#please tell me if any of my words are incorrect etc

[cacahuatlll]

The Casperan Family (1/2) hey lol I really love this family but it’s gonna go through it ahhh I’m sorry. Anyways I don’t think there’s a name for they’re mama. There fathers name is Alek. Yes that’s Zoe! I really love Douxie and Zoe sibling solidarity and I’m not sorry. So I hope I’m doing my research correct for this. And if not please tell me. The headcanon of douxie being romani would be really cool. I choose to deep diving into it/explore it so here I am trying to do so with the family. I’m also exploring my own version of Zoe & douxie powers emerge. Also Zoe has Her dads facial features /hair and has her moms eyes. While douxie has his dads eyes and his moms hair/facial features. 🥹💖 the second piece is angst with Zoe and her Mama. Please tell me if these translations are correct. Her mama is saying “Brother” Then “Daughter” in the romani language.

Edit: i used the armenian language instead of the Romani language, the Romani language is a closed language and I will not be using it in future drawings.

[mushimatsu]

I found the full versions of the job apps from this post! This was a collab with the restaurant chain Sukiya, so that's where the job app is for! Pictures from this blog post here!

Translation under the cut

Osomatsu:

Academic background/work experience (include relevant experience):

(dates left blank) NEET, factory job, Chinese food restaurant, etc Anyway I have experience with a lotta stuff! And more

About yourself:

Gyuudon! I can eat a lot of it! Beer! (something crossed out) I can drink a lot of it! 

Hobbies/Skills:

Horse racing, pachinko, all kinds of gambling!

Reason for your application:

Because I think I could eat a lot of gyuudon. And because I think a pork bowl made with a brand new model of charcoal grill would be tasty! 

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (he left this blank and just put an x through Monday, Saturday, and Sunday)

Other requests:

I’d like to immediately take off days where a machine is being replaced, store remodeling days, and horse race days! 

What days would you prefer to work?: (left blank)

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank) How long can you work for?: (left blank)

Karamatsu:

(in the furigana section where you're supposed to write the pronunciation of your name he wrote it in English instead of hiragana)

Phone Number: Secret (it's so important to tell you that he wrote "secret" as the English word in katakana, and not the Japanese word for secret)

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Theater Completed curriculum at Hybrid Oden cart (Hybrid misspelled as Hybrit) And more

About yourself:

When I take the stage called Sukiya... After that... Who knows...

(sorry if this is incorrect idk how the fuck to translate what he said. hate his ass /j)

Hobbies/Skills:

I can sing while playing guitar, and more...

Reason for your application:

Gyuudon, butadon, curry... Because your menu calls to me...

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

I'm not tied down to anyone...

What days would you prefer to work?:

What a foolish question...

How many hours would you like to work a day?:

I'm not tied down to any time...

How long can you work for?:

How many times do I have to tell you...

Choromatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Totoko-chan's manager Worked at father's friend's company And more

About yourself:

Personally, I would benefit from your company's management policy, so I think I can achieve results while working remotely. The other day, all my brothers caught a cold, but I was busy making content as a small influencer!*

Hobbies/Skills:

Kanji certification level 6, English certification level 6. Thank you very much.

Reason for your application:

Sukiya would benefit from an entrepreneur and marketing and advertising specialist with a concise plan to make KPIs a priority activity. Boosting conversions** can create solutions for Sukiya through engagement. Gyuudon benefits will surely create profit. Assign buffers and launch. Thank you very much.* ** like click through rate

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

Frankly, a pension plan is a must, with a minimum of 200,000 yen fixed and committed per month. Thank you very much.

What days would you prefer to work?:

I will send you the agenda for today's activities afterwards. Thank you very much.

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank)

How long can you work for?: (left blank)

*(struggled so much with him and his business buzzwords if anyone has corrections please tell me)

Ichimatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Honored Squad Leader for Life at Factory Worked at Cat Cafe, as a cat And more

About yourself:

I want to gather some cats at the restaurant, but not like it would be a cat cafe, and make a "Cat Sukiya"...

Hobbies/Skills:

Cat certification level 2

Reason for your application:

I want to surround the restaurant with a lot of cats.

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

How many cats am I allowed to bring to the restaurant?

What days would you prefer to work?:

No particular preference

How many hours would you like to work a day?:

No particular preference

How long can you work for?:

As long as there's cats

Jyushimatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

PRACTICE SWINGS

About yourself:

78 METER THROW

Hobbies/Skills:

BASEBALL

Reason for your application:

I WANT TO EAT LOTS OF GYUUDON!

(All the questions about when you're available to work):

I WANT TO EAT GYUUDON EVERY DAY!!

Todomatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Currently attending a very prestigious college Part time job at a trendy coffee shop And more

About yourself:

My brothers are all stupid, so I'm the best choice <3

Hobbies/Skills:

English and Japanese certified

Reason for your application:

The new menu item avocado gyuudon is my favorite, so you're going to release it, right? That is to say, you'll hire me, right? Right? Thanks <3

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

Rather than just beer, I want to sell kalua milk and cassis orange too ⭐

What days would you prefer to work?: (left blank)

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank)

How long can you work for?:

Depends on if the customers are cute girls <3

thank you @totmatsu for ur help

[eoieopda]

[visual content blog recommendations]

we see fic recs all the time, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen rec lists for visual content (gif/art/gfx/etc.) creators! they’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit lately between reposts, tumblr garbage, etc., so i wanna shout-out some favorites. thank you for keeping us fed!!

disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list!! if you have recommendations of your own, please feel free to expand on this yourself and/or drop some of your faves in the replies for others to see. self-promo is always welcome here, too ✨ p.s. some of these are recent finds for me, so pls expect to see more of them on my blog. eta: i will be adding more as i go!!

[bts]

@yooboobies — réka’s gif sets are *chef’s kiss* and the ART? omg. the talent!!! 😭 we simply have to simp.

@cordiallyfuturedwight — apart from being one of the coolest/funniest people i’ve found on army tumblr, i am a kayla stan because the niche themes for her gif sets (ex. bangtan turtlenecks series) feel like they’re made 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 even though they absolutely aren’t, lmao.

@hopeinthebox — the bts as reductress headline + incorrect bangtan series are probably my favorite pieces of content on the entire internet??? also, lizzy is absolutely gd hilarious. tags are 11/10. a blessing upon my dash.

