trenchcoathunnybee08

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

It would never happen but in my perfect world I would somehow manage to get both Mathew “man-whore” Murdock and Logan “X-mansion’s barracks bunny” Howlett into my bed at the same time.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Can we talk about Matt saying “goddam it” after he hits Frank?

I saw someone point out that even though Matt curses pretty often (in the first episode of the original series he gets told to watch his language because he cursed in confusion) he never actually takes the lords name in vain.

Now I don’t actually know if that’s true (that he never took the name in vain) but for the connection I’m wanting to make I’m going say it’s one of only a hand full of times.

So far we’ve only seen Matt fight twice since Foggy died. Both times were only after he was provoked and with both his immediate reaction after is a mix of regret and frustration.

Matt blames himself for what happened to Foggy and that’s why he gave up the mask. That’s why he is leaning so heavily into the system that he once said was broken. He doesn’t believe that what he was doing was worth the price but he also can’t see past the need for someone to operate outside the law to do what the police can’t. He put away the mask because he doesn’t see it as a way of helping people anymore. Instead he’s ignoring why he became Daredevil in the first place and trying to do everything by the book no matter the cost. (As shown with Hectors case when he outed him as the White Tiger)

Matt justified it to Hector by using his own experience giving up the mask despite the fact we all know it was a lie. We’ve seen him be his biggest hypocrite before but this was one of the moments where it was just so obvious.

With that we’ve also seen Matt give up a lot of his faith. He couldn’t even bring himself to step inside the church. At the end of season 3 we see him to some extent reconcile with his faith coming to the conclusion that he won’t ever understand Gods full plan but he believes he plays a role in a much larger thing. He no longer feels like he is cast out and forsaken by God.

After Foggy’s death though we see Matt forsake himself rather than feel as though he has been forsaken. He doesn’t let himself enter the church, instead opting to treat the courtroom as his place of worship.

Why? Because he doesn’t believe he is worth being saved. He has fallen by his own accord and though he wares the mask of being well adjusted and having processed what happened he has done everything but.

When he says “goddam it” I don’t think it was only directed towards Frank but towards himself. He only says it after he hits Frank, a physical act of retaliation that has always been linked to his “darker half”. A part of himself that he has repressed in attempts of paying penance for Foggys death and his shortcomings in protecting those he loves.

He has dammed himself because 1) he doesn’t believe he is worthy of gods love because of his failures and 2) because there was once a time where he believed he and the Devil were one in the same meaning that to condemn his time as Daredevil is again to condemn himself.

People ask why Matt took the lords name in vain if he is Catholic. I say to you it is because he doesn’t believe himself worthy of it. He damms himself because why would someone still love him after everything he’s done? How could his god love him after destroying everything good he has ever been given?

Season 3 shows us a version of Matt who thinks God abandoned him because he deemed him unworthy of redemption.

Born Again is a near perfect mirror of this by giving us a version of Matt who chooses to abandon his faith because he deems himself unworthy of redemption.

He still wares his cross, he still stands outside the church. He still believes. The only difference this time that he thinks he’s the one who can’t be saved.

(Im actually losing my mind over this show. I can’t!!)

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Play My Strings and Watch Me Bleed

Chapter 2: The night we met

Matt Murdock x Latina!Reader

‼️Trigger warning ‼️ - Attempted robbery, mention of parent death, mild stalking? (Its just Matt being down bad and in denial about it), physical violence (Matt kicking ass), threatening with a knife.

Note: I already made a post about this but I’ve decided to make reader Latina. I don’t see much rep for it in fanfiction so I figured I’d fill the gap. She speaks a little Spanish later so I just wanted to explain. Enjoy. 😉

[last chapter]

————————————————————————

Once again I was out on the rooftops when I heard it. The sound of a violin rising from deep within the city.

I’d caught short moments over the last couple of weeks when the sound of her playing found its way through the rest of the noise. She’d played for two other events at the club. One a dinner party, the other an engagement.

I’d hear it sometimes during the day, her voice carrying on the wind, the sound of her violin following suit. That’s when it was always hardest to figure out where it was coming from.

Sometimes I could tell it was from a street corner, others it drifted down from an apartment far above. More often than not though I would only catch it for a few seconds before losing it again.

