun after a shady night. Then came her hand. Softer than he thought it would be, just as cold as before, slightly dried out from the hand sanitizer. Small compared to his but still shaking his firmly, experienced one would say. Her voice was last. Smooth and ivory.

“Amilia Boteo, just call me Lia.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter one is done baby. The next chapter is to come in the next two weeks. My editor (love you bestie) refuses to beta for Matt Murdock so it's gonna take a minute.

Tag list of cringe: @xxjuviajawbreakerxx

[threeinchthunderthimble]

Radiohead - Creep

Another day, another morning jukebox...

I’ve been thinking about this song lately. I used to think it was one of those red-flag songs for me. Like, if someone really likes the song they’re not gonna be a good fit dating wise. 

When you were here before Couldn't look you in the eye

There's something about it I found super creepy. And of course, I think thats certainly a part of the song. Its objectively creepy.

You're just like an angel Your skin makes me cry

Whoever this person is, they have an incredibly uncomfortable obsession with their object of love. I’ve never been the object of a stalker’s obsession, but if there were lyrics that simulated that level of obsession, these surely would be them, even more so than The Police’s Every Breath You Take. It would always bring out this visceral sense of being trapped and every time it would come on I would change the channel (or have to suffer through for karaoke).

You float like a feather In a beautiful world

That is until I went to karaoke at one of my local gay bars.

I wish I was special You're so fuckin' special

The night was put on by my local Pup group, and when I heard the song come on I groaned internally.

Great, the stalker song, I thought.

But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

A few weeks before I had gone out after a hash to a local sports bar. Typical sports bar milieu- cis het straight folks with cis hetr straight politics. While I love dive bars, I knew this wasnt a place where queer people were specifically made welcome. They wouldnt be denied of course, but it was a cis het kinda place.

I went into the bathroom, which was cramped and dirty. No surprise there. I use the stall in the men's since I’m not equipped to be able to sue the urinal- which the stall itself was crammed into an available space that was blocked by the door when open. This is important.

3 drunk people came in helping their friend to throw up. There was some confusion as I was wedged in by the sink, but their friend made it safely to the stall and summarily began emptying the contents of his stomach. But they are hanging out and blocking the door and they look at me and ask me if I’m gay.

She's running out the door (run) She's running out She run, run, run, run

Where I come from, being asked that in a men’s restroom might mean you're gonna get your head bounced from porcelain.

I froze, filled with adrenaline, but something welled up inside me. I was angry. Angry that I should be considered broken, lesser than, a threat. I figured if I was going to be beaten, or die, I would go down being exactly who I am. So I screwed up my courage and said, “yes, I am”.

They started to laugh, then started to get me to date their cousin. So, no biggie, but I left that bathroom with shaky legs. I felt hollow and old all night.

Whatever makes you happy Whatever you want

You're so fuckin' special

I wish I was special

I’m gonna be honest- sometimes I struggle to feel right when I’m in queer spaces. A lifetime of religious trauma sucks man. 

But while I was listening to that person sing, something began to happen. Its like everyone in the room had the same thought, the same feeling. Of loneliness, of longing, or not living in a world that is made for them.

I suddenly understood the song.

But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here I don't belong here

[jads-taleblr-hc]

Rah, here’s my Jimmy Casket Headcannons plus my version of his design

TW:mention of abuse and death

Starting with History:

My version of Jimmy Casket is one of the Housekeepers children and is the youngest of them.

He comes from Vietnam and is the mythological being known as a Hô ly tinh (Vietnamese fox spirit) having gotten to the point of Cửu vĩ thiên hồ (9-tailed celestial fox). He was eventually killed but was reincarnated.

He had a few lives some were shared some were his own, the next most notable life he lived was the life of Jack the Ripper. He eventually died and was reborn in the 50s to an abusive religious house hold who believed he was the devils spawn. This version of his life did not last long after that his next reincarnation was attached to Johnny Ghost.

He did not reincarnate as a DID alter, this happened because Ghosts dad went to Vietnam and accidentally brought back something that had belonged to Jimmy back in his first life which wound up becoming attached to Ghost leading to the possession.

Jimmy is not nearly as strong as he was from a mix of having gone through several lives each one basically being a tail cut off along with a lot of his abilities being sealed.

Other information:

Jimmy didn’t go by jimmy till he possessed Ghost, Jimmy seems more so like a common demon due to the limitations he currently has unless he can regain power. He also doesn’t really remember he’s a Hô ly tinh believing more so he’s just a demon.

Ghosts mother did have to deal with Jimmy and tried to raise him to be not so murderous but it didn’t exactly go well since his favorite meal is human.(no he did not eat ghosts mom)

Ghosts dads tried to get rid of Jimmy but it didn’t work as his soul had basically become intertwined with Ghosts having latched on and basically planted roots in his soul.

Relationships:

Johnny Ghost:

His host, like most people HC I believe Jimmy can’t easily take control whenever he feels like it. Normally ghost has to be in some form of distress or upset for this to happen but with the mountain tall lists of traumas this man has it’s not that hard to distressing him with a few illusions.

Johnny Toast:

It’s…complicated. He heavily dislikes toast for trying to prevent him from getting control, but at the same time loves messing with the poor man knowing toast won’t hurt him because he won’t hurt ghost

Gavin Toast:

I’m a Javin shipper sue me, things weren’t easy at the start between them as Gavin’s more mellow while Jimmy’s insane, but over time of working together on different crimes they’ve grown closer and Jimmy quite likes Gavin’s company.

CBF:

Oldest of the children of HK, Jimmy doesn’t have a great relationship with him though he quite dislikes him as part of the reason he’s bound to Ghost is because of CBF. CBF doesn’t dislike Jimmy but believes he’s immature.

Stardust:

Stardust is older than jimmy but younger than CBF and jimmy gets annoyed with Star being more friendly towards people instead of just killing them. While their personalities in some aspects are similar that sometimes makes it hard for jimmy to be around him though he doesn’t hate him.

Cat demon:

Like a distant cousin he refuses to interact with in fear of being asked for drug money. Jimmy just doesn’t like being near it

Spooker:

Finds him fun to mess with, he could easily kill spooker but much rather mess with him and see how long he can go for before he snaps.

Colon:

Annoyed by him, prefers not to interact with him if he can avoid it.

Katrina:

First victim found the reaction she had amusing along with everyone else’s reaction to what had happened.

The knife he got from gavin as a gift

The mask he wears when killing so Ghosts face doesn’t get recognized and he can’t be caught

His demon tail can become a fox tail depending on the form he takes.