#matthew learned this information the hard way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lexisgrump · 7 months

Text

✨Reunion.✨ (Phillip Graves x Reader)

A continuation of this post.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

They were being watched. You saw that black van several times a day driving through your street. Sometimes it was parked on the side, and while the windows were tinted you could tell someone was inside. Part of it was thanks to the training Phil had given you when- well. When your loving fiancé had still been around to care for you. Telling you he would have people come after him, that would try and hurt her to get to him. Jokes were on whoever was trying to hurt them now, since Phillip hadn’t been around for two years. Losing his life in Mexico, in a fight that he thought he could win, but ultimately didn’t. Leaving behind his fiancée and his son. Not that Phillip knew he was a father, you had learned about your pregnancy after his ashes had already been delivered to your house. The same house you had bought together on your fifth anniversary to live together and grow a family. You still sat with the urn in the evenings, telling Phil all about your day and your little one. The pregnancy hadn’t been easy, but Nathaniel had been nothing if not supportive. Nathaniel Graves- your late fiancé’s older brother. You supposed he felt guilty for his brothers’ demise, and tried caring for you the best he could.

With the birth of Phillip Junior, named after his late Father, your world took on a new priority. Some nights had been tough, and they still were. The little munchkin was old enough to toddle around now, and babble a few words to show what his needs were. Another hard pill to swallow for you was the fact that little Phillip was a carbon copy of his papa. Dirty blonde hair and the same blue eyes you had fallen in love with. And the same attitude. It made you miss the grown man even more, with the way your toddler demanded appy slices. Phillip hadn’t left a will, not that you were made aware of anyway, but his brother had left you a sizeable amount of inheritance money. It enabled you to quit your job and care for your son properly, the way the little boy needed. Phil had always wanted you to be a housewife. Provide for you, knowing he made the numbers easily for a comfortable life. You’d always denied his wish, wanted to earn your own money. One child later, and widowed while not even married and you granted Phillip his wish.

Phil’s second in command had come around to collect all files and evidence of Shadow Company 6 months after the incident. Theodore Wiscon was a scary man. 6 feet 5 inches in height, broad shoulders and a strong muscled torso. He had kind eyes, and the way they had softened even further seeing your baby bump, you couldn’t help but let Uncle Theo be a part of your son’s life. Now- Theo only came around sporadically. What, with having to run Shadow Company now in absence of your fiancé, but he made sure to spoil your little man rotten whenever he did. He’d also been kind enough to pay you a monthly allowance, assuring you it was what Phil would’ve wanted. The first thing you did when you noticed the van was text Theo about it. He’d asked you to do so, whenever you thought you were in danger. Two men of Shadow Company showed up at your door only hours later, looking at Phillip playing on living room floor. Telling them about what you had seen, the taller one of the two assured you they were going to make sure nothing would happen. He’d introduced himself as Vance. The other one stayed woefully quiet, before introducing himself as Matthews. They informed you they were just going to have a look around, to make sure there wasn’t an immediate threat.

The two men stayed around for a while, sleeping in the guest room that you had turned Phil’s old office into. It had hurt you to change the room, open up a window to air out the lingering scent of Phil’s cologne. You fed Vance and Matthews for the better part of two weeks, the two made sure to pay special attention to the little boy sitting on a big boy chair already, brabbling about all kinds of things, with some normal words mixed in between. Theo wanted to see them after those two weeks, and Vance and Matthews made sure to escort you. Matthews sat behind the wheel, while you were squished in the backseat with Phillip and Vance, the latter having a gloved hand on his weapon and watching the neighborhood as they left. The security system was live when they left, both Theo and Nathaniel had made sure to get you and Phillip the best one there was. One that send an alert out to Shadow Company so they could come and help you. They were faster than the cops most days anyway. Phillip was ecstatic to visit Uncle Theo at work, climbing all over the mountain of a man and wanting to sit in all of the armored vehicles they walked past. According to Theodore, the neighborhood was clean and there was no one suspicious around.

Vance and Matthews drove you and Phillip home a day later, the two of you having stayed the night on base of Shadow Company, if simply for the little boy to enjoy Uncle Theo’s presence. They dropped you off at the end of the street as to not rouse more suspicion from your neighbors. Phillip needed to stretch his little legs either way. Feeling eyes on you, you turned partially to the direction, only to see Miss Steward on her porch, her wrinkly hands on her banister. Are you alright, love? She called across the street, no doubt referring to the masked and armored men having stayed with you for the past two weeks. “Yes, Miss Steward. Just some friends coming for a visit. Thank you for asking.” With that you herded your son through the front door, locking the door and the place down at the same time. Security was still live, no alerts on your phone. Phillip asked for some juice before nap time, something you granted the little boy happily. Putting him down for a nap, it gave you some much needed alone time. A nap as well, and some time to scroll through your phone, looking at the various pictures of Phil. Jesus Christ, you missed your fiancé more than anything.

There was no sight of the van again. Theo installed you some security cameras as well, and both him and Nathaniel asked for access of them. Agreeing easily, knowing they wanted to keep you and Phillip safe, you were busy making snacks in the kitchen when you heard your son call out to you. Mama, just that single word had you hauling ass out the front door, watching your son having backed up onto the porch. Across the street, on a shadowy bench, sat a stranger. Dressed from head to toe in black, a black Hoodie pulled over his head, and what appeared to be a balaclava on his face. Immediately you lifted Phillip into your arms and carried him inside giving Theo a call. This time it took Vance and Matthews only thirty minutes to show up at your door. The stranger was long gone then. “I’m scared they’re a kiddy fiddler,” The term had been inherited from Phil, who had used that word instead of the official term for it. Again, Vance and Matthews combed through the neighborhood, all nice and sneaky. They didn’t find anything, and kind of looked at you like you had lost your mind. Thank the heavens for the security cameras then, because a quick scroll through the footage showed them said stranger on the bench watching Phillip.

Said footage was what got Theo to her doorstep within the hour. He ordered the two mercenaries to go have another look, and to look in every fucking nook and cranny to make sure that bastard wasn’t going to hurt his honorable nephew. You fed three grown fucking soldiers that night, glad someone enjoyed your cooking as much as they did. Phillip was a spoiled little baby, though he also enjoyed mamas cooking whenever you cooked for them. Theodore left with Vance and Matthews the following morning but left you a 9 Millimeter pistol to make sure you could defend yourself in case of an emergency. Unnecessary, seeing as Phil had left you a whole locked closet worth of weapons, but you weren’t about to disclose that information. Besides, you knew next to nothing about firearms and weren’t sure if they needed regular cleaning or oiling or whatever. Locking the gun into the lockable kitchen cabinet, just out of reach of Phillip but perfectly convenient should an intruder make his way into the place. It left you thinking about possibly renovating the house.

Currently, you stepped into a small hallway, where the coats and shoes were placed. Walking from said hallway, you stepped into the living room with a large couch you and Phil had picked together. And spent some quality time together on. Possibly making Phillip on one lonely evening, but you had never been one to deny your late fiancé a spontaneous quickie. From the living room was an open arch that led to the kitchen, with the lockable cabinet right at the door. The kitchen bled into an eating area, that was kept as clean as you could with a two-year-old menace living in the same house as you. Returning to the living room, another door led into what had been Phil’s office now turned guest room, which had led into the mudroom and the garage. A stairwell was right next to the door, which took your upstairs to the master bedroom and its own ensuite. Right across the hall was the old guest room turned Phillip’s bedroom. The urn had long moved into your bedroom, standing on Phil’s bedside table so it felt like he was still sleeping with you.

You were eating cookies at Miss Steward’s table with Phillip when the security alert flashed on your phone. The very same alert was going to Theo’s computer, knowing shadow company was going to show up soon enough to check it out. Taking a deep breath, you waited until you saw the armored vehicles pull up, to check out the premises. You could see the whole ordeal from Miss Steward’s kitchen window. The old lady was a saint, asking you if you needed a place to sleep. And if you were going to be safe. “I will be, Miss Steward. Thanks again. Just a lot of things happening at once.” It was true. A lot of things had happened recently that kept you up at night. If only Phil was here. He’d keep you and the munchkin safe. Waiting for the all clear, you were safe to return home only 15 minutes later. They hadn’t found anything, having combed through the entire home twice. Theo showed up at your door the same evening wanting to make sure you were alright. Right there, in the dim light of your dining table, you realized how lonely you were. Theodore also seemed to notice, because soon he had leaned over and pressed his lips to yours.

It felt good, at first, the first human contact in a little over two years now. Realization settled as one of Theo’s hands found their way up your sweater, and you grabbed it while looking at him pleadingly. You couldn’t do it. Your heart and body still belonged to the man that sat cremated in an urn on his bedside table. Theodore apologized and left only a few minutes later. Thankfully this wasn’t going to become an issue. Except then it did, because later at night your phone flashed with yet another security alert, a silent one, as to not alert Phillip sleeping in the other room. Slipping out of bed, and pulling on your robe, you moved downstairs as quietly as possible. The light was on in Phil’s old office. No doubt someone was trying to get information on him. Carefully unlocking the cabin in the kitchen, you grabbed the gun from its hiding place, quickly sliding back the safety. Thankfully both Phil and later Theo had taught you how to use one efficiently. Calling out to the intruder that you were armed, and were not afraid to use the gun, you received no reply. Of fucking course not. Slipping in through the ajar door, you found an empty bedroom. Checking under the bed, and the closet found it empty. The mudroom and the garage were empty as well.

Just as you were about to give Theo an update, before the Shadows showed up again, you turned to run into a chest. Before you could scream, two hands grabbed the gun from yours, surprisingly gentle, disarmed you and then pressing a warm hand over your mouth. This was it, you thought. You were going to get raped, and killed, in the safety of your own home. Tears spilled over your cheeks and the intruders hand still pressed to your mouth. Soothing shushing suddenly sounded said stranger. Opening your own eyes you were met with a wave of nostalgia. Blue grey stared back at you, albeit covered by a black hoodie. The very same one you had seen not a few days prior. Understanding flashed in those eyes, and the hand was lowered from your mouth, cupping your neck in a loving gesture. “Phil?” You croaked out. Another soft shush left the strangers covered face. You were going crazy. Absolutely fucking bonkers, considering you saw an intruder as your dead fiancé. Just how far gone were you? You weren’t even aware you needed meds, and suddenly they sounded good if you were hallucinating. In hindsight, maybe you should’ve fucked Theodore to get some sense into you. Your fiancé Phillip Graves was dead. Burned in a tank, in Mexico, after General Shepherd blackmailed him into starting a war he couldn’t have possibly won.

Standing in your guest room, in a nightie with a silk robe wrapped around your body, you watched the intruder pull the hoodie down, and the balaclava off. Maybe you were going crazy, but staring your long dead fiancé in the face, left you flabbergasted. SLAP. The sound echoed around in the guest room, and you watched Phil’s cheek color red in the shape of your handprint. One of his hands lifted up to touched the tender area, and he stared at you just as shocked. “I mourned you, asshole.” Voice trembling with anger, and sadness, tears began trickling back down over your cheeks. “I cried for you, and you were alive the whole time? How fucking dare you?” This time your voice cracked towards the end, as Phil pulled you in tightly, wrapping his arms around you while shushing you again. Pushing away, and shoving the man you had thought dead away as well, you stared at him. “Leave, now. Theo is well on his way since I didn’t respond. I will tell him to shoot you.” A car pulled into your driveway, the headlights illuminating the space. “Go,” you urged, shoving Phil once more. The hood pulled back over his face, he escaped through the backdoor, possibly how he left the last time. You were sure it had been him.

#phillip graves x reader #philipgraves #phillip graves #graves x reader

132 notes · View notes

rucbarthatbowtiesarecooldw · 21 days

Text

Sunday Morning Session

Awake and Arise O Ye Slumbering Nations

Conducting: Henry B Eyring (in a chair!!)

Come Ye Children of the Lord

Ronald A Rasband

Words matter – they are the bedrock of how we connect and represent our beliefs, morals etc.

First and foremost the Lords words matter

If a man love me he will keep my words

Believing and heading the word of God will draw us closer to Him – our ability to be like Him will increase

D&C 6:2,

The words of Prophets matter

The Prophet hears and speaks the words of the Lord

THINK CELESTIAL

Diligently ACT upon his words – because he is the voice of the Lord on the earth today

Our own words matter

In our emoji filled world, our words matter!

Be careful what you say and how you say it

Thank you, I am sorry, and I Love You

These are not to be saved for special occasions! Use them constantly and cheerfully

The Words of Christ will tell you all things that you should do!

Susan H Porter

Our Heavenly Father LOVES YOU. You are His child. He Knows You. He will Bless You.

Pray to know

What do you need to know?

Heavenly Father are you really there? And do you hear and answer every childs prayer?

“Wait. I’m not alone. I have Christ.”

Cute children ugh

Often the best question to ask is not why but what

Pray to grow

He wants to help us grow!

Sent Christ to help us live

What do you need to grow? Patience, kindness, etc

Skills and sttributes

Pray to show.

Nephis bow

Heavenly Father does not force anyone to make a choice

Are you praying for blessings for your family and those you love? Don’t give up.

Don’t Stop Praying – Matthew West?

I know He lives and loves you – Pray. He is there.

A Childs Prayer

Dale G. Renlund

Kayaking excursion story

“A large wave, this big”

Keep paddling, maintaining your momentum and you will be fine

If we maintain spiritual momentum by continuously going toward the Savior, then we are secure

Maintain your momentum: faith, repentance, baptism/covenants, gift of the Holy Ghost, endure to the end

Enduring to the end is repeatedly doing the other for over and over again

Building and improving with each repetition – drawing us closer to Jesus Christ each time

This momentum requires speed and direction – if we are continually rowing as hard as we can in the wrong direction, we will not make it where we need to go

Doing spiritual things needs to happen daily – just like it doesn’t work to binge food once a week on Sundays, it also doesn’t help us build spiritual momentum if we are only doing spiritual things once a week

We can always keep going, no matter how many times we’ve fallen; the important part is that we do not give up (circling back to the story - stopping for a rest is not giving up)

We must never stop failing, because the minute we do, we’ve failed.

Multiple covenants draw us closer to Christ and connect us more strongly to Him

The covenants are not in and of themselves the source of power – the source is our Savior Jesus Christ and the covenants are the conduit to that source

Comparing ourselves to others can lead to errors

Don’t judge others for struggling when you are struggling too

None of us earn salvation – we never can. ALL of us need all of the Saviors Infinite Atonement, not just part of it.

