#i miss when my body allowed me 2 treat it like shit

[tamagotchikgs]

i just woke up n i feel so bad both mentally and physically i dont know whats going on

[yawnderu]

She Wants Me Dead - Miguel O'Hara x Reader | Part I

I support women's rights and wrongs.

cw: toxic situationships, pathetic Miguel O'Hara, femme fatale reader, suggestive situations.

1 2 3

I love her so bad but she treats me like shit.

Miguel knows it's wrong. Hell, he has known from day one she was never someone anyone should ever get involved with. Oh, how he wishes he was strong enough to lock her up and throw away the key that held his love for her.

Oh, take this veil from off my eyes.

''Hey, big guy.'' His body tensed up when he heard the voice coming from behind him. His heart aches. He hates when you do that, showing up all smug as if you don't disappear for days, contacting him only when you need him.

''I missed you.'' He barely glanced down at you, noting how you always appear to make yourself smaller, even more adorable. Your soft, small hands running up and down the muscles on his back before your arms wrap themselves around his waist.

''... why do you do this to me?'' Is all he can ask, turning around and leaning down as he picks you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist while your arms hold his neck for support, face nuzzling his neck as you take in his scent. He closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the way your body fits perfectly on his.

''Do what? I like you— You're the best.'' A soft kiss is delivered to his jaw and he flinches slightly, breath hitching and neck growing rigid as you keep brushing your soft lips against it. He hates how his whole body language changes to show a degree of submission to you. He, the Spider-Man 2099, a 6'9 beast of a man who can tear through anything with his sharp claws and talons, becoming absolute putty under the hands of a villain much smaller than him.

''You know... You're the only superhero I like. Not only because you give me money— I mean, a big part is because of it, but you also look cool.'' You praise lazily, knowing he'd love any compliment coming from your lips.

''You know what? ... You're my favorite villain.'' I hate myself. His body is still tense from holding you so close, yet he can't help but want you, despite all he knows about you. Despite the way you use and abuse him. His voice is husky, but it's true; he's completely under your spell. A soft snicker comes from your lips, instantly making him roll his eyes.

''How much do you need this time?'' He changes the topic. He has a feeling and he knows you'll ask for a big amount of money, but he wants to hear you say it. He already pays for your lifestyle, yet somehow that's not enough for you, so he bends backwards to please you and avoid anything that can make you angry, upset, or leave. He has the money for it, anyway.

''Hmm... Just around $3000.'' You shrug your shoulders and look up at him with the same cat-like grin that makes his knees weak every. single. time.

''Just three grand?'' His shock is clearly feigned, yet you still snicker softly and his eyes lose a tiny bit of the edge in them. ''if it'll make you shut up for another 10 minutes, I'll give it to you.'' He shrugs his shoulders, acting uninterested as if he wouldn't lose his shit if you actually didn't talk to him for 10 minutes after your return.

''After that, I'll stop for a while. I'm not your cashcow.'' He adds as an afterthought, giving you a sharp look.

''You're not?'' You ask teasingly, voice laced with mirth as your lips brush against his neck again, planting a kiss right on his pulse. ''What if I do this, papi?'' Your tone is seductive, voice barely above a whisper. Miguel nearly stumbles back in surprise, plump lips parting slightly before he regains his composure. It takes everything he has in him to stay still, allowing your warm tongue to lick a clean line across his neck, muscles tensing up under the warm mass.

''You little—'' He can't even finish his sentence, your lips latching onto his neck after his suit disengages just enough to give you space to kiss, sucking on the previously covered skin as you leave your mark.

''Little what...? Little slut?'' You tease, gently licking the mark you made before starting to make a new one right below, being mindful enough to make sure that body part will be covered by his hologram suit.

''... Yes.'' He gasps softly in surrender, a low moan escaping his parted lips as he holds you even tighter, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes. He can feel his entire body shake from his knees up.

''When will I get the money?'' You finally let go of his poor, now marked up neck, looking up at him with the same smirk that he sees on his dreams and nightmares.

Miguel takes a second to catch his breath, looking around to make sure no one is near his office before he replies to you. ''When do you need it? Today? Tomorrow?'' His tone is even and businesslike now that he regained his breath.

''Today would be great.'' He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, internally slapping himself yet wondering how someone so beautiful could be so evil. So shamelessly manipulative.

''You'll have it by tonight.'' He confirmed, his voice firmer and his expression serious as he looked down at you, still carrying you like you weight nothing— and for a man his height, you don't.

''But it'll be the last time. I'm not giving you any more money after this.'' He adds while looking at one of his monitors, afraid to look at you in fear of his resolve wavering.

''So I'll have to ask another man for money, Miguel...?'' Your tone is controlled and dangerous, though he can hear you feigning sadness at the news. Your hand holds his cheek, thumb right below his high cheekbone as you force him to look at you. ''What if he wants something else from me?''

Miguel bites his tongue and clenches his fists. God fucking dammit. He knows better than this. He hates when you make it all about you, and he hates how he falls for it every single time, as if he didn't know all your tactics by now.

''... Fine. You can have your money.'' His voice is rough, almost a growl, yet he knows better than to argue.

''You're amazing!'' You praise, arms raising slightly as you fake excitement, as if you didn't know he'd relent anyway. He rolls his eyes, a huff of air coming out of his nose as he gives you an unamused look.

''I'm doing what any good man would do, mami.'' Keep telling yourself that. ''And I'm not amazing, I'm a dumbass.'' He knows full well he's being played by you, that you'll turn those comments on him and use them as ammo, yet he doesn't care. The truth hurts either way, so he chooses to ignore it, he chooses to ignore the little voice in the back of his head and he chooses to love you.

''I'm serious.'' You give him an honest smile— something totally different from those teasing and smug grins you give him when you get your way. Just a pure smile that shows you're having fun with him, in a good way.

His gaze softens slightly when he realizes how honest your smile looks, the way it reaches your eyes and lights them up like stars he could gaze at for eternity, yet eventually the sun has to rise, this time in the form of the harsh reality.

''I see right through you, muñeca. I know your game.'' Miguel says, not rudely and his words don't hold his usual snark.

''It was never a secret.'' You shrug your shoulders, clearly not affected by him knowing you're playing him like a fiddle.

''Never said it was.'' The corners of his lips pull up in a subtle, knowing smirk as he looks down at you. ''But you should know that even without all the manipulation and the games... I'd do anything to help you. I'm a sucker for you, mami.''

''You'd do anything for me?'' Of course that's all you got out of his sentence.

''... Obviously not anything. I draw certain lines.'' He answers with pure honesty, trying to make it seem cool despite having you so close to him. ''But you know me. It doesn't take much to get whatever you want out of me.'' My heart is more yours than mine.

The corners of your lips tilt up into the smirk he knows all too well, yet you don't reply, simply staring up at him with your head slightly tilted to the side, examining his features like you have him under a microscope.

''You could have any woman... so why me?'' You ask curiously, the question that has been eating at your brain finally leaving your lips.

''Why not you?'' He turns the question to you, eyebrows slightly raised as he gives you a knowing look before elaborating. ''You're smart, charismatic, beautiful... Why any other woman when you have it all?'' You hum in acknowledgement, thinking about his words.

''Is it tiring? Loving me?'' Your tone is much more honest this time, as if you're deep in thought. His heart fills with fake hope as he sees your honest expression.

''Tiring? No...'' He replies in a whisper, voice rough for a moment as he thinks about it. ''No, mami, but it's hard.'' He matches your honesty, adjusting you so you're more comfortable as he carries you.

''I know you use me, but I still love you either way. It drives me crazy.'' He admits with a soft chuckle, a small smile on his lips despite the hurt in his eyes, showing you just how honest he's with you.

[redbird-tf]

Never leaving

Jason todd x (platonic) reader

Summary: Jason finds out you've gone missing following the escape of Joker. He won't allow the Joker to inflict on you what he suffered. Jason won't stop at anything to bring you home.

Word count: 950

Warning: angst

Jason was furious. he had just found out the Joker escaped Arkham again, but surprisingly that wasn't the main reason for his rage. You had gone missing three days ago. the whole bat family had been looking for you but not a single one had bothered to bring it up to Jason, typical. He had quite the altercation with Batman due to the fact.

“Why didn't you tell me!” He yelled throwing his fist in the bat’s direction. “It’s not like youre around much Jason” Bruce stated grabbing his wrist, Jason pulled back “This is different. You know me and y/n are closer,” he said through gritted teeth. “And jokers back, with her missing, and it's been a week. A goddamn week!” Jason screamed “We are doing our best Jason, i know what you-“Bruce was cut off “And you know if anyone can find him, it's me!” He pounded on his chest “And you'd be out of control!” Bruce shouted “And the last time you decided to do things your way with the Joker, i died. I won't let you do that to y/n. She doesn't deserve that”Jason put on his helmet and sped out of the batcave on his motorcycle

Jason wasn't very close with any of the bat's adopted family but you were different. You met Jason on a mission months after being taken in by Bruce. After that day you asked who he was and his story, and instead of being disappointed you understood. Apart of you agreed with the way he did things but the other half didn't want to disappoint Batman, he understood. You started spending your patrol nights with him and despite his hard-ass personality, you grew closer. You were the only one who treated him like true family. You were his little sister and he'd die all over again for you.

He didn't know what scared him more, you being dead or being alive with the Joker. Jason searched endlessly and picked up a pattern the Joker had left behind. He was holding you at a warehouse, originally clearly. Jason pinned the location and drove as fast as he could. When he arrived he kicked down the door storming into the dark room “You're going to ruin all the fun!” That to happy voice called. “Step out joker!” He yelled pulling out his gun. “Boo hoo, I've nearly gotten to teach her any manners” The joker stepped in front of Jason. Jason wasted no time knocking him on his ass. “Where is she?!” Jason demanded. “Now why would i tell you that? Don't worry I'll return her like new… like you” The Joker started to laugh. A loud bang was heard with silence following. Jason had killed the bastard with no regret.

Jason searched the warehouse calling your name, worry grew with every passing second until he reached the back where he found a locket door. He docked the door off its hinges and entered the room. “Y/n!” He screamed seeing your body weakly curled in the corner covered in blue and red. “Jason..” your voice rasp “Don't speak,” he said placing his jacket over your body as most of your suit had been ripped off. “It's my fault, i went after him alone” you began to cry “None of this is your fault! Now please be quiet and let me help you,” he said grabbing your shoulders. He bandaged what he could and hoisted you on his back, piggyback as he began to walk out.

“Shit” he mumbled seeing the batmobile in the distance. It stopped in front of him and Batman wasted no time making his way in front of Jason “You're late” Jason stated in a monotone voice. “What happened?” Batman asked “Same thing that happened last time, but i stopped it” Jason replied. “You killed him?” He asked “Don't worry, killing him the last 2 times didn't last long” Jason said with annoyance. “Y/ns coming home with me,” Bruce said holding out his arms. “I don't think so,” Jason said making his way to his bike “She needs medical Jason!” Batman yelled “I've learned,” Jason said throwing a mean glare. Jason sat the both of you on his bike wrapping your arms around his waist. “Y/n?” Batman questioned in a stern tone. “Jason..” you said weakly turning away from Bruce. Jason saw the hurt on his face “Call if you need anything” he said to Jason before turning back “Sure”

You groaned regaining consciousness, when you tried sitting up two hands softly pushed you back down onto the pillow “Stay down” a voice called. You slowly open your eyes seeing Jason stitch up your leg. He finished and softly placed down your leg “you might feel a little groggy from the anesthesia” he explained “Where are we?” You asked “My safe house, your safe here.” He said pulling the blanket over you. “Jason, he told me what he did to you…” Jason sighed tucking in the covers “Don't worry about me” he replied standing up. “I'll leave you to get some rest” he turned around but was quickly stopped by your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“I don’t wanna be alone” you whined “I'll just be across the hall” he explained removing your hand “Please Jason, don't leave me now” Your voice cracked and your eyes displayed a fear he knew all too well. He sat at the side of the bed. “I'll be here when you wake up,” he said whipping away your tears, you gave a weak smile before allowing yourself to drift to sleep. Jason gently took your hand into his, caressing his thumb over your knuckles, “i won't ever leave you”

[renozman]

BIG JJK SPOILERSSSSSSS LIKE REALLY BIG

This is for the may death never stop you JKK x MHA fanfic by Slexenskee

So it’s 1am for me and I can’t sleep, so I decided to write the idea that’s been sitting in my head for AGES. This all came to me when I realised character heights.

For info:

Hawks: 5’8

Dabi: 5’9

Gojo: 6’3 (!!! Never realised he was that tall)

Endeavor: 6’5

((Ps I’m a sucker for height difference. Through anything (romantic and platonic relationships, if there’s a height difference happening I eat it up).

[Later realised I think I got a thing for tall characters]

So to set the scene.

1) everyone close to gojo is semi aware of his past life, or more that there’s something more to the man that’s kinda other worldly.

2) Some big fights happened, like I mean the level BEFORE the final level big fight.

3) Someone’s hit gojo with a quirk that’s reverted him back to his old form that kinda is his body healed with scars from his death

Now gojos been hit into rubble, so no one can see him, and no one can see his new (well old??) form.

Everyone’s trying to collect themselves, contact help since the villains have fucked off somewhere, and just trying to do damage control (which is hard with busted radios everywhere). Hawks hasn’t been able to find Gojo and he’s worried just a small bit (cos gojo is so strong he can defend himself against anything, but also hawks can’t help but worry for his love).

Hawks quickly meets up with Yui, who he had dumped Eri onto when he had to quickly join the fight.

Him and Gojo had taken Eri out as a treat for the day, later running into Yui when shit went down.

They are trying to collect themselves, figure out what to do about Gojo missing; when suddenly, through the dark of night that’s just being lit from the city lights a man appears from no where.

He’s tall, well built, carrying himself like he’s tired, he’s wearing white baggy pants, a tight black shirt ripped at the bottom ( exposing the thick scar that seems to wrap around his waist), and scars covering the whole of the top half of his body (based of a fanart I’ve seen somewhere, with Gojo having healed). He looks familiar to all of them, but yet alien.

None of them react towards the man just standing there, with him almost standing at Endeavors height. Hawks asks who he is; this causes the tired man to falter a bit. The first to actually move is Eri as she runs at the man with her arms open, tears in her eyes.

“Satoru!”

The man crouches down so that she can run straight into her arms. (Gojo was worried something had happened to her during the big fight). He brought her in close, allowing her head to hide itself into his neck.

Hawks can’t believe it for a moment, but then he sees it. Past the scars, the different height, the different build (his Gojo is more skinny and leaner, while as the old Gojo had to build muscle quickly while locked away [ps I don’t read jjk, just get heavily spoiled a lot. So pls just go with the flow of what I’m saying]), Hawks is able to see that it’s Gojo Satoru, the man he loves.

He later becomes ashamed at himself for not noticing is sooner then Eri.

He quickly runs over to join the small hug.

Yui watches from afar, eyes widening in shock

____

So then only a few hours after that, they have found themselves at Endevours agency. They had managed to contact the other heroes and inform them of the chosen meeting spot, agreeing it was best to move onto the next plan with this big shot villains who are on AFO level.