@kimtaegis — i’m not visually artistic enough to say this in a way that makes sense, but annie’s gifs are just… stunning? like, the colors? idk about the process that goes into that, but i imagine it takes a lot of time/finesse to be this vivid.

@kithtaehyung — ryen is the renaissance man of army tumblr, fr. not only can she write (like!!!) but she’s multi-faceted and insanely creative with her graphic design. i want her to tutor me, lmao.

@raplinenthusiasts — ooohhhhh my god. the coloring of their gifs makes my brain go brrrrtttt. this bts x the office set is on my “always reblog” list; i’ll share it every time i come across it.

@heybaetae — this set in particular is on my “always reblog” list, no matter how many times i’ve done so already. also, idk how to describe this, but kelli’s gifs are just…. crispy 🤌🏻 like, so satisfying with the…. texture? filtering? contrast? i’m an idiot re: editing terms, but go peep them and you’ll know what i’m trying to say.

@kth1 — literally who could ever forget maggie’s 100 days of (member) series??? the amount of work that had to go into that? unfathomable.

@jeurias — i want to wallpaper my house and office with their gfx. i’m deadass.

@jinstronaut — emmeline has been doing her “a jin a day while he’s away” series for OVER 250 DAYS NOW. i have never been nor will i ever be able to commit to anything to this level.

[multi/skz/atz/svt/etc.]

@starryoong — do not get me started on starry’s paintings, sketches, etc. because i will never shut up. ever. j’adore 🫠 is also a five-star human being.

@irlvernon — my queue is probably 80% max gifs at any given time. god-tier, fr. a must-follow for carats, as far as i’m concerned.

@vcrnons — incredible gifs, lovely human, and also the writer of some of my favorite svt fics??? we stan.

@yelhsaart — i don’t have any words for how much i love their art so please imagine guttural screaming instead. asdfghjkl!!!

@hizuillu — ……breathtaking. legitimately stunning skz art. like…… i have heart palpitations.

@snug-gyu — THE USE OF COLORS. i’m always a simp for pantone-inspired sets; they just scratch an itch in the back of my brain, and BOY HOWDY, is my brain satisfied 😵‍💫

@yunwooz — again, i have no idea what i’m talking about when it comes to the gif-making process, but the colors!!! the COLORS!!! like, taking a mv that’s not super vivid/is fairly greyscale and bringing it to life? ya know????

@booskwan — you want incredible gifs? they’ve got em. you want stunning gfx? they’ve got em. seriously, idk what to tell you except “pause right here and go follow immediately”.

@haechannabelle — listen……. annabelle’s art style is 😗🤌🏻 (that’s a chef’s kiss). the use of color, and the technique, and and and — ! ALSO, i must mention that she took, like, 50 hours to compile a boycott-friendly k-pop playlist. their vibes are simply impeccable.

rev. 4/10/24

[litenmyra]

Borrower Aether & Neuvillette - Introduction (Genshin Impact G/T)

A very very short chapter introducing the two main subjects of the fic! I wanted to test the waters with writing, and a chapter fic at that, so I'm making something off of an idea I've had for a while now! I am actually writing this without having even entered Fontaine in the AQ (still not done w/ Sumeru's) but I adore Neuvi too much not to make something g/t related with him in it! I urge anyone who sees any mistakes with my grammar, spelling, missing words, etc. to point me the right way so I can make this a learning journey too. Otherwise I hope you all enjoy this small introduction! <3 Warnings: Spoilers for the 4.2 Archon quest! Probably incorrect french to, I used the translator for it, so if someone knows french please tell me if it the right way to spell "the little café"

The pitter-patter of the rain was relentless. Shaking the glass panes with each hit, accompanying it too was the rolling thunder that without mercy grated the smallest of critters' ears.

However, certain small creatures were happy with the lengthy periods of rain. Aether could easily be described as such an example. For a borrower like himself it was nothing short of a blessing with how the rain easily drowned out his steps and tinkering with even the smallest of drizzles. Running inside these stone walls, however, humans would not be able to hear him either way. On top of that, he didn’t even have to hide from any rodents where he now resided. The odd spider or pill bug was all that Aether had witnessed.

No, how Aether would consider himself more than blessed this time, was how the man occupying the office the borrower usually roamed through was always out of it the moment the day's forecast predicted as much as the smallest of drops. Almost as if the water magnetized him. Never would he question the habits of this strange man, in part afraid that it would jinx his opportunities to scour the place for things easily offered up when the large room was empty. The small blond faced the large blue window from where he stood on the desk, making sure all was quiet within the room. The rain had been going on for a while, so no amount of caution taken was too much when in his shoes.

The coast was clear as springwater. 

With a silent tact he made his way over to the teacup that was ever so perfectly placed in its everyday spot. 

He put a foot into the handle, slightly testing the fullness of the cup with his own weight, making sure there was no wobble to it. The teacup remained steady, showing no signs of tipping over, even as he now balanced his whole body on the porcelain. As expected. 

With a practiced meticulousness, Aether used his momentum and swung himself up onto the rim of the teacup to see his usual reflection mirroring him in the clear water below. Bingo!

He quickly fetched the handsewn leather pouch that adorned his belt, bringing it to the surface to scoop up some of the water. The pouch filled smoothly, sagging with the liquid it now carried. 

Aether took a piece of twine and twisted it around the lip of the pouch, easily tying it back onto his belt.

 Done! And now ready for- Wait. 

The rain had abruptly started to recede outside.

The boy strained his ears, remaining unmoving for a second. Okay, the room was just as silent as it had been only a moment ago. Aether knew however, that after the rain came sunshine, and having observed the man who worked within these walls, with sunshine the office would all too soon be occupied once more. 

Hopping off the cup, there was no time to spare. He was quick down the desk, with a whip of his hand the hook came loose, he gathered it as he ran off to the crack in the wall. 

He would have more rainy days ahead to take advantage of, and as he had quickly caught on during his stay here, was that there was no shortage of rainy days. – The Iudex entered his office with heavy shoulders. Yet, having met briefly with Lady Furina on his way back, he couldn’t help but feel that today's burdens had lifted, if only ever so slightly. They had discussed nothing short of the mundane, Furina had more and more to tell on that particular front. Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at remembering the immensely vast types of pasta that the woman had shown him when she had also given him a little shopping haul. It seemed she’d never tire of it.