Like a leaf on water, even the slightest breeze would sweep her away from again leaving me to wait till she drifted back to shore.

Tonight though I had the advantage. I’d been waiting, listening for a call to help. Sifting through the infinite voices and sounds of the city had become a near nightly ritual. I would pick out the places that seemed to need my help the most and focus my time there.

I had just settled to make my way towards fifty-seventh to see if there was anything I could do there when her gentle song had found me.

I’d told myself I wouldn't go looking, I’d keep my distance. It was on the way though so I’d have to pass anyway. I’d just cross from tenth to eleventh a little later. It’s not out of my way so it wouldn’t be a problem.

There was a brief moment where I thought I had lost her but as I got closer her violin began to sing again. This time she hummed the words to the song as she played.

The melody started soft as she plucked each sting. It was like listening the the gentle pattering of rain, each beat a drop hitting the ground. I pictured the streets crowded with people coming home from work, their umbrellas held close trying to keep the wind away.

She was in a studio, the large room seeming to be filled full of different instruments. There were a handful of other people in the building but she was the only one playing. From what I could tell it was a community center of sorts. The distinct smell of acrylic and oil paints from canvases mixed with mop water and window cleaners from the janitor in the room across from hers. A couple of kids were in one of the back rooms watching a movie and laughing loudly.

I was surprised I’d never noticed the building before.

I knew I should have kept moving but as she started to sing I couldn’t help but stop to listen. It was just barely more than a whisper but I had never been able to ignore her voice.

“Take me back to the night we met,

And then I can tell myself

What the hell i'm supposed to do”

Even when we were kids I couldn't help but listen whenever she played. There would be days where I’d be in class but all I could hear was her down the hall, the plucking of strings, the slide of the bow, the sound of her voice.

“I had all and then most of you,

Some and now none of you.

Take me back to the night we met”

Music has always been a comfort to me, even before the accident. My dad would turn the radio on on late nights where it was just us at Fogwells while he trained. I still have the distinct memory of him one night listening to Queen and trying his hand at a Freddy Mercury impression.

“When the night of full of terror

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh! Take me back to the night we met”

After he died there was this immense comfort I found in listening to the quire. Singing the hymns during service, the little melody’s the sisters would hum throughout the day.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met”

From the first moment I ever heard her play I knew I would look for her in every service after that. Nearly every Sunday for four years I would search for the sound of her violin and nearly every Sunday for four years she would be there.

As her voice trailed off and she played the final notes I again found myself feeling lighter. Again that weight in my shoulders had lessened and the ache in my hands dulled.

When she began to pack her things I decided I’d wait till she left before continuing with my night. It was only a few minutes before she walked out onto the street, her violin case in hand.

When she started heading up the street I followed. It was the same direction I was heading anyway.

Several of the street lights were out and I could hear a couple of heartbeats in the alleyway.

The rattling of bottles and plastic came as she passed. I caught what was happening just a few seconds before she did but I still wouldn’t be able to move fast enough.

Two men stepped out, one holding up a kitchen knife in front of her, the other coming to stand behind her.

“Hey there, pretty lady. You know it really isn’t safe to walk the streets this late by yourself.” The man with the knife said. “Why don’t we take that off your hands? That way you can get around a little easier.”

Her heart was racing but without missing a beat she replied. “Vete a la chingada pendejos. You want this?” She held the case high above her head with a shaky hand. “Fight me.”

“Sounds like a challenge.” The other man said.

“It is.” I said, bolting from the alley and grabbing the man just as he began to charge at her.

“Move!” I yelled as the second man ran for her and she managed to dodge into the street at the last minute.

“Get the fuck off me!” The man said, bringing his knee up into my side. Hitting him twice I managed to get him down long enough for the one with the knife to come at me.

I blocked his first two slashes. Then as he moved to stab me I grabbed his wrist, broke his grip on the knife, and used the momentum to throw him over my shoulder and onto the ground.

He let out a strangled gasp as the hair was knocked out of him. Flipping him onto his back I twisted his arm using my boot to pin him to the ground. “Shit!”

The other man staggered to his feet. “That bastard broke my fucking nose!” He yelled, the scent of alcohol thick on his breath.