Of course endeavour is the first one there. He sends Gojo a questioning look:

“What, don’t recognise your own son?”

That gets him slow widening eyes, and shocked silence.

Then the detective and Eraserhead arrive. The repetitive confused silence of them trying to see where they seen this tall scarred man before:

“Are you guys serious. I don’t even look that different.”

Slow widening eyes. Shocked silence.

After that Gojo had found scrap paper to write his name ‘Gojo Satoru’ proudly on it, then stuck it to his shirt with a safety pin. Sitting right on his chest. He sat down back with a huff, and crossed arms (hawks tries so hard to not stare at them. It almost feels like cheating when his man looks like someone else).

Then Deku and Shoto herd themselves in. Shoto looks at Gojo, then his name tag, opens his eyes slightly, almost opens his mouth in shock before he regains his composure. He nods and goes to sit down.

Deku isn’t as quick. His eyes had scanned around the room, at all the people seeming to talk about the event. When his eyes fall on Gojo, he just squints them; he starts mumbling some gibberish about recognising him from somewhere.

Gojo slowly moves one hand out from his arm pit (Deku watches the moments just as slowly), and moves the hands to point at the name tag.

Realisation hits, his eyes widen. Shocked silence. For a difference, Deku blushes (he felt a hint of his old crush return, but he went to squash it quickly).

You get the idea. A lot of people arrive, some not noticing Gojo, while others do and repeat the above process of freaking out over the hot, tall, muscley man brooding in the corner whose clothes are half falling off.

When all might had walked into the room and came to the same realisation, he was almost spewing blood.

For everyone (except the obvious people who ain’t attracted to gojo) the scarred covered man looked very different from Gojo (eyes and hair aside); but he was just as hot (gojo causing crisises again).

That’s all I can be bothered writing for now, might write more later.

The main idea is JJK!Gojo looks very different from MHA!Gojo. I’m going off memory from how Gojo been looking in the latest manga updates of him, which had him drawn bulky (which I love). JJK!Gojo is taller, has a more masculine features happening, bigger bulk, scares all over top half and such.

I def wanna up my drawing skills so I can show u guys how I’m imagining Gojo sitting and sulking, with his horrible name tag just there.

It’s now 1:52 so ima just upload this without looking over it and checking spelling. Thank you and good night.

[peakyswritings]

Meet the Ferrante Family

It’s incredible that in less than two weeks it’ll be a year has passed since I posted the first chapter of Heart, Body and Soul. Thank you so much for those who have stuck with me despite the slow updates🤍

Finally, I made a post with the face claims I found for the Ferrante family (although Nina doesn’t have one yet). Are most of them from the Godfather movies? Yes. Do I regret it? No. And note that a great number of aunts, uncles and cousins are missing, but I decided not to introduce them since they are not relevant to the story.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my ongoing Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul.

NINA’S FAMILY

Vincenzo and Maria Ferrante

Pietro, Salvatore and Nina’s parents

Vincenzo Ferrante: he runs the Italian side of the business. He’s the oldest brother (older generation). Despite being a very traditional man, he has a soft spot for his daughter that leads him to give her a bit more freedom. In fact, Nina’s the only girl in her family who was allowed to finish school.

Maria Ferrante: she’s a conservative woman, very religious and apparently meek.

Her mother had spent her whole life convinced that all she was born to do was to take care of someone else, without ever being able to make a single decision for herself, or voice her thoughts, and that conviction was too deeply rooted inside her to be eradicated. (Excerpt from CH.6)

However, there’s more to her than she lets on.

Pietro and Salvatore Ferrante

Pietro Ferrante (on the left): he’s the oldest of the Ferrante siblings, and he’s expected to become the head of the Italian side of the family business after his father. He fought in the war and almost lost an arm in combat, and sometimes it still hurts. After the war, he built walls around him.

Pietro, the older one, had almost lost an arm in combat, and even though two years had passed, sometimes it still hurt. But in exchange for the arm, the war took something else away from him. There seemed to be nothing left of his once caring nature, and his innate attention for details had turned into a urge to have everything under control. (Excerpt from CH.5)

Salvatore Ferrante (on the right): he’s the middle child. He fought in the war and returned with a deep scar on his face.

As for Salvatore, the war had enhanced the restlessness that had always distinguished him. He was angry, easily triggered, spiteful. And now he had a deep scar which crossed the left side of his face, making his expression appear even more grim. (Excerpt from CH.5)

Nina Ferrante

Nina Ferrante: she’s the youngest child and only daughter. Her fiery nature and unusual views make her a bit of an outcast in her family. She’s believed to be a witch by many of her cousins and other girls from the village. She rather enjoys the rumours.

There was nothing soft about Nina. She was all sharp edges and searing looks. […] She was outspoken, and defensive, and angry. Angry at her family, whose judgmental stare burned on her skin. Angry at her mother, who had wanted her different since the moment she had drawn her first breath. Angry at her father, who still treated her like a little girl who knew nothing of the word. Angry at Tommy Shelby, who thought he could just barge in and state some claim over one of them. (Excerpt from CH.2)

However, behind the mask, she’s extremely sensitive, and feels everything deeply.

Winston

Winston: Nina found him when he was just a kitten, and took him in without a second thought. He’s a little shit, just like his owner.

AGNESE’S FAMILY

Mario and Rita Ferrante

Agnese, Rosa and Sofia’s parents

Mario Ferrante: he’s the youngest among the Ferrante brothers (older generation) and runs the Italian side of the business alongside Vincenzo.

Rita Ferrante: she’s Agnese’s mother, and has a love-hate relationship with Maria Ferrante. They care about each other in their own way, but are stuck in an endless competition.

Agnese Ferrante

Agnese Ferrante: she’s Nina’s cousin, and the one Tommy is expected to marry. She’s considered the most beautiful girl in the village, she’s soft and kind and probably the only one of Nina’s cousins who doesn’t ostracise her. Being the oldest child, she feels responsible for her sisters. She knows she needs to get married, cause she has no brothers and if something were to happen to her father, which is likely, considering the family’s line of work, they’d have no protection. Of course their uncles would take care of them, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Rosa and Sofia Ferrante

Rosa Ferrante (on the left): she’s the middle child.

Sofia Ferrante (on the right): she’s the youngest child.

OTHERS

Antonio Ferrante

Antonio Ferrante: he’s the middle child of the Ferrante brothers (older generation) and runs the English side of the business. He has two sons, Alfredo (the oldest) and Angelo (the youngest), who are expected to run the English side of the business after their father. Their mother passed during childbirth. No face claims for them yet.

THE SPINIETTA FAMILY

The Spinietta family is another Mafia family who operates both in Sicily and New York. There’s a delicate balance of power among the Spinietta family and the Ferrante family, and they’re struggling to keep the peace. Spinietta has two sons: Vito (the oldest) and Stefano (the youngest). They didn’t fight in the war thanks to their father.

They walked around as if they owned every street, every shop, every person; as if everything was owed to them, because they had money and power. (Except from CH.5)

Stefano Spinietta

Behind the courtesy and the charm, Stefano is actually a monster. He has been obsessed with Nina for years, and recently started pressuring her father into arranging a marriage between them.

Stefano Spinietta was a disgusting person. He was the son of one of her father’s business partners, the boss of another mafia family, which operated both in Sicily and in New York. In the last few years, Stefano had been very clear about his intentions towards Nina, and he had taken too many liberties with her, to the point where she had found herself in the position of putting a knife to his throat. But the threat didn’t have the intended effect; if anything, it only made him more relentless. (Excerpt from CH.3)

Stefano still has a scar on his neck from that episode with Nina.

-

Heart, Body and Soul taglist

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby taglist:

@50svibes

[v-arbellanaris]

as i was doing my other hawke pts (rowan [warrior], muna [support mage], mira [dps mage]), i rly started to miss rogue combat lmao so i started an isra pt again because i miss her also BUT actually something i never thought about too closely before but ive been thinking abt constantly now is isra and the arishok

rowan does not get a single square foot of respect from the arishok imho, and mira still has to prove herself to the arishok tho he does call her basalit-an in the end, but isra is the only one where like. they arrive at the keep and he already calls her basalit-an. she's always really transparent with him, but she also doesn't take his shit - whenever he tries to intimidate her or dismiss her, she calls him on his bluff and walks away, and he's always the one calling her back (and then demanding to know how she can just walk away from him)

its such a fascinating dynamic because she's really not hostile to him in the least (even if maybe she should be), which reveals a side of her i hadn't really thought about before. she's fairly sympathetic to the qunari's struggles in kirkwall, more so than any of my other hawke pcs - in many ways, i think she draws a lot of parallels between her own existence as a mage (and the chantry painting mages as demons in sleep) and how the qunari are being treated in kirkwall. there's really something that's so chewy about how miranda and muna and joan and rowan all see the arishok as a hair trigger away from blowing up the entirety of kirkwall with a single spoon of gaatlok, but isra is the one who understands that the arishok is trying not to make this situation worse, that he isnt interested in war or looking for it, and as a result, she's not aggressive or hostile to him in conversation

like i keep thinking abt isra going lmao well this is none of my fucking business and walking off when the arishok tells her about someone stealing saar-qamek in act 2, and its the arishok who calls her back, emphasising that a lot of people will die if the saar-qamek gets out. with the others, when he says it, it sounds like he's simply informing or allowing hawke to make the decision based on the saar-qamek's danger, but since isra did actively already try to walk off, he comes off as actually concerned abt the potential death toll (and the ensuing political ramifications of a whole bunch of kirkwall citizens are killed by a qunari poison). that moment provides such a fascinating depth to their relationship that i don't really get with my other hawkes, and i wonder if it is, in part, because isra is a former circle mage, and has the exact experience of how suffocating it is to be treated like that.

which ofc led me to the thought of like... how even when hawke is a mage pc, the arishok doesn't do anything. he doesn't turn you over to the templars or the chantry, sure, but he himself makes no effort to do anything to you. or to get aggressive. even though you have other qunari like the arvaraad getting immediately violent after he finds out that hawke is a mage or that there are mages around them that are not bound. how does he square with that bc i don't think i've ever seen an explanation for it...

it's been so interesting to think about their relationship and their discussions, and like tbqh i'm kind of obsessed with the vibe... despite repeatedly being like "its not my job to explain the qun to you and also idk how to make it make sense", he will still attempt to explain things to isra anyway. and isra, being primarily an academic before anything else, always has questions, and i think its such a rare chance at dialogue with someone who actually matters in the qun. the arishok represents the body of the entirety of the qunari, and i think that's something i certainly sometimes overlook when discussing things or thinking abt him, but i think its humbling to me that he will engage in conversations with hawke directly, even when hawke was just... no one. and i think isra would take the opportunity imho - both out of academic curiosity but also sympathy. is there anyone in this city who treats him like a person, she wonders. idk!!! i just love the idea of isra showing up with a chess board or something at the qunari compound every now and again simply to see if he'll engage her with an academic discussion or bitch about the viscount lmao

[phantom-fleetways]

I loved your neo chaos sonic au

If it's okay to ask could you tell us more about it👀👀

Oh! Of course!

Frankly I haven't done much world building for it, since I have other AUs who are utter attention whores and life just LOVES to make me unable to draw for some stupid reason or another. But I do have some simple concepts I would love to share! If you feel like you can bare my aimless rambling, feel free to read the rest under the cut.

First off, setting. Generally speaking, Neo Chaos Sonic's timeline takes place after the events of Season 2's finale and the early portion of season 3's episode one.

But instead of Building Alpha Grim Sonic after a lot of dilly dallying on Nine's part, he decides to fight fire with fire. (And maybe he's a little scared of being alone, although he would never admit it.)

So he rebuilds Chaos Sonic instead. And to insure that he'll be able to beat Sonic, Nine decided to give him untethered access to the Paradox Prism.

This of course leads to Chaos Sonic deeming his normal build being to... Easy to deal with. And he is allowed a modicum of freewill by Nine. So who is he if he does not ascend to godhood to ensure the plan's execution? It's gonna be a temporary upgrade. And Nine did give him full access to the Paradox Prism.

Leading to this beautiful outcome!

It's a MAJOR upgrade. And it comes with a hip skirt! And who is she to go against a hip skirt?

After choosing a new form of befitting of his newly born Goddess status, NCS decides to make the Grim their perfect little paradise. Their powers are simple, as she is all powerful but not all knowing or anything.

NCS can change their appearance however she sees fit. Although due to his vanity, he mostly stays hedgehog robot shaped. And generally before war is brought to her doorstep, she just stands about as tall as NMS would. So they definitely Tower over Sonic and Nine easily. They also can pool liquid metal off of them and when the liquid metal touches the ground, they become Grim Sonic Troopers. All of which seem to reflect different small aspects of her personality. Also she has glitter beams and shit. He's a magical girl, they gotta have their glitter attacks.

After a while of their new arrangement, NCS stops referring to Nine as either "Best bud" or "Sir". And starts calling him Martyr or Prophet. Treating Nine as a prized possession and less like a friend or even someone they wish to protect and keep happy.

Nine isn't initially concerned about this though. Since he's certain that they are still loyal to him. Which is true, he is. But ultimately that loyalty does not outweigh her natural selfishness.

I believe that inevitably, there will come to pass a point where Neo Chaos Sonic decides to "sacrifice" Nine to herself. If only to make Sonic run a fool's errand. If you know ANYTHING about the ending of KH3 and the whole "Save the 7" segment with Riku? Like that. (For those who don't know, imagine Nine floating above an altar of some sort with his body partially transparent blue.)

I don't really know if Sonic and Co from prime would succeed, since I really just designed Neo Chaos Sonic for the sake of designing him. But I would say that in order to take down Neo, Sonic would need to brace the abyss™️ to find Shadow's missing Chaos Emerald. Since I'm a wedger a bet that Shadow would be logically able to use Chaos Control in the prism that Neo Chaos is using to power themselves. Buuut in order to do that, Shadow would have to get close enough.

There is the possiblity that allowing Sonic to shatter himself would fix everything too. But ultimately I have no clue cuz I just haven't thought far yet.

Overall, the AU is very shallow at the moment. And seeing as I have other far more complex AUs I'm working on, it might be this way for a while. So, I'm sorry about that! But I did enjoy rambling a bit, albeit a bit aimlessly.

I just really love this design and I really love how pretty they came out! Neo Chaos Sonic is a treat of a concept to me, since I adore Neo Metal Sonic. Favorite flavor of Mets to be honest. And I figured a Neo form for Chaos Sonic would do them good!

[arctic-hands]

Long ass post about being a sick and disabled child with pediatric imposter syndrome and inattentive and flat out ableist adults ahead. It got ahead of me but there's nothing I want to cut. No I'm not putting it under a read more. Look at my post, boy.

I wonder if my childhood fascination with wheelchairs was based in the chronic pain and exhaustion I was feeling even by the age of seven.

