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jmerrickism · 6 years

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10. it’s not just a weather pattern

[except]

Strumming her fingers on her jeans isn’t the best way to show that one isn’t nervous. Jess isn’t nervous, really. The feeling that she has going through her system isn’t like when her parents got called into school because she accidentally pushed Bobby Eaton into a pond on a field trip. It was closer to inviting the principal into your own home for dinner, knowing that they would find evidence of the detention you skipped.

It also isn’t helped when said principal is himself acting like they know you skipped the detention. Then egged their house. Then let their cat get away.

She shook her head at the mental image. Matt Murdock was many things, but he wasn’t a cat. Even if he pretended to be as graceful as one.

Apparently finding humor in her own mind annoyed the principal - who in this case was being played by one Franklin Nelson. Foggy to his friends. An offer that she noticed he had specifically not granted to her.

She had called up Foggy a few days previous to set an appointment. She needed to bring him out to a location to ‘get his legal opinion.’ As he was officially on ‘Jessica duty’ she assumed his annoyance was because of the high priced clients she had pulled him away from. He had been overly polite on the phone, which was lawyer for, “I hate you for making my life difficult.”

#foggy and jess

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jmerrickism · 6 years

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9. that’s what you get for caring

[Excerpt. Scene: Matt has finally woken, mostly healed. He’s meeting Sister Maggie, the Mother Superior for the first time]

“There is also another matter. Your friend, Miss Jones, has left a note for you. I’m afraid you just missed her daily pilgrimage.”

“Jessica left a note,” Matt stated in return, somewhat hesitantly.

“Yes,” Mother Maggie said, almost with a measure of hesitation, “It’s not in braille. Would you prefer for me to read it to you?”

He has to stop himself from chuckling out loud. Jess probably intended for this to happen.

“If you would not mind, Mother Maggie.”

He feels her heart skip for a quick beat before she clamps down on it. Interesting. He hears the letter being produced and unfolded.

“Miss Jones writes that she is glad you are finally getting restful sleep,” Maggie begins, “It has been hard watching you in pain, even if it has been healing you.”

She paused, lowering the letter briefly, “She scribbled a large section out. Picking up where she continued she says that she doesn’t know why she cares, just that she does.”

She pauses again, but this time Matt can hear her sigh in slight annoyance, “Editing the young woman’s words for appropriateness she says she is upset with you for making her care so much.”

Read the rest of the story here.

#darejones #darejones fanfic #daredevil fanfiction

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jmerrickism · 6 years

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Never forget exactly what you are leaving behind. The planet may not need you, but other people do.

#doctor who #you are important

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jmerrickism · 6 years

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8. what they say about blood

New York City seemed to have an agreement with Jessica Jones. Jessica didn’t want to be noticed. New York City didn’t want what came from when Jessica was noticed. Thus the agreement: New York City would ignore that Jessica existed.

Jessica usually helps New York City in this endeavour by doing her best to meld into the crowd. When she rode the subway she kept to herself. When she walked through the streets she moved through the crowds and shadows. Standing out was what brought trouble. Since Jessica was a Private Investigator, New York City tended to notice when she made herself noticed.

Which made today peculiar. Jessica usually kept up her end of the contract with New York City by melding through the crowds. Today as she exited the subway, instead of quietly shuffling through the crowd to be one of the nameless faceless, she was on her cell phone. In fact, it looked like she didn’t care that people noticed she was on the phone.

The beauty of this, however, was that so many other people were doing the same that she blended in all the same. New York City was keeping its end of the bargain.

“Hey Trish, sorry just out of the station,” Jessica was saying into the phone, her eyes rolling through the crowd, “There was a delay at 145th. I almost got off just to be off of that rolling nightmare.”

As Jess was walking she got a few looks of recognition as she came closer to the Kitchen. It came from living in the neighborhood for a few years now, and the fact that she had been in the news once or twice. People knew her, and they also understood the contract.

“No, he’s not being released from the hospital yet,” she replied to a question Trish had asked her, “He’s in...well. He’s in a certain kind of long term care.”

She waited for the traffic to clear up before quickly walking across the street.

“Yes, I’ve talked to his mother a few times now,” Jess stated, nodding in recognition at an old client she had helped out of a jam with a slumlord, “She’s more helpful than I would have thought.”

After a pause, presumably because Trish was saying something, she continued, “No, really. Like I don’t believe in any of that stuff but she doesn’t care. She just wants to help.”

She sighed at something Trish was saying, mouthing ‘hello’ to a child that was playing on the sidewalk, “No, Trish, I’m not becoming religious. It’s just, well, it’s just part of him. Part of them. They don’t need me to be a part of it.”

She listens to Trish ramble for a moment as she got closer to her building. Eventually something that Trish says makes her smile. Those that knew Jess would have noticed that it wasn’t a smile mixed with pain, or hesitance. It was an easy one.