Our judgement is neither helpful nor welcome, and is most often ill informed.

Paul B Pieper

Trust exercises

It is not a relationship if one person trusts completely and the other does not

Trust is the foundation of all relationships

Use the precious gift of repentance liberally

Sometimes we just need to be willing to fall backward and let Him catch us

To build trust in the Lord: Learn about Heavenly Father, notice things He does for us, sometimes do crazy trust exercises

Sometimes the best way to trust God is just to trust Him

He is always stretching us to help us realize more of our divine potential – allow Him to give you more soul stretching experiences

Trust Him just a little bit more

If we ignore or decline an invitation our progress stops

We can choose to trust God today and every day going forward. Each time we do, God will be there to catch us and our relationship with Him will grow stronger and stronger.

Redeemer of Israel

Patrick Kearon

His plan is designed to bring you home, not to keep you out. No one has built a roadblock and stationed someone there to keep you away – instead God is relentlessly seeking you

Christ’s great atoning gift removes every roadblock that would separate us from our spiritual home

This life is the time to make mistakes, to learn and grow, to love God and our neighbor, and to return home

The intent of the Father’s plan of happiness is your happiness. The intent of the Father’s plan of redemption is your redemption. The intent of the Father’s plan of mercy is to extend mercy. The intent of the Father’s plan of salvation is your salvation

We still need to change and repent and turn towards Him

God always wants for us a radical reorientation

Transformative faith in Christ

None is excluded from this divine potential

He goes in search of His lost sheep until He finds you – He is not willing to leave any to perish. Infinite means infinite – covers you and those you love

If you are prone to worry that you will never measure up, then you misunderstand.

We do understand, can comprehend, the holy saving intent of His divine sacrifice.

His intent, His wish and His hope is all to heal you, all to give you peace, all to bring you and those you love home.

Brian K Taylor

Why do some receive their miracles quickly while others have to endure?

We don’t know (lovely)

We can choose to learn from our trials, but it is a choice

Trusting in God’s divine purpose brings hope to weary souls

My hands are not the hands that save – those hands belong to the Savior. – Remember the scars His hands bear on your behalf. Don’t look at your scars as a reminder of what you were unable to do.

Stronger faith comes by putting Jesus Christ first

John 16:33 “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

Brighter hope comes by envisioning our eternal destiny

Greater power comes by focusing on Joy

“Christs joy eats our trials”

John 14:18 “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”

His Eye is on the Sparrow

Dallin H. Oaks

The purpose of Temples and the history and role of covenants

Covenants are commitments

Wedding rings are to remind the wearers and others of the covenants made

See the end for the beginning and think Celestial

Temple is to help teach about the plan of salvation and introduce sacred covenants

Covenants do not take a day off!

All things are ours in exaltation

Being bound to Christ can give us strength

Lord, I Would Follow Thee

#genconf #ldsconf #tumblrstake #general conference #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints

24 notes · View notes

prettygirlmjmjmj · 7 months

Text

How to study like Anne Shirley

Whenever September rolls round and the air starts feeling crisp, I pick up Anne of Green Gables and put Anne with an E on. I love Anne for so many reasons, but especially for her academic prowess. So here are some tips to help you study just like her!

Be creative. Anne was always imaginative and it helped her do better in her studies. Try out a new way of studying like a mind map or storyboard. Being more creative whilst studying will help you create more meaningful revision resources and do better in class. It can also be a nice break from the more repetitive revision methods!

Keep working hard. Even when Anne accomplished a goal she recognised that she still had more to achieve. Even if your next goal starts off small like writing a page of notes or making a new study timetable, it's still worthwhile and useful. Having new goals and ambitions will help you to feel more motivated and excited to start studying again and find new methods for improving.

Write more! Anne loves writing, so much so she's always trying to get her friends to do more. Even if you don't feel you can write a whole novel, try writing an essay, poem or start a study journal. Getting into the habit of writing more will help your writing to flow more and make it feel so much more natural.

Study with friends. Anne loved studying with her friends. She regularly studied in a group, with Diane and with Matthew. Studying with others can help you to learn new study techniques, understand information and better and help you improve in discussions and debates. Try joining an in-person or online study group or with friends.

Read more. Anne loved to read, so much so she'd often get in trouble for it! Reading even for fifteen minutes a day can help you to learn more words, find out more information about topics and is just relaxing and fun! You don't have to read books exclusively to do with you subjects (although it's fine if you do!), try reading anything that interests you.

Try to learn something even when you aren't in school. A school break or simply not being at school is a perfect time to learn something that interests you whether it has something to do with a school subject or not. Try reading articles, books and journals, listening to podcasts and watching educational videos. Learning will help keep you focused and also gives you something to research and look into, which is always fun.

Practice using a big vocabulary. Anne loves big words and her usage of them are part of what endear her as a character. Using big words will help create more interesting, well written pieces of witing, help you feel more confident in class discussions and allow you to be more creative in general! Look up better words to use or try finding fun new words in online/real dictionaries. Reading more will also help to expand your vocabulary.

Aim high. Anne never gave up and never tailored her dreams to fit other peoples ideas. Regardless of whether those around you think you can accomplish something, through hard work and dedication you absolutely can. Instead of aiming for a B, aim for an A. Instead of aiming to write a really good essay, aim to write the best essay you have ever written. If you constantly put the bar higher you will push yourself to do better and work harder.

Constantly find new ambitions. When Anne accomplished something she never rested on her laurels or decided to give up. Instead, she would find something new to aim for. Even if your next aim is something as small as writing a page of notes or as big as graduating your dream university, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you continue to push yourself to keep working harder and stay motivated.

Take breaks outside. Anne loved going outside and after a long period of studying, getting outside and going on a walk or sitting somewhere is so relaxing and calming. If you normally read a book in your breaks try reading outside or having a snack and drink outdoors. It will help you feel so much more refreshed and motivated for when you go back in to re-start studying.

Don't be afraid to ask for help. Anne knew that in order to be good at a subject you have to ask for help when you need it. Whether you ask a teacher, classmate or people online it's important that you reach out to people who could help you. While independently learning something is great sometimes learning something with the help of someone is the best way to help it stick.

Romanticise studying. Studying doesn't have to be a chore or boring, instead try to find ways of making it something that you can do regularly and is enjoyable. Whether that means using pretty pens and taking pictures of your notes, creating a study area or trying new study methods, find something that helps make studying feel more fun and romantic!

Thank you so much for reading! All my love, mj x

35 notes · View notes

badgerhuan · 6 months

Text

SO @maverickcalf UNEARTHED THIS PODCAST/INTERVIEW WITH BILL HADER FROM 12 YEARS AGO AND HE ACTUALLY TALKS ABOUT TROPIC THUNDER AND TOM IN A MORE DETAILED MANNER I'M VIBRATING THIS IS ALL I EVER WANTED!!!!!

JESSE THORN: What was it like to actually interact with him professionally; especially when he’s doing something as ridiculous as his character Les Grossman in that movie?

BILL HADER: He was great. He was really collaborative and was like, oh, do you want to come in on this, or maybe you say this and I say that.

I'VE ALWAYS WONDERED IF THEY EVER TALKED ABOUT IT!!! like the energy and chemistry they had between them, whatever little screen time they shared, always spoke to me like it's an interaction that was discussed about. you wouldn't get that kind of thing if it was just Tom doing his thing and Bill doing his best to keep up. they talked about it!! Tom asked for Bill's input!!!! I WAS RIGHT

He’s a very committed guy. He works incredibly hard, especially at those dances that he would do, and he would have these long monologues in the movie, mostly directed towards Matthew McConaughey’s character that were really funny and hard to get through, but he was so focused on making it a character; like a person. He looked so crazy in it, but making Les Grossman a real force.

YES god I'm so glad Bill talks about it here. like whenever people bring up Les to Tom they only ever ask about the dancing, but never about the CHARACTER WORK. that's what I love about Les honestly. that he so easily could've been a one note character played for laughs. but you can TELL that Tom put thought into his character and motivations, keeping Les grounded and more human. I love it so much.

He played it very real, like when he would get really angry he would actually be angry. He was really committed to it. But working with him and hanging with him in between scenes and stuff he was the nicest guy on earth. It helped that he was in that makeup, because for me after a while you forgot, oh, that’s Tom Cruise, and then at the end of the day you’d be walking to the van or your car, and he’d be like, “Hey Bill, great job today!” — Oh my god, that’s Tom Cruise!

more points for Tom being really nice 🥺🥺🥺 and him complimenting Bill oueghdgdhh I'M NORMAL ABOUT THIS

JESSE THORN: Bill, you’re a married man with a child; I am too. I would be worried if I ever met Tom Cruise that I would accidentally kiss him or something.

BILL HADER: When he’s dressed like Les Grossman, you don’t.

this part made me laugh honestly dhkfhdj DON'T LIE TO ME BILL

(thank you for playing Rob like he wants Les to rail him anyway)

That is an interesting thing. That’s the kind of guy who will sit there and talk – – like, between doing the movie and doing the MTV Movie Awards thing, like, I had a kid and stuff like that, and he definitely was like, “How’s that going?” Very legitimately interested in what was going on in your life and just very cool. Telling me stories about making The Outsiders, he’ll sit and tell you stuff and it was really cool.

we've all heard about how people talk about when Tom talks to you he always gives you 100% of his attention and is very genuine so this isn't a surprise but it's just so good to see Bill confirming that yet again 🥺

but also ohhh my god Tom telling Bill about making The Outsiders. just telling him stories about movies he's made!!! BILL DID YOU EVER TELL HIM YOU LOVE FILM THE WAY HE DOES!!! DID HE KNOW ABOUT YOUR DREAM TO BE A DIRECTOR!!!!!

I'm so happy this interview exists. and I'm so happy to have confirmation on things I've wondered about for years (did they ever discuss their characters while filming the movie, did Tom and Bill ever talk about films, etc). I can't believe this information was out there for over a decade and I only just learned about it!! thank you Blu so much for sharing this 🥹🥹🥹

#tropic thunder #bill hader #tom cruise #les grossman #rob slolom #roch speaks #the rest of the podcast is really nice as well #there are some common questions but he answered them in more detail than ive ever seen in other interviews #overall a fantastic time. love it so much.#but i just chose to talk about tropic thunder in the post bc i have brainworms. you know how it goes.

36 notes · View notes

toyybox · 1 month

Text

Spiderwebs #30: Preparation

Masterlist

content: no warnings :)

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

It was a lot like planning for a vacation, but more stressful. For Heather, at least. Her packing had the frantic, frenzied pace of a burrowing shrew. She came up with a list of things to bring: clothes, food, money, a weapon—better safe than sorry, she told him—coats, water, more food? Toothbrushes, soap, sedatives—she wouldn’t offer an explanation for this one—buy gas, gloves, boots, and so on.

Jackie certainly wasn’t taking this any more seriously than a vacation. He hadn’t gone outside in a while, and besides that, he hadn’t left the vicinity of Heather's house for several months now. He found himself curious as to what it’d be like. Had the world changed at all while he was gone? No longer was he privy to the knowledge free men took for granted. News never reached his secluded life. He wouldn't know if there was high water coming or if the Swedes landed on the sun.

Like Heather, he also packed a few things. Nothing impressive. A new book from Heather’s shelf—something by Oscar Wilde about a portrait—alongside his clothes, a pencil and paper, the dollar bill he'd taken from Matthew, and one of Heather’s old backpacks to carry it all.

On the second day, she also handed him a heavy, black wool coat. It went a few inches below his hips, and was studded by brass buttons all along the front.

“I think it looks good,” she offered.

It did look very intimidating in the mirror. He pulled the coat off and shrugged. Petty things like vanity no longer appealed to him. There was no time for such luxuries. He could remember being invested in his appearance, long ago. He missed being able to care about stupid things. He missed buying his own clothes. Heather’s fashion sense was okay, but it wasn’t the same.

There was also the matter of the cop, with his warning of returning in two weeks or so. Evidence was key, and they needed it gone. With a gallon of gasoline and an old firepit in the yard, Heather burned the tapes, the cassette recorder, the polaroids of Jackie’s open chest and exposed organs, hell, even the ropes. It all went up in flames, went black and curled around the edges, until there was only a pile of ash and char. She cleaned the blood off her tools and gutted the house of stains from the inside-out.

The third day arrived with a flurry of snow outside. The intensity of the sun was wholly unfamiliar to Jackie, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. They shoved their luggage into the back of the car. Jackie was happy to learn that he could sit in the front.

“What?” she said when he let out a sigh of relief. “Did you think I’d keep you in the trunk?”

He laughed at this, but it was an uneasy smile he wore. It was hard to tell with her. What sorts of things she found ridiculous, and what lines she wasn’t opposed to crossing.

Still, things were generally okay. He was safe. He was out of the silence, out of the isolation, and he felt okay. He felt happy. Before this, his happiness was brief and based on whatever small luxury could distract him. Maybe a painkiller, maybe a break from the tests. But his happiness now was more of a pervading contentment. It was a constant, heavy high in his heart, felt in the far edges of his soul.

Although he had found it redundant, Heather had an idea with strings of thread. Before they left, she taped up a string near the front door, and also to the hallway’s entrance. This, she informed him, would reveal if anybody had come in and searched the house. The thread would snap easily when someone walked through it. It wasn’t clear what the benefit of this knowledge was, if she would go to jail either way, but it seemed to calm Heather down a bit.

The wind scratched at Jackie’s face when he stuck his head out the window. The flecks of falling snow pierced his skin. The cold stung his eyes, making them water. He didn’t care. The feeling of movement and freedom was exhilarating. Heather started the car with a jerk of the gear shift. And off they went, out of the house, into whatever lay behind the highways and empty roads.

He rolled the window up after a while, then turned to her. “How long are we leaving for?”

“Three weeks.” Her grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to nearly bruise. “Longer, if we need to.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Stop asking me questions, I’m going to be sick.”

Indeed, her expression had not shifted from dull panic. There were dark circles under her eyes. Something played on the radio, but the melody was too quiet to recognize. She turned it off with a small, barely noticeable frown.

Jackie left the subject alone and leaned his face against the window. This was the best day of his life, he thought.