In second grade we had a "disability week" (tho I wouldn't be surprised if they had called it "differently abled" but I can't remember for certain) where we had disabled adults come to speak to our (allegedly) able-bodied class and the school as a whole. The ones i remember were just explaining the disability and a simplified ways to treat it and things like it's rude to stare and such. Not too too glurgy in that out of context...

...but the memories about it are def tainted by the fact that any kid who was sick or disabled was forced to give presentations on their medical conditions to "educate and de-stigmatize" the students.

This wasn't part of Differently Abled Week, we were just forced to present when we just got diagnosed or whenever the condition got noticed by anyone. The first one i saw was in first grade as a fifth grader gave all the individual classes a presentation on her diabetes. I was forced to give one in third grade after I came back from being dramatically rushed to the hospital after my heart started beating so fast and hard that you could see it thru my shirt, and after about a week out of school in another hospital in the bigger city two hours away because my hometown hospital wasn't equipped to treat pediatric cardiac problems. My third grade presentation on supraventricular tachycardia was well-received, and the school was sympathetic because all my classmates and teachers were like omg this angelic little child has a heart condition and everyone was scared that I might die 😢

... Next year's fourth grade presentation on I Shit Too Much Disease was less well-received, even as I tried to self-censor the inherently disgusting details. To add to that, my SVT had been corrected (for a few decades, it appears to be coming back after 2) by an ablation in late third grade, so the Scary Heart Explodey (not really) Disease had been tied up neatly and I was free to live as a Normal Child. But Crohn's disease was something else, something relatively new to the lexicon in the early millennium and I constantly had to explain my health to strangers as the unwilling IBD Ambassador of the town. This would be and still is life-long and particularly hard to treat (my Crohn's was once compared to brittle diabetes in the way it never did and still doesn't respond to treatment), and the sympathy of the ableds is fickle and short lasting. Even just a year after my Diagnosis, my teachers stopped caring WHY I was missing school and sleeping all the time and in the bathroom too long and only saw these as delinquent behaviors to be punished, and my classmates no longer had sympathy for the perceived special treatment I barely got and were convinced I was faking it all for attention

Anyway I'm digressing, but I did need to feel the need to give context to my school's attitude towards sick kids. Back to Disability/Differently Abled Week

...We were allowed to play with mobility aids. Yeeeah. To de-stigmatize of course, totes not to keep us occupied. At one point we played with wooden beads of different shapes to make "hearing aids" and microphones in the style of the day, and each class was allowed one wheelchair, two sets of crutches, and a few arm slings for kids to be assigned to use for half the day.

I had seen these before. There were only a few sick kids in my school and none in mobility aids, but 7 year olds do have some life experience in being in the outer world, and my hometown was a city and not insular, so I had been exposed to disabled people before. My grandmother's best friend was an old lady with a basic prosthetic foot and used a cane, and she was patient and i daresay a little proud to show it off when i was really little and we'd go to have tea/hot chocolate with her and i stared in fascination and asked innocently offensive questions. At seven I hadn't been diagnosed with SVT or Crohn's yet and my intense and agonizing leg pains had been dismissed by my pediatrician as a hysteric and melodramatic little girl's response to "growing pains" (I've stopped growing but still feel them, I'm just used to them enough after thirty years that I barely notice them unless my legs are touched). I knew about broken bones and as someone who still had potent memories of toddler ear infections that were bad enough to send me to the E.R, I had even taken a few rides in wheelchairs.

But being in a wheelchair constantly was a new experience for me, especially as this was a manual wheelchair that you pushed yourself with the big wheels in, not the hospital kind that nurses push for you. The thought of never having to use my legs was an intoxicating thought, and I had childhood delusions of being strong and muscley enough to be able to handle maneuvering it with my scarily emaciated noodle arms.

Aides were assigned by last name down the list, and the teacher just arbitrarily decided which one you'd get. My last name is fairly down the list, so I waited the better part of a week to get assigned, all the while eyeballing the wheelchair enviously as my classmates assigned to it got to play disabled in it. I wondered how to pop a wheelie in it (for the record, my immediate reaction to being given roller skates on my fourth birthday was to immediately try to do a trick jump off the porch and landed hard on my ass with miraculously intact bones and face). But mostly I was fascinated by the thought of never having to use my legs for an entire half a day. I kept my composure at school so not to be labeled a crybaby, but by the time I got home I sometimes couldn't even focus on Pokémon because my legs were too agonizing and I'd be crying. My parents were sympathetic enough to my leg pains that they bought me hot water bottles to sooth my knees and tried to get me to take my mind off it by meditating the pain away (I'm too bipolar to focus in meditation even then but everyone's reaction to my bipolar is another long ass post in the making). But they didn't care enough to advocate for me against my pediatrician, even as he ignored all my other dramatic symptoms that were beginning to become un-ignorable. It took until my heart emergency for any adult (ily Dr. Stein, my pediatric cardiologist who immediately realized I needed more help than just for SVT) to notice the misery I was in and get me the right help (ily Dr. Maizle, my first pediatric gastroenterologist and the only one who actually listened to me when i said some of the meds felt worse than the disease).

Anyway I was assigned crutches when my name was called and i nearly did finally snap and cry at school. Nearly. And the crutches (basic under armpit ones, not forearm crutches) sucked. They were painful in my armpits, they weren't adjusted to my height properly, and I fell a few times because I was trying to swing both my legs at the same time because BOTH my legs were in constant agony and I was trying to alleviate my body's pressure on them both. I had a miserable time "pretending" to be disabled, but I was the only one who complained about the crutches and so I went ignored, setting up the theme for my childhood.

This fascination with wheelchairs stuck with me and as I became a bigger kid and my body just piled on more illness and pain, but despite all that my legs were technically functional so I kept my yearning for a chair quiet for fear of being offensive (didn't know what appropriation meant back then but that was the feeling) and an actual attention seeker like my classmates accused me off. Sure, I was sick and constantly in pain, but at least I wasn't actually "stuck in a wheelchair". Could be worse. At least it's not cancer, after all.

It got to the point that by middle school i was having idle fantasies about being grievously and dramatically injured to the point I lose my aching leg(s) and thus was finally granted a wheelchair. In my darkest moments I wondered how much pain doing it myself would be in the moment, but the thing that snapped me out of crippling (I use that word deliberately) myself was that I genuinely love the feeling of sand beneath my feet and the way beach sand (I wouldn't see the ocean until my twenties, but the artifical lake we went to had sand) felt in between your toes and how my feet didn't ache so much as the hot sand conformed around them. I still kept this quiet because I knew it was crazy and was beginning to realize that I as a whole being was crazy, but I didn't want to be treated as crazy so I kept my fantasies secret.

I've lost the point I was trying to make as I ramble on about these physically painful memories but I'm going to end by saying lmfao I've been using a cane for my pain (to not great success tbh) and have been told I'll prolly need a wheelchair in the next few years. My trepidation about this is totally devoid of any "be careful what you wish for!" karma and everything to do with how infamously inaccessible the Atlantic Coast of the United States is for mobility access. The buildings are all old and pretty and no one wants to ruin the aesthetics of the rowhomes and the shops (except the liquor stores, make of that as you will) don't want to put in the money to add or replace the stairs getting up to the shops with ramps.

This is really dumb even before I started using aides, because EVERYONE can use a ramp while only SOME people can use stairs. And that's not even the end of it, if you manage to get into the shops the aisles are too small to get even a folding chair in between, and no one wants to put in the extra work to rearrange the store to cater to those seeking "special treatment". For years I thought the A.D.A had a grandfather clause that said historical buildings didn't have to adapt unless they renovate and that's why the older cities on the East Coast are the way they are. Nope, that clause doesn't exist. But no one is willing to enforce the A.D.A except SOMETIMES for federal buildings. Even some medical facilities are on stairs with no ramp. Baltimore IS in the middle of a years-long A.D.A lawsuit, but it's only for the absolutely abysmal sidewalks that prevent wheelchairs from going over them at all and makes it treacherous for canes and crutches. I see people in wheelchairs on the road more than I see them on sidewalks because it's the only way to get a wheelchair to move. Baltimore drivers are legitimately and legendarily terrifying. I wouldn't even want to ride a bike (were I still able) in the bike lanes, let alone wheel myself IN a major road. This is going to be a terrifying experience here, unless something very much changes and soon. But will the abled leaders care enough even if they're under lawsuit? I don't feel optimistic. But what choice do/will I have? It doesn't HAVE to be hard, but it WILL be because ableds don't care enough to make even the slightest change to make it easier for EVERYONE if it takes even the slightest bit of effort. See: their collective response to covid

[dead-loch]

FIC: Missing Time

Okay, I cannot believe Deadloch has dragged me back into fic writing. It's been a DECADE. Um. So yeah. I don't fully know where this is going, I'm just following my stupid lil heart. I'll post it on AO3 soon and link it when I do. Happy to hear from people but also I haven't written anything in, yes, a decade, so be kind and all that. This is unbeta'd, the AO3 version may be slightly different once there have been edits. Just a little teaser to hold myself accountable.

Missing Time - I'm really interested in those 2 months prior to Darwin, where the town of Deadloch seemingly picked itself up and brushed itself off. Healing, learning, unlearning, all that fun shit.

"So, Collins. Were you always into women, or was it something you had to work on, like a muscle?"

"I recommend everyone give it a try at least once, see how you go."

"Ah, yeah? I’ve done stuff."

"Oh, that’s good. You’re halfway there."

—

Eddie half-carries Dulcie back to the Haddick Farm, where the women have been joined, finally, by some of the Carnage Bay cops. As soon as Dulcie’s weight has disappeared from her shoulders, courtesy of Cath, Eddie can feel the effects of an adrenaline crash begin, her teeth rattling in her skull as she shivers violently. She takes a stumbling step back, allowing Cath and Dulcie some privacy, only for both women to grip her arms and reel her back in, into the warmth between their bodies. She can feel Dulcie starting to shiver, too, likely the pain from her wound making itself known again.

The three of them stand in silence, breathing and trembling, as an ambulance arrives. They watch as that cunt James is wheeled into the back of it and Eddie can’t stop herself from smiling. She chokes out a laugh, hiding her face in Cath’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be so happy to see someone hurt,” Dulcie whispers, biting her lip to hold back a smile. “Are we terrible people?”

Eddie snorts. “Nah,” she whispers back. “We’re… what’s the word. Traumatized. Can’t be held accountable for anything right now. We’re not in our right minds. And that fuckwad had something coming to him, the way he’s been treating Big Eyes.” Eddie squints and catches sight of Abby, watching her ex-fiance yowl like a particularly angry cat as a paramedic slams the ambulance door shut. Once James is out of sight, Abby deflates. “Just a sec,” Eddie mutters, and both Cath and Dulcie immediately let go of her so that she can make her way over.

“Big Eyes. You okay?” She asks, and Abby starts, eyes going impossibly wider, before breathing a sigh of relief once she realizes it’s just Eddie.

“Ma’am,” she exhales, eyes darting over to Dulcie and Cath in the distance. “Oh my god, what happened? Where’s Ray? Are you okay? Do you need—“

“Breathe, Big Eyes. Everything’s fine. Ray… well. Ray’s dead. Went over a waterfall. Impaled on a sharp piece of wood like a fuckin’ kebab.” Eddie feels it hit her all at once and she stares into the middle distance. Feels herself shut down. She doesn’t realize that Abby’s speaking again until she feels someone grip her shoulders and she looks up like she’s been pulled from a trance. Abby’s hands are on her shoulders, strong and sure. “I’m okay,” Eddie mumbles, shaking her head. The adrenaline crash is really hitting her now and she’s cold, freezing, and she wraps her arms around herself to stave off the worst of the shivering. Abby looks at her steadily but doesn’t say anything else.

They stand there like that, Abby’s hands on her shoulders and Eddie’s arms wrapped up around her middle, until Dulcie and Cath approach them. Eddie forces her mind back to the present as a gaggle of cops start watching their little huddle, and she knows they’re going to come over here and fuck everything up any second now. She knows better than to expect any apologies from any of them. She knows better than to expect that they’ll even admit they were wrong, in every possible way there is to be wrong. She holds her breath as one of them takes a hesitant step towards them.

Before he can get very far, though, Commissioner What’s-his-dick is striding over, his hat under his arm, his face scrunched up like he’s bitten into a rotten lemon. “Fuck me,” Eddie mutters, bracing for impact.

“Connell, Radcliffe,” the commissioner barks, and Eddie feels Abby tense and Dulcie’s hand—she thinks it’s Dulcie’s hand— grab her by the scruff of her polar fleece, like she expects Eddie to go charging. “What’s going on here?” He demands, voice booming, and Eddie realizes how much her head fucking hurts, and she shuts her eyes against it like that will shut him up.

Several people start speaking at once. Abby, Dulcie, and Cath, a cacophony of sound that has Eddie flinching away and bringing a hand up to her ear. Fuck. She’s got a piercing pain behind her eyes, all of a sudden, and she’s still fucking shaking like a leaf.

There’s a moment of silence and Eddie knows that if she opens her eyes, everyone will be looking at her. She grits her teeth and after a long second, peels one eye open. Before she can tell them all to get fucked, however, one of the Carnage Bay boys is jogging up to them and intercepting the Commissioner. She recognizes him as one of the Steves.

“Sir,” Steve number who-fucking-knows says forcefully, putting himself between the commissioner and their huddle. “I can debrief you.” He shoots a glance at Dulcie, and then Eddie. She’s not sure what’s happening, and for a second she doesn't think his ploy is going to work. The Commissioner's face is a startling shade of red, visible through the darkness.

"The men are in the barn," Steve says, and the Commissioner allows himself to be distracted by this. Eddie would roll her eyes if they didn't feel like they were going to pop right out of her head. Steve nods at them before pulling the other man away. Eddie stares after them. When she turns to look at Dulcie, she looks bowled over.

“What the fuck just happened?” Eddie asks, surprised despite herself. Dulcie shakes her head, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

[chalkrevelations]

So, I’ve been catching up on podcasts about TLOU during the commute to and from work or while I’m running errands. And I’ve developed this habit that I subject spouse to on a regular basis, which I call “Today On ‘How Dudes On Podcasts Are Wrong About The Last Of Us.’” And this week, I just feel really strongly about a couple of things re: Ep 8, and so all y’all get to be subjected to this week’s installment, too.

(I definitely need to go back and watch all of the show again, because I feel like it’s going to unfold beautifully on a second watch, but I don’t actually have the patience to wait until I get all the way around, back to Ep 8 again, before hashing through this particular stuff, so fuck it, we ball.)

I just feel like I’m listening to a lot of guys 1) being weirdly precious about the cannibalism and 2) missing the point of the cannibalism.