“And I’ll break a whole lot more if you don’t get out of here.” I said, twisting his friend's arm further forcing a yelp from him.

“Come on Jack, you can take him.” He gritted out trying to break my hold. I pressed my boot harder into his back forcing him back into place.

It was then I caught the sound of a cop car at the end of the block. It turned down the street and we would be in its lights within seconds.

Pushing off of him I dropped the man’s arm and dove back into the alley. Seconds later the lights on the car illuminated the scene.

The man was still pulling himself up from the ground as the other turned and ran back down the street.

“What’s going on here?” The officer asked, getting out of the car.

“They tried to rob me.” Her voice finally spoke with a shake.

“And you did this?” The officer asked, his hand coming to rest on his gun.

“No. He did.” She said pointing to the top of the fire escape. It was only then I realized the building on the other side had bright enough lights to give me away. Shit.

The officer's heartbeat quickened and he drew his gun. Raising it up he placed his finger on the trigger. His hands however shook and he could barely keep aim.

He wouldn’t take the shot.

“I’d recommend cuffing him before he gets away. His prints will be on the knife.”

He turned to look at the man still on the ground.

“If it keeps that phyco away from me.” He said. She tried to hide her laughter to little success as the man raised his hands waiting for the officer to cuff him. “I know who that guy is. I’m not down with that energy.”

The officer looked hesitantly between the two of us before finally lowering his gun. As the officer placed the man in the back of the car she came to stand at the front of the alley.

Her heart was still racing. Taking in a sharp breath she spoke. “You’re him. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.”

I don’t answer.

“I… I’ve heard stories about you.” She looked around hesitant. “Thank you.”

I needed to get moving. The longer I stayed the more likely the officer was to try and get to me. I stood ready to leave when she spoke again.

“You saved my fathers life once. He was at the Bulletin the day Bullseye attacked. I prayed I’d get a chance to tell you myself.” She said abruptly. “Thank you.”

I paused, the memory of that night still bitter in my mind. “… you’re welcome.” I say, climbing back into the shadows.

I didn’t hear her again for nearly three weeks. Not till the party.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Ok forgetting about being time accurate what if I put Would You Fall In Love With Me Again from Epic the Musical into Play My Strings and Watch Me Bleed?

Like she’s at some wedding or engagement and plays this song and Matt is straight up entranced?

I just heard the most beautiful violin cover of the song and I’m actually so tempted to try and work it in even though I already did a wedding. I wish I had picked this over the other song because that would have been incredible. 😭

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Do yall think Matt still does or ever did have dreams/nightmares after Electras death?

Like especially after Foggy died. Was there ever a night where he gets hit with the double KO and has a nightmare about not being able to save either of them?

Did he ever have a night where Father Lanten gets thrown into the mix? What about his dad?

I need more fics exploring his nightmares and dreams in general. What’s his relationship with sleep? Does he use it as an escape hoping to chase down just a few more moments with people he’s lost? Does he run from it staying up for days at a time hoping to avoid watching people he loves die all over again?

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Do yall remember how in the punisher series when Frank was hiding out and was genuinely going through it (I want to say it was beginning of season 2 after everything with Ruso but I don’t remember very well.) and he grew out his beard and hair?

That man normally stays very clean shaven with a buzz cut. (Aside from end of season 2 when it’s grown out quite a bit)

Using this as evidence does anyone think Frank is dealing with new shit in DDBA? Like this evidence aside I immediately had the feeling like he was going through his own stuff when he showed up in the new episode. Like yeah he mentioned his son so that just instantly changes the feeling but from the moment Matt walked into that room I just had a feeling like he was hiding from something and it’s not just the normal shit.

It might just be me reading too far into things but I feel like there something else going on with him.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

I remember when I watched Daredevil and was completely un phased by Frank. Then the moment I started the Punisher series and he pulled up with that beard and long hair looking like a cave man I was done for. Genuinely don’t think Frank has ever looked hotter. 😩

Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle — DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN | 1.04 Sic Semper Systema

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Update for Play My Strings and Watch Me Bleed.

I’ve decide to make reader Latino. I’ll try and keep the majority of her non specific but i really wanted to add this detail. I’m half Latino and since I was a kid my dad has been trying to get me to play some sort of instrument. His grandfather played violin so I think that’s where a lot of his love comes from.