The sky was starting to turn black. They left the house late, to draw as little suspicion as possible. Streetlights shone like cat’s eyes on the sides of the road, streaky and long with motion. He thought he saw a few people, passing by, their faces blurry and indistinct. There were trees, pines with bristling needles, bare birches, old oaks. Snow stained the sidewalks in shades of dirty white. There were one or two other cars, but not many. Maybe it was a holiday. Maybe it was Christmas.

“What’s the date?” he asked.

“I told you, stop asking—” The tension eased from her shoulders, but only slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Well, he could wait. He was good at waiting. Jackie wondered how long he had been waiting, locked down there—it could have been weeks or years, and he would never know. But that was behind him, now. That was in the past. He could file it away with all his other bad memories. There was no point in dwelling on it. He had lived, and he would continue to live, and that was all. It was nothing to worry about.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

@lthrboy

@whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation

@creppersfunpalooza

#whump #whump writing #my writing #Spiderwebs toyybox #this one's just a short plot-relevant chapter #Road trip yay!!!#best part of a road trip is listening to a FIRE MIXTAPE!!!! 🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯 unfortunately Heather is a LOSER!!!!!!!!! 💥💥💥#There's no music but at least Jackie can stare silently out of a window for 5 hours #Look the bar is really low at this point he's having the time of his life #Since the gang will be out and about I should mention I don't live in Washington State so I am using a map #This trip would technically only be half an hour #but Heather takes a bunch of detours because she doesn't know anything about travelling (or where she's going for that matter)#so it's going to be a long drive after all...

13 notes · View notes

igotanidea · 2 years

Text

The Raven's daughter: Morpheus x Matthew's daughter part 5

previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Comments and discussion are always highly appreciated.

Part 5

The rest of the day just passed through with the speed of light. It wasn’t really surprising though. Y/n had her head wrapped around the lectures, focused solely on the subjects, and that was what helped her survive. It was only when she got to her apartment that she realized it was almost the time she was supposed to meet with her father. Such a shame. She had a feeling the Raven won’t be coming alone and she was not really in the mood to face the grumpy Dream Lord.

However, whether she liked it or not, he was going to be her guest and she felt it was her obligation to welcome him accordingly. After all, she promised her father she would behave. So, let it be.

y/n quickly changed her clothes, once again turning from a college professor into a girl next door style. All things considered, she has always put comfortable clothes first, she felt good in them and that was what she needed at the moment. My ground, my rules – she thought to herself. Unsure of what do to she was just circling her flat waiting for the Raven and possibly Morpheus to show up. She could not really find a place for herself and started to get a bit anxious. Unwillingly the thoughts started to creep into her mind. What if something happened? What if dad somehow got hurt? What if Dream found something terrible about her and was on his way to obliterate her? She held no power against him. Should she run and hide? Should she just stay here and face him with all the courage? Much to her displeasure she started pacing and nibbling on her nails.

-y/n – being so lost in her thoughts the girl almost jumped at the cawing outside – let me in.

-Are you alone? – y/n asked the Raven opening the window and looking around

-I….

-He’s not alone – a dark, silky voice spoke from behind.

-Really, again? – she sighed – if you insist on coming here out of the blue can you at least appear in front of me? Please?

Dream Lord stayed silent to the point where it started to become awkward.

-So? – y/n rocked back and forth on her feet – any news for me? You found answers or you just wanted to pop in?

-I did.

-That was an open question, your majesty. – the girl pointed twisting her hand to avoid her father’s beak

-I did found some answers.

God. Why was talking to him so hard? Just one question – one answer. It was actually pretty funny that a hell of a taciturn Dream Lord found a companion of a talkative Raven. Talk about a character’s gap.

-Ehm … If I may boss… – Matthew chimed in and continued at Dream’s almost invisible nod – we went to visit boss’ brother, Destiny and he actually gave us a clue.

-A clue? That’s just it?

-My brother is not exactly the one to freely give away information – Dream spoke taking a seat behind the table. Clearly feeling uncomfortable.

-Ok, fine – y/n/n shook her head – what did you learn?

-Apparently, after I showed myself to you as a Raven reinstated the bond we had while I was .... a human – Matthew started to explain.

-And… ? What does it have to do with the Dreaming?

-A lot actually. You know that the Raven is merely a messenger and a watcher of the Dream of the Endless, right.

-Yes. And?

-I hate to break it to you, but it seems like we come in a package deal.

-A package deal? And who’s we? – y/n/n frowned – Oh…. Oh…. – suddenly it all became clear and she widened her eyes – wow….. Is that permanent or… ?

-It is permanent as long as I decide to keep in touch with you.

-So, it’s an ultimatum? I can either lose you or have to keep my bond with his majesty, the Dream?

-Precisely.

-Wow. I can’t believe that yesterday I thought it was a lot to comprehend that my father is a Raven in some other reality. And that the Sandman really does exist. I need a drink – she moved to the kitchen counter and poured herself some water. It took a couple of painfully long minutes for her to calm down. – Any other news you want to break to me? No? Cause that would be a good moment to tell me if I’m also some sort of supernatural creature? A shapeshifter or a fairy, maybe? – she took another sip of water – Great. But that is still just one side of the coin, isn’t it?

-What do you mean? – Matthew asks

-Does this change anything else in my life? Will I be feeling what Dream feels? If he feels. Or get through his mind? Or have some sort of telepathic connection? – she started pacing again looking at Dream who was silent all the time, inscrutable look on his face. Almost like he was in trance, not exactly thrilled with what he found out. – Lord Morpheus? – y/n turned directly to him and her voice snapped him back to reality. – Anything?

-I think you have read too much fantasy books, y/n. There is no such thing as soulmates. No telepathic or empathic connection between us – his gaze was fixed on her, so cold that it almost froze her inside. And if that was the case, why did she feel like Dream was withdrawing something?

-Boss? – Matthew seemed equally confused – that is not….

-Quiet, Matthew. I believe this visit is already unnecessarily prolonged – we shall take out leave – he stood up reaching for his pouch of sand with clear intention to get back to Dreaming.

-But, boss …

-Now, Matthew – Morpheus tone left no room for discussion – You are my Raven and you will listen.

-I’m sorry, y/n – the bird turned toward his daughter – I shall see you soon, ok?

-Wait! You can’t just drop that on me and disappear! I still know nothing. Morpheus, please – she looked at him with soft expression and the scared look in her eyes almost made him falter. At least inside since he did not show anything and in fact did disappear alongside with Matthew leaving her trembling, unsure of what the future was holding for her. And him. And her father. Maybe it was just nothing but this feeling inside was telling her otherwise.

***

In the Dreaming.

-Boss?

-What is it now, Matthew? – Morpheus was standing in his throne room looking through the stained glass window at his Kingdom

-Why didn’t you tell her the whole story?

-That is not the knowledge she is supposed to possess. She’s a human. Some things are beyond her comprehension.

-With all due respect, boss, you are talking about my daughter. And this is highly offensive.

-You are right Matthew – Dream’s voice was still ice – cold – she is your daughter and therefore you lack objectivity. It was a mistake to ever let you visit her.

-What?

-You shall never do this again.

-What?! – Matthew caws

-I will not hear any more words about it.

-But boss….

-Not. A. Word – Morpheus warns looking at the Raven harshly – we can’t risk getting any more involved in her affairs.

-She is my affair! She’s my blood. You had a son once, didn’t you boss?

-Matthew…. – tensed expression and clenched jaw of Dream Lord made Matthew stop his words. The Raven snorted angrily but not being able to object took off to find Lucienne and perhaps, Merv, hoping they would be able to find some sort of solution to this impasse.

Dream didn’t make a single move since Matthew left him. He was still sitting on his throne completely immerged in his own thoughts. Whatever he was showing outside was utterly different from his inside. He knew this story was far from over. His brother made it perfectly clear.

Flashback

-Destiny. Brother. I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil.

-Dream. I hear your calling.

-Will you grant me a passage to your Realm? I require your assistance in an urgent matter.

-I know.

Silence. Destiny was never the one to talk freely. But neither was Dream. Perhaps that was the reason behind their cold relation.

-You are always welcomed in my Realm. Please, come.

Destiny’s realm was utterly different from Dream’s. Or at least different from what he remembered, but how can you blame him? Being held in captivity for more than a century can play tricks on one’s mind. However, Dream was not here to enjoy the views and landscapes. His purpose was solely to find answers and luckily – get rid of the girl who felt like a problem.

-Brother. – Destiny was already waiting for Morpheus at the palace door. Of course, he knew where Dream would appear – a pleasure to see you, truly. Are you well?

-Such concern in your voice, Destiny. Tell me, was it the same during my captivity? – Dream asked

-I do not interfere with what’s destined to come. I simply have the knowledge of things. What’s bound to happen shall happen.

-Then I suppose you were quite content with my imprisonment – Dream hissed. He did not expect his first in a century meeting with brother to go this way. – Anyway, given your knowledge I presume you are aware why I’m here?

-I do.

-Will you grant me answers about the girl, then?

-Ah, the girl. What was her name again?

-y/n

-Right – Destiny flicked his hand and transported them both into his workplace – the dark, wooden room filled with books. So similar yet so different from Dream’s library. – Let us see. – Destiny moved across the study reaching for a large, yet thin volume in blue cover. Unlike any other book it was distinctively glowing. – Y/n. Seems like her time has come.

-What does that mean? – Dream asked quite confused.

-I can’t really tell you a lot.

-Of course, how could you ever?- Morpheus turned around readying himself to leave.

-Seems like you’ve learned nothing about patience, brother - Destiny spoke calmly, not affected by Dream's behaviour. You always want things to go the way you planned. You shall stand corrected than. Remember who is the eldest and most powerful of the Endless. Remember your place. – Destiny warned.

-Apologies, brother.

-I can give you a hint, Dream. This girl is more than you believe her to be. She has a role to play in the Dreaming.

-A role? How is this possible? She’s barely a human. A mortal. A spark of dust.

-That is not true, brother. She’s a lot more. But it is your purpose to find that. Yours and hers. And I must warn you - the process will change you.

Dream was dumbfounded, to say the least. He forgot how his brother was similar to the fates, always speaking with riddles, hardly sharing any valuable information, making everyone feeding on shreds of it.

-Is it all you can disclose?

-You have all the information you need, brother. Just trust the journey. And… - Destiny hesitated – remember that not all people are Roderick Burgess – he finished with almost soft voce looking at his brother with something that actually was similar to concern.

The mere mention of his captor’s name made Dream shudder. He did not notice Destiny’s gentle eyes, quickly gathering himself. Being as stubborn as he was he could not bring himself to show any weakness, even to a member of a family.

-Well, thank you for reminding me that brother. If that’s all I shall take my leave. Thank you for your time .

-Dream…. – Destiny started again making Morpheus stop without turning – no matter what you think this is going to be good for you. Just… just watch your steps carefully.

The Dream Lord did not even bother to answer that and without word just reached for his pouch of sand disappearing in the cloud of it.

End of flashback.

So, here he was. Alone. Sitting on his throne. Feeling powerless. It was not his intention to meet this girl, yet alone developing connection to her. Trust the process – he thought to himself, annoyed beyond recognition. It will be good for you. He would never admit it but he was behaving like a unruly younger brother taken down a notch by the older sibling. He could hear voices of Matthew, Lucienne and Merv coming from the Library and suddenly he realized he had no say in what was to happen. Regardless of how furious it made him. Perhaps he should mend the bridges with Matthew. She was his daughter after all. And Dream was a parent once, even if not a father of the year. There was some regret in him. Deep, deep inside. And maybe granting the Raven what he asked for was some twisted way to make up for his past sins.

Dream sighed in surrender. He had to give up to what Destiny held for him. Even if he hated the thought of that.

-Matthew! – he called for the Raven bracing himself for what was to come.

@marvelsmylife

@wickedly-grim

@mind-of-a-girl

@thereeallink

@lisacarolined

@boofy1998

@endlessdreamqueen

@mikariell95

@shadowluna25

@sippysthoughts

@kaoriloveskeiff

part 6 up here

139 notes · View notes

bropunzeling · 6 months

Note

For director's commentary, anything you care to share for marriage bets, please and thank you! (They reach such breathtaking heights of stupidity, god I love them.)

ty anon! i love these absolute losers too. for you, the section from the spain chapter (my fave chapter 😊) where matthew says he's leaving calgary:

They settle up the tab, then start on their walk back to the hotel. As they walk, they stay close enough together that their elbows bump every other step [i loved writing the constant physical contact in this section. it does a lot of things: show you what kind of person leon is (demonstrative!); get at their increasing comfort with each other; it's also like, when you're with someone long distance, you do get more touchy feely than normal (or at least that was really the case in my experience!)], while Leon tells him more about his childhood, about where he grew up. Matthew comes away with only a hazy impression of Cologne itself, but a much clearer one of Leon’s family. Learning to skate surrounded by his dad’s teammates. Having Kim send him song suggestions when he got homesick as a teenager in Saskatchewan. Cooking lessons with his mom, most of which went badly, but a few things turned out okay.

Mostly, Matthew can see how much Leon likes them. Even though he must only get to see them for snatches of time, a few weeks a year. [i love the family/distance/loneliness themes in this fic a lot and i especially love it as a form of common ground for them to start building a real relationship. i may have said before but there was some post-trade quote from daryl sutter about matthew seeming lonely/spending all his time at the rink that really really informed this fic and the themes, and having the compare/contrast with leon was a nice like, foundational thing to build on]

“You must miss them,” Matthew says during a break in Leon’s recollections, as they wait for a crosswalk light to turn.

“I…” Leon trails off, then shrugs. “I mean, it’s been hard,” he says. “Pretty much always, but especially with—you know.”

“Yeah,” Matthew says. He does know. Even though there was only half the distance between himself and his own family, he knows. [they have more in common than they think! they can relate to each other!] He looks at the light on the other side of the street, focusing on the red man stopping them from stepping onto empty pavement. [spent [redacted] amount of time looking up spanish crosswalk signals like do they ALSO have the little red man in the hat?] “Do you ever think about moving back? Being closer?”

“And give up NHL hockey?” Leon clicks his tongue as he shakes his head. “No way. I want to play with guys at my level, you know?” [trade offs and what you'll do for what you want - another eternal theme in the jess bropunzeling catalog]

“No, no, I know,” Matthew says quickly. “But if that wasn’t an issue? Would you?”