I mean, all of this is with the caveat that I realized a long time ago, I’m kind of missing the automatic cannibalism squick that most people have. I’m not down with killing people specifically to eat them, and I wouldn’t particularly want to eat another person, but I do appear to be more pragmatic - at least theoretically - than about 96.5 percent of the population about the idea that dead bodies are meat, that living people take precedence over dead people, and that if you’re in a starvation situation without other options and Joe next door kicks it, as long as he wasn’t carrying any communicable diseases, I don’t have a lot of practical or ethical compunction about you looking at Joe as a source of protein. All that being said, I’m listening to people acting not only like the cannibalism in Ep 8 is some freaky weird shit - which it is! don’t get me wrong, being in a situation where your only option is to eat people is inherently fucked up! - but that it’s a narrative choice that illustrates a moral and ethical vacuum in this group of characters, which completely misses the point? I’m hearing things like the fact that they didn’t immediately butcher the horse while people are neatly strung up for storage shows that they’d rather eat people, and how voraciously they were eating their “venison” stew shows how they are indelibly marked and changed by eating human flesh - even when they don’t know, I guess - and I’m like, no, they’re HUNGRY. They’re literally starving. That’s why they’re sucking down that stew. And I’m sure they’ll get around to butchering that horse as soon as David’s done terrorizing and molesting Ellie, which brings me to my first point:

The cannibalism is not what makes these people monstrous. What makes them monstrous is that they allow David to openly prey on children the way he treats Hannah and Ellie. What makes James monstrous is that he knows their raiding party attacked Joel and Ellie without provocation and Joel killed their guy in self-defense (don’t start none, won’t be none, m’fkr), and yet he still wants to revenge-obliterate Joel and Ellie. What makes David monstrous is the way he preys on the people in his care and particularly on the children in his care, like Hannah and Ellie. “Freaky cannibalism” is not what makes any of these people monstrous, it only means they’re starving and desperate. What makes them monstrous is their other behavior, that they could control, unlike starving to death if you don’t eat Jim-Bob when he kicks it and all you have otherwise are three cans of stewed tomatoes for a group of 25+ people.

Also, I realize I’m coming at this with hindsight because I’ve finished the season, but particularly if you’ve played the game, I feel like you should see this coming: The narrative point of the cannibalism isn’t about these people at all. It’s not even really about David. The cannibalism is about Joel. Joel has to see those bodies strung up in the back of the steakhouse, Joel has to understand that David and his group are - in Ellie’s words - cutting people into little bits, Joel has to understand that this is likely what they’re going to do to Ellie, and Joel has to see that he wasn’t able to rescue her from that, that he failed her again, that she only survived because she saved herself. Joel has to see those bodies stripped down to meat because it literalizes what’s going to happen in Ep 9, when he wakes up in the Firefly facility and Ellie is gone, and Marlene tells him she’s already headed into surgery - they’ve washed her, prepped her and are getting ready to expertly butcher her, to kill her and strip her down for parts, cut her into little bits, just like those bodies he saw hanging back at Silverlake would be, just like Ellie would have been if she hadn’t saved herself. He’s failed her again and again and again, he told Tommy, back in Ep, what? 6? 7? He fails her again in Ep 8, and she is fucking traumatized. You think he’s going to fail her this last time, if he can help it?

And that’s why, sure, people can argue the ethics of his actions all they want, but the overall story is so very VERY narratively satisfying, because Joel was never going to do anything other than what he did, and that’s what the story is ABOUT. This is the most cohesive story I’ve seen, on a character level, in a LONG damn time.

But I do think part of the ethical argument of whether you do or don’t agree with Joel’s decision should be informed by the fact that David’s group and the Fireflies are paralleled in Ep 8 and Ep 9. Maybe Ellie would have said yes to Marlene, but Marlene didn’t ask - she doesn’t care any more about Ellie’s consent than David did. Is Ep 8 repulsive because it’s happening in the back of a steakhouse and Ep 9 OK because it’s happening in an operating room? You’re going to be all “Ew, cannibalism, beyond the pale” when it’s about desperation and survival, and the meat is (usually, at least) already dead anyway, and a lot of other people would starve to death if you just let it rot, but you’re OK with Ellie, who’s still alive, being butchered to keep other people alive? No - to maybe keep other people alive, because this is all hypothetical, the Fireflies don’t even know if it will actually work? So, if it doesn’t work this time, how many teen-aged girls are you willing to butcher on a possibility? At what point does it become too many? Do we rebuild the world on the bodies of dead teen-aged girls? I submit this is part of the moral calculus that has to be considered at the end of S1, and it’s put into stark relief by what we see in Ep 8.

And that is the point of the cannibalism.

[heartandmindful]

you're really not shit. none of you were.

i'm allowed to be angry.

i don't hate you and i know i played a part too. i'm mainly mad at myself for creating a version of you that never existed.

why did i do it? how did i fool myself for so long. i'm glad i'm finally progressing, i'm excited to leave you behind so please don't come back even though you probably weren't planning on it. it wasn't ALL fake but it wasn't

idk

today it's 1/11 day and last time this year i was at the lowest point of my life, and you were the only thing holding me together. it was ME all along, I CREATED THE VERSION OF YOU TO COMFORT MYSELF, i comforted myself not you

you would've never been anything to me if i didn't make you into this person you weren't.

....

i shouldn't be angry at you but i should as well i guess

i guess the rejection does hurt. also i'm confused why didn't you shut it down from the start. if you never liked me you led me on? but you said it wasn't intentional. ik you wanna be in your hoe phase because you're heartbroken and what not.

i'm glad it happened. look at me now, i'm the happiest i've ever been. you will always hold a special place in my heart, even though you're not the person i loved.

hhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

so what now? if you do come back, will i let you?

if you don't, will i be sad that you truly never cared?

i guess the only thing to do is let go but i'll miss you. and unlike you just because i'm a little heartbroken,

who am i to even judge you

i think we were all twinflames isn't that funny?? like divine intervention lol

22.22

idk why i was so sad in the first place, i could've let it go sooner but

it's good i healed properly and in my own time.

the only thing for me to do is to come back, and i want to, but it's scary, also you being a real person makes letting go a little more complicated, but i guess it's easier to be objective when fully immersed in the present moment as well as my body

along for him and her, idk what their deal was, like two energy vampires wanting possession over me and it sounds extreme but that's litterally what it was. i learnt my lesson thank you universe. i can't believe life is getting so good for me. i'm so grateful.

i never would've thought i'd feel like this.

i'm excited to take care of myself properly, i have no intention of waiting anymore

on that note who am i trying to impress? i know i want love and lalaalal

and now that i'm moving on from you i feel like someone needs to instantly take your place, but i know that right now it's meant to be just me. there's no rush. and i'm still not ready.

god i hope you don't come back but i also do, i still want you to care. because i did idealize you alot and a lot of it was lust, but some of it was guenuine from me and i know that.

ridiculously enough, it's not that i'm not ready, i'm just not interested, i still want it to be you

i mean it's not like how it was before but i don't want a round 2

objectively we'd be terrible right? you're boring and your friends are insufferable.

INSUFFERABLEEEEE

AND YOU GUYS THINK YOU'RE ALL SO COOL AND I'M SO CRAZY RIGHT

you guys are fucking boringggggggg

unnecessary attention, i want nothing to do with that lame ass circle ever again on my life

i like my friends more

and

i like me more

and i am weird and loud and i fucking like it

and i don't want to be with you you're irritating and mean and judgy and nonchalant and cant communicate and unloyal and not romantic for all i know

you won't treat me right it's so obvious

and i

22.33

why couldn't you have just

i think i needto accept who you are instead of who i made you out to be

and accept that i am alone

i don't have a other half fated for me, it's just you and you belong to everyone except for me apparently sorry not sorry you're kind of a hoe no judgement

you are sleazy i felt it the first day i met you. not twinflames but karmics is more fitting i guess

yk what who cares what the fucking label is omg

that's what got me into this mess

all that matters is who you are and why we aren't going to be together

this is very confusing for my brain lowk

friends really do reflect character i guess.

i think i dodged a bullet. it'll be good if you don't spin back. and even if you do no matter how much i want it, i won't let you if i notice

from now on you're just like every other person that is in my past, which means you're irrelevant. no hard feelings because we weren't even friends you didn't owe me anything. god why am i like this honestly

so it's just done i guess, i have better things to do?

but i just feel empty.. like what now

you're really

and having to see you in november during this weather IT'S WAYYYY TOO NOSTALGIC I MEAN COME ONNN HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MOVE ON FROM YOU WHEN THOIS IS WHEN I FIRST STARTED LIKING YOU PROPERLY

i remember it all

idk what to do.

what if we were just both using eo to process heartbreak bruh

wouldnt it be nice if we could start over and find mutual understanding

im trying not to romanticise this

maybe i should just talk to you?? who cares what they think ugh

but ur so fucking cocky i cant

[kunstundpolitik]

Placing pieces together...

Can there be good second parts?

After a breakup that didn't kill me but stop hurting because he came back... we are back at place one and the thing that goes through my mind is.. can second parts be good?

After something around a month without eating, he offered to feed me one day and we started seeing each other again. For me it was love and for him it was probably sex....

The days went by and every time he would start giving me more and more of his time, he wouldn't leave my house for over 3, 4 days and I was feeling in heaven and at the same time I was having my shit together and controlling my jelousy because of course no exclusivity deal was signed...

I started to fell for him again and then after a trip he made with his friends when he was back and the feelings that were bottling exploded after that we decided to give a new try to the relationship ...

I was again the "official woman" but so many girls on instagram were a constant fear to me that he wasn't 100% in like I was, I started to loose my sparkle little by little and accept the crumbs that he once again started to give.

Empathy made me hold long into a relationship where I was giving but not reciving... changes were made but trust was at some point lost...

Substance abuse is never to take light and I started to feel the effects of the substance abuse from my partner, disrespecting me everytime he was high, lack of energy when he was not and just taking more and more of me everytime. He broke my trust and I broke his... I played al the time by his rules, and little by little let go of friends that were there for me for a long time, specially male friends because that would make him feel insecure until one day it happened.... I oppened pandora's box... Discovered that me saying hi to my friends was nothing compared to what he was doing behind my back, and I changed I just wasn't the same...

I tried to hide it and to deal with it, I wasn't eating, I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't happy .. and I was willing to go through hell until my body said STOP! So my body rejected the man I've promised my everything, and that was the moment that he walked away....

At first I felt peace that I haven't felt in a while and while day passed by I would be on a rollercoaster of emotions crying at parties or clubs, at the park, wherever it would hit me and within 2 weeks a new girl came by... his dream come true... an asian woman with big tits and big ass everything I am never gonna be...

I feel betrayed and disrespected, I feel sometimes that I don't want to keep moving forward, but some other times I remember that I was the only guilty of allowing myself to be stepped over and over again.

I don't know where am I standing now, and I don't know where to go from here, but I know that at some point I will understand this lesson and move on with my life...

The man before him told me once that I deserve only the best and that I am a gorgeous woman and need to be treated like that... I feel so sorry that I forgot....

I hate to be always the one ending like this while people go and live their best life... but I'm happy for them...

I really will miss my ex, because I got to see some pureness in his heart that I don't think he is even able to..

The last two partners I had, even though one was sort of only a fantasy ... have made the biggest changes of personality I've had in my entire life... and I can't be anything but grateful for what we had...

Finishing a relationship always leaves you thinking... about former partners... and I wish I had the nerve to reach out to you, maybe someday I will... and if I do... I just hope you answer.

Anyway just ranting here for myself...

[kaddyssammlung]

BPD / C-PTSD / bad relationship dynamics in Sleep Token lyrics - Part 2

Part 1

TW: mental health stuff

The Offering

“You've got diamonds for teeth my love”

Reminds me, again, about how we put our favourite person on a pedestal. And see them as perfect.

“This is a given, an offering In your favour, a sacrifice in your name”

This makes me think about how you end up doing everything for your favourite person. The person you obsess over and you can't be without.

You do everything for them. The fear of them leaving you is so big that you end up sacrificing yourself for them.

Levitate

“And I can tell you won't remember my cracking bones”

And how you love like weapons kill.....

Reminds me about the amount of abuse that I was able to take in without even realizing what it was.

Dark Signs

“Where I was raised, there was no streetlights just pitch black and passing headlights”

I can relate to this. I have a feeling we both grow up surrounded by darkness.

“Most days you reach for safety”

I really feel this line. All of those self-destructive behaviours related to BPD that give you a strange feeling of safety. Or the feeling of being still here on this planet. Because most of the times I just felt gone...dissociated and empty.

“Remain calm, forget that you know me”

My damn ex-boyfriend used to say this to me a lot. “Just forget that you know...forget that we ever met.....you will leave me anyway..” I can see now that he must have had BPD also. Of course I can't confirm this. But I get what he was saying. I thought the same thing.

“And I miss the man I was the moment we left off”

I wish I could say this but like I said...I don't remember a version of myself that I can go back to.

“I won't break and bend to my basic need to be loved and close to somebody”

I did break and bend to my basic need......

It's wasn't a basic need for me, I needed this to have meaning and it was what kept me alive.

“And would you call asking for answers tear my arms off”

Everything depends on what your favourite person does and when they don't respond to you in any way then I would “tear my arms off”.

Higher

“And I know we instigate go back and forth lacerate”

One day I love you the other day you are dead to me. It's not that complicated, okay?!

Okay....it does make sense. I know that it doesn't but that's how it was or sometimes I still catch myself feeling like that.

“And we are exhausted by all this pretending we just can't resist the violence”

Makes me think about my ex-boyfriend again. He lost his shit very fast but so did I. Violence was answered with more violence....let's just leave it at that.

“but each time we battle the blood and the fury takes us a little higher”

First you fight and then you sleep with someone to make up for it...

Not with my ex-boyfriend but with my ex-girlfriend. That relationship was not that bad, though. It was not healthy but not as abusive as the one with my ex-boyfriend. (I just want to say that I'm not bi. I was always a lesbian but so desperate to be with someone that I ended up with a guy. Yeah...things happen. I was an a*shole but so was he.)

Take Aim

“And it sends me shivers How you love like weapons kill”

Because I needed someone to keep me alive. I think that's the best way to describe this feeling. I can understand how this did not look like love from the outside but it felt like love for me.

“Break me apart”

You don't care if someone breaks you apart. As long as you are not alone they can do with you whatever they want. You allow them to treat you like that because you are so afraid that when you don't then they will leave you.

“and you make me hate myself make me tear my body make me yearn for your embrace”

Well...everything that I just said.

Give

“I'll tear the fibre from the filament … I will be watching for your enemies ...”

This whole songs...well....I will do everything for you. Even if this means that I have to suffer but I will do everything for you and please forever stay and may you never leave!

(No I'm tearing up....this is a lot)

“give in again”

That irrational fear of abandonment leads to controlling and obsessive behaviours. And what ends up happening is that you start fighting and then someone gives you the silent treatment. But all you want is for them to “give in again” and let you come back to them.

Gods

“You want to watch me bleed because I bleed so well”

All of this is kind of a cycle of abuse. This can only end by becoming aware of it and understanding what you are doing why you are doing it. At least that's how I see this at the moment. I don't want to end up emotionally abusing someone because I'm scared that they will leave me. Of course they leave when you act like that. Damn it....

Sugar

“and you play a twisted little game but I know in a way you need to complicate”

Get out of my head, Vessel! It's called “testing”. Let's say someone invites me to something and they really like me. Then I say “no” but I actually want to go. I just say “no” because I want to know how they react. Are they like “okay” or are they more like “I neeeeeeeed you to come...please, please, please”.