I don’t see a lot of Latino rep in fan-fiction so I figured I’d fill that gap. Am currently working on chapter 2. Think I’m going to do a total of 4-5 chapters. Not super sure yet. We’ll see how long this fixation lasts.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

First part is up.

Matt Murdock x reader where reader played the violin at his church when they were kids. He loses contact with her when he moves to college but one day while out patrolling Hells Kitchen he swings by a local bar and hears her playing. He proceeds to spend the next several weeks finding her at random in various different places by following the sound of her violin. One night she plays a piece so gutting that he just can’t keep himself away anymore while simultaneously is petrified of bringing her into his life because he know he’ll inevitably bring her into his life as Daredevil too.

Do I know shit about playing the violin? No but im convinced this has so much potential.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Play My Strings

And Watch Me Bleed

Matt Murdock x Reader

So I decided to do that prompt I posted the other day. I wrote it like it’s part of a series and I’m hoping that will push me to do the rest of this. Don’t know if it’ll actually work but we’re going to try.

I don’t think there’s any triggering content. Maybe just Matt talking about some physical pain he’s having. Read at your own risk.

Enjoy. 😉

Chapter 1:

You are a memory - Message To Bears

For as important as doing what I do is there’s some nights where the ache in my bones feels all consuming; where the weight of my boots can be felt in every step.

Still, I put on the mask because I know it’s what my city needs. Hells Kitchen has always had a way of pulling me back. For as hard as I’ve tried I’ve never been able to block it out, never able to turn my back.

Even if it’s just stopping a robbery at the bodega down the street or a mugging in the alley behind the bar I was given the power to help and so I do.

Tonight though that doesn’t do me much good. The ache in my hands seems to blur my senses. It’s a quiet night either way but the heat feels just as overwhelming.

Even when a breeze blows over the city the only relief it gives is a breath of fresh air. The scent of heavy rain is rolling in, the thick summer air already growing humid as if in wait.

As I finally begin to make my way home I find myself drawn to a club up the street. It’s in the opposite direction as my apartment but for whatever reason I head that way.

As if there was a thread, it pulls me, guides me, leads me to that place. The closer I get the more I feel as if I’ve lived this moment before.

The area’s mostly apartments, priced for more than they’re worth but in the middle of it is a small strip. A hand full of shops, restaurants, and a bar that’s more of a upper class social club than anything else.

It had always been stuck out to me as odd. It’s technically a restaurant but they stop serving food at nine and open their rooftop club. There isn’t much of a view from this far into the city aside from the rooftops of nearby buildings, maybe a distant shadow of the river but nothing worth opening a club here for.

Normally I wouldn’t pay it much mind, just let its live music and mingling crowd fade in with the rest of the city.

Tonight though there was something worth noticing. Tonight it’s usually chaotic ambiance carried the sound of laughter and excitement, the scent of wine and champagne on the air. Over it all the sound of music plays.

It branches out over the city, its melody echoing in the night. At its center a violin sings and it pulls me to the edge of the shadows. I stay just out of sight listening to the orchestra play.

The image of a storm comes to me. With each thread played I find myself drifting deeper into it.

Each refrain carries the weight of the world in it and as it reaches its crescendo an uneasy feeling sets in my chest.

I feel as though I’ve forgotten something that was once very special to me. Then a gentle voice begins to sing and it all comes back to me in a wave, like a typhoon.

“For the first time

I was calling”

I’m once again sat in church pews, the sound of a young quire singing within the hall, at its center a small orchestra made up of cellos, clarinets, and a dozen other instruments I still can’t name.

“For the last time

We’ve been here before”

In all of that I only heard the sound of her violin.

“They found pictures in the snow”

I remembered picturing her movements as she pushed and pulled her bow over the strings.

“They found pictures in the snow”

The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air.

“I walked underneath the trees

For the first time”

I remember the hot summer days spent in the churches garden.

“I was calling

For the last time”

A cold autumn morning and a moving-van.

“We’ve been here before

They found pictures in the snow”

I thought it was some trick but the longer she sang the more certain I became.

“I can tell your eyes

Look beneath the blue”

Even her heart beat the same as it did all those years ago.