This time, Leon sighs. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “Maybe.” [leon is lonely too!!!! when i was restarting this fic again (i had finished approximately the first two chapters and then took a 6 months hiatus for girl!leon reasons) and trying to figure out the flow, figuring out this aspect of leon's characterization for the fic really unlocked somrthing for me, because i needed a reason for them to want to continue besides sexual attraction, and once this hit me i was like duh!!! he's lonely, and this flirtation/connection to matthew is assuaging that loneliness]

The light turns. They start crossing. Matthew does his best not to stagger as all the drinks they’ve been having catch up with him.

Once they’ve crossed the street, Leon clears his throat. Matthew looks over at him, but Leon’s looking ahead. “It’s like,” he says, frowning in concentration. “Edmonton is good, right? Like, the guys, Connor and Ryan and Tyson and everyone—they’re great. The best.” [i was writing this around the time tyson barrie got traded and leon was SO SAD in his depression beige ensemble that i was like more tyson! it all needs more tyson!which then led to another fave scene of leon drunk dialing matthew from darnell's wedding] Matthew thinks about interrupting, saying something about his own impressions of Oilers past and present, but that would ruin the moment, and he doesn’t want to ruin it. “And I’ve been—it’s been good, the team, and everything. But.” Leon shrugs. “It’s not a good town to be alone in.” [no shade to the city of edmonton but there is not enough sunlight in the winter imo] [also like. being a pillar of the team in THAT town and not having someone else who gets it and can support you (without being a teammate, who would only be intimately tied to your struggle/unable to see things from the outside)? it would suck! i think!]

Matthew should say something. He doesn’t know what. He settles for swaying closer to Leon, for bringing them back into contact again. [touch touch touch] Judging by the way Leon doesn’t move away, that’s enough.

“So,” Leon says. “I don’t know. If there was an option to play closer to home… maybe.”

Matthew nods. Puts one foot carefully in front of the other, trying not to trip and stumble. Walking down the sidewalk, in a city he’s never been to before and may never visit again, his shoulder brushing against Leon’s with every other step, he has that soap bubble feeling again of suspension, impermanence. Like he’s somewhere where none of the rules matter, where he can say the things he’s been thinking about for weeks and they won’t become real yet. [i just like this paragraph a lot! that feeling of being somewhere unreal because it's late and you're drunk and sharing big secrets]

Things like: “I’m leaving.”

There’s a pause. Then, Leon says, in a tone Matthew doesn’t think he could decipher even if he were sober, “You’re leaving here early?” [poor leon is panicking so bad here and trying so hard not to show it]

Matthew shakes his head, hard enough that his vision spins. “No, no, not here. I mean—I’m leaving Calgary.” [also tipsy conversations are great for those little moments of miscommunication because the drunk mind really does make those leaps, so you can believably have people say one thing and have it interpreted another way without it being obnoxious]

Leon exhales, hard. “Oh.”

Another pause. Matthew looks up at where the palm trees are swaying and the stars are beginning to blink into appearance; stops when he starts to get dizzy. Fuck, they drank a lot tonight. When he stumbles, something catches him before he can eat it on the pavement. Leon’s hand, warm around his elbow. [TOUCH TOUCH TOUCH also like, leon just thrives in supportive boyfriend mode. he wants to be Supportive Boyfriend Leon so bad.] That makes it easier to explain. “I wasn’t—I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Most of this season, to be honest. But I wanted to get through the playoffs first. Wanted to—we were good, me and Johnny, and Lindy, and Marky. Solid. We could’ve—but we didn’t. And then I was—it’s really sucked, the last couple years. Not being able to go home, or see my family, or do anything, you know? All I have in Calgary is hockey, and we didn’t measure up.” He shrugs. Leon keeps holding on, which is—nice. “So. I’m gonna leave.”

They take a few more steps in silence. When Leon speaks, it’s very quiet. “Do you know where you’re going to go?”

Matthew shrugs again. “Not sure yet. East, probably. Tampa. Florida. Carolina. Maybe even St. Louis. I haven’t decided.” [catch me spending so much time reading that article in the athletic about how the trade went down just to inform this one paragraph]

Leon hums. Matthew imagines he can feel it, from somewhere deep in Leon’s chest traveling down his arm and up Matthew’s, until it finds a home in his ribs. [is this a little flowery? maybe, but i like it so it stayed] “It’ll be different. Not playing against you as much.”

That startles a laugh out of Matthew. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll hate it. Battle of Alberta is going to be way more boring.” [flirt flirt flirt. in all seriousness though, i like this as a tension break, obviously, but also like - leon expressing something he means (bc he's very straightforward) and matthew treating it lightly/as an opportunity for a joke/to break the tension is just a nice way to demonstrate how they're far apart, still, in how they understand their relationship to each other. but also flirt flirt flirt]

“Maybe that’ll be nice,” Leon says lightly. “I could do with fewer bruises.” [you love the bruises you horny freaks]

“Come on, don’t lie. You’re gonna miss having me there.” Matthew grins, then feels it fade as what he’s said sinks in. Leon knows now. Leon could tell—someone. “Fuck, now you’ll have an advantage. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” He stops talking, squinting at the streetlights. “Why am I telling you this?” [i love this beat too! matthew tells leon his secrets almost without meaning to bc acknowledge it or not they trust each other now]

Leon’s hand tightens around his elbow, then loosens again. “I don’t know. Because I’m your husband, I guess?” [trying so hard to seem casual but he is sosososo not casual]

“Not a good one,” Matthew says, unable to stop himself from teasing.

“Hey.” On his next step, Leon bangs his shoulder straight into Matthew’s, hard enough to nearly send him off the sidewalk and into the street. [flirty! and yet again - physical contact bc theyre together and can do that now] The only reason he doesn’t fall over is because of Leon’s grip on his arm. “This trip was my idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, because you were an asshole to me,” Matthew points out as he rights himself. [matthew is gonna milk that as much as he can lol] “It’s gonna take more than a nice vacation to make up for that.”

“Yeah?” Now Leon’s hand is sliding, traveling down to Matthew’s wrist, and then further, to wrap around his palm. [i love people holding hands bc i am a sap] “What else do I have to do, then?”

Matthew hums as loudly and obnoxiously as possible, [it is so important to me that they are both so obnoxious even when having important romantic moments] flexing his hand, testing Leon’s grip. “I’ll think about it.”

Leon laughs, but doesn’t let go. “You do that.”

“I will.” Matthew nods. “Gonna give you a—fuck, what’s the word. Fair shot.”

“That’s generous.”

“I’m a generous guy.” [i love banter!!!! for a romcom to romcom there must be banter!!!!! it's why the questions and the spain sequence were so fun to write]

“Even if it might help me win?” [OK so ORIGINALLY i did not have this line or the next exchange in my first draft, bc one of the things i was trying to do in this whole second half of the fic (from leon's apology up until leon's attempt to actually propose) was have you, the reader, and matthew, the pov character, just -- forget about the bet. it needed to seem and feel realer and realer, because what was happening between them was turning into a real relationship with a true sense of connection and honesty and sincerity, so (a) you get where leon is coming from with the proposal (bc his feelings are real! it's real to him! it has been for months! he thinks matthew would say yes!) and (b) MATTHEW can suddenly remember the bet and react so so badly because he wants that sincerity so much and thinks it was never there, and then you get him telling leon he won the bet and it all comes crashing down :)

the point being: i didn't have this and then my beta was like are you gonna bring up the bet??? because i keep forgetting there's a bet, and i was like okay i am maybe doing my job too well, we can have ONE more mention before the build up in chapters 7 and 8]

It takes a moment for the chirp to register. When it does, there’s a second where Matthew’s not sure what to say. He keeps forgetting about that part, the part where it’s a competition. There’s something about being here that’s made it slip his mind. [and this is why my beta was right bc then i can point to my own tricks hohoho] The wine, maybe, or the weather. Or Leon’s fingers, warm around Matthew’s hand. [also i just like these two sentences. hand holding!]

“Even then,” Matthew says. Adds, “But you’re not gonna win.” [competitive freaks in love :)]

Leon’s laugh is startled, pleased. Or at least, Matthew thinks it is. He’s pretty sure. “We’ll see about that.” [and he DOES win. he's a great husband :)]

#ask meme #marriage bets

18 notes · View notes

feminaferitas · 4 months

Text

adult Jackie verse (aka "Jackie Survives") information (concurrent with my #v: small town weirdos verse for 2021 timeline)

(Adult FC: Robin Tunney)

Everything is canon up through the ending events of S1. Episode 10, except that when Jackie stubbornly goes to sleep outside, she begins to experience the effects of frostbite. She hallucinates being welcomed inside, not by Shauna, but by Lottie. Pulled back into the cabin and given warmth, and hot cocoa.

Except, it wasn't a hallucination -- Lottie wakes before the cold snap has truly settled its blanket hold over the wilderness and brings Jackie inside. The cocoa is actually some of the team's "tea" with Lottie's blood as a prayer and offering to the wilderness. Jackie doesn't wake immediately, but she slowly comes back from the brink -- but suffers permanent nerve damage in her left arm due to the necrosis of the frostbite. Lottie declares that Jackie has been given a second chance by the wilderness, and that it admired her bravery to face the cold, but wolves are stronger in a pack than alone. Almost as a sign, a lone, weak wolf is found frozen and used for meat in place of the girl.

Despite being saved and having a change of heart (she owes Lottie her life), Jackie can't bring herself to do excessive hard labor due both to her prior refusal to learn and her weakened arm. But she helps as best as she can. When Shauna's baby comes, Jackie offers her damaged arm to her best friend because she isn't bothered by the girl's vice grip while in pain.

Jackie waits until some time after Shauna has recovered from at least the physical trauma of the baby to admit to her that the night of the Doomcoming, after having sex with Travis, she realized she might not be attracted to men. That she might have been controlling and overbearing on Shauna as a way to distance herself from her lesbian attractions. She doesn't want to pressure her best friend in any way, but she wants to get closer to Shauna in this new context, if she'll allow it.

When the girls get their first opportunity for cannibalism with the hunt and Javi, she is reluctant but overwhelmed by her hunger. Jackie continues to survive, mostly by the grace of her peers, but also she falls along the line of believing in Lottie's abilities while trying not to let that alienate Shauna. In fact, she tries to help protect Shauna and keep her grounded in their new reality.

{future survival details TBD by series updates}

After the girls are rescued, she returns to Wiskayok and breaks up with Jeff. Jackie also does her best to stay friends with Shauna, but the return is too difficult, and the realizations about herself, her sexuality, and the way she's changed make her eager to leave Wiskayok. She goes to college and eventually drifts apart from all the other girls. Jackie eventually attends law school and becomes a full-fledged lawyer. And when Charlotte Matthews is released from her psych hold, she reconnects with Jackie, who becomes a legal advisor for Camp Green Pine.

When the other Yellowjackets come to the compound, that's the first time Jackie reconnects with any of the others in those 25 years. She doesn't attend the school reunion. During the hunt at the compound, Jackie plays along for Lottie's sake but when Shauna pulls the Queen, she carries her hunting knife in her weakened hand due to her reluctance to kill.

In her spare time, she has also become very passionate about photography as a hobby. Jackie wants to help herself and others catalogue those fleeting moments that are taken for granted. She does a lot of digital photography, but also has a collection of film and polaroid cameras she uses for more unique occasions.

She's also a vegan and this is very important for reasons I'll explain in other posts as I develop this. Jackie has diagnosed anxiety disorders, has medication to manage it (thanks Mrs. Taylor for that inherited cocktail of bad brain vibes ("my mom's on like 10 types of downers")), and occasionally smokes to relieve stress from work.

{more details TBD as I work things out with other muns but this about covers it!}

#eaternalyouth #v: small town weirdos #threads: jackie #Adult!Jackie AU

6 notes · View notes

dyns33 · 2 years

Text

Walking dead

No, this is not a zombi Matt.

Not really

Murdock was dead.

Y/N was more than sure of that. She had seen him die, killed by the Hand's ninjas. When that happened, she didn't really know who they were, Gwen had explained everything to her afterwards.

It had been terrible.

Not being a fighter, Y/N couldn't do anything to help. She rather served as a "guy in the chair" as the best friend of one of the Spidermans of the other universes said.

Still, even if they weren't really friends, she wanted to save Matthew. Spiderwoman had tried, but the Hand was too strong.

Besides, Murdock had ordered Y/N to stay hidden when the ninjas arrived. He had kissed her, and left to fight them.

Then he was dead.

That kiss had been very strange. A real surprise.

Well, maybe not totally a surprise. They weren't friends, but there had always been something between her and Matt.

They had "met" after Gwen rescued Y/N and they started working together. Shortly after, a strange blind lawyer dressed in red came more and more often in her way.

"I believe this is the fifth time we've seen each other this week, darling." he purred as they walked into a cafe together. "Well, see."

"How do you know you've...'seen' me so often if you're blind."

"I have a very good nose, I always recognize a bewitching perfume."

"... I don't wear perfume."

"Oh, natural smell ? Interesting."

As soon as she learned he had approached her, Gwen warned Y/N to beware. The one she nicknamed "Murderdock" was a very dangerous guy, a real snake, liar, vicious, cruel. The Kingpin and Master of a network of killer ninjas.

Y/N listened to the vigilante, trying to avoid Matt as much as possible and trying to stay calm when he managed to corner her anyway, but since he always knew where she was, he also knew right away that she knew who he was.

This seemed to amuse him. He was even more deceptively friendly and charming.

Except that instead of being scared, Y/N decided to have fun too, which seemed to surprise him. After all, Gwen had also told her he wouldn't do anything to her if she wasn't a threat, and aside from helping Spiderwoman from time to time, Y/N didn't do anything against Murdock.

She had no intention of harming him at all, she was not a vigilante, a heroine, she was just giving useful information to a friend when she asked for it, nothing more.

So she and Matt started chatting and flirting very often. Every time they actually crossed paths.

It was hard to know how she felt about him. What she knew about him should have scared her away, disgusted her, terrified her. What she didn't know intrigued her a lot.

What she guessed when he pouted, bit his lip, growled, frowned, hid his eyes with his big glasses.

No one really knew who Matt Murdock was. What was his true face, if he had ever shown it.

Maybe it was stupid, but Y/N felt like he let her see it for a bit. Especially the last time, when he had kissed her. He had looked so sad. Lost. Also relieved. He probably knew he was going to die.

The real surprise was instead when Y/N woke up to a body leaning on her in bed, and when she discovered Murdock staring at her with his blank eyes.