Say That You Will

“Well I live to guess your sorrow”

I was not able to talk about was going on. I did not really understand it or was fully aware of it. I was aware of it to some extent but also I had trust issues. It's only very recently that I fully understand where my trust issues come from and the role that early trauma plays in all of this.

“You've got me up in a frenzy again”

Losing my shit within seconds or in more clinical terms: being impulsive, does look like a frenzy. It really does

“let the impulse to love and the instinct to kill entangle to one”

I'm kind of trying to erase the instinct to kill.....

Blood Sport

“You're still my weapon of choosing”

I really do turn humans into weapons in a way...did turn them into weapons.

“I wanna be forgiven I wanna choke up chunks of my own sins”

I really do feel like I hurt so many humans....

“Let me pay for my arrogance”

I cheated on my ex-boyfriend with a classmate, female classmate. I slept with her one day. We watched movies and then ended up in my bed.....

No he does not know that to this day.

“I made loving you a blood sport I cant win”

I just feel this.....

I just spent too much time writing this. Now I feel weird.

That's it for today....

[fallingfavourites]

im such a little liar omg I said said would start 2 days ago and now i am instead but anyway s3 baby here I go,

wait actualy before I start I have to talk about this first it's probably going to be such am experience going from this and then after reading what happened in between the seasons, now fr here I come s3,

WE ARE SO BACK, oeh omg starting with a flashback always eats!! I NEED MORE LAWYER MOMENTS KF THEM IMMEDIATELY, the teacher is so me while reading this,

kinda offtopic but I know ex is an xreader but she just feels like such an oc to me at this point, i was having fun and you just had to hit me in the face with angst didn't you?,

-Matt tried to get out of the bed but he collapsed to the floor with the first step. It was like his body forgot how to move. His own skeleton failed him and let him crash to the ground and a wound at his side gnawed angrily at the impact. The fluid between his ears was as uneasy as the ocean and nothing around him felt solid. The only thing that kept him in that moment was the cold floor beneath him and the firm hands that tried to haul him up.- your writing is beyond this world once again, OH WE'RE DOING BACK AND FORTHS COOLCOOLCOOL, RECOVERED?? RECOVERED WHAT? MATTS DEATH WHAT WHAT IS IT TELL ME

,-“The.. The way her voice broke when she- When she called out for me… I heard her scream when it all happened.”- nono stfu I hadn't even thought about that😭😭 why did you have to say rhat I can't, BRO THIS MAN NOT TELLING HER IS SELFISH,

the punisher teasing is making me crazy, PHYSICAL REHAB??? BILLY WTF DID YOU??????,

-“Because you liked a guy that you could treat like shit and still expect him to care?”- Karen baby no why would you say that😭😭, -“No, you’re right. Because you two kept so many goddamn secrets nobody really knew either of you, right?” - okay but she kinda ate ex and maty up with that, god I love the way you write Karen sm, everybody loves Foggy and as they should!!,

-“Angry, sarcastic, and stubborn. Maybe you don’t have any friends.” Maggie joked, though Matt didn’t find it funny. - your own mom saying that to you is wild😭😭, Matthew murdock you would love hozier, MARRIAGE MENTIONS COUNTER: 2, -...allowing Matt to sit in his own continuous misery.- best way I've ever seen to describe his life,

wait pause, Matt knows it's ex right?? if so that wild for him to do this like thats actually sick and twisted, also would ex like recognize his fighting style? idkidk, also the way ex is just so casual about this😭, AH DEX, I SHOULD NOT LIKE THEM INTERACTING THIS MUCH😨, SCREAMING OMG,

^^me right now,

RAY RAY RAY YIPPEEE, FISK NAHH my girl just can't catch a fucking break omg, MARC MENTION OMG, Ray is just dragging her into this I love it, -“...It just made me feel worse until it got to a point where I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to die per say, but I didn’t wanna live like that anymore. So I buried everything and threw myself into a fight that didn’t really involve me, then I got stuck with this.” You shook the wrist with the brace.- HELLO?? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING TO HAPPRN IN THE SPINOFF??

boy o boy this was a long one but jesus was it good omg, phenomenal writing once again, missed reading this soooo much! my meme/reaction pics game sucked this chapter but I hope it's still a good reaction! probably will read chapter 2 tomorrow since it's 3:30am rn but omg I cannmtttt wait !!!!!! love you pookie!

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - House of Memories

tags: @ironprincessstranger @johnmurphys-sass @dusstory @americaarse @astrobees @mayasaurus--rex @woowwwee // two // Season 2B // masterlist

Pairing: Bullseye X Reader (Casual) , Matt X Reader (Past)

Word Count: 9,558

Summary: Times have changed since Midland Circle, so has Y/N. As she attempts to move forward, relationships are strained and circumstances are less than favorable. Can she cope on her own or will she fall back into old habits?

“Welcome to our final class for the semester!” The professor announced as he paraded into the room. Various hoots and claps came from around you but you simply smiled, glad to have another class checked off your schedule. “As you know, today is the final day for debates. We have only a few to get through so the quicker we go, the quicker we enjoy our winter break. Y/L/N, you’re up first!”

You pushed yourself up and hurried down the lecture hall steps until you reached the front. You stood at the closer podium and scanned the notes that waited for you.

A man attempts to break into a house late at night. The owner, a single woman, owns a retired police dog - a German Shepherd to be specific. He bites the perpetrator but releases and recalls when the noise wakes the woman and she calls him back. You’re supposed to argue the man is at fault. Your opposition will argue that the woman is.

“There’s five people you can choose to argue against, or I can choose for you.” Your professor said as you looked up at the empty podium across from you.

“You can pick.. But don’t make it easy.” You shrugged and glanced up at Matt. You knew he hadn’t gone yet and he was smiling down at you.

“Mr. Murdock!” He called and you grinned. “My two top students should go against each other, don’t you think? C’mon down, my boy!”

Matt laughed slightly and made his way down, cane bouncing off the steps. The professor pulled a different copy of the notes from his bag and placed it at Matt’s podium. You gave him a minute while he ran his fingers over the page and his brows raised in interest.

“Ladies first.” The professor bowed and stepped back.

“Clearly, the man is at fault.” You began easily. “Attempted breaking and entering.”

“Yes, but this dog is trained to attack and by New York law, that makes the owner liable.” Matt countered. “Just compensate for the $2,200 in medical bills and call it a day.”

“Yes, but New York law also states that if the victim is trespassing or provoking the animal, the owner isn’t liable.”

“How do you know he was provoking the animal?”

“Security footage.”

“That wasn’t in the notes.” Matt smiled slightly.

“You’re going to assume a woman who lives alone doesn’t have cameras?” You raised your brows.

“Regardless, the dog is trained to attack. Especially being retired police, there must’ve been training for him to engage in certain situations.”

“Certain hostile situations, you mean.”

“You can’t be sure the man was hostile.”

“Why was he breaking into her house then?”

“Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was running, looking for somewhere to hide or someone to help him. The dog misread the body language and attacked, unprovoked.”

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Murdock?”

“Please.” He smiled.

“If I threaten you, are you within your rights to defend yourself?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And if I am threatened, can I defend myself?”

“Yes.”

“With whatever I feel is necessary?”

“Sure.”

“Exactly. The dog felt it’s home and owner were threatened. It reacted accordingly.”

“Sounds a bit like victim blaming, doesn’t it?” He asked with a tilt of his head and you almost laughed.

“Coming from the man blaming an animal.”

“Let me ask you something, Ms. Y/L/N. By going off your last statement, your addressing the animal like it’s a weapon.”

“And if I had a concealed carry permit, do I have to show it to you or announce it before defending myself with said weapon?”

“No. But you are still held responsible if you kill your attacker, even if it’s self-defense.”

“You seem to be sympathizing with the attacker. Tell me, Mr. Murdock. Do you?”

“Are you insinuating I hurt people?” His voice feigned hurt but he nearly laughed in amusement.

“Of course not.” You said honestly. “But I do think you enjoy a bit of power.”

“Do you sympathize with the woman?”

“With a woman, on her own, being attacked by someone who she owes nothing to?” You challenged slightly, putting more of a personal anger into the words than intended. “I think any woman in the room would.”

“Maybe that’s clouding your judgment.”

“Is that an ad hominem I hear? Maybe you’re trying to attack me because you know your argument is weak.”

“I’ll admit that the man shouldn’t have gone breaking into houses. However, the woman should’ve had signage posted that a dog with the training and intent to protect was on the premises.”

“Should she have put a sign on every corner of her fence?” You raised your brows. “Because for all we know, there’s a sign on her front gate.”

“I don’t remember if it’s in the notes so just assume there is.” Your professor agreed, seemingly enthralled in your discussion like his favorite TV show. “You two are doing fantastic. You’ve almost gotten to the deciding factor.”

“With posted signage at the front of her property, she shouldn’t have to post it on the back if there’s no typical entry there.” You continued.

“One sign is easy to overlook.” Matt shrugged.

“Not if you enter the property in the proper way. Therefore, the only way the woman is liable would be if the dog bit the man on the sidewalk, since it’s public property.”

“Can we get a description of what the dog bites look like?” Matt turned to your professor.

“Should be on the second page.” He nodded and you cleared your throat. He looked at you and you gave a small jerk of your head towards Matt. “Of course. You’d think I’d remember.” He mumbled and your class chuckled.

You moved to his podium with your paper in hand and reached for his arm. He gave it to you willingly so you pushed the sleeve of his shirt up and twisted it so you could see the inside of his forearm while dropping your page on top of his.

“Punctures from the top canines here.” You used two fingers pressed against his skin as you looked at the paper. “Bottom here. Bruising along here.” Your fingers trailed along his arm and he shivered slightly. “Another set of punctures here, with a bit of lacerations. Less than an inch maybe.”

“A second set of punctures?” His brows furrowed beneath his glasses and you recognized the tone of his voice. He heard something of interest. “So the dog bit once, let go, and bit again? And shook, if there were lacerations.”

“The lacerations are newer, based on the blood color.” You countered. “They don’t look like a shake. It looks like he was pulling his arm away.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because they go downwards. Typically, shakes just make the initial punctures deeper and a little wider, little messier. If anything the movement would be horizontal.”

“Anything else on the bites?”

“No, but..” You flipped the page over and found another photo, though this one was the dog covered in blood and a copy of a vet bill. “There’s a vet bill.”

You flipped Matt’s notes and found what you assumed was the same thing just in braille. You put his hand against it and read your own.

“The dog had damage to his left eye and socket, a chunk missing from his ear and a bloody line four inches down his side.” You explained the photo. “Was the dog shot?”

Your professor nodded.

“Your guy shot her dog.” You turned back to Matt. “Probably used the butt of the gun to hit its eye.”

“You’re right.” He nodded with a small smile. “The woman’s not at fault.”

“You wanted the $2200 for medical?” You asked and he nodded. “Vet bills were $3700. Pay out the difference and we’ll call it even.”

Matt grinned and shook your hand. Your professor stood and celebrated, causing the class to give polite claps. Foggy gave a loud shout from the back.

———————————————

How he survived, he didn’t know. When he finally washed up after Midland Circle, he felt closer to death than he ever had before. He hardly had strength to breathe, let alone try to get home. Try to get to Y/N.

The thought of her was the only thing that kept him going. She was the only thing that had him even considering healing, considering living after that. He heard her voice in every thought. Her touch seemed to ghost his skin though she was nowhere near.

I can’t lose you, Matty. I just can’t.

I trust you with my life.

I want you with me.

I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you.

My life isn’t worth yours.

Just don’t let it take you from us, okay?

How could he ever face her again? To stand in front of her, knowing she would break down, and ask her to forgive him for sacrificing his life. And for what? For his own pride? For Elektra? And not even the Elektra they both knew and loved at that, but a hollowed out version driven by her own selfish desires.

“Where…? Where…?” He tried to get out a full question but every word seemed to die as it fell from his lips.

“St. Agnes. The orphanage.” A familiar voice answered but he couldn’t make out anything else. Matt felt like someone had shoved a pound of dry cotton into his ears. And while he appreciated the knowledge of where he was, that wasn’t what he wanted to know.

“How long?”

“Several weeks.”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

“She’s come and gone for the day.” The woman rushed an answer and the words made Matt’s head spin violently as he sat up. Or was that more the residual injuries? “Get back in the bed! You’ll hurt yourself!”

“My right ear… I can’t..”

Matt tried to get out of the bed but he collapsed to the floor with the first step. It was like his body forgot how to move. His own skeleton failed him and let him crash to the ground and a wound at his side gnawed angrily at the impact. The fluid between his ears was as uneasy as the ocean and nothing around him felt solid. The only thing that kept him in that moment was the cold floor beneath him and the firm hands that tried to haul him up.

She’s come and gone for the day.

Why was Y/N at the church? She didn’t believe in any of it. Was she looking for Matt? Did she already know he was alive? If she knew, she would’ve been beside him. He firmly believed that if she knew, she wouldn’t leave his side. She would’ve sat there, day and night, waiting to scream at him for abandoning her or to make sure he actually pulled through. There would’ve been some piece of her left in that room, whether it be the warmth of her skin or the scent of her perfume or the sound of her voice. Something would’ve still been there, unless maybe it was and Matt just couldn’t tell. What a cold loneliness he felt around him when he considered that thought.

To anything outside that small, lonely room in the orphanage, Daredevil - and in turn, for some at least, Matt Murdock - was dead.

————————————

Matt and Foggy were in their dorm room, the afternoon after meeting Y/N.

Saying the girl was electric was an understatement. From the second he heard her say his name, he was a goner. He had known her for mere minutes, hours if you count the night, but he felt something in his chest when she introduced herself. His heart thumped faster when she laughed and time seemed to slow when she touched him.

He started to wonder if that’s what it meant to have a soulmate.

“Are you gonna call her?” Foggy asked that morning.

“We met her last night, Foggy.” Matt reasoned with a nervous chuckle. “I’m not gonna call her.”

“Dude.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re gonna miss this perfect opportunity? Matt, c’mon man! She was gorgeous!”

“I-“

“No, like you don’t get it. She was probably the most beautiful woman to have ever walked this campus. You should’ve seen her.”

“Well I-“

“Don’t!” Foggy cut in so Matt smiled innocently. “Do not make a blind joke right now.”

“If she’s so beautiful, then you call her.” Matt tried, though the suggestion felt like a slap to the face.

“I’m not the one she was making googly eyes at on the walk back last night.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I-“ Foggy began before a loud, exasperated sigh. “Matt! Dude!”

“Foggy!” Matt replied in the same tone. “It’s fine. We’ll probably run into her in class anyway.”

“You’re gonna just wait and hope that you two run into each other again by chance? When she’s probably the most perfect and smart and beautiful and charming and-“

“Sounds like you liked her more than I did.” Matt mumbled and dropped onto his back across his mattress.

“Matt. Matthew. My friend.” Foggy said as he came and sat on his friend’s bed beside him. “I’m telling you this because I love you. Call the girl!”