“I walk underneath the trees

For the first time”

As her song finished and her voice died down the applause began. The rooftop broke out into cheers and I realized it was for the bride and groom in the middle of the dance floor.

I don’t know how long I sat there, how long I waited to hear her voice again, all I know is that when I finally moved the party had long since ended and she had gotten into a cab with her violin case by her side.

I felt lighter as I made my way home. My bones hurt a little less; my suit was a little less uncomfortable, and the heat felt a little less unbearable.

Once I finally made my way beneath the soft fabric of my sheets, the gentle pattering of rain against glass, my mind still spun with memories I thought I’d long forgotten, with a voice I thought I’d never hear again.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Matt Murdock x reader where reader played the violin at his church when they were kids. He loses contact with her when he moves to college but one day while out patrolling Hells Kitchen he swings by a local bar and hears her playing. He proceeds to spend the next several weeks finding her at random in various different places by following the sound of her violin. One night she plays a piece so gutting that he just can’t keep himself away anymore while simultaneously is petrified of bringing her into his life because he know he’ll inevitably bring her into his life as Daredevil too.

Do I know shit about playing the violin? No but im convinced this has so much potential.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Every time comic artists draw Logan’s suit all torn up from a fight I thank them. Any rational hero would have a suit that doesn’t rip at the slightest hit but not Logan. His is made of fucking tissue paper as it should be. That man is too much of a slut to be hiding under all that yellow. Keep the mask on but something about him in everything but the shirt/top part of the suit scratches something in my brain. ‘97 Logan with those slutty tights and the absolutely insane cat ear hair combo, Worst!Logan with the mask and that sharp pointed nose piece. Sweet cheese, that shit rewind my brain in a way I’ll never be over.

… I pray to God every day nobody I know ever finds this account.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

No because I feel like a bitch from the 1800s who’s just seen an ancle. That scar on his hip bone is driving insane. He’s so pretty!!!!! 😭

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Somewhere in the multiverse there’s a version of Matt Murdock who instead of becoming Daredevil he becomes a world Olympics champion. They still make the choice to nickname him Daredevil though because the world is amazed by the fact he can do everything he does blind.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Anyway I don’t know if this is actually canon or not but if it’s not I feel like Jotero Kujo would draw. Like he’s super tough and shit but he’s got like a nice sketch book and some pencils he carries around. He mostly draws animals but sometimes when the mood strikes he’ll draw people.

He’s actually like crazy good and after the crusaders draws a lot of their adventures will away at college. It gets to the point that he does at least one full on colored rendition of something every week because otherwise he flips his shit at will get into fights.

This becomes his coping mechanism of choice. Instead of talking about the fact he watched some of his best friend die brutally, daughter for his own life and nearly died on several occasions, and had to quite literally save the world all at the ripe age of 17 he draws it.

He can’t bring himself to talk about any of what happened but if he’s gotten good at anything it’s drawing some of his most traumatic memories instead of bearing his fist into someone else’s face.

(Also all his homework gets turned in with little doodles. Even his notes have little figures to help him keep track of stuff.)

Not proof read.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Id just like yall to know my Stardust Crusaders/JoJos bizarre adventure obsession is coming back.

As such I may be jumping back and forth between wildly thirsting over Wolverine and posting wildly angsty stuff for the Crusaders.

TBH though yall should already know my page has no set theme. I post whatever and if you fuck with it we chill.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Let’s play a game called is this quality mine or the Wolverines?

Round 1) Person blames themself for something they had absolutely no control over and had no way of ever knowing would end the way it did. They did everything right with the information they had at the time but shit happened outside of their control.

Not hard enough?

Round 2) Person copes with their problems by holding everything in and shoving it down as deep as possible. They emotionally distance themselves from people they care about so they can’t see the pain they’re dealing with.

Round 3) Whenever someone tries to confide in them about their own problems they have no idea how to handle the situation because how the fuck do you comment on someone else’s issues when you don’t even understand your own?

And for the full cash prize…..

Round 4) Person puts on a false persona of confidence and toughness to hide the fact they carry unbelievable amounts of self hatred and doubt because they fear they may never live up to the preconceived persona others have created in their own minds of them.

Thanks for playing. You can collect your prize at the counter on your way out.