It was not possible. It couldn't be him.

She wanted to speak but jumped when he lunged at her, his nose touching her neck as he sniffed her like a wild beast.

His attitude was really weird. It wasn't him. It wasn't even his scent, he smelled... He smelled of death. He was mumbling nonsense, which she didn't understand.

"Who are you ?" he asked dangerously, turning his ear towards her.

"I... Y/N. But... You're dead. You were dead."

This didn't seem to shock him.

He knew very well that he was a living dead, a zombie. But that was obviously the only thing he knew, because he really didn't seem to know who she was.

"Why do I know you ? I can recognize your heart in the crowd. Track your scent. I have a strange feeling when I hear your voice. You are different from the others. You are important. Who are you ?"

"I told you, Y/N. You really don't remember ? I'm a friend of Gwen's. We used to talk a lot, you... Before you died, you... You and me..."

Maybe he remembered something then, maybe he guessed what she was going to say, maybe he could feel something on her lips, but then Matt kissed her.

Anyway, a parody of a kiss, but more feral, more desperate.

Before Y/N had time to know if she liked it or not, he quickly stood up grabbing her arm to force her to follow him.

"But what are you doing ?!"

"You're coming with me. You're important. I've been looking for you for weeks."

"Matt, no. Look, I don't understand what's going on, what happened to you, but I'm not going to…"

"You're coming with me." he repeated firmly, lifting her to put her on his shoulder, not listening to her protests.

The ninjas they met when they arrived at his house seemed surprised, and almost a little sorry for her.

One of them, obviously the leader, Otomo, invited her to sit on the sofa while Matt walked around the apartment, as if looking for something.

"... He was dead." she whispered.

"Yes, O jō. Our Masters considered that despite his treason, Master Murdock was a valuable asset and so they decided to bring him back. This process is difficult, and not everything comes back."

"Is that why he doesn't remember me ?"

"I don't know exactly how it works. Master Murdock has kept certain reflexes. His instincts. Certain smells and certain sounds are familiar to him. It doesn't happen often, most of the time there is nothing left, so the individual become a true Black Sky, a perfect weapon."

So the Hand had resurrected, Matt thinking he would be easier to manipulate if he was just a soulless body, but as so often with magic it hadn't worked out well, and now it was hovering around Y/N, for he remembered her without remembering her.

As Otomo had said, it was simply a reflex, pure instinct.

Matt knew she had been important to him. That he could trust her, that he wanted her, that he needed her.

While his Master continued to act strangely, which didn't seem to shock him, the ninja explained to Y/N that he had been looking for her for several weeks.

Passing through places where they used to be together, Murdock had sometimes stopped in the middle of the road, or when he had an important mission to accomplish. Suddenly he seemed lost. Confused. A bit annoyed, because Matt hated feeling like this.

He had no idea why some things seemed so familiar to him.

Without knowing what he was looking for, he stood on a roof for hours, day and night, listening. Otomo tried to reason with him, without success.

And now she was there.

After walking around the apartment for the tenth time, without explaining what he was doing, Matt came to sit next to her, purring happily as he took her in his arms, his head resting on her shoulder.

He growled to signal his ninjas to move away.

This was certainly not going to please the Hand. They could easily kill her, but that would make their weapon very angry. They could also kill him, again, to bring him back, again, but that might be worse.

So they decided he could have her, if he obeyed.

"...I'm not a toy or a pet ! Gwen will find me ! My friends, my family will find me ! I refuse to stay here ! Matthew !"

"You have to stay here. With me. It's safer."

"Matt. Please. I will come to see you, you will come to see me, but I won't be a prisoner. You would never do this to me."

It was the truth.

Anyway, Y/N thought it was the truth. Matt, the one she knew before, found it too amusing to watch her resist him, and fight, and be free.

Maybe he remembered. Maybe he decided to believe her. Maybe he didn't want her to be unhappy and hate him.

So he let her go. But he walked her home, following her, pouting like a vexed little puppy, and Y/N was sure he stayed on her roof for a very long time, until she looked up at her ceiling and asked him to go back home to eat and sleep.

She didn't go to check if he had listened to her. The next morning he was in her bed again, asleep against her.

It wasn't easy explaining the situation to Spiderwoman. Even though Murderdock's death had been a tragedy, because no one deserved to die like this, Gwen was not happy to learn that her worst enemy had returned, and that he considered Y/N her property.

"You don't seem to mind." she mumbled as Matt touched all of her stuff. Y/N was pretty sure she had seen him licking some things. "You should yell at him to make him go away."

"One, since when does Murdock obey when yelled at ? That would be the best way to invite him to stay longer. And two... I think I can help him."

"Help him with what ?"

"To remember ! To remind him of who he was before he died. Why he hated the Hand, who killed him. He might even turn nice ! It's like a second chance, Gwen ! Everyone deserves a second chance !"

"Yes Gwennie, everyone !" sneered Matt with a big smile, continuing to rummage through her drawers.

Spiderwoman forbade him to call her that, before wondering if he remembered her, or if no matter what, Matt would always give her that ridiculous nickname in all his lifetimes.

In any case, if he listened to them, he did not react while Y/N continued to say that she really wanted to do everything so that he would come in the right camp. He didn't seem to care.

He didn't seem to care about anything.

The only thing that seemed to matter to him was that they stay together. So maybe it could work, even if Matt risked playing the hero just to please her, and not at all for the right reasons.

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic #Matt Murderdock #dark Matt #earth 65

84 notes · View notes

ramshackledtrickster · 2 years

Note

Explain? What's interesting about it? Im curious

Ok so this is super embarrassing but in high school I really fixated on thomas Hickey from ac3 and then I started researching more about him irl since. Y know, ac3 based his character off his irl counterpart

Foreword though there’s not much history on Hickey outside of this like I can’t even find a birthday for him but that’s besides the point

And it’s basically about Washington’s lifeguard and how Hickey was a part of that (basically a body guard there were some specific physical requirements you had to meet too like being a certain height etc) and he plotted to kill Washington (as we know)

And Hickey was apparently Washington’s favorite (he was a deserter from the British army and eventually hand picked by Washington)

And he got thrown in jail for counterfeiting and disappointed Washington that way but while he was in jail he started running his mouth n bragging about his plans to turn on Washington

So basically he was tried for treason and he was accepting a butt ton of money by enemies of the colonies (likely British loyalists) also he wasn’t the only one in on the plot bc the loyalist mayor of New York Dave Matthews was arrested too for being a part of this plot also John Jay was the leader of the group of ppl foiling this conspiracy and he’d later be one of the founding fathers

And at hickeys execution theres testimony of him denying a rite from a priest and blaming his ill behavior on “loose women” or smth like that and he was essentially the first person to be executed as a “this is what happens if you go against Washington” example by the continental army

And there’s a lot of fictionalized accounts of this that are basically kinda apocryphal (a story that isn’t authentic but circulated because it told a good message such as the story of Washington chopping down a cherry tree) like him being outed as a spy by Phoebe Frances

Interesting thing is there’s not much known about her either and if she was a real figure or not, but the popularized story goes that she found out Hickey’s plot to kill Washington via poisoning him with a dish of peas (peas were supposedly his favorite) she told on him, Washington threw the peas out of a window, and watched the chickens eat them and die. This account was third hand information and well refuted even back during his trial but it’s become more popular and even spawned a couple children’s books (Go Phoebe!)

There’s another book version of Thomas Hickey I forgot the name of but read some passages a while ago that basically made him a Jack the Ripper type figure and made him a lot more mean and cruel and lecherous, and I wonder if that served as any inspiration for the assassin’s creed version of him

And additionally, Hickey was already known by those around him to be a lecherous man who drank and slept around a lot so yeah this checks out

And I think it’s funny that Hickey in the game has a heavy cockney accent even though in real life he was Irish and the game bothered to go out of their way to get an Irish actor to play him (a very well known one at that! Allen Leech, who plays Tom Branson in downton abbey and the abusive ex in Bohemian Rhapsody I forgot his name sorry)

Honestly I don’t know why I fixate so so hard on this and most of this info is already stored in my head but agnwcegenf. I think it’s interesting to learn about the real history that inspired the game’s portrayal y know !! And see what they got right what they played with for artistic liberty, etc etc… and phoebe fraunces, who probably unfortunately wasn’t real, is a badass in the more story-book recollection of this plot.

56 notes · View notes

farfromstrange · 2 years

Text

Foreigner's God: Chapter 5

Main Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Eliza knows Matt is Daredevil, but information like this isn't easily accepted without explanation, so that's what she demands of him. New aspects of their pasts are revealed and they're forced to work through their differences that turn out to be not so crucial after all.

Warnings: Graphic mention of suicide and suicidal ideation, description of self-harm scars, mentions of drug abuse, blood, needles, fighting, angst, crying, mentions of religion and God (it's not blasphemous but it's not used in a positive context), Bible spoilers (?), mentions of being taken advantage of, language

Word Count:

A/n: why did I rewrite this while listening to the off-menu podcast with Joe Quinn?? Instead of using sad music, I listen to the curly-haired British man talk about oysters in martinis... I have issues.

Read Chapter 5: Hold Me While You Wait here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

Eliza considered herself smart when it came to learning facts or modifying technology. She wasn’t particularly fond of math, but she liked to read and put her hands on all the practical stuff she could find. Using her brain was therapeutic. She liked gaining knowledge of a variety of things. Her intelligence was like a shield most of the time and she used it plenty to her advantage. She was able to profile a person based on their choice of clothing, figure, or name without ever meeting them. She easily smuggled information out of a crowded gala without getting caught. She was capable of doing most things with absolute ease, without even breaking into a sweat, and yet when it came to piecing together the most obvious puzzle pieces, she failed miserably. The irony of the situation was immaculate.

That was the reason why she hated puzzles in the first place. They were so easy that they already posed as difficult again. If she’d been better at puzzles, she would’ve figured out way earlier that Matthew Michael Murdock was hiding behind the vigilante also known as Daredevil. She would’ve known the second she stepped into the interrogation room after kicking ass with his alter ego. She should’ve known because if she had, she would’ve had the chance to leave before he even got the chance to manifest his way into her life, rough edges and all.

If Eliza had known from the beginning, things would’ve never come this far. She could’ve gone back to Tony, allowed him to explain, and then have an open conversation about the truth. The pain she could’ve spared herself by just opening her eyes a little wider went beyond compare.

There he was, Matthew Murdock, Daredevil, lying splayed out on her sofa with five stab wounds total and a heavy blow to his head. Blood tainted her floor. The squishing of flesh sounded deafeningly loud for both of them.

She didn’t hate him. Eliza didn’t hate Matt, not in the slightest, she couldn’t have even if she had tried hard enough. She was disappointed and felt betrayed also, but she didn’t hate him. Not a single bone in her body was capable of conjuring an ounce of hatred for the man. She didn’t even find the voice to yell at him. She worried about him like an idiot, hoping desperately that he would survive and not slip through her fingers like a corpse. She was naive. Even after lying to her, she still needed him. No matter how angry she was, she knew she would always find her way back to him. It was scary to think that she would go this far for a single person that didn’t even care enough to let her in on the truth. Instead, he played with her. He used the two versions of himself to get exactly what he wanted - her help and undivided attention. He made her believe she was special. Apparently, she intrigued him and he wanted to get to know her. She bared herself to Daredevil, the same man she had to stitch up in her living room, and then Matt Murdock came around and chose to play the same game. It wasn’t different, no matter how many times he insisted it was. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He differentiated between the devil and the lawyer - she didn’t. She couldn’t possibly find a difference because truly, there was none. They were the same person. One part was simply louder than the other.

“Talk to me,” he broke the silence. His eyes fixated on the space behind her. “What are you thinking?”

Eliza scoffed. The question was pathetic. He didn’t have the right to ask her that, she thought. He didn’t have the right to demand anything from her. It was her turn. She placed the last bandage around his torso. He swallowed the groan with some water.

“I don’t have any painkillers,” she said instead of answering his question. “I hope you can survive without them.”

“It’s fine,” he said.

She tossed him the oversized shirt she found on the floor. It was the only one that could’ve possibly fit. “For your modesty, dude.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, you better thank me.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“And risk getting arrested for murder? Yeah, no. I’m not going to jail for leaving my lawyer to die in my apartment. I’m not that desperate, but if you think I’m the kind of person that would do something like this just because I am mad at you, I’m sorry, Matt, but you don’t know me at all.”

She tossed the medical supplies back into the first aid kit. Her movements were harsh and uncalculated. The plastic made loud sounds against the bag she got them from. She wasn’t vocally yelling, but her body language was.

The collection of surgical needles was the last straw. As she lifted them, she lost control of the open package. One after the other tumbled out and onto the carpeted floor. She brought her fist down; the metal that the wooden plate was resting on creaked loudly underneath the weight. The indentation of her hand was small but visible. Matt heard the cracks run through the material.

Eliza squeezed her lips shut. She had to hide behind the safety of her fingers or she would’ve sobbed. The anger caught in her throat instead, where it laid with the weight of cinder blocks.

Matt tilted his head to the side. For the first time since finding out about his identity, her heartbeat changed. It picked up in speed. “I’m sorry, okay?” he said.

She shook her head. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to do that,” she said. “You don’t get to act like this is all normal! It’s not. Sorry doesn’t even remotely cut it for the shit you just pulled. You don’t get to tell me what to do after you took advantage of me. I thought-” She swallowed again. The lump of the broken sob was starting to hurt her vocal cords. “I thought we had something. I thought after everything, we might be able to make it. I was so ready to be happy again. You, Matt Murdock, are a liar and a thief.”

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “How am I a thief?”

“Because you were ready to steal my heart like it meant nothing.”

“I told you, I’m sorry. Eliza, please.” He reached for her. She denied him physical contact once again by sliding further back on her heels.

“You lied to me, Matt!”

“I didn’t lie, I omitted. There’s a difference.” He clutched the blanket on his lap tighter in his hands until his knuckles turned white from the pressure. “I knew that if I told you, you would run,” he said. “You wouldn’t have given me a chance. You wouldn’t have allowed me to help you. We both know you needed it.”

She scoffed. “This is all about you then?”

“That’s not-” he huffed. His jaw clenched and he shifted again, groaning at the pain in his side. “I’m not trying to tell you what you need. I never meant to put you in this position.”