“I’m not gonna call her!” Matt laughed. “C’mon man. You really think a girl like that - as beautiful as you say she is and can speak that many languages and who knows what else she can do. You think a girl like that is gonna wanna be with me?”

“Buddy, I think she would’ve married you last night if you had asked.”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, fine.” He sighed dramatically, though he was admittedly giddy. “I’ll call her. Dial her number for me.”

“Do you hear that?” Foggy joked as he found the scrap of her book page that she wrote her number on and dialed on Matt’s phone. “Sounds like wedding bells, my friend. Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N-Murdock.”

“Y/L/N-Murdock, huh?” Matt laughed as he held the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, you’re right… Murdock-Y/L/N? Nah, I don’t like that either. Maybe just Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“It’s about time, Murdock.” Y/N joked on the other end of the call. “And here I thought you forgot about me.”

————————————

“Matthew.” Father Lantom announced his arrival one day and Matt was drawn out of the same spiral of thoughts that haunted him. The same circulation of memories that plagued him.

“Father, I didn’t know you were there.” Matt answered honestly, though the feeling in his right ear was as nagging as ever. “Sister Maggie said something before… About Y/N.”

“Oh.. Yes.” He nodded and Matt noticed his hesitation. It was as if he was thinking of how to tell Matt whatever he knew. “She’s been coming around a bit more often lately.”

“Does she know?”

“No… No, I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell her.”

“Why does she come then?”

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. She’s only come inside once.. Said the building doesn’t smell like cinnamon anymore, whatever that means.”

Matt sighed heavily, understanding exactly what she meant. Though he had never smelled it himself, he knew it was how the devotion in the building showed up to her. It was part of her abilities, how she described the church as warm and alive with everyone’s belief. She described anger as red, hot and burning. Sadness was cold and blue. Happiness was a soft purple. Love was pink and fuzzy. Fear, yellow and bitter. He wondered what she was feeling now.

“Instead she just… sits on the bench out front until one of the boys comes to collect her for work. Poor thing.” Lantom continued and it made Matt’s heart twist.

“It’s my fault.. She was with me that night and I- I made her leave. I couldn’t let her die with me.” Matt said weakly.

“She’s doing well lately, better since she’s recovered.”

Matt wondered what that meant but he didn’t dwell on it.

“The.. The way her voice broke when she- When she called out for me… I heard her scream when it all happened.”

Just talking about it replayed that scream and he felt his heart splinter again.

“I’m sure she would love to see you.”

“I just can’t get that sound out of my head.” He nearly whispered.

“She used to say the last thing you said to her played in her head like a record on repeat… Said she’d give anything to hear you say her name again.”

Matt said nothing this time. He would love to have Y/N come by but he knew it wasn’t fair. He’d been gone for several weeks, at least. That could’ve meant months. Y/N could’ve gotten over everything and seeing him, knowing he was alive and she had been so close to him every time she came, it would only break her again. How could he put her through that? How could he be so selfish?

“Matthew, you have to admit it is a miracle that you survived.” Lantom tried.

“That’s how most of our conversations tend to go.” Matt complained and rolled to his side. “Let’s just give it a rest.”

Lantom left after that, allowing Matt to wallow in his own thoughts and boredom.

He wondered who were the boys that came for Y/N. What of her life was still the same? Did Exodus come back to protect the Kitchen, to take out her anger and pain on those she thought deserved it? Or did she sit at home, alone in the apartment that they had danced in? The apartment they had cooked dinners in and cleaned together and where she taught him more and more Russian. Was she as alone as he was? Chased by memories of something buried alive.

Those were the thoughts that plagued Matt day in and day out. He thought of his other friends, too. Karen and Foggy. He wondered if Jessica or Luke or Danny had checked in on Y/N. He even wondered if Frank had heard and looked out for her

Matt wasn’t sure how long exactly it had been since his conversation with Father Lantom about Y/N when Sister Maggie brought her up as well.

“There must be at least one person I can call for you.” She said, almost regretfully and there was a hint of a knowing tone in her voice.

“No.” Matt decided. “There’s no one.”

“What about the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The sad, pretty one. Although lately she seems more angry than sad.” She described her simply and a brief smile crossed Matt’s face. “She comes every morning and has told me about a specific someone who sounds remarkably like you. And given all of that, I’m guessing she was the one you liked to do backflips with.”

“Exodus.”

Sister Maggie hummed in response.

“Her name is Y/N.” Matt said, almost defensively. He couldn’t take her down to only her vigilante name because she was so much more than that. He helped her see that, so ignoring that would be wrong. Exodus was part of who Y/N was, not the entirety.

“You should consider yourself lucky to have found a girl like that that’s willing to put up with all of this.”

“Yeah…”

Back at the apartment, you were getting home for the day. It was an easy day. You had been back from Quantico for a few months, but everything from Billy at the carousel set back your timeline. After your mandated therapy and physical rehab, today was the first day you were unrestricted, though of course your luck meant nothing exciting happened.

You reached for your door handle and found it already unlocked. You walked in confidently after dropping your purse and coat by the door, a hand hovering at the gun on your hip, only to find Karen. She was kneeling by the closet under your stairs with the case to Matt’s suit open in front of her.

“I could’ve told you it’s still not there.” You said simply, removing your gun and badge from your belt and tossing them to the table. “It’s not coming back, Karen. Neither is he.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called.” She answered gently, a sadness in her voice.

“Yeah..” You agreed quickly. “Want a drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks.. But uh, how are you?”

“That’s not what this is about.” You threw the fridge shut. “Y’know, come to think of it, I don’t know why you keep coming back and looking for it.”

“I know.. I just can’t shake the feeling that-“

“Not even that.” You laughed with annoyance. “You don’t remember what you told him, do you? When you came by the next day after he told you about all that.” You pointed to the closet.

She was quiet so you continued.

“I don’t think Daredevil’s the problem.” You repeated and her eyes dropped. Her guilt tinted the air with a stale feeling, vaguely smelling like old water. “You didn’t want him in your life as Daredevil but now that he’s gone, you pretend that you cared about the suit.”

She looked back to you quickly. “I didn’t care about the suit. I cared about him.”

“You cared about Matt… Yeah, I’ll give you that. But you didn’t give a shit about Daredevil. You can’t separate the two!”

“Is that why you liked him? Because he was Daredevil.”

“Oh my god.” You muttered.

“Because you liked a guy that you could treat like shit and still expect him to care?”

“Fuck you, Karen.” You snapped. “I cared about Matt long before he even thought about Daredevil so don’t stand there and act like you know anything about our relationship.”

“No, you’re right. Because you two kept so many goddamn secrets nobody really knew either of you, right?”

“Is this really what you came for? To fight with me.” You came around the counter and took a few steps closer to her, making her step back. “Because if you did, you can walk right back out the door and y’know what. You don’t even have to come back. Okay? I don’t need this shit from you anymore. I’m done, Karen.”

She was quiet and you felt the way your words sliced through her but you were too angry to stop talking. You let that anger burn through you as the words fell from your lips.

“Evidently, the only reasons we got along were because Matt and Frank were mutual friends. Now that they’re not around, we have nothing.” You shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore. I don’t need a pity friend. And I don’t want one.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She replied quietly, like a child being yelled at by her parents. “I’m sorry. We’re just worried, me and Foggy.”

“Well don’t be. I’m fine.” You offered a sarcastic expression before going back to the far side of the counter.

She nodded slightly. “I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t care. I don’t need a babysitter. I still make a couple meetings for that support group with Curtis. I left Anvil and the Billy fiasco behind. I’m trying to take the FBI offer seriously. I don’t know what else you and him need me to do to convince you that I’m fine.”

“Foggy said you’re going to Matt’s church again.”

“Oh my-“ You mumbled. “That’s what this is about? Because I sit on a stupid bench?”

“It’s more than just a bench, Y/N.”

“What else is there to say? What are you fishing for?” You sighed heavily and leaned your palms against your countertop, nearly wincing at the sharp contrast of the cool surface against your burning skin. “I’m moving on. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

A series of quick knocks sounded at your door.

“What you both wanted.” You corrected as you went to open the door, seeing Foggy standing on the other side.

“Surprise.” He smiled nervously.

“Whatever intervention or ambush this is, I don’t need it.” You announced as you headed back into the living room. “I’m doing great.”

“I just came to see my friend. We haven’t had time to get together since you’ve been back, given all the other stuff that happened.” Foggy said honestly. You turned to face him and stared for a moment, reading his emotions. You found he wasn’t coming from a place of worry or concern. Just friendship.

You offered a small smile in response as your own headspace cleared. Maybe you needed someone familiar to be around for a bit. “Then you can stay a while. And if you don’t try to pick another fight, Karen, you can stay too.”

You had to admit. Foggy’s good heart and honest energy seemed to be the only thing lately that could help your heart break through.

Back at the church, Sister Maggie was continuing her conversation with Matt.

“Angry, sarcastic, and stubborn. Maybe you don’t have any friends.” Maggie joked, though Matt didn’t find it funny.

“Someone once told me that warriors were meant to be alone.” He answered simply rather than argue. “That caring for people would make me weak.”

“Is that what you told that Exodus girl?”

“Y/N.” Matt said defensively to himself.

“That you’d be weak if you cared? Cause it doesn’t seem like she got the memo.”

“I let people in, I paid a price… If anyone can understand that, it’s her. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Would she call it a mistake?”

“You really wanna push the Y/N topic, don’t you?” Matt groaned. Not because he didn’t want to talk about Y/N, but because it just hurt too much still.

“She seems to be the only topic that gets you to talk.” Maggie countered.

The conversation then shifted to Job after Matt found his old Bible and the way Matt thought he was serving God the same way. Matt admitted that he didn’t hate God, but he felt he understood Him better and understood where they stood with each other.

“For the record, I had friends. I had a life, a girlfriend and I- I loved her, probably would’ve married her one day. Started a family of our own down the road. I care about people and I’m choosing to let them believe that I’m gone because I am.”

“Tell that to the girl that sits on that bench every morning.”

“You don’t get it.” He sighed.

“I think I do, Matthew. She makes you happy, and that’s the worst thing for you.”

“I know my truth now, Sister.”

“What truth?”

“I’d rather die as the Devil than live as Matt Murdock.”

“So I guess she’d rather live as Y/N, without either, and blame herself for the Devil’s death.”

“At least she’ll live.”

“But what kind of a life is that?”

Sister Maggie left after that, allowing Matt to sit in his own continuous misery. Missing Foggy, Y/N, and Karen. That was his own punishment. He deserved that, for all the pain and suffering he had brought to them. He was better alone, the same as Y/N tried to convince herself she was, and he hoped she had started to believe she was better without him. Difference was that he chose to do what he did. Y/N was made into it. The only thing he would change was that Y/N blamed herself.

That night, Sister Maggie came back.

“I think you’re a hero, hiding down here and feeling sorry for yourself.” She said simply. “Just out back, there’s an orphanage full of kids who’ve lost everything and everyone. Some of them disabled, much worse off than you ever were. And they’re still trying to make the most out of life, the little cowards.”

“Okay, alright.” Matt cut in.

“I mean it! Here you are, with all the gifts God gave you. Handsome, smart, a law degree, people who care about you. You have a beautiful, thoughtful girl that comes here every single day without fail who only wants to see you again. Doesn’t even know you’re here, mind you. But you’re so bravely giving up.”

“Y’know, thank you for the tough love, Sister.” Matt complained as he hobbled across the cold room. “And your charmingly simplistic view of God and the world. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do, but don’t for a second think you know anything about me or her or my life.”

“I’ve been a nun for 30 years. I know self-pity when I hear it.” She continued. “And I know that she’s had to leave people, without explanation. I know that after losing you, if how she feels is how they all felt, she would’ve done it differently.”

“Yeah? Well, no one died because of her. Twice, actually.”

“You don’t know everything about her past, Matthew. The guilt she carries could be more than yours.”

“But you do?”

“No.. But I do know your father was famous around here. I saw him fight, saw him go down many times. But he never stayed down.” She pressed before she left.

Matt laid in bed that night and thought of her words, and she was right. About his dad at least. He didn’t stay down. But he did have to wonder about what she said about Y/N, regretting the choices she’d made. If she had known the way people hurt when she left - how he hurt when she left - would she have made different choices?

He couldn’t help but think how different his life would’ve been if she had never left. Or if she had never came in the first place.

A few days passed and Matt found some sense of recovery. He managed to clear some of the blockages in his sinuses, allowing him to find some normalcy with training again. Certain moves still hurt, still caused him to fail, but he knew he was on his way back to what he was before. Back to Daredevil.

On your next day off, you were sitting on your usual bench outside the church with your gym bag tucked beneath your feet. You greeted some of the familiar nuns and patrons with a friendly smile, accepting the gentle handshakes and blessings from the older ladies that you were seeing for the first time since you’ve been back. Sister Maggie came and sat beside you, though her usual demeanor was replaced with a jittery energy.

“Something wrong, Sister?” You asked simply as she sighed and you felt the vibrations tingle against your exposed skin.

“Well, Y/N, I don’t know how to ask you this.” She admitted and you shifted to face her fully. “Would you be.. willing to come downstairs with me today?”

“For what?”

“For a… for a fight.”

“A fight..” You repeated and raised your brows. “Since when does the church have a secret fight club?”

“I’m not thrilled about it but I think you’re the best option.”

“Okay…” You agreed hesitantly. “What’s the catch?”

“Well… Have you ever fought blindfolded? Or with your eyes closed?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though her scowl made you quiet down.

“You’re serious?” Your brows furrowed.

“Unfortunately.”

“Weirdly enough, I have..”

“Of course you have.” She sighed.

“It was a good training exercise.” You shrugged. “It taught me to understand and hone my gifts rather than depending on what I see, kinda like how Matt used to… Well, anyways, did you want me to do it today?”

“If you’re willing.”

You stared at your hands folded in your lap for a moment, tapping your fingers as you thought. It was an odd request, definitely, and it made no sense to you. But the idea did make your nerves tingle and your muscles twitch. It could be fun to repeat an old training drill, despite the clear hesitation and borderline sacrilegious nature of it. There was something Sister Maggie wasn’t telling you, but really, you didn’t care to know all the details.

“Sure.” You shrugged and stood, kneeling for your bag before following the older nun through the halls and down the stairs.

You paused before a rod-iron gate and you could feel the buzzing of your opponent on the other side. A torn cloth was tied tightly across your eyes as Sister Maggie and Father Lantom exchanged a quick, hushed conversation that you were expected to ignore about what was going to take place. You were lead through the room quietly, guided where to leave your bag.

You knelt and pulled your wraps, wrapping them in place easily after your brace was fitted on as you spoke to Lantom while Maggie talked to whoever you were facing. You tapped your hands into your chalk pouch and patted them together to cover your exposed fingers and the back of your covered knuckles with the fine powder.

“Do you have gloves?” He asked simply, though you could picture the way he was fidgeting.

“I’d rather not, if whoever’s over there doesn’t mind.” You answered, nodding towards the unknown figure behind you. “They don’t have to either, just so it’s fair.”

After a moment of quiet, Lantom answered.