As with any busy day, however, for both former Archon and Chief Justice, their duties had led their meeting to an end. 

It was no coincidence that after the small chat between both, the skies had cleared enough for the sun to shine through upon the city again. The man settled in his chair, looking at the relatively scarce pile of paperwork compared to the new documents he stashed just beside them. With all this day had brought him, good and bad, he just needed a small refresher. Neuvillette reached for the teacup that was placed in its usual spot, bringing it to his lips. Sipping carefully on the water in it. No longer was he surprised by the slightly leathery taste it carried. It used to surprise him, as it had never occurred merely a few months prior, but he figured that with the new upholstering of the furniture in the room, the leathery smell had lingered. Nevermind that, the freshness of the water still overpowered it. Placing the cup back onto its coaster, Neuvillette eyed the documents before him. They read of a case he had scheduled the following week. It read about suspected thievery in ‘La Petite Pâtisserie’, a café just south of the court. Cozy, was the general word of mouth that had reached Neuvillette. Dutifully reading the case, the old dragon caught sight of something peculiar; a single ‘a’ in the lines of words appeared to have been smudged. This was nothing unusual per say, excess ink bringing with it stains was not something rare, especially with the printing press’ newfound popularity across the nation. Heaven’s know how often the printing blocks needed a clean, and with time a replacement, as the surfaces were worn down and rendered insufficient. 

He had gotten to know most about this when he not too recently had a case on his table regarding the growing urgent matter of the suppliance of letter blocks, yet how difficult that was to achieve with their costly production; many of the industries involved in the procedure had suffered losses when their major deals with big magazines and newspapers had been nullified, as inevitably the cost, the production, and the wearing all had resulted in nothing short of illegible prints. But the details of that legal case were of no significance right now. The orderly man brought his gaze closer to the document. It was an almost insignificant imprint to the average person, were you to skim through it all it would look like nothing but an innocuous spillage, but Neuvillette could discern it clearly from the odd ink blot. Yes, the letter’s ink had bled into what almost looked like a small shoe print. The Chief Justice raised a brow at this discovery.

‘How intriguing.'

[yonemurishiroku]

Having been lurking for quite a while, I've seen a series of opinions regarding TSATS, and as someone who tries their best to remain neutral, I think I can give a bit of insight into the discourse.

(Containing few minor SPOILERS)

So far, I have seen the reasons people have given as of:

Why they like TSATS:

It's a LGBTQA+ representation in a middle schoolers (10-13, according to B&N) book: there're various interpretion of this sentiment, however I believe this would be the general term.

It's about Nico and Will - excluding the homosexual nature of the relationship (which is included in the above claim) and more into their specific dynamic/ interactions.

The character growth of Nico and the emergence of Will as a protagonist/secondary protagonist character.

A minor part: (background) platonic relationships (Nico - Dionysus, Will - the trogs, etc...)

Why they do not like TSATS:

The story's pace, writing style, wording... technically those involving writing techniques (and let me tell you this a HUGE point), including the claims of 'cringness'.

Inconsistences between established canon materials and re-introduced materials (another HUGE point but like. not surprising) - including incorrect recallings, contradictory plotlines...

Unfamiliar characterization - aka supposedly OOC. (Including Tartarus btw)

Again: representation but questionable. (As of now, I still have multiple asks unanswered regarding Will as bi-representation, Nico's coming-out and asking-out Will)

Again: Nico's and Will's characterization

And their dynamics.

So many more small details I don't know how to categorize: inappropriate culture reference, questionable plot choices (including but not limited to the whole Cacodemons thing),...

These are only the majorities, as it wouldn't bring a broad look into the dicourse as a whole if I try to add too many information and opinions with varying level of detailed. As you can see, the negative reviews are overwhelming, whereas even some of the positive feedbacks are still debetable.

Of course, my engagement can play a large role in this report, considering this is my personal summation, and I'm pretty sure there's a number of posts I'm prevented from engaging. So, if there's any popular opinions I've yet to include, please do let me know - especially the good ones.

If anything, I'd like to see what rank TSATS currently holds amongst Rick's books in the scale of idk mayby PJO to BOO.

[reggies-eyeliner]

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐏𝐒 (CLOSED)!

OPEN 7/14-7/30!!

-> matchups + moodboards + playlists + headcanons! please read all of the rules listed below and pop into my ask box! if you need an idea on what my past matchups look like please check out these links! :DD

THIS IS LIKE A BUFFET. PICK AND CHOOSE WHAT YOU WANT BABES MWAHAHAHA

FANDOMS (up to two*):

across the spider-verse*

most animated movies (httyd, bh6, rotg^^)

lockwood & co*

stranger things

avatar: the last airbender

the legend of korra

rottmnt**

voltron: legendary defenders

* i've only watched the series so far + i'm about to start the comics/books (and very excited to omg) !! just an fyi that my pairings will most likely revolve more around the characters featured in the series IM SORRY I SWEAR I'LL GET TO THE BOOKS/COMICS ASAP

**exclusively platonic matchups preferred/qpr!

* if you are requesting two fandoms, please tell me which one to prioritize more! the first one will be the full-length, but the second will be around a half of the content in the prioritized fandom.

TYPES OF MATCHUPS:

the classic: submit in matchup information + get paired with (a) romantic partner(s)! in return for the matchup information, you will receive: a 1x3 moodboard, one song + a hefty list of headcanons + a mix-and-match randomized trope explanation! (ex: a blurb about sharing a bed, first time meeting, fake dating confession scene ; ~100 words!)

the platonic machup: platonic matchups (my personal fave MWAHAHA)! you'll get paired with as many characters as you'd like<3!! in return for matchup information, you will receive: a 1x3 moodboard, one song + a hefty list of headcanons + incorrect quotes describing your dynamic between you and your found family/best bro<3

customized schedule: submit what your schedule looks like throughout any day of the week (up to two) + matchup information (platonic or romantic), you will receive: an hourly schedule on what life is like with said character i match you with + the aspects of your life with them! (ex: 8am, wake up by their side + they make you coffee blah blah blah), + a song for each moment of the day to describe your dynamic :D

MATCHUP INFORMATION:

name + preferred gender(s) to be paired with + preferred age group(s)

preferred fandom (up to two are okay, but please let me know which one you'd like me to focus on more!)