“And yet you did. Didn’t even blink twice,” she said. Her heartbeat grew faster by the second. The initial shock was subsiding and instead, her body had time to process the number of hormones her brain was secreting as a response to the conflict in her soul. “Why? Why me, Matt?” Her eyes softened. The color changed slightly in the dim light. “Why did you do that?” she asked.

Matt took a deep breath. “The second I sensed you on that roof, I knew you’d be hard to get rid of. And the second that guy first pointed his gun at you, I knew I didn’t want to. I didn’t lie about my feelings, Eliza. I would never lie to you. I tried to hide the truth from you, yeah, because I want what’s best for you, but I didn’t lie.”

“How could any of this be good for me?”

“Please,” he said again. “You just have to trust me.”

“How can I?” Eliza curled her hands in her lap, forming a tight fist. Her nails dug into her palms. She didn’t want to cry, but he made her feel so damn stupid. He made her feel vulnerable and exposed, and that made her feel like a used and discarded object once again. A feeling she was more than familiar with, but knowing it was caused by Matt and not by some random man in a bar or Tony, even, hurt in a much more indescribable way. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I can’t just sit here and take your word for everything you try to promise me. I don’t trust you. I can’t. Physically, it hurts to trust you. It hurts to be even close to you right now.”

His soul was burning. He was the definition of a paint explosion - the color wheel spun in fast circles until it broke apart and she found herself standing in a broken rainbow, he covered in the brightest shades and herself left in black and white. No colors left for her. He took everything and he kept taking until he had soaked up the entire wheel like a sponge. She had to watch as the colors on his soul were fighting for world domination.

Eliza clenched her fists in her lap. The rough edges of her bitten nails dug into the skin. She shut her eyes. The red took over her irises. Her veins glowed. She tried to swallow it, but her body was fighting a battle against herself.

“You have every right to be angry,” Matt said. “I’m not telling you not to be. Go ahead, yell at me. Take your anger out on me. I can take it.”

She exhaled. "No. Matt, that’s not what I meant. I’m not angry, I’m disappointed.”

“But I mean it. I hate that you’re so quiet. Yell, scream, anything, please! Please, just take it out on me. I deserve it.”

“No!” She was surprised she found the volume of her voice again. While her body was boiling itself alive, it seemed her composure was faltering at the edges. He flinched a little. “Me being disappointed means I still care about you,” she said, regulating her voice once again. She didn’t want to yell, she doubted she even could, but the tone of her voice before had been painfully harsh. It was worse than yelling because it made him feel so small. To think he felt like he deserved to be treated as such broke her, even though she should’ve agreed. He lied to her. Kindness was misplaced in this case. Eliza wasn’t cruel, she hadn’t been for a long time. Taking her anger out on him was the last thing she would do. “I don’t want to care about you, but I do, which means I can’t hate you in the way you want me to right now. I’m just…sad,” she admitted then.

“I didn’t ask you to care,” he argued.

“But you did. You made your way into my life, knowing it’d hurt me if I ever found out the truth about you. That’s as good as asking me to care so you wouldn’t lose me.”

“You’re right, I can’t-“ he shifted again, his voice suddenly thick with something else. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“Then tell me the truth!” she didn’t raise her voice, but it was higher and it broke halfway through the sentence. Matt shuddered at the pain-filled tone. His lip began to tremble and his eyes burned red. “Tell me,” she whispered.

“I was following you home from the party. This guy was climbing on your roof with a gun and a knife. I couldn’t hear him until I reached your apartment. I heard his weapons and I knew he didn’t come here just to talk. I confronted him, we fought, and he stabbed me. He didn’t tell me why, but there was something about him. I didn’t have a choice.”

“What?”

“I threw him off before I came here,” he said. “I doubt he’ll bother you again. An ambulance picked him up about half an hour ago. Still, there’s a high chance someone else might try again. They know where you live.”

Eliza got up from the floor. Her legs wobbled. “Jesus Christ! This just keeps getting worse and worse. You’re saying Hydra did this?” she pointed at his chest.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Jesus, fuck !”

“You’re in danger, Eliza. It isn’t safe for you to be alone right now. I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“I knew that, smartass! Why were you following me, anyway?”

“I was worried.”

“Worried? Fuck you! You’re not my knight in shining armor and I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. If someone wants to kill me, they can try. It’s not your job to protect me.”

Matt let his head hang low. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you,” he said.

“So that’s just it? Just like that, it’s justified that you jumped and played the hero, again? ‘I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you’, fuck that! I don’t believe you.”

“Eliza.”

“I’m sorry that it’s kinda hard for me to trust you right now.” She pulled at her hair. “I mean, are you even really blind?” she asked. “Or was it- was it all just an act?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“So you can see?” Eliza stood up. She’d had enough. “Great, even that part about you was fake.”

“No!” he finally caught her. His hand wrapped around her wrist tightly. She stopped, trapped in his grasp before she could leave. “Sit down, please. I wanna explain it to you, just… give me time. Five minutes. That’s all I need.”

“Five minutes won’t make it right,” she said through gritted teeth. His touch hurt.

“But I can try. Let me try.”

She huffed out, “Fine.” She knelt back down on the carpet in front of him, still afraid to sit next to him. The floor seemed like a much better choice at the time, although it was cold and she was already shaking uncontrollably in his presence.

“I’m blind,” he said. “I am. I would never lie about that.”

She considered his words. “Then how do you fight like that, if you can’t see?” she challenged.

“How do you fight?”

“What?”

“I learned it the same way you did. The only difference is that I only have four senses and you have five.”

“That just seems so…” she frowned.

“Impossible?” he smiled.

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t born blind,” he stated. “I was in an accident when I was a kid. Got a bunch of chemicals splashed into my eyes ‘cause I decided to save a man’s life. My dad came after it happened, but I could still see when he found me. A couple of minutes later and everything went black. He was the last person I saw before- well, I woke up blind in that damn hospital bed.”

Eliza hugged her legs to her chest. She pouted at this 5’9” man splayed on her sofa, bloodied and bruised, and the unshed tears glistened in his eyes. He tried so hard to keep his composure. The pain in his chest was immense. He’d never truly allowed himself to feel it. She sucked in a sharp breath. He was feeling so much all at once, that it took her off guard.

“That’s horrible,” she said.

“Yeah. Well, the fact I can’t see isn’t even the worst part, no.” His chuckle turned into a broken sob. “The worst part is that I have to stare into this dark void every day. I woke up blind in the hospital. From one second to the other, the world just went black. It’s an endless pit you stare into. I open my eyes and it’s dark, I close them and it’s dark too. It’s the kind of darkness that goes beyond being blind.”

Eliza squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to tune out the despair, tried to focus on herself, but Matt crawled his way into her heart. She felt him even when she didn’t want to. He was holding onto her, desperately clawing without even touching. Her lips formed a thin line. Matt flinched under the touch of her hand on his arm. She wanted to ease his pain, but for the first time, she didn’t know how. The pain made her feel alive and dead at the same time. The full force hit her when she finally touched him. Her heart contracted. She choked on the air. His soul imploded right before her inner eye. She couldn’t catch the pieces before they went soaring into space. The colors were so much more vivid in the light of his words. She tightened her hold, the metaphysical one, and tugged at him hard. He didn’t feel it, he couldn’t. He couldn’t even see her eyes when she looked at him and all the color that used to be there vanished into deep crimson red.

“Then what happened?” she asked quietly. “How did you learn to fight like that?”

“After the accident, my other senses heightened. Touch, smell, hearing, taste. I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to take it. I didn’t know what to do.”

“That explains a lot.”

“My dad died.”

She wasn’t prepared for that. Blue and violet mixed.

“My dad died. I never knew my mom. My dad raised me so without him, I had no one. That’s how I became catholic. I grew up in the Saint Agnes orphanage here in Hell’s Kitchen. The nuns took good care of me, but as I said, I struggled to accept what happened to me. They didn’t know, no one did. The official truth is that I was blinded in the accident; my heightened senses were and still are a secret. I didn’t know how to tell anyone about it because it sounds so stupid when you say it out loud, so I decided not to. I, uh, lost a lot that night my father died, more than the day of the accident. I lost everything.”

“So you can see, metaphorically?”

“I paint pictures through my senses, yes.”

“Oh, God.”

“It’s too much,” he said. “Everything’s so loud, it’s deafening. All I could feel back then was this- this grief that consumed me. The people and the world seemed against me. I heard them talking about me, you know.” He scoffed. “They talked and talked behind my back, not knowing I could hear every bad word or utterance of pity they threw my way. I couldn’t handle it. I hated being the weak one, the lost boy no one wanted to play with. I hated being the talk of the town.” His soul began to glow bright red. “I was a lost boy. The basket case. Everyone was afraid to touch me. They thought I would break. I made it hard for them, I heard it. I was their biggest concern and the reason why the tension was so high in the place back then. Everywhere I went, the whispers followed me, and so at night, when I was finally alone, the sounds of the day and the night came back to haunt me in my sleep.” Sobs wrecked his body. He tried so hard to hold it back, but the more he tried, the more he cried. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.

Eliza tightened her touch. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I prayed, every day, every night. I turned to God for answers, I prayed until my knees were bloodied and bruised, and I had memorized the whole fucking bible by heart. I wore this stupid cross-“ he pulled at the golden chain hanging over his mutilated skin. It glistened in the soft yellow light, “in hopes it’d keep me closer to God. Faith was the only thing they said would always be on my side and even he disappointed me.”

She didn’t dare interrupt him. He was so very broken, the shell of the man he used to be. He had no one. Matt Murdock was hanging on by a thread, she saw that now. He continued pulling at his necklace. She couldn’t watch him do this to himself. With gentle fingers, she reached for the clasp behind his neck and undid the cross. The golden chain scratched her fingertips.

He exhaled, almost in relief. “Night after night I had nightmares. Everyone I loved left me. I was alone. People kept walking out on me so I stopped asking for things,” he said. “I thought I was cursed. God didn’t care about that. All this praying and nothing worked. So I isolated myself. I thought that maybe if I tried… I just wanted to get through to God. I wanted to look him in the eye and have him tell me everything was going to be alright. I tried because I was seeking redemption for everything that was wrong with me.”

She choked up. The necklace dangled loosely in her hands. The cross was laced with so many bad memories, so much pain, yet he insisted on wearing it. She wanted to rip it apart, she wanted to burn it into oblivion, maybe that would’ve made it better, but it could never fix what was already broken.

“Suicide is a sin, you know. In the bible, at least.”

“Oh, God. Matt-”

He had shifted himself into a seating position. Painful emptiness reflected off of him. Sweat laced his forehead. Deep inside of him, the same thoughts that dominated back then stood buried.

“Some people in the scripture felt deep despair in life. Solomon, in pursuit of pleasure, reached the point where he hated life. Elijah was fearful and yearned for death. Jonah was angry at God that he wished to die. Even Paul the apostle and missionary companions said they were under great pressure, far beyond the ability to endure, so that they despaired of life itself.”

She wanted to tell him to stop. She didn’t want to hear what the bible had to say about ending your own life. People choose to commit suicide for a reason. Eliza didn’t want to hear it because she, herself, had been at the point where the pain seemed far beyond her ability to endure. Did you know that an overdose of paracetamol is sure to cause your heart to stop?

“Solomon learned that we need to fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the duty of all mankind,” Matt recited. He chuckled angrily through his tears. “I thought that, if I prayed hard enough, God would comfort me before I could do something I would regret. They say the Lord can bear all things. This happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead . It’s so stupid. God didn’t listen and I was so done with being in pain that I didn’t see any other choice but to do the one thing I swore to God himself I would never do.”

Eliza was supposed to cheer him up, right? Act like he could make it through everything if he just believed hard enough. Well, she was the last person to put the words into her mouth. Not when she felt the same way. She experienced the pain he went through. She knew it wasn’t easy to get rid of. Pain becomes a part of you, and so does the grief. The only right thing is learning to live with it, but even that is the most painful thing you can ever experience.

“It didn’t work,” he said eventually. His brown eyes were dead. “I mean, I’m here. I’m still blind. Turns out, a box of aspirin doesn’t do the trick.”

She choked. “God!” her sob broke the sound barrier. He tilted his head her way, suddenly concerned. The tears streamed down her face freely. It was needless to try and stop them. Her entire chest vibrated and she felt her muscles shake from the pressure of trying to keep the memories stacked away. She couldn’t, not when he was talking about something she recognized so well.

She wiped her nose. It was disgusting to do it with her fingers, but she didn’t have any tissues around. The turns burned her cracked lips. “Is that why you believe God made you blind for a reason?” she asked. “You think it’s your purpose to suffer?”

He shuddered. “I-”

“Do you think because you weren’t able to kill yourself that you’re supposed to suffer now? That being blinded by chemicals and getting heightened senses that would even drive you as far has good reasoning behind it?”

What broke her most was seeing Matt nod without any fight left in him.

“God, Matt. I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either. Jesus,” she said. “I can’t- you could’ve told me earlier! I would’ve been angry, sure, but I would’ve understood.”

“You don’t know that,” he said.

“I do.”

“How?”

“I just…” she shook her head slowly. “I just know.”

“Do you?”

Eliza turned her wrist towards the ceiling. Under the yellow light, the white lines were barely visible. She took his hand and placed his fingers on the pulse point, veins poking through the skin in light blue. He frowned at first, but then she traced his fingers along her skin and he understood.

“I know,” she said, “because I understand .”

His eyes fell as the realization dawned on him.

“Oh no,” he said.

“Yeah. You see it now?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t turn to religion, but the world still failed me. I failed myself, so I hurt myself. Did God help you, Matthew? Because he sure as hell doesn’t sound like he cares about people like us, the freaks, the do-no-good kids, the orphans, the people who are thrust into a world of pain and self-mutilation. He doesn’t care about those of us who struggle with the person we became. You say he made us this way for a reason, but why would he if he doesn’t even have it in himself to care about those who suffer for the same reason?”

“Stick.” He danced around her question, leaving her empty-handed. “An old, blind man. He taught me how to fight.” His fingers stayed on the faded scars on her wrist, the many battle wounds she got fighting herself. Places where she tried to cut the pain out of her flesh and replace it with sweet relief. The hope only lasted for so long.

“How does he fight?”

“Practice,” he said. “He was the one who made me feel less like one of the freaks. He taught me how to stand up for what’s right. Made me feel less alone.”