“Alright. He’s not wearing a helmet and there’s a lot of marble statues around so try not to beat on him too bad.”

You smiled slightly and turned your head in his direction.

“Shouldn’t you be warning him about going easy on me, too?” You joked and stood, allowing Lantom to turn you towards your opponent and guide you closer. “Given I’m the one that can’t see.”

“No wonder you two got along.” Maggie sighed, though the statement wasn’t directed at you. “Same sense of humor.”

You reached your hand out and felt another meet yours in a quick tap. Your skin flushed warm as you tuned in to your opponent’s feelings, finding yourself warmed with a general anger and an underlying sadness. A brief flash of loneliness and regret, tucked under a suffocating blanket of self-pity that you swore was going to choke you. You cleared the feeling with a light cough as you rolled your shoulders.

They’d be easy enough to keep track of. Your only issue now would be anticipating their moves, given that you knew nothing of their fighting style. All you could assume was that they were a traditional boxer.

You moved first with hopes of keeping enough of an offense that you wouldn’t need to defend against much, throwing two sharp jabs that connected with their stomach. You were met with a brisk hook to your chin that backed you up a few steps. You chuckled lightly and shifted your jaw, having been hit harder than anticipated.

The brief swell of pride gave away where they moved to so you acted quickly, grabbing their shoulders and yanking them down your knee could slam their stomach. When you felt the hands grab your forearms, you spun your hands around so you could break their hold before throwing an elbow against their nose which earned a loud gasp from Sister Maggie. Your next punch was caught, pushing you to the side. When you turned to face them again, you were met with a quick barrage of jabs that you could block with your arms and there was an obvious tell that your opponent was holding back.

“If you’re gonna hit me, hit me. I’m sure I can take it.” You spat with the unintentional tint of your accent and were hit with a heavy wave of panic.

You seized the hesitation and moved back in, landing hit after hit. Lantom and Maggie both tried to call you off, but neither you nor your opponent stopped. You two were trading blows and dodging shots until you managed to get enough room to swing a moderated roundhouse to the side of his head and he dropped.

Lantom guided you out after that while Maggie tended to the other person, both of them unhappy with the results. He thanked you for coming and insisted you keep it quiet. You joked that you didn’t know who you were up against anyway so your story wouldn’t make much sense if you told it. But even as you were leaving, and you couldn’t remove the blindfold until you were the majority of the way up the stairs, you couldn’t deny the feeling that whoever you were up against… Their emotions were familiar, like the sound of an old song that you still miraculously knew the words to but couldn’t remember who sang it.

Something comfortable. Something that was impossible to truly get out of your head.

That night, you were out with Dex for drinks to try and forget about it.

“Why does it look like you got punched in the face?” He laughed, tapping his mouth in the same spot where you knew yours was busted.

“Cause I did.” You admitted with a small smile that tugged the small wound open. “My gym was doing a little amateur boxing showcase type thing earlier so I jumped in after my lifts.”

“Hope you won.”

“Oh, yeah.” You grinned, the action tugging the split skin open further. “Dropped the last guy nice and easy. After I had my fun, of course.”

“Otherwise, y’know, I’d have to find a new partner.”

“Wow.” Your brows raised and he gave you a playful smirk. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“That’s cold, Dex.”

“C’mon.” He chuckled. “You think I can have a partner that loses amateur boxing?”

“Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Hattley says she likes the way we work.”

“Guess I’ll have to deal with you then, huh?”

“Can’t rid of me that easy. Just ask anyone who knows me.”

As he was walking you home, you felt that familiarity again. It hooked into your chest and was tugging at you, screaming in the back of your head to get closer. You faked a reason to return to the bar - lying that you had left your phone - and hurried the few blocks to get to them. As you were getting closer, you heard a woman yelling for her dad. Her panic urged your feet to move faster, but you were so distracted by the person - likely subconsciously - calling out to you that you almost didn’t notice the car.

The tires skirted along the asphalt and you had to hop back. You leaned on the hood to see through the bright headlights, and the girl driving was more panicked than you were, with mascara stall rubbing down her puffed up cheeks. It was easy to figure out she was the one you heard so you waved her off and kept moving. But when you got to the source, you faltered, only for a second.

“God forgive me.” He mumbled, hardly enough sound for you to hear.

The defeat in his voice - his familiar voice - drove a stake through your chest that let a chilling loneliness creep out and weigh heavily on your skin. With a shiver, you forced the feeling down and focused on the situation in front of you.

One of the men raised their arms but you were quick to yank the pole from their hand. He turned on you almost instantly but you offered a smile before slamming the pole against his temple, seeing an angry gash split almost immediately. You turned and slammed a foot against the kneeling man’s chest and leaned into it, pinning him to the ground. You threw the pole at the other man, seeing the end collide with his nose before you allowed him to gather his partner and take off.

You blew a loose strand of hair from your face and turned your attention back to the man under your shoe.

You heart nearly stopped when you saw the familiar outfit.

“No…” You said quietly, moving your foot to kneel beside him.

Your fingers reached gingerly for the edge of his mask, but just as you were about to grab it, he slammed his forehead against yours and you fell backwards. You let out a loud string of curses in Russian as you rubbed the place of contact but when you looked back, you found he was gone.

You could’ve sworn, as you got up and made your way back to the apartment, that it was the Man in the Mask.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Daredevil.

Matt Murdock.

Despite every logical thought in your head, everytime your brain mulled over the facts. Every night you went to bed alone and woke up the same. Every time you realized you missed him but forgot that it was supposed to hurt, when you realized you still weren’t really letting it hurt.

But if you had to put money on that voice being his, you would’ve.

Would it be better if he really was alive? Maybe whatever was cracking through your still cold core would reignite in your chest. You could regain your full sense of humanity and normalcy, return to the Y/N he knew and loved, assuming enough of her still existed at that point.

Or would it only force that floodgate of pain and anger and grief open? Would you find that the girl he knew, the girl you thought you were, was never real? That it’d be too much and you’d fall back into an uncaring, heartless and ruthless person that not even Dreykov would’ve wanted.

Damn him, for throwing your thoughts into a spiral even in death.

Alleged death, now.

The next morning at work, you wished you had stayed home.

“Y/L/N. You’re with me.” An agent you knew a bit, Ray Nadeem, called as he walked by you. He didn’t stay long so you had to move quickly to catch up.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you finally got to his stride.

“Talk to a guy who won’t give us shit. Hattley wants you to go since SWAT has nothing and you’re new but doesn’t want you going alone in case there’s a conflict of interest.”

“So why you? Why not send me with Dex seeing as he’s my actual partner.”

“Cause my number was up next.” He sighed in annoyance. “And didn’t Dex go out of town on assignment this morning?”

“You’re telling me this couldn’t have waited a day or two till he’s back? If he’s gonna give us nothing, what does it matter?”

When you got in the car, he passed you the thick rubber banded folder. You didn’t need to open it to know what case it was, and all thoughts of Matt and his possible survival were shoved from your head.

You were going to talk to Wilson Fisk.

You gripped the file tightly in one hand while pulling your phone. You shot Marc a quick text about Vanessa’s most recent location, and he sent back a short list of what he had since the last time you two spoke along with a rumor of where she’d be headed next. The drive to the prison was relatively quiet, but you could feel there was something eating at Ray. You thought about asking but you figured he wouldn’t want to talk to you about it so you said nothing. Instead, you cleared your throat to break the looming tension.

You two were escorted in after a brief security clearing and sat alone at a small table while the guards led Fisk in.

“Mr. Fisk, I’m Special Agent Ray Nadeem with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” Ray introduced simply, flashing his badge before gesturing to you.

“Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, FBI SWAT.” You nodded.

“The FBI would like your assistance with… Let’s just cut to the part where you tell us to eat shit so we can stop wasting each other’s time.”

“Do you have someone in your life that you love so much, you’d do anything to protect them?” Fisk asked solemnly, his eyes lingering on you before turning to Ray.

“Are you threatening us?” He asked quickly.

“I have made many mistakes.” Fisk nodded. “But I accept the debt I’m paying because of them. A debt-” He turned to you again. “-that certain people ensured I could not neglect.”

“He’s not threatening us, not yet at least.” You sighed and leaned forward, your chest hitting the edge of the table. “He’ll talk.” You twisted your fingers under the table to pull on the gnawing worry that was presenting in Fisk. As the man stared you down, you watched the blue mist of sadness cover his eyes and you were given a flash of a name. Vanessa. “Because there’s something we can offer as incentive.”

“What I cannot accept is that the woman I love should have to pay for them, too. I would do anything to protect her.”

“So what is it you’re saying?” Ray asked carefully.

“He wants us to help Vanessa Marianna, some sort of pardon or acquittal, so she can come back to the States.” You explained, drawing a quick head turn from Ray. “She’s been pretty good about avoiding countries with extradition, I’ll give her that. But she’s passed through a couple in Europe, for the sake of art, I bet.”

“She had nothing to do with this!” Fisk said loudly.

“But she knew, didn’t she?” You instigated.

“I want to make a deal.”

“She knew you were a criminal, I bet.”

“Y/L/N.” Ray tried.

“A liar.”

“All I ask, Agent Y/L/N, in exchange is for someone to protect this woman.”

“Let me be frank here. I don’t trust you. I want you to stay in this prison and rot for the rest of your miserable life. Vanessa can run till the money runs out and I have someone grab her. But it’s not about what I want… Give us good information and maybe we’ll look into it. She’s easy enough for me to find anyway.”

The next morning, you and Ray were tasked with leading a raid on the Albanians. It was a show of faith in Fisk, that he’d given you viable information. But even though you didn’t trust a single word out of Fisk’s mouth, your job was by the book now. You had to look into it.

And as much as you hated to say it, Fisk wasn’t lying. You and Ray led the team through a perfectly successful raid. Your office congratulated you both and you accepted the praise with a smile, even though you didn’t like it. Something about everything felt forced, like you were playing exactly the part you were meant to play and it left a grimy feeling across your skin.

You stayed huddled at your temporary desk most of the day, writing your report of the raid and finding any other trivial task that kept you away from prying eyes.

You had a feeling that the path you were on, and maybe all the FBI officers that end up involved, was going to be a rough one.

“Come with me.” Ray said suddenly, tapping your arm.

“Wha- Again?” You answered as you hurried to your feet. “Where are we going?”

“We’re gonna convince Hattley to give us the Fisk detail.”

“What? No, Ray, I don’t want it.”

“Oh, c’mon.” He groaned as you two reached the SAC’s door. “You and I were the only agents to get anything out of him since he got locked up!”

“You think that matters? You have whatever issues - I’m guessing finances since you’re so desperate - and I’m still new SWAT with a conflict of interest. Besides, in case you couldn’t tell, I don’t like Fisk. I don’t like the way he looks at people. I don’t like the way he talks to people. There is no way in hell I go in there and ask for that.”

“Look, he’s afraid of whatever you know. Right? He believes that you can get to Vanessa, without even trying. If you stay involved, even as backup - just a presence in the room. Y/L/N, I promise you, we can get enough for everyone for years.”

“Wow, okay, so you’re just not listening to the whole ‘conflict of interest’ issue? I worked at the firm that built the case that got him locked up and had a tenement case against him. I want that man to die in jail. I don’t care what he can give or what I can take away. You wanna ask her for it? Go ahead. If she asks my opinion, I’ll back you on it. Just leave me out of it.”

All the while, Matt was sulking in the church basement when Sister Maggie came to check on him.

“Give yourself time to heal or you’re gonna get yourself killed.” She said simply.

“You’re probably right.” Matt said quickly before swallowing the pills.

“Is that what you wanted?”

Instead of answering her question, Matt changed the subject.

“She found me last night… Y/N.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“No, I.. I ran off.”

“Do you wish you had talked to her?”

“I heard her heartbeat.. Seemed like the first time when she didn’t let me hear it but I heard it on my own. Something about her is different…”

“She’s been through a lot since you’ve been gone, not just counting what you did.”

“What happened?” Matt asked softly.

“Maybe if you let her be here, there’d be less of your self-pitying bullshit to throw around. She could knock some sense into you and you could ask her yourself.”

“Why did you become a nun?” He asked instead when he realized she wouldn’t tell him. He’d have to find a chance to ask Y/N instead.

“I heard God’s call.”

“So you feel like being a nun is what you’re meant to be?”

“Yes.” She said with finality. “Very much.”

“What if you couldn’t be anymore? If it were taken from you?”

“Your point being that if we can’t fulfill our calling, we might be better off as worm food?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay.. But let me ask you something first. What do you think Y/N’s calling is?”

He sighed heavily as he thought about it. As much as he missed her and he yearned her - as much as his own heart was probably betraying him and calling out for her in a way only she would feel - he didn’t want to talk about her. He didn’t want to be reminded of the pain he’d caused her. The way he essentially abandoned her at Midland Circle.

“Helping people.” He said finally, deciding how he wanted to word it. “Y/N was always meant to help people. Inside the law or outside of it, she knew she could make a difference.”

“I wouldn’t lose faith, Matthew, if I couldn’t fulfill my calling.” She explained with a slight edge to her voice. “I’d find some other purpose.”

“If you can be anything else, it was never really your calling.” Matt countered bitterly. “Just tell me, honestly. If you could no longer be a nun, wouldn’t you grieve?”

“Of course I would.. But this isn’t grief. This is-“

“Just please… Go away.”

“I understand what it’s like to feel lost.” She offered, with a much gentler tone than before. “It happened to me too once, a long time ago when I was still a novitiate. I left the order for a while.”

“Why?”

“I was considering a very different life… It was wonderful and terrifying. I struggled to know which life God wanted me to choose. I prayed. I looked for signs. In the end, I had to do my best to figure it all out.”

“Well, that there is the difference between us. I no longer care what God wants.”

You found your way to the church that night after work. You were texting Dex when Sister Maggie came and sat beside you with a heavy sigh, the sigh of a woman almost too tired to keep pushing. But that, you realized, was something that set Sister Maggie apart from the other nuns you had met.

She was too stubborn to quit on anyone. And maybe that was why you liked talking to her, because it seemed like she wasn’t quitting on you.

“I thought you’d grown bored of this place.” She offered with a bit of amusement, though she was clearly worn down. “Or that little event scared you away.”

“No.” You chuckled. “He got me good, I’ll admit. And it was strange. But it takes more than a cheap shot to get rid of me.”

“We missed you this morning. Some of the older ladies.. They asked about the ‘sweet young girl who sits outside’.”

“That’s what they call me?” You smiled slightly.

“Well, they just don’t know better.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“How are you today, Y/N?” She asked honestly.

“It has not been my favorite… Work was interesting. We had this raid and it worked, I’m not complaining about that. It’s what I’m supposed to be doing with this job, y’know? But… The guy that gave us the information, I can’t stand him. Honestly, Sister, I hate him. And I don’t like this feeling of having to be around him again.”

“Do you feel the FBI is your calling?”

“I don’t think I have a calling.” You said honestly. “I’ve tried a lot of different things. The assassin I was raised to be, a mercenary, a lawyer, a vigilante, private security, now FBI… I just wanted to help people who needed it, who were stuck under someone else’s thumb. People like me when I was little, with no one willing to protect them. And I have, in a lot of different ways, but I don’t know about my calling.”