“Yes, this is the longest we’ve talked on the phone in years,” she paused, “Don’t make a thing about it.”

At this point Jess’ foot started to tap. She had reached her building, but didn’t want to go in until she had finished the conversation with Trish apparently.

“When is he being released?”

She looked around, as if making sure that New York City hadn’t been looking back at it. After a second, she determined her words.

“According to his mom it’s when he has accepted all the sins he has committed,” Jess stated, the roll of her eyes bleeding into her voice. She laughed at something Trish said.

“Yeah, Maggie agrees with me that he’s a bit dramatic,” Jess stated, before closing her eyes for a second. It looked like she was summoning her courage before continuing, “Listen Trish, I need to go. I love you. Don’t make a thing about this.”

Jess hung up the phone with a smirk on her face. She said hello to one of her neighbors as she walked into her building.

New York City, and Jessica, continued to have their bargain.

Excerpt from my longer fic.

#darejones #darejones fanfic

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jmerrickism · 6 years

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6. the biggest asshole on the planet

It’s hard to explain what ‘waking up’ is to somebody that can actually see. Some describe it as if they are coming out of a coma, a rebirth, or even an awareness of greater sensation. Most associate, at the very least, the concept of their eyes opening to the world around them. Most metaphors are associated with this experience because that is what ties people together.

When you lack sight, however, ‘opening your eyes’ accomplishes an entirety of nothing. Instead what he does is realize that his senses are pulling him into the land of the living. To Matt Murdock waking up is becoming aware that he has control over his limbs. Waking up is searching for clues to his location. Waking up is processing the position of his body relative to the rest of the world. Waking up was about tying himself down to something real, as he couldn’t see what was.

Waking up, in a very real sense, was finding himself every single time.

What made this sensation different. Every time he had woken up for countless cycles now, not knowing what was day and what was night, had been a burden. His body was in pain. His mind was alight in trying to deal with all the signals that it was processing. He couldn’t orientate himself because he did not recognize where he was. How he was. What he was.

Eventually this uncertainty became the only way he could tether himself to the sensation of being awake. When he wasn’t awake he didn’t feel the enormity of living breaking him apart. When he was awake he received a very real, very crystallized reminder that to exist was to be in pain.

It took a second, but he realized as he awoke this time that there was more to his existence than pain. He had sense, he had the ability to reach out beyond just himself to figure out where he was tethered to reality. He can reach out from more than just himself, and actually figure out where he was.

The first thing that he grabbed onto was that everything, in a way, was familiar. As if reaching out from a long forgotten time in his life he felt like he was surrounded by somewhere he had been before. Filing this sensation away, for it was probably the reason his senses were okay with his subconscious shutting down as it felt safe, he reached out for more answers.

Where the hell is he?

It’s like a hospital (he knows those smells) but it isn’t. He can feel the motion of nurses...more than nurses moving around him. They’re more than nurses, they have a familiarity that he wouldn’t associate with a nurse, but wouldn’t associate strictly with another figure. They’re existing as an addition.

Everything is clean, everything is familiar. It is reminding him of too much.

One of his dangers of being awake was that if he wasn’t prepared his senses would become overwhelmed. That was what his body had been dealing with the last many cycles between being awake and not. There was too much information, it couldn’t be processed quickly enough. It was better to shut down, retreat, regroup before damage could be done.

Right as he was about to he picked up on something different. It cut through all of the familiarity but not that he was bathed in. It was different enough that his brain, his senses latched onto it.

It was familiar in its own way. He had only known it for a brief time, but it was unmistakable. He opened his eyes, physically this time as he let his sense finally wash out onto the world around him.

He felt the person walk closer to the bed that he was lying in, their steps echoing and proving him a map of who they were, and where he was.

He heard their small intake of breath before they opened their mouth to speak.

“You’re the biggest asshole on the planet, you know that right?”

“Jessica Jones,” he tries to say, but his voice comes out as more of a rasp. It’s apparently been a while since he used it. His laugh becomes a cough as the nurses instantly swoop to his side. Liquid is introduced into his throat to parch the dryness that is starting to swell into his mouth.

He follows her heartbeat as it sits down in a chair besides him. He tentatively moves to grab her hand because this is real. This is reality. This is being alive and he needs to tie himself down to it. With an equally tentative motion she meets him halfway, calmly holding onto his hand as her pulse skyrockets.

Yet it’s there. It’s real.

After the activity around him calms down he feels himself starting to slip away again. He wants to talk, he wants to say something. He doesn’t want to be left alone-

“Just relax Murdock, you’re safe here,” the words come out as a long suffering sigh, yet one that is almost glad they’re saying them.

He believes her. He can feel her heartbeat. He lets the world go dark again.

n.b. Excerpt from the current chapter I’m working on for my story which is posted right here.

#darejones #daredevil fanfiction

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jmerrickism · 6 years

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Are you feeling kind of down right now? It’s not your fault that you forgot what baby cheetahs look like. Really. One time I did too.