Her lips curled up into a smile, finally. He heard it. “And you didn’t try again?” she asked.

“No,” he shook his head.

“Do you miss it then? Seeing, I mean.”

He shook his head again. “I’ve learned to live with it. I accepted that sight is overrated. I don’t need to see to know certain things. I don’t miss being able to see, as stupid as that might sound,” he said. “Sometimes I wish I could see the sky one more time, even if it’s just for a minute. Watch the sunrise over the New York skyline with someone I- someone I love. I’ve never had that, you know. Sometimes, when I can’t bear it anymore, I go to the roof and imagine what the sky looks like. I have a really bad imagination, always have, so it doesn’t work. I like to believe I can think of old pictures and project them into my imagination, but I can’t. Sometimes, with everyone treating me the way they do, I just wish to be what everyone thinks of as normal .”

“I understand that.” She did. Maybe not in the same way he did, but she knew what it was like to wish for things you can never get back. To accept life but still long for more, for something that passed by you and might never return. “What I don’t understand,” – Matt tensed at her tone – “Why did you choose to become Daredevil then? Why did you choose to sacrifice your life for this… madness ?”

He scoffed. The tears already stood back in line, waiting for their free pass. “The world is so loud, Eliza. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t fucking breathe. Right now, I can hear the woman next door fighting with her husband over the phone bill. Your downstairs neighbors just brought their newborn baby home and he’s screaming his lungs out. Their neighbor is listening to the baby cry while crying herself to sleep because she just had a miscarriage. Imagine you have to sit at home at night, listening to the police fail to be everywhere at once. People are dying, and people getting hurt because the police just aren’t enough to enforce justice. I can’t just sit around and listen to people losing their lives around me and not do anything about it.”

“But did you ever stop and think about the people that care about you?” Eliza said.

“I do this to keep you save!” he rose his voice. “You, Foggy, Karen. I don’t do this for me, I do it for this city and the people that I care about.”

“So we just have to watch you get hurt over and over again, is that it? You’re gonna fight until you eventually die? What if there’s no one to patch you up, what then? What if you end up over your head again, like that night at the butcher shop? Do you think Foggy and Karen could live with that?”

“I think about it, every day.”

“Do they know then?”

He flared his nostrils. “Foggy does,” the admission was so quiet, that she almost overheard it.

“Karen doesn’t,” she wasn’t asking.

“No, she doesn’t.”

Eliza removed her comforting hand, settling back down with all limbs pulled flush against her body. “I don’t know what you two had or have,” she said, “but I do know that Karen cares deeply for you. She loves you. You lead this double life and don’t even think about letting your friends in on it? You would’ve kept lying to me. I don’t doubt you do the same shit to Foggy and Karen all the time.”

“Why are you suddenly acting like I’m the bad guy?” His teary voice steadied. Instead, he became angry.

“You sabotage yourself, Matt!” she clapped back. “You hurt those around you without even realizing it. Your friends and family should come before being a bloodthirsty vigilante.”

“You’re the one who joined a group of heroes. Don’t act like we’re so different.”

“At least my friends and family knew who I was! I signed up to be an Avenger to help people, but I didn’t invent a whole new persona to do so. I put on a suit and kept my name. I kept my face. You need to think about where your priorities lie.”

“Oh, my priorities are straight.”

“They’re not. They’re all over the place, Matt!”

“The city needs me in that mask, Eliza!”

She flinched. The way he delivered the words came close to being a punch to the gut. Matt’s face didn’t show any signs of cracking. He pouted, biting down on his lip, anything to keep himself from crying.

“That’s just the thing,” she said with a sigh. “Everything’s so easily justified by saying ‘I had to’. You say the city needs you in that mask, that you do what you need to do – do you even listen to yourself? You’re so deep into Daredevil’s story that you forget who you truly are. People care about you, Matt! Your friends deserve to know the truth or they don’t deserve you at all. It’s not your choice to decide if they need protection. You can’t just sacrifice everything and say ‘I had to!’ every time you’re confronted. That’s not heroic, that’s selfish.”

Eliza noted that while he didn’t look like it, Matt was a very emotional person, desperate for someone to hold him, to make the pain go away. While she wanted to be that someone, she also knew he didn’t deserve it. Not just yet. The sight of him crying still managed to cut straight through her. He didn’t speak for two whole minutes. She thought his record was broken, but when she chose to get up and discard the bloody first-aid supplies, unexpected words came flooding out of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that I hurt my friends but it seems like a better choice than watching them die.”

The water ran hot over Eliza’s fingers. While she wore gloves to stitch him up, the blood from pulling him onto the sofa stuck heavily to her skin. “You think too much about doing the right thing that you don’t realize that you’re acting like a selfish prick,” she said.

The ceiling lamp cast a shadow on Matt. She saw the tears glistening on his cheeks, the way his tongue darted over his lips, and the shadow of a bruise on his jaw growing in size.

“Every time I look into my friends’ eyes, I see how much they hurt. It’d be so much easier if they didn’t. What I do, it’s not safe for the people around me. Foggy and Karen almost got blown up because I couldn’t stop going after Fisk. So many people almost died because of me, because of who I am. If I just push them away, and put space between them and Daredevil, I know I can protect them. Matt Murdock is weak but Daredevil, he’s the man this city needs.“

“But he’s not the man his friends need.”

“Yeah, his friends deserve someone better.”

“And yet you still stick around. This only shows that you still care about them. You’re just too trapped in your head to realize that your friends care about you, too. They won’t leave you just because you’re Daredevil, and I’m sure you’d still be able to protect them if anything were to happen, no matter how far apart or close you guys are.”

Matt sighed. The silence haunted him. “How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?” Eliza asked.

“Always know to say the right thing.”

“I don’t.” She dried her hands. “I just need you to understand that you’re not alone, Matt. You don’t want to be, I know it. But if you keep pushing people away, you might as well lock yourself in your apartment indefinitely. If you keep this up, the only friend you’re gonna have left is loneliness. Loneliness kills you slowly, burns you from the inside out, and destroys all hope you might have left. It’s the last thing anyone wants unless they want to permanently torture themselves.”

“I just feel like…” he struggled to find the words. His eyes squeezed shut. He groaned, in pain. Eventually, he spoke again. “I feel like this is all I am,” he said. “I’m supposed to be lonely.”

Eliza let out an exasperated sigh. She dropped the towel next to the sink, her hands landing with a loud ‘thud’. “You know what I think?” she asked.

“What?”

“The reason you think you’re supposed to be alone is that back then, you lost everything. Your mother left, and your dad died. The two people every child should be able to rely on left you. You had to deal with your blindness on top of your grief, your heightened senses, and the sudden feeling of loneliness. You couldn’t deal, you were just a kid.”

Matt pressed his lips together. He wanted to scream, wanted to tell her to stop, but her pace was relentless. The words came straight and narrow, making their way through the crevices in his heart.

“You were in so much pain, but eventually the people at the orphanage decided they couldn’t look after you all the time, so you locked yourself away,” she said. “You built up a wall to protect yourself. The people you relied on all walked out on you and you accepted it as your fate. You’re scared that if you let anyone close, they might do the same to you. Walk out. So you push them away to spare yourself the pain. Every time someone opens the door, you’re afraid they might never come back. If you keep them at a distance though, they can’t hurt you. That’s what you think.”

“Stop,” he begged.

Eliza shook her head. “No, you’re gonna listen. You need to open your eyes and see the truth for once in your life.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Matt, you need to stop! Your mind is so twisted to make you believe you don’t deserve to be happy or held, that you forget to separate the voices in your head from reality. You believe the lies you’re feeding yourself and it warps your view of what’s right in front of you. People love you and you don’t even see it because your mind is so distorted. Let me tell you something,” she told him. “You’re not alone, you’re loved and the voices in your head are merely monsters that want to stop you from being happy. It’s your past self telling you to stay the broken little boy you used to be.”

“It’s who I am,” Matt argued.

“It’s like talking to a wall.” She threw her hands up, trying to make her point clearer.

“You don’t understand, I can’t stop.” He was crying again, violently. The man before her was broken into tiny little pieces and she needed to put them together. His soul was continuously spinning in a blender.

Eliza whined. “Jesus, Matthew, I’m not asking you to stop!” she said.

She walked around the sofa, kneeling next to his head. Matt followed her movements. She reached for his hand, cradling it. The anger had long subsided. All that was left was the desperate need to fix him.

“You’ve got demons in your head, darling, and you have to learn to exorcise them.”

A tear made its way down his bare chest.

“If you don’t, you’ll never be free of this paralyzing pain that’s keeping you going right now. These demons set out to ruin everything good in your vicinity. You need to stop before you hurt yourself. That is something neither I nor your friends could deal with, no matter how many times you disappoint us. What you have with Foggy and Karen is good. Don’t let the darkness take over. Don’t let those demons ruin every good thing that comes your way. You’re better than this, Matt. You’re a better man than the one you make yourself out to be. You can be if you try.”

He sobbed quietly. “It seems like all I can do is fail. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t… I don’t know what to do, Eliza. I can’t-“ his voice broke. “I can’t take another step.”

“I know,” she said. She placed her hands on his cheeks, tracing the tears so they’d pearl off her fingers. “The city needs Daredevil, but I need Matt Murdock. So do Foggy and Karen. And you’re not alone. You’re not the only one with baggage.”

He hesitantly reached out for her face. She closed her eyes as his rough fingers stroked along her skin. “I pray every day. I go to confession, I repent for my sins. I’ve been to church so many times, I lost count,” - he chuckled. “I listen to your heartbeat as if it’s the only thing in this world I can count on. I desperately needed someone to catch me before I fell. If I could fall on my knees right now, I would. I’d pray at your feet. Faith has been the hardest challenge of my life but being with you makes it easier. You make me believe again. There’s just something about you that makes me feel alive.” He inched closer. His thigh brushed hers.

“Matthew,” she warned. “Stop.”

“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Eliza removed his hand. “Everything.”

Her footsteps retreated to somewhere in the kitchen. He wanted to ask, but he didn’t know what or how. The questions lay on the tip of his tongue, but he was paralyzed.

“You can’t just touch me like that and expect we’re okay now.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know you didn’t.” She reached into the cabinet next to the stove. Glasses clinked. She rummaged through the storage until she got her hands on what she wanted. The air filled with the thick stench of alcohol.

Matt swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry.”

Eliza placed the bottle of liquor on the counter, hands on either side. She watched the back of his head from his place on the sofa. Dried blood coated his skin. Even with a towel, there was little she could do without a shower to rid him of the sticky substance. She still felt his blood on her hands long after she had washed it off.

She capped the bottle. “It hurts,” she whispered. “Touching you… it hurts.”

She wasn’t even lying. His pain tore her apart. Touching him reminded her of the electrical current Hydra used to punish her. The fire it ignited within her was untamable. He was in so much emotional agony that she doubted her powers could’ve done much other than damage control. She couldn’t touch herself and make the pain go away. She couldn’t carry his baggage without hurting herself. Her soul was heavy, her heart broken, and there was no way out of this hellhole. Touching him hurt because she simply wasn’t strong enough for the both of them.

His shoulders heaved slightly. She heard him struggle to breathe. She could tell he was fighting the tears that threatened to come. “Why?” the question sounded broken.

Eliza sighed into the open bottle. Her breath echoed off the glass. “Because when I do, I feel all of you, and all of you is too much for so little of me,” she said.

Matt turned around. “All of it?” he asked.

She nodded. “All of it.”

“How?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

The confession cut sharply across the room.

“Explain it to me, then. I want to learn.”

The tequila burned its way down her esophagus and into her stomach. She frowned at the harsh taste. The bottle was old, the expensive kind. She remembered receiving the gift in the mail. One of Tony’s associates decided to spoil her and ordered the bottle just for her. All this time, she refused to open it. She kept it stored away between bottles of cheap vodka and whiskey, hoping for the right time to christen it. She expected the occasion to be happy, a celebratory shot of tequila to end a beautiful day, but such times appeared too far in the future to waste time waiting. She took another sip. It was awful, but the liquor was strong and she knew the buzz wasn’t so far off.

Matt lifted his unseeing eyes when he heard the sudden drop of two glasses on the table. She placed one on his side and one on her own. “This is gonna make this much easier,” she told him. She filled his glass about halfway before she stopped to do the same to her own.

“Thanks,” he said quietly as she handed him his drink. He could’ve smelled the unholy sharp scent of the contents from miles away. His nostrils flared and he cringed slightly. “Ugh, what’s that?”

“Tequila.”

“Does it taste as bad as it smells?”

“Yeah.”

He downed it in one gulp. Eliza raised her eyebrows, surprised at his sudden boldness. His features contorted. He almost puked. “Jesus!” he coughed. “God, how do you even drink that stuff?”

“I swallow it and hope I don’t choke.”

“Ah. Nice trick.” He searched for the bottle. “Well, as long as it does the job.”

She chuckled. “Do you really want to know?”

“About the tequila?”

“No, about me.”

Matt hummed, understanding her question better. “I showed you mine,” he said.

“That’s because you’re the one who screwed up,” she retorted.

“I would like to learn.” His irises carried specks of honey and gold in the teddy bear brown. They were wide and willing to learn. He smiled at her. “Please?”

Eliza took another shot. She wasn’t quite sure what convinced her to turn the key and allow the gates to open. The liquor surely played a big part in the decision. She stared at the droplets of brown tequila in her glass, then back at the man on her sofa. Her lips parted again and she let out a pained sigh. “Fine,” she caved in.

The bottle was already half empty by the time she poured herself another glass.

“I used to kill people for a living.”

His ears perked up at the reveal, fists clenching around the blanket once again. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, though he wasn’t sure himself.

“Hydra took me when I was a kid.” She swirled the liquor around. “My parents are both dead. They killed them before they took me, or so I’ve been told. I, uh, I don’t remember. I only remember bits and pieces of what they did to me. They experimented on me, but you knew that already. All because I was born like this. If I’d been born in any other body, they wouldn’t have taken me and I could be happy now, but your precious God bore me into a body that is a cage. I never had a choice.”

Matt pinched his brows. “The whole thing makes so much more sense now,” he murmured.

“I wasn’t the only one they took. I remembered that there were several children in the White Room-”

“The White Room?”

“Yeah. It was only called that because all of the walls were white and it looked like asylum in there. And you know, white is considered a pure color. We were considered pure.”