“In some aspects, you remind me of Matthew… When he was younger, of course.”

“In a good way?”

She sighed slightly but offered a fond smile, remembering Matt as a child striking a sentimental cord.

“He was always angry, sometimes lost. He always seemed like he was fighting, be it against himself or the city’s darkness when he got older.” She continued, her eyes falling downward as she toyed with her fingers. “But at his core, he had a good heart, up until his end. And I truly believe you do, too.”

You smiled slightly. Maybe Matt was right after all. Maybe you did have your own light.

“What about you, Sister? What’s wearing you down today?”

“There’s a man who… Well, he’s a great many things. Stubborn, mainly, but also defeated. And I can’t seem to find what sparks a want to continue.”

“Is he alone? No friends or family.”

“He’s not. He has both, or had, I suppose. Friends, even a girlfriend. But he doesn’t want them to know where he is.”

“Sounds lonely..”

She hummed in agreement.

“So why not let him rot in his misery alone? If he’s so determined to isolate himself, maybe you should let him.”

“This one, I’m personally responsible for.”

“How so?”

“He grew up here.” She answered simply but there seemed to be something else there, though you didn’t ask.

“Ah… Well, if he’s really choosing this solitude, I’d say just be there for him, best you can be. He’ll probably keep trying to push and seclude himself but if you really feel you have to help him, just keep pushing back. I know that for me, after Matt, I pushed away the only two friends I thought I had in this city... And I thought that hiding behind Billy and Anvil… I thought those things could fix me, spark something in me, but they didn’t. It just made me feel worse until it got to a point where I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to die per say, but I didn’t wanna live like that anymore. So I buried everything and threw myself into a fight that didn’t really involve me, then I got stuck with this.” You shook the wrist with the brace.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Somewhere in between, I think. Nothing’s perfect and there’s still this hollowness in my chest but… I can talk about him without feeling like I’m suffocating. I realized that I can’t just shut everything off and expect people to stick around. I care about people and I have to kinda take the good with the bad, even when it almost kills me. When it takes a piece of me and buries it hundreds of feet below the city.”

“We all heal in our own ways.”

“Yeah.. Problem was, I didn’t know how to grieve on my own. When I was a kid, we weren’t allowed to grieve. It was either someone came back or they didn’t. As long as you were still standing, you kept moving. And when Elektra died, I had Matt. But then Matt was gone and I went home every night to no one. I didn’t know what else to do other than distract myself. I’ve made mistakes but I’m trying to do better.”

“All we can do is take things one day at a time..” She nodded before she stood. “I truly do enjoy our little chats. Till next time, Y/N.”

“Good night, Sister.”

[robertdowneyjjr]

hello i love you

1. Mit!boys where rhodey brings tony to an arcade or fair or smth and tony’s like !!!!!!!! bc he’s never been to one before! you can play games for hours? and win prizes?? for playing games???? rhodey you have to win me the biggest fluffiest one 🥺

2. rhodey introduces tony to coffee. not on purpose! he’s trying to help nurse tony’s hangover or he’s accidentally picked up the wrong order from the coffee shop on campus so tony just drinks it and the results are. disastrous

3. i am a suckerrrr for italian!tony so tony digging out maria’s special recipes to impress rhodey and later steve

4. tony has a v stressful week/month and steve treats his man with a bubble bath and a massage and scented candles

hiii i love you too and i adore every single one of these prompts omg 🥺 i’m gonna write the first one for this ask but i’ll eventually tackle all the rest in separate posts!! 💖

---

“Oh my god, is that a carousel?”

Tony stops in the middle of Boston Common, causing Jim to walk into him and almost drop his ice cream cone. He looks at where Tony is pointing, and sure enough, there’s a carousel. Before Jim could answer, Tony grabs his arm and starts dragging him over to the ride.

“Come on!”

They end up riding the carousel six times, Tony insisting they stay on so he can hop on a different seat each time. He’s like a kid discovering something new for the first time, and Jim later finds out that’s exactly the case.

“I was never allowed to go to any fairs or amusement parks,” Tony explains over pizza. “Howard always says I have more important things to do than to play around in a park. I don’t know, I guess that’s the cost of being a child genius. You miss out on a few things growing up.”

Jim narrows his eyes at that. Every time he hears another anecdote about Howard Stark, his urge to punch the man grows stronger. He wipes his hands on a napkin, and with it the unpleasantness of hearing Howard’s name. As Tony changes the topic and starts telling a story about his last run-in with their building’s superintendent, Jim starts brainstorming.

---

For their next long weekend, Jim finishes all his assignments early and drives them almost two hours along the coast to Palace Playland in Maine, a beachfront amusement park and arcade that’s been around since the turn of the century. He came here with his family once a few years ago, when he was a sophomore in high school, and he’s looking forward to sharing the experience with Tony. He watches as Tony shuts the car door and takes in the sight before him, eyes wide and bright and entire body twitching with barely contained excitement.

He gets them both tickets and returns to where Tony is standing near the entrance, studying a map of the park.

“So, where do you want to start?” he asks.

Tony points to the pirate ship. “There! We’re going to try all the rides first, and then the arcade.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Tony grabs Jim’s hand, ushers them through the entrance, and runs towards the pirate ship where a line is just starting to form.

---

Four hours, two corn dogs, three funnel cakes, and one snow cone later, they’re finally ready to head into the arcade.

They step through into the 20,000 square foot space where all the games are located and Tony pauses, taking it all in.

“Holy shit.”

His eyes land on the giant prize counter that lines one wall of the room, then he turns back to Jim. “We can win those? By playing games?”

“Yup.”

“Well then what are we waiting for? Rhodey! I want that giant stuffed platypus. I need it. Show me how good you are at skeeball and get me that platypus!”

Turns out, Jim is garbage at skeeball. But between the two of them, the sheer amount of options in games they have at the arcade, and the three hours they spend there, they manage to rack up enough tickets for the stuffed toy and more.

At the end of the day, they walk back to where the car is parked, Jim holding the bags of prize candy and knickknacks they’ve won while Tony hugs the stuffed platypus to his chest. The toy is so big that Tony has to angle his head around it to see where they’re going and Jim has to keep a hand on Tony’s elbow to guide the way. Tony bumps into a couple cars before they make it to their own, where he straps the platypus safely into its own seat in the back like it’s his child.

Before Jim could start the car, Tony leans across the centre console and flings his arms around him, squeezing tightly in a hug full of gratitude.

“Best day ever,” Tony says softly. “Thanks for bringing me here, Rhodey.”

“I’m just glad I could make you happy, Tones,” Jim responds, stroking gently between Tony’s shoulder blades.

“You always do.”

[i-cant-sing]

Hey I have a yandere erasermic obsession. I don’t know if you do angst but what if they were punishing reader and she gets really exhausted and passes out. They think they killed her, I know this is dumb and you don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable-🍓 anon

Yandere Erasermic punishing reader

I've missed these two a lot😭

Anyways, enjoy! Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Yandere Erasermic:

"Hey! I'm home! How are my darlings- Shou? You okay?" Hizashi asked as he entered his home. He was looking forward to spending time with you and the hero, but judging by the pissed off look on Aizawa's face, it didn't seem like happening.

Aizawa was taking deep breaths, his eyebrows furrowed and face contorted into a scowl. God, what did you do now? Hizashi couldn't help but wonder that, as he slid onto the couch next to his husband.

"What did she do now?"Hizashi asked, resting his head on Aizawa's chest as his arms wrapped around him.

Aizawa closed his eyes in annoyance, his own arms engulfing Hizashi as he let out a huff. "She's so ungrateful."

Hizashi lightly chuckled at that, waiting for him to continue. "You know what she did today? She tried to escape. Again. I don't know how she got the code to unlock the main door, but she opened it. She barely made it 2 steps out the door before I pulled her back in. I was taking a shower and she thought she could make a run for it. " Aizawa runs a hand through his hair, but Hizashi suddenly caught it. He looked at his husband's hand, it was turning a nasty shade of purple, and was red around the knuckles, slightly swelled. "Shou, babe... what happened to your hand?"

Aizawa exhales deeply, closing his eyes, trying to control his anger. "Our sweet little darling happened. After I got her back in, I told her to apologise. You know what she did? She spit at me, screamed all kinds of profanities. When I took her down to the basement to chain her up, she tried attacking me." Aizawa clenched his jaw. "I was only going to leave her there for the night. But what she said to me next... Hizashi, I lost it. I punched her." Hizashi's eyes widened. He knew Aizawa wasn't one to lose his temper easily, he knew he wasn't one to resort to violence immediately. So the blonde could only wonder what in the hell did you say to him. "Shouta... what did she say?" He asked softly, almost afraid of the answer himself.

Shouta looked at his husband, trying to calm himself when he told him what you barked out. "She said...she said that she wondered how UA let... let creeps like us around kids." Hizashi's eyes widened. If there's one thing he knew about Aizawa, it was how deeply he cared about his students, treating them like his own children. He prided himself in being their teacher, and so the nerve of you to even say something so disgusting like that, Aizawa was bound to snap.

"I cant believe she'd say something...so horrible. I'm so sorry, Shou." Hizashi whispered, nuzzling Aizawa's neck. The pro hero only grunted. "Whatever. I think it'd be good if she stays down there... for 2 weeks. Yeah that'd be good. And no dinner tonight either. I don't want to put up with anymore of her bullshit." Hizashi only nodded, but then caught another look at his hand and he stood up, pulling Aizawa along with him to the kitchen. Hizashi pulled out a bag of frozen peas and started applying it on his bruise hand to reduce the swelling.

As the two ate dinner, Hizashi couldn't help but worry that if Shouta's hand looked like this from the punch, then what did the receiving end look like. He chose to remain quiet on that matter, not wanting you to ruin the night anymore.

The next morning when Aizawa woke up, he went downstairs to the kitchen to find his husband. Hizashi who was almost done plating up, greeted Aizawa with a kiss. "So, should I take this plate down to our baby bird?" Hizashi asked, already knowing Aizawa didn't want to see you yet. You had really hurt him. Shouta nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. "Be right back." Hizashi pressed a kiss to his lips before going to the basement.

Hizashi opened the door to the basement, walking down the stairs, hoping to see you greet him like the angel they know you are deep down. But when he got down there, he saw you were still asleep on the floor, your limbs still bound to the chains. Your face was turned away from him and Hizashi wasnt sure if he wanted to see the damage that was done to your face.

Hizashi just called for you. “Love, I’ve brought breakfast! Eggs and hashbrowns! Your favourite!” When you didnt respond, he just sighed before placing the plate on the floor. Your chains were long enough to for you to reach it, and while Hizashi wished nothing more than to feed you himself, he knew you needed to be punished.

As he went up the stairs and out of the basement, he couldnt help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on him.

“Do you think she’ll be sorry after her punishment?”Hizashi asked his partner.  Aizawa rolled his eyes. “Unlikely. But she’ll learn to think twice before she says stupid shit like that.” Hizashi chuckled, but secretly hoped that would be the case. He got up from the couch where he and Aizawa sat. “I’ll go get her plate.” They were done eating 2 hours ago, but still waited for you to finish up because they know how stubborn you are.

When Hizashi walked down the stairs, he wasn’t surprised to find your plate untouched. You would always do that the first few days, before finally succumbing to your hunger. Pointless, really. But what disturbed him was how you were still in the same position he had seen you in 2 hours ago. And it was coming to him how still you looked, he couldn't see your body moving a single muscle, he couldn't see if you were breathing. 

Hizashi walked towards you cautiously, waiting for you to jump up and scare the crap out of him. But his breath hitched when he finally saw what had happened to you. 

A big bruise had formed on your cheek, swelling and taking all the shades of the purple, blue and green. But the worst part was seeing the blood and a clear liquid dripping out of your nose slowly, forming a pool around your head.

He turned you on to your back and started shaking your shoulder. “Darling? Wake up, baby. Its me. Baby, wake up.” But your body remained unconscious. He started tapping your cheek, only then noticing you weren’t breathing. All the alarms went off in his head. “SHOUTA! COME DOWN OVER HERE!” 

Shouta rushed to the basement, wondering what stunt you pulled now. But seeing your limp body in Hizashi’s arms, blood coating your cheeks, he knew something terrible had occured. Aizawa ran towards his partners, looking at your bruising cheek. “She’s n-not breathing. She’s not fucking breathing, Shou!” Hizashi sobbed as Aizawa took your wrist in his hand. His blood ran cold when he found no pulse. “What are we gonna do?! She’s dead! Our baby is dead!” Shouta blocked out Hizashi’s voice. They both cant be panicking right now. Aizawa turned to his partner. “Hizashi. Bring her up. I’ll get the car out.” He commanded. “H-hospital? Shou, its too late-” Hizashi cried out but Aizawa gave him a stern look. “Bring her up. Now.” 

They got to the hospital in fairly record time, passing you over to the doctors while Aizawa made up a story of how they found you in an alley. Only after the doctors left them alone did it dawn on Aizawa how serious the situation was. He killed you, didnt he? You would still be alive if he hadnt hit you. How could he ever claim to love you when he hurts you-

Aizawa shook his head, he could wallow up in his guilt later. For now, he needed to comfort his husband and pray that you make it through somehow.

A few hours later, the doctors had given them an update on your condition. You made it, barely. Something had hit your face and damaged some part of your brain, causing there to be a very slow heart beat. But you're all okay now, since they brought you in time.

When they were allowed to finally go in, thats when Aizawa finally broke down. Seeing you unconscious, knowing he almost killed you, it got to him. Hizashi wanted to console Aizawa, but he couldn't bring himself to leave your side. Hizashi pressed soft kisses to your temples, wiping his tears that fell on your cheek, while Aizawa stood to your side. He wanted to hold your hand but he was afraid to hurt you again. As the duo sat by your side, they made a silent promise to never hurt you again, at least not physically.

After that incident, you'll never be left alone. The two are always breathing down your neck, drowning you in love, looking at you with even more fondness; obsession and protectiveness swirling in their eyes, right there with guilt.

Aizawa would never apologise, but that doesn't mean he's not sorry. You would often wake up to him looking at your bruised cheek with worry, caressing it so gently, as if he'd break you. He'll be a lot more demanding with physical affection, always wrapping his arms around you, forcing you onto his lap and tucking your face under his chin as he cards his fingers through your hair.

You didn't think Hizashi could be anymore overbearing, but you were proved wrong. He'd panic if you were out of his sight for more than 5 minutes. Always worrying, paranoia creeping up on him when you're not in the same room as him. And when he would finally find you (mostly in the bathroom), he'd check you all over for injuries, not trusting your assurances.

Punishments aren't violent anymore. They're humiliating. Pulling you in their laps and feeding you by hand, talking about you as if you're not there, making you take baths with them(not showers because they end too quickly), making you sleep with them, naked.

And the couple won't lie, but this form of punishment seems to be far more effective. With how quickly you turn docile, folding in on yourself as if you could hide from them... its cute.

But hey, its better than getting beat, right?