platonic and/or romantic + polycule preference etc + preferred age group!!

you can include your sexuality if you'd like to (only if you want me to touch on the aspect on how your matchup will support you because. yeah<3)

giving + receiving love languages

hobbies, talents, things that make you you (think: if this wasn't in my life, how different would i be?)

mbti/zodiac (optional)

personality, how you handle difficult situations

what consist of a good memory for you

favorite songs + music taste/colors/any kind of aesthetics!!

anything that brings you comfort/anything that doesn't give you comfort (can be about a relationship or just in life :-D)

OTHER RULES?

preferably off anon! i'd love to talk to you more after the matchup submission as well MWAHHAHA<333 if you're planning on being anon, an emoji anon would be p cool so we can chat more!

as i'm also a busy student, i will prioritize school-- if you submit a matchup, please be prepared to have up to anywhere from a 1-14 day wait! i'll send you a message that i got your ask hehe

i will also be mostly inactive writing-wise from 7/18-7/23 as i will be on a trip, so please keep that in mind!

you should totally use a pick up line in my ask box i enjoy pick up lines so much. or one of those "less than one minute" videos on youtube those are the best man

please know that i absolutely love writing and talking to people, but i also have my own limits to what i can/cannot do for people! if you send nsfw content, pedophilia, violence, gore, heavy vents, all that not-so-great-stuff or an ask comes off as rude or demanding, i have all rights to avoid doing it and dismiss it without any warning. ASJCHS JUST be a decent human being in short that's all i'm asking RAHHH

OTHER THAN THAT MAN write as much/little as you'd like!!

#send a request here! :D

[welcometoteyvat]

thanks for sharing the post. have the user blocked. hate it when people apply western (e.g. english) practices and cultures to other practices and cultures. it is not the same :( either way, what is the canto accent? i am not a native chinese so i don’t know what’s the accent they gave gaming. could you explain (if you can!)

oh no problem i don't think it was like a terrible post on the relative scale of internet takes, but op pissed me off lol like a native canto speaker spoonfeeds you info and you just refuse to engage with it. it's not even being curious it's just dense as hell. they eventually came around but man the reading comprehension-

anyways the canto accent—idk how to describe it tbh. some of the syllables sound more canto? like the way they're broken up and which words get more emphasis etc. tons of ppl (on bilibili) said it sounds like very realistic/authentic "guangpu" which is shorthand for cantonese accented standard chinese. the best example of this imo is when he says 本领嘛 (běnlǐng ma) in the suanni papercut teaser; the stress/emphasis on each syllable like separates them a lot more than in mando? ben and ling especially sound sharper when he said it, like if you use more force w your tongue/lips to pronounce the b and l sounds. i am not a linguist so this could be completely off (but there's more unrelated talk about canto vs mando under the cut)

the more explainable thing he does is use phrases that aren't used in standardized mandarin. 我埋单(wo3 máidān) ("my treat" in eng dub) is a canto phrase—i think(?) mandarin speakers would say 我结账 (wo jiézhàng). 埋 means bury in mandarin, but in cantonese it can mean to close/settle (accounts), or come together (as in closing a wound). closing the check in this case ig. importantly 埋单(canto) and 买单(mǎidān, mandarin) do not mean the same thing (unlike i originally thought haha), even though the tones are v similar

he also says 勤力点 (qínlì diǎn) during the suanni trailer which i assume would be 尽力点 (?) (jìnlì diǎn) in mando, they both mean the same thing (to work hard) it's just diff words. qin is the first word of qinkuai 勤快, hardworking

his 喔 (wo, filler word) and 哪(na, also filler word, except he says it like 那哈 na ha to me lol) also just sounds so canto jfsdkfj. they both exist in mando and are used but idk the pronunciation sounds a bit diff?

DISCLAIMER: this is all written by a mando only speaker. I watched the trailer and just listened to everything gaming said that I've never heard spoken in mandarin before, then searched it up to see if it was actually canto, but I do not speak Cantonese. if any of this info is incorrect please tell me, i don't want to spread misinfo. thank you! <3

cantonese vs mandarin rambling utc

more about how the accent differs: I thought about this q a bit and ended up searching for canto text to speech. This likely won't help much, since ga-ming spoke accented mandarin, not entirely cantonese, but if you're curious and want to hear the differences between standard mandarin and canto, you can go to https://fanyi.baidu.com/#zh/yue/ and paste some chinese text into this, and click on the speaker/audio button at the bottom of the text boxes to hear it spoken. the left is mandarin, the right is cantonese. if you'd like you can also paste the text into google translate, which will give you the mandarin pinyin. i extracted some of gaming's most noticeable lines here if u wanna try. Honestly, it might be more helpful to listen to his lines in mandarin and then listen to gaming's version to see if you can hear any differences, because his audio from the livestream is a lot closer to mandarin than cantonese

舞兽戏 你们听说过没有 (said in standard mandarin, beginning of 4.4 trailer)

舞兽戏在沉玉谷地区还是很有名的喔 (at 0:10, 4.4 trailer)

去新月轩喝个早茶怎么样？(std mandarin) 我埋单 我埋单 (at 0:31 in the 4.4 trailer)

本领嘛 多学多练 勤力点，总能行的。哪，你看文仔也觉得对喔！(1:38 in tidings of an auspicious beast)

"所以是真的吗，老先生" is the one other thing he says in the suanni PV, but there's a very slight difference that i don't know if i'm hallucinating it

there are 2 more lines that I didn't include (his skill and burst voicelines) but i can't tell if there's much diff in his accent. his skill sounds a tad diff but idk if im just not familiar with the words L

[persianflaw]

for writing asks! 🛒 ⛔ ❌ 👀

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

excitement and fear being intertwined, grief, repressing feelings until the breaking point, characters hugging their friends and loved ones <- best one

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

(content warning for statutory rape / sexual assault/abuse of a minor)

several years ago, i was working on a fic about a character who is, in canon, almost the victim of statutory rape. i portrayed her as initially having ambivalent feelings about the situation, being upset that they were interrupted, and ultimately wishing that the adult had gone through with it because in her mind, that would make her feelings of trauma more justified. i still think this is a very valid concept for a story and i really like the pieces i still have, but around that time, i saw a number of people getting absolutely shredded for writing fics about csa or rape recovery that a few people thought were too salacious for containing details about the abuse or incorrect in some other way. this was an intensely personal fic and although it was a small fandom that was unlikely to get a response like that, i realized that i would be hurt very badly if someone did happen to make that kind of bad-faith assumption about my fic, so i tabled the idea, probably forever.

❌ What’s a trope you will never write?

any kind of mundane au for a fantasy/scifi canon, unless it's an explicit parody. m/f with mdom because it does not appeal to me at all. and i will probably never write a 100k+ word time travel fix-it fic, not because i dislike them, but because i ADORE them and i know that i would get so bogged down in trying to construct it correctly that it would never get off the ground

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

i'll talk about something happier than the sadfics for this one, haha. i've got one in the works where trapper brings a nurse back to the swamp one night and they start hooking up without realizing that hawkeye is not, in fact, asleep in the next cot, but is awake and going out of his mind trying not to jerk off (mission status: failed)

[threewaywithdelusion]

For your fic writer questions:

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

Yes!

I usually write canon-compliant fic, so most of my fics don't have a ton of worldbuilding per se, but I'm pretty proud of my new soulmate fic.

It has a soulmate system I haven't read before, where the word on your arm is something your soulmate will say at an important turning point in your relationship* (for example, Steve has bullshit and muppet). Soulbonds don't necessarily go both ways, so your soulmark just says that someone is your soulmate, not that you are theirs or anyone else's. People also have varying numbers of soulmarks and some people are born with none.

I had so much fun thinking about how this would affect the world. I won't repeat what's already in the fic, but here's some extra stuff that didn't make it in (at least yet).

DnD character sheets require you to fill in your character's soulmark word, and then if it comes into play in the game it can affect the outcome of the campaign (making other characters help you, switching allegiances, surprises within the party, etc). But Eddie, who has no soulmark, refuses to allow any of his players to give their characters soulmarks. He says that at his table, they play in a world where soulmates don't exist.

4% of the population lacks any kind of soulmark (including Eddie, El, Kali, and One). They are viewed with pity or scorn depending on the kindness of the person judging, and are called "soulless" in slang. Many people truly believe there is something wrong with them -- that they are aberrations of nature or that God is punishing them.

Building the world and the way all the different characters would react to it has been the most fun part of writing the fic. I love a good soulmate trope, but I love subversions of it even more, so I didn't want to a write a soulmate fic until I felt like I had something to say about that. And I'm really excited about how this one is turning out!

*Steve thinks of it as a linchpin/turning point at least. I would call it a keystone if I thought Steve knew anything about architecture. Robin thinks of the word in someone's soulmark as the tonic/keynote, which a google search told me is the "most important degree of the scale, serving as the focus for both melody and harmony" (I am not a musician, so if this is musically incorrect, please someone tell me)

[hoidn]

checking sources and giving proper attribution are two issues near and dear to my heart, especially in the age of Everyone Makes Quote Graphics. don’t get me wrong, i love a good quote graphic as much as the next girl. i’ve even got an isak dineson quote on a cushion cover! but the internet is rife with the promulgation of misattributed/incorrect/badly used quotes because apparently doing a quick google search to check the information is just too much effort. here’s a rant about three quotes i came across on a single day:

We need the tonic of wildness -- [misquotation of] from Walden, by Henry David Thoreau. this is the beginning of a paragraph in chapter 17. i’ve never read walden, but i found this information in about three seconds. the full text of the book is available online! it was the third result of my search! yet there are dozens of graphics that say, “We need the tonic of wilderness”. is it a reading comprehension issue or what?

No legacy is so rich as honesty -- [that does not mean what i think you think it means] Shakespeare, from All’s Well That Ends Well. i read this somewhere and wanted to know which play it came from. my first search result was a link to a Forbes article where the author tells us earnestly, “I've lived by Shakespeare's words since I started my business.” except that a brief scan further down my search results tells me that the quote is actually a joke, using a play on words, where ‘honesty’ means ‘virginity’. awkward, bro.

You have bewitched me, etc. -- [misattribution] ugh, i can’t even bring myself to fully type out this insipid, trite garbage that whoever wrote the 2005 movie adaptation of P&P inflicted upon the world. it’s been spread around like manure but without any of manure’s usefulness, so it just sits there stinking up the place with its foul miasma. anyway, i saw a graphic in which this drivel was attributed to jane austen and i think i had a small aneurysm. (i also read someone quoted as saying she’d seen the movie 4,000 times and knew every line and i was like, oh, honey, that’s not something to brag about.) (AND OH MY GOD SOMEONE GOT IT TATTOOED ON THEIR BODY I AM SO EMBARRASSED FOR THEM AND THEIR BAD TASTE)

so anyway. the c.s. lewis foundation actually has a page for quotes misattributed to him. 

then there’s quote investigator which i love because they correct misattribution and provide the original context.

and don’t forget six things darwin never said, which is what it says on the tin.

(if anyone knows of other resources like the above, please share!)

last but not least, some advice: if the only mentions of a quote in english that you can find are on quote websites and/or pinterest, there’s a 99% chance it’s not authentic for one reason or another. when the quote is an english translation of a text, it gets more complicated, but for well known writers/works it’s typically not difficult to establish provenance. if you can’t do that, at least consider it highly suspect.

[last-c2usade]

ABOUT

Mun's name is Mal! 22. Pronouns are he/him. only. Copying my bestie's profile to a T btw so if you recognize this yeah. you recognize it.

FIRST! 18+ ONLY PLEASE AND THANK YOU

so some facts!

i'm in psychology and i have an issue where i really enjoy writing my characters super realistically and i'll be a nuisance about their psychology and reasoning for why they do what they do

i love shitty fictional people. i mean it. the shittier the better. be wary of this. when i mean shitty i mean SHITTY terrible awful people

im EXTREMELY good at forgetting to keep up with shit. i dont even read webcomics anymore coz if shit takes too long to update i lose interest. if this blog dies its coz i forgor

i try to be friendly and nice! you can talk to me about movies and writing and psychology. i'll try not to infodump on you but um. if allowed i WILL

please for the love of god, i appreciate you, i empathize, etc, but do not traumadump on me without asking. i will feel too bad to say stop/no bc i dont know you well enough to tell you know and i WILL ghost you

Main guy here is S. Adamantine! He prefers you call him that. Alien, ex-member of the court. Has a huge ego he's trying to work on. Extremely patient, clingy, a little neurotic (I say this as lovingly as possible. it's true tho. he's like me. we're both fucked in the head). Loves books! Loves bikes and mechanics (don't mention it's a lowblood thing or he'll Have you), kinda' shy! Awkward as fuck.

pronouns are HE/HIM only

>types like this! usually with p2ope2 g2amma2. likes to think his qui2k is a sign of cultu2ed thinking<

Rules and Things to keep in mind!

tags are! #((ooc for ooc stuff, #>pix< for ic pictures, #logs. for written stuff, and #>dia2y< for any talk posts mars makes ic

i tag for tws/anything general i might find sus but thats about it other than the above!

if you wanna' talk about anything, message me on @theymakemedreamyourdreams ! you can also ask for my discord

open for shipping! though he's a little iffy on romance. ping me n we can discuss!

open for anyone! you MUST BE 18+ tho

can also dm this account for ic dms!

dont think i wanna' do m!as! but feel free to ask and i'll see!

gifts are ok! welcome even

nsfw comments allowed!!

both ocs and canon for any fandom is okay! keep in mind, he's troll and WILL be mean towards aliens

keep ooc and ic SEPARATE! i dont condone any of the sus shit my guys may be up to btw! ada is a little more well-behaved, but his opinions do not reflect mine.

open for plot! i like plotting. i also like rps. i may forget about them. or lose interest. but schemes are always welcome! (i may be picky)

ada is kinky as shit. he can get REALLY nsfw if you let him. fair warning

i LOVE dark plots and dark shit. and realistically terrible people. i love serial killers and nsfw shit and guns and fictional gun violence a lot of dark stuff. and angst. just fair warning!

lemme know if you want certain things tagged!

feel free to remind me about open threads / plots / etc! i am prone to ghosting if i lose interest tho

feel free to lemme know if im doing something unintentionally incorrect btw! i may be unaware of shit

i block deliberately. if something makes me uncomfortable and i feel left out of shit or whatever, i'll block to keep myself contained! i dont want anything to do with drama!!

i like to say swear words like fuck shit cunt piss bitch. adamantine does too

[lilicannotfly]

the essex serpent, part one, february.

. . .

my general thoughts, feelings and notes. this is not a formal review by any means, more of a journal entry. warning. this will contain spoilers for both the book The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry and the show The Essex Serpent (2022) aired on Apple TV+.

. . .

MY OVERALL THOUGHTS.

Much happened in February, what with our meeting of Spencer, Cora's journey to Colchester, her learning of the serpent, her meeting with Charles Ambrose, our meeting of Will Ransome (as well as Cracknell) and her (unknowing) meeting of Will Ransome, and Joanne (and friends) performing the ritual to bring spring to her town. It was paced reasonably enough for a February, as February is a strange in-between kind of month by nature, though it does confuse me that winter was to be over by now, but then again, it was a different time.

. . .

PASSAGES HIGHLIGHTED.

I have figured out that my page number citations last time were incorrect, as I have my page display settings on my NOOK app adjusted quite a bit. I can't be bothered to go back and rectify that, but I am a good seventy to eighty percent sure that they are correct this time :) (If they aren't, please don't tell me, I will cry /gen)

page 29. This simply seemed like an interesting way of phrasing the concept. Please don't get tired of this reasoning, you will be seeing it a lot.

page 29. This was of little importance, I simply found it funny and highlighted it so I could find it to show the page to a friend. It is, however, interesting to highlight the contrast between the two, especially when paired with the excerpt from page 34

page 29. I, once again, enjoyed how this was phrased, and thought I ought to be able to easily return to it.

page 31. This struck me as beautiful. I also thought it was interesting that they changed it to a heart in the show.

page 34.

page 34. I like how this contrasts with the passage highlighted on page 29, and further drives home how Spencer and Luke are like Sun and Moon.

page 36. I do not actually remember why this was highlighted. I assume I had things to say about the way it was phrased, but oh well.

page 38. This seemed funny to me.

page 42. I like the inclusion of the book, but I do not remember what other reason I highlighted this for.

page 42. I must say, while I can understand where she is coming from with this, people who hold such a stance make me weary, even though as I said it is understandable. Something saddening about being too tired for discussion/debate.

page 44. I find the phrasing of being "beneath being shocked" interesting, as usually it would be written that one is above such things. I like the vibe it adds to his character.

page 47. This I also found funny, and only highlighted to make it easier to show a friend (that I never did, I feel as though I am bothering them with this. I have, however, returned to it myself and had a chuckle.)

page 47. I find the relationship she holds with her son interesting, to say the least. I don't know how to put the thoughts I have into words, though.

page 49. "as if some slow-witted parson and his fat-cheeked children could interest her Cora!" Girl if you don't shut up TwT "her Cora" Oh my starssssss I love Martha but she can make me cringe as well as Luke can

page 54. This is rather funny as it is so incredibly wrong.

page 54. "threat of a probably harmless widow" frankly killed me. My funeral will be next Wednesday, none of y'all are invited.

page 58. To quote the note I had written when I read it: "I enjoy when architecture is personified in such a way, especially when it is personified not for properties that it itself holds-feeling, decay, etc-but for the way it is molded by the creatures surrounding it." I do not think I explained myself in an understandable manner but I understand what I was trying to say so I don't care lols

page 68. I find this response interesting, as when I was a kid that would be the answer as to why it shouldn't've been done (you'll have to pay for it)

page 68. I find it interesting how Michael is brought up in the story, and how as we learn about her we also learn about him and how he affected her. I did have more to say, but I didn't write it down, and as such it has flown my mind so the other thing I can say about this is "I found the phrasing interesting and it touched a strange place in my heart."

page 72.

page 77. I decided this was poetic, though to be honest it is simply logical.

page 83. This line of thought is logical, and I feel it explains his eccentrics better than his introduction could.

page 85. The spirit that this adds to Reverend Ransome is enjoyable.

. . .

TO MAKE NOTE.

Once again, Doctor Garrett seems to have an almost overwhelming presence, but not quite in a bad way. He simply has a spirit about him, a liveliness that can be felt through the pages. And it's not just that the author is telling us that either. I enjoy the little things we learn about him within chapter one, and the interactions we have with Spencer. I am unsure if this is a failing on my part, but Spencer to me is a memorable character with a fairly forgettable name-I continue to call him Samuel and George interchangeably. (and though George is his first name, it is vaguely disrespectful of me, in my opinion.)

On a similar note, I enjoy how each character's letters are written in their unique voices. It is a small detail, but I enjoy it nonetheless.

Martha's vague pessimistic optimism was easy enough to pick up on in the show, but what I did not see that I was surprised to see now in the book was her judgmental tendencies! Paired with her wit, it is rather amusing, though I did find it strange that someone so into political and social reform would look down upon people simply for where they live, but I suppose it is the little intricacies that truly make a character. Either that, or I suppose that I simply forgot how prejudiced people tend to be to folk from more rural areas. On a similar vein of thought, I really do think we should've gotten to see more of Charles in the show, even if only just for a few more minutes. I feel as though we learned an excess of information about him and his wife in the one scene he's been present in so far-though that information would do little to further the plot of the show, it would be neat to see how they would've thought to implement it. Though this could also be me not being able to read details in shows properly. Much to think on.

The way in which we are allowed to get a feel for the spirit of Reverend Ransome is lovely, in my opinion. I feel for him, what with his feeling of having failed his congregation. Terrible feeling to have.

We learn so much about the Cora as we learn about the people around her, and this I enjoy immensely. The way it is written feels very much like the way my internal monologue goes sometimes, and this makes it a comforting read as well as an intriguing one.

I apologise for how pointless and rambling this was, though in my defense I did say that this was a bit of a journal entry lols I also should allow myself to be looser with my writing here, no one is going to judge me.

Oh actually I forgot to add that I thoroughly enjoy the relationship between Cora and Martha, and I love the way Martha is written in relation to her, but also sometimes Martha's protectiveness verging on possessiveness annoys me just a smidge but that is likely purposeful and also I understand where she's coming from but also I just wanted to say that because I decided that is an important thing to say.

[should-be-a-dilf]

Hello Internet people! My name is Courtney and I like older anime dudes, a niche of which I don't find many others like myself.

If you like older anime/manga/comic/video game/etc. guys but can't find many stories about them, then look no further!

I will be doing both SFW and NSFW one-shots, and maybe even a few longer stories here and there.

You may notice that I will write certain words with different spellings within the same story. This is a stylistic choice I use to represent differences in speech patterns, cultural and religious beliefs, etc. The example that comes to mind and will probably be seen the most is "hell" and "hel". Spoken words, thoughts, diary entries, etc. from characters that are specifically Norse pagan will use "hel" while other characters will use "hell". Other text, minus writings within the story (ex. a sign or something), will also use "hel". This is simply because I'm Norse pagan and that's how I spell it. Yes, they are two very different places, but the words' connection and general idea is obvious.

My rules are as follows (and are subject to be added to, removed from and/or amended at any time):

1) ALL NSFW acts (including lime content) will ONLY be between 18+ characters (meaning I don't care that the age of consent in [insert country] is 16 or whatever, anyone doing anything even remotely sexual is AT LEAST 18)

2) I will gladly write for OCs. However, you must prove that the OC is yours. I will not write stories about others' OCs unless they give me the go-ahead. Just a weird conflict of interest type deal that applies to OCs but not to mainstream media in my head, I suppose.

3) This blog is a safe place for all walks of life. Intolerance will be dealt with swiftly; I want everyone to be able to enjoy my stories. However, this isn't to say anything and everything any one other person disagrees with will be deleted/reported/etc. Basically just be a decent human being who understands everyone is equally complex, alive and deserving of respect as you are.

These stories will be X Readers. Please specify what gender you wish the reader to present as (this applies primarily for the NSFW stories, but I'll make exceptions where needed). If you don't happen to specify, I will default to writing as gender neutrally as possible for all to enjoy. If you believe I should fix how I wrote a specific gender please let me know. I wish to represent everyone equally and correctly, but I don't know all there is to know about other genders (hel, I probably don't even know all there is to know about cis women, and I'm one myself!) and I will more than likely make mistakes along the way. However, it's never my intention to insult or degrade anyone. If you believe the way I wrote a certain gender in a story comes off insulting, degrading or simply incorrect, please let me know so I can take the post down, reevaluate it, and make any and all necessary changes before reposting!

Also, if you make a request, please tell me what anime/manga/comic/video game/etc. he's from so I can look up his personality and looks. In all truthfulness I am not incredibly well-versed in many of these things and I don't wish to make anyone OOC where I can avoid it. If you want me to write for an OC I ask that you describe him/show me his reference sheet.

Thank you and happy simping!

As this blog's owner I reserve the right to refuse any request that makes me uncomfortable for any reason and I don't have to specify why if I don't want to.

[green-binder]

I cant find the OG post I made responding to an ask I received from an anon so I’m reposting the whole thing cause I was so proud of the reply

The ask:

“you might’ve made a post about this already but i was just wondering if you’ve been watching the marvel ‘What If…?’ episodes ! cuz TWS is in s2ep2 and i.,,! don’t really know how to feel about it. it was kinda really out of character and made no sense but also the whole point of the series is like “lol but what if tho!” so it’s kinda hard to object LOL idk i was just wondering ur thoughts if you’ve seen it”

The initial reply:

“Mkay so:

I haven’t seen What If…?

I’ve seen the hype, and I’ve seen screenshots and stuff but I have a really hard time absorbing content that isn’t ‘canon’ u know? I might watch it anyways to better answer your question but as of this moment it doesn’t seem like I’ll like it”

One hour later I replied again:

“My thoughts on What If…? Winter Soldier are as follows;

I dont like the animation style. There feels like an inconsistent amount of depth of something. It makes me uncomfortable.

Part of what makes The Winter Soldier…The Winter Soldier is how expressive he manages to be, despite the mental and physical attempts to stop that (brainwashing, mask and goggles, etc) This show sort of… managed to water down his character which is an odd choice to say the least.

They made him kind of emo bad boy loner IMO instead of tortured man out of time

The scene on the comms between Howard and Bucky is… not as revolutionary as I had hoped, it almost feels like an aside (understandable given that Bucky is a side character but like.. that’s a monumental moment- he’s getting out of the programming!!)

Part of why Sebastian Stan played the part so well is he managed to inject emotion into an ‘emotionless’ character, to make (relatively) simple actions feel like an insight to the Winter Soldier, with breadcrumbs of the man behind. Maybe we’ve been spoiled by that but like… if they could do it once they could do it again IMO

The fact that the whole series is based on minor changes that add up WOULD excuse this (you are correct in that regard) but only if they acknowledged the change. Like at all. I haven’t seen any other episodes so lmk if I’m wrong but it seems like they hadn’t introduced TWS prior so his differing emotional breadth is sorta out of left field

The scene where Howard says ‘I’m presser sure Bucky Barnes is out there with him’ is I think supposed to inject hope for TWS future into the audience with ‘he’s probably getting better, even though we can’t say for sure’ but it sorta comes off as dismissive? Like Bucky is out there, but he’s still a super spy now so we aren’t going to do anything about that. Might be writing that wrong, it feels incorrect when I read it but idk how to word it better.

Another shoutout to the uncomfortable animation style.

Shoutout to the found family dynamic that tumblr is a whore for.

Overall: look how they massacred my boy. I likely wont be watching another ep unless requested. I didn’t care for this one mostly cause it didn’t feel like absorbing WS content?? Like my secret autism senses can tell that this content is Not My Winter Soldier which is a bit funny.

Yeah, hope this answered your questions anon. And wasn’t too long winded (you asked me, an autistic person, about my special interest tho u simply Cannot have expected a concise answer)”

So yeah that was it. I was so pleased with the depth of it.

[priceof-freedom]

Fanfic: Of gym buddies and overlapping schedules (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x F!Reader (Top Gun: Maverick)

Summary:  You considered your alone time in the gym sacred, and made sure that you don’t run into any of the cocky aviators. When your schedule inadvertently overlapped with theirs one day and you encountered a sweet bespectacled WSO, you found yourself unconsciously changing your gym schedule to match his. (... but was it really unconscious though?)

A/N: This is my first attempt at a Top Gun fanfic! Hoping you’d all be kind. 💖 Our boy Bob needs more love!

Please excuse any incorrect use of navy ranks, terms, etc. I looked up how hospital corpsmen in the Navy are addressed, and my cursory research tells me the colloquial term is “Doc”. You are free to let me know how to properly use them and I will gladly make corrections! 

Not beta-read, so errors are entirely my own.

Warnings: Pure fluff and Soft!Bob. With allusions to smut.

Word Count: 3.3k

TOP GUN: MAVERICK MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

One of the many perks of working at the naval base is the fully stocked gym. All those soldiers don’t get to maintain that kind of physique without the proper tools. Ironically, that in itself is the biggest pitfall of the supposed perk. Most hours of the day found the base gym crowded, and it was difficult to find space in that packed room. You considered your time in the gym sacred and as much as possible, you’d like to go about your business alone. After much trial and error, you finally found the optimal time to exercise with only a handful of people there.

You unfortunately found out the hard way that if you truly wanted to steer clear of the arrogance that followed pilots wherever they went, there was only a narrow window of time to do so. One day, you had miscalculated your schedule by just a half an hour, and the latter half of your gym time was unfortunately overrun by said pilots.

As you were finishing up a set with the free weights, you could sense a presence behind you. You glanced at the mirror and caught a glimpse of someone tall and blonde with a smirk on his face observing you. You sighed quietly to yourself and hoped that he would just let you exercise in peace.

“Hey,” called out the blonde, just as you returned the weights on the rack. Maybe you could use your earphones as an excuse not to have heard him, you thought. Tough luck for you, though: the moment you turned around, he had already invaded your personal space.

“Haven’t seen you around here,” he said in what was presumably a flirtatious manner. “You new?”

You definitely weren’t; you’ve been working in the medical bay for quite some time. In fact, you were around longer than the aviators who came and went with the training program. You were pretty sure that some of the aviators knew you, especially those you treated personally. But there was just a special breed of them who seemed to be unaware of anyone else around them. Honestly, you might have actually found him attractive (you had eyes), but his aura was just off-putting.

“Back off, Hangman,” came another voice, and it was one that you recognized. It was from Lt. Bradshaw, one of the aviators you were friendly with.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” replied the blonde, apparently called Hangman. “I was just welcoming the newbie here.”

“She isn’t new here, you ass,” retorted Lt. Bradshaw. He shoved Hangman a little out of your way, acknowledged you with a nod and said, “Doc.”

“Doc?” questioned Hangman in confusion.

Peering at his shirt to get the pilot’s name, you said, “Hospital corpsman, Lt. Seresin.” You didn’t even bother to see what his reaction was and started collecting your belongings. No way were you doing your cooling down and stretching in the gym anymore, not with this Hangman hanging around. It had to be done elsewhere, probably in the office. With a nod of acknowledgment of your own towards Lt. Bradshaw, you made a beeline to the exit.

“I’m not even getting a name, sweetheart?” called Hangman from behind you.

“You don’t deserve it, Seresin!” you called back. “And don’t you dare give it to him, Bradshaw!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Doc!” answered Lt. Bradshaw with a laugh. The sound of their bickering voices started to fade away as you exited the gym. 

As much as it was unfair to box people into stereotypes, it just seemed that way with all the men you encountered in your job. It was simply par for the course, being one of the very few women in the male dominated field, especially one where many of them are the supposed top 1%. There were definitely those who did not fall into that box, like Lt. Bradshaw, but they seem to be few and far between. If there were more of them out there in the base, you have yet to run into them.

In your haste to leave the gym, you hadn’t been paying enough attention to where you were headed so you roughly collided with someone as you turned the corner. You were at the disadvantage in terms of height, which sent you tumbling to the floor.

“Oh jeez, I’m so sorry!” came a frantic, yet soft voice. Looking up, you were greeted with a wide-eyed bespectacled face that was laced with concern.

“I, uh—” you started, but suddenly found yourself at a loss for words. You couldn’t help but be distracted by the man before you.

“Gosh, I’m sorry,” he apologized again. Some of your stuff had fallen to the floor, and he was scrambling to pick them up. “I di-didn’t see you coming— that’s my bad though… sh-should’ve watched where I was going.” 

He was definitely someone you haven’t seen around. He didn’t strike you as the type of person who made himself known, unlike others you’ve encountered. If his rambling was any indication of how he was like, it seemed like you just found someone else who didn’t fit into that box.

You had thankfully found your ability to speak again and said, “No no, it’s my fault! I was rushing out—”

He had already gotten up and extended a hand, which you gladly took. He smiled sheepishly and you