“Oh.” He took another sip. “Why?” he asked between the taste of tequila on his tongue and the distinctive scent dominating his nose. “Because you were born like this?”

Eliza nodded. “Yeah,” she added, realizing he couldn’t see her. “I’m the only child that survived the torture. After I did, I was put through training. They taught me how to fight, how to maim, how to kill … They taught me how to be a ghost and get the job done. They, uh, mentally conditioned me to follow their every order. They brainwashed me. That’s why I don’t remember. They wanted me to forget, so they fried my brain. There’s just one thing they never took away - The memory of the faces of my victims. I won’t ever forget them.”

He fisted the blanket. “What are you, exactly?”

“What?”

“What can you do? You say it hurts you to touch me. I want to know why.”

“I’ve got powers.” She sighed. “I was born with them. Hydra modified them to fit their agenda. My purpose was to manipulate and destroy, so that’s what they made out of me.”

He cocked his head.

“I can feel things, is what I’m saying,” she explained. “It hurts to touch you because when I do, I can feel your emotions. All of them. I can see the pain you’re in and I feel every last bit of it. Uh, do you remember what colors look like?”

“Yeah.”

“I like to call it the color wheel of emotions. Every category has its own colors. Anger is red, grief is blue, loathing is purple, amazement, terror, and admiration are all green, but in different shades. Extacy is yellow and vigilance is orange. The shades under every category sum up a different emotion that falls into said category. Since feelings are hard to explain, every soul is a mix of colors and whenever I attempt to understand a person further, I can see their colors loud and clear. Like one of those LED light strips you can change with a remote, only with the soul, the color wheel is unpredictable.” She took a deep sip of tequila. “When someone’s broken, it’s like staring straight into the face of disaster. It’s not pretty, it’s really, really ugly.”

“So what color am I?” Matt asked.

“You’re all of them,” Eliza said. “Your soul is damaged. I wasn’t trying to make a connection, but I got attached to you. I allowed myself to touch your soul and God, Matt! It hurts. It hurts so much and I can’t do anything about it because there’s just so much pain inside of you. I feel your pain and at the same time I can feel mine and it’s just too damn much! I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“You’re attached to me?”

“Fuck!” she cried. “Yes, I am. I don’t know what else you expected to happen with a story like that. I’m as sensitive as a landmine when it comes to forming unhealthy emotional attachments because all I want to do is help. My powers caused so much pain once, but that’s not me anymore, so I try to stop as much pain as I can to repent for my sins. I didn’t want to let you have this effect on me, but it’s you. It’s hard not to feel for you, Matthew.”

“I’m sorry.” His brown eyes appeared two shades darker than before, the look of a puppy on his face.

She dropped her head between her shoulders. “Don’t be sorry,” she said while shaking her head to the beat of nothing. “It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s mine for allowing myself to let me feel you this way. I mean, I can manipulate the soul, literally,” - she chuckled bitterly - “But when it comes to figuring out mine, I’m as human as everyone else.”

Matt licked his lips clean of the hard liquor just to pour himself another shot. “So you didn’t feel that Daredevil and I are, you know, kind of the same?” he dared to ask. He supposed the question hadn’t been bothering just him. She seemed to have thought about it more than once. She grunted, the glass clinking against her teeth in a rough sip.

Eliza looked at him, then back at the bottle of tequila. She sighed again. The sounds came deep from within her chest, pure expressions of pent-up frustration. Her muscles were tense enough for him to hear it in her movements, even the sound of her voice changed as her jaw clenched tightly. “I should’ve felt that something was up with you, but the soul is complicated to translate,” she stated. “It never looks and feels the same and since I wasn’t trying to connect to either you or Daredevil, there was no way for me to tell. I mean, I didn’t know what I was looking for. It sounds so easy. Like, I can feel and see the soul and I can tell so much about a person just with that information, but it doesn’t tell me a name. It’s pretty hard to differentiate based solely on what I can feel. Your soul doesn’t talk to me. I had no clue that you’re Daredevil. But I also hadn’t established this bond before, so maybe If I had taken my time to feel you a bit closer that night on the roof, I would’ve been able to tell, but I didn’t, so… yeah, I don’t think I’m capable of even doing that.”

“Isn’t part of your job description that you can figure out someone’s disguise?” He was joking then.

She tilted her head. “You’re blind,” she stated. “That’s actually the best fucking disguise there is and you don’t even have to try. Trust me, I had no clue. I got that tingle once, something familiar about you when we had lunch together, but I get that tingle often. It’s more common than you think.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I kinda wish you would’ve figured it out some other time and some other way.”

She joined in curtly. She was trying to laugh, but the tension crushed her voice into tiny little pieces. “Yeah. You know, it’s fucking frustrating I don’t even know how to properly use my powers because I get so overwhelmed sometimes. I wish it would make sense for once, but it doesn’t. I don’t make any sense. And I want to touch you, I do, but I can’t and it’s killing me that I can’t help you out of this hell as I should be.” Her voice broke, as did the tears. She let her face fall into the one propped-up hand on her knee, the other still cradling the glass of alcohol. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to cry.”

She looked up at him to find his cheeks wet. It took all of his control not to get up and grab her to cradle her into his arms. She saw the struggle on his face.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you.” Matt gently slid a hand over the table. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s not just you!” she snapped. “It’s fucking everyone! I can’t even go out without getting the feeling I might explode. You say your senses are heightened? Well, imagine that but only with emotions. There is so much pain in the world. People’s souls are shredded, and some are beyond repair. When you hear heartbeats, I hear the soul. It’s like a flower shop exploded and I have severe allergies to all of the flowers. The colors just mix without reason and it hurts my eyes.”

She got up.

“I don’t even have to try. I manage to distract myself most of the time, but once I see someone - actively see them - it’s over for me. I feel everything. I can even see why they feel the way they do. The woman downstairs that just had a miscarriage? Pain. So much pain. Too much for a single person to carry. Maybe the man across the street lost his son recently – I see him and I can only imagine the way he died. I’m so overstimulated that my emotions get all mixed up too.”

His hand still rested on the table. Eliza shook her head violently. “As soon as I’m on the battlefield, I’m a different person. I know how to control it, but only then. I have vivid dreams, I watch people die before my eyes every night, or the men that experimented on me drill things into my body,” she said. The air was getting thinner. “I feel my pain every time I dream, but those flashbacks still feel like experiences from another person. The girl that I was is so far away.”

“Eliza Bennett isn’t your real name,” he said.

“Of course, it’s not. Do you really think Hydra would let me keep my name? You saw what they’re like. No, I don’t know who I was before, so they gave me a new identity when I got out.”

“Do you ever wonder?”

“All the time. After the files got released, I searched for myself, but I don’t exist. Not even in the Hydra files. Project Chaos is marked as failed. It didn’t fail. I’m here, I’m alive. I just… I want to know who I was. I want to know why I have to feel fucking everything. I want to know who my parents were and I want to know why the fuck I was the only one who survived. I don’t want to be empty anymore. I want to be someone and I want to feel happy .”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“No, you don’t! This is something no one gets!” She tasted salt on her tongue. Her voice wavered. “I can’t deal with not knowing who I am, who I was,” she said. “I can’t deal with these powers raging through me, the uncertainty of it all. I just can’t. That’s why I turned to painkillers. They made me numb to everything around me. I never needed anything more than that. I never planned for it to get out of control. I thought I knew how much I could take, but I was wrong. One night, I took two pills too many and the next morning I woke up in a hospital bed. It’s so fucked up to think I ever let it get that far.” She took the bottle again. This time, she didn’t bother with the glass. “I thought I could live without getting high, you know. I went to rehab for a reason. I thought I could meditate or something, but fuck! I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I can’t live with myself. I never could. At least when I was a cold-blooded killer, I didn’t care about anything other than to serve.”

“Eliza, wait-”

“I decided to turn to alcohol. Better than drugs but still serves the same purpose. It’s the only thing that fucking numbs me. Causing myself pain makes me forget about all the despair I have to feel in the atmosphere. I know it’s wrong but if you were me, I assure you, you would do the same.”

He didn’t speak for another minute. She had almost finished the bottle on her own. Her heartbeat was off the rails. “Okay, that’s it,” he said. He reached for the bottle. Eliza protested, but he managed to pull it from her grasp in her drunken haze.

She pouted. “Give that back to me!” her voice cracked. “Matthew!”

“No. You’ve had enough.”

“Fuck you! You don’t get to tell me what to do. May I remind you that you were the one who lied to me? You go out at night as an entirely different person and now you ridicule me because of my bad coping mechanisms? You’re a hypocrite, Matt Murdock! Beating people up is an addiction, too. You risk everything, for what? Because you feel like this is your purpose? This is so stupid. You’re stupid if you really think this is true. The pathetic wish of a boy who was forced to grow up too fast. Well, let me tell you something,” she spat, “Trying to enforce justice now in the name of God won’t make him forgive you for trying to end your life back then!”

Matt scowled. “Eliza, I think this is going too far now,” he warned.

“Why? Can’t handle the truth, Matthew?” she cocked an eyebrow. “Attempted suicide is still suicide and you said it yourself, suicide is a sin. You can’t repent for everything you’ve done. Your ledger is dripping red - Daredevil won’t make you into a hero just because you believe so. It doesn’t work that way! And if you truly believe your friends will just continue to stand by and watch you hurt yourself over and over again, I feel sorry for you. They won’t. If you keep going, they will leave and it’s gonna be your fault!” She pointed her finger at him. “Like everything is your fault. You did this. You put yourself in this position. No one else is to blame but you, you stupid, fucking dickhead! There is not a second that goes by where I don’t regret meeting you.”

He snapped, “Stop!”

While his voice echoed in her ears, her skin was already burning again. She felt the power charge in her eyes. Control slipped from her fingers. “You know what we would call someone like you if you were an Avenger?” she asked. “A coward. You’re afraid to go the full mile because of God, but what you’re doing is already worse than what a mighty deity like him could forgive. You’re not going to heaven, Matthew. You’re going to hell like everyone else on this godforsaken planet ‘cause good and evil don’t exist! We’re all villains at the end of the day, some more than others, you’re just too blind to realize that.”

Matt grabbed her wrist. “Hey,” he said sternly. “Would you stop? I know you don’t mean it, but you’re starting to piss me off.”

She scoffed. “Repentance is a lie. It’s not real. The Devil isn’t real. We will all eventually fall into the void of fire and then we’ll be dead. Forgiveness is a lie and life after death doesn’t exist, don’t you get that?” She pulled at his hands. “We’re all cursed. All of us.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m stone-cold sober. It’s you who doesn’t want to see the truth.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that you truly believe it,” he said. His unseeing gaze burned into hers. “Tell me it’s my fault my life is going to shit and I will stop. Tell me you hate me and I’ll go.”

Eliza flared her nostrils. “I-” but the honey specks in his eyes were too honest, too mesmerizing and she was in too much pain to admit something that came out of her mouth without reason.

“That’s what I thought.” Matt nodded. “Can’t say it, can you?”

“Fuck you,” she spat back.

“Yeah, alright.” He suddenly pulled hard at her wrist in his hand. She stumbled over him, face first into the couch, though he caught her before she could hit the cushion and pulled her writhing body back against his.

His touch burned. She sobbed when he wrapped his arms around her to pull her into his chest. It was too much. He was in her blood. She felt him, she breathed him.

“Let me go! I fucking hate you, you hear me? You’re selfish and a liar! I meant every last word I said. You’re the creator of your own disaster. This is all your fault. This-” he reached around her shoulders. His heart hammered against her back. “This is-” she choked up. “This is your fault,” she said, but her voice was soft and barely above a whisper. “I hate you so much,” - she leaned her head back against him - “Oh, God, it hurts. I can’t breathe.”

He buried his nose in the crown of her head. “I know,” he whispered. “Listen to my heart. C’mon. You’re gonna be fine. See?” He guided her fingers around his wrist, fingers above his pulse. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

She grunted. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Shh,” he soothed her.

“I’m so tired. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I’m so tired of being the bad guy. I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

He held her impossibly tight. With time, the ache became more bearable. She focused on the beating of his heart, the heat of his breath in her hair.

He sounded firmer now, “You’re not a bad person, Eliza.”

“That doesn’t bring back the people I killed. The families I destroyed. Fathers and mothers I took from their children. I- I can’t-” she sobbed into her hands. “Why am I like this?”

“People have been taking advantage of you since you were a child!”

“Yeah, maybe they should keep doing that. It’s not like I’m worth much more anyway. Might as well let people take advantage of me because there’s nothing else I can do.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’ve been through so much pain because I couldn’t say no. How’s that not my fault?”

“No one taught you how to say no. It’s not your fault, okay?” She sobbed. “It’s not. Sweetheart, c’mon! You can’t believe that. Don’t believe that, please.”

“It just… it’s not fair,” Eliza said eventually. She traced her index finger over his wrist. “Everyone else got their childhood happy endings.”

“You’re right,” Matt agreed. Her story twisted a knife into his heart. “It’s not fair.”

“You see why I’d blame myself then?”

“You told me to exorcise my demons. Maybe you should take your own advice.”

She chuckled, voice thick with tears, but the smile was a genuine one. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hips. “A world on fire.”

“What?”

“It’s what it feels like. I get so overwhelmed that it’s almost like I can see silhouettes, but they’re on fire.”

“Oh.”

Matt laid his head into the crook of her neck. “Don’t leave me,” the plea came in broken parts.

She put them together, piece by piece. “I won’t,” she said.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know. Me too.”

Their bodies stayed intertwined. Clouds covered the moon, leaving the room in artificial lighting. Their heartbeats kept them grounded as the silence swallowed them. They reveled in each other’s warmth, the feeling of being together. Words became unnecessary, a mere byproduct of conversation. Holding each other was the true language they could speak, and either understood perfectly.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

Eliza sighed. “No,” she said. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Good.”

He sighed. Her hands tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp. There was nothing else on his mind but the soft, gentle touches she praised him with. He listened to the sound of her heart. Air filled her lungs, causing her chest to rise, then fall again. She fell into rhythm with the steady pulsating of her heart. Her body slowly relaxed under his weight.

He was somewhere between the clouds when he heard her voice penetrate his sleepiness. Maybe he dreamt it, maybe he didn’t. Eliza whispered with such certainty, a softness that warmed his heart even though he couldn’t understand a word that was uttered. He thought the foreign tongue sounded so beautiful coming from her lips.

“I just feel you. ”

31 notes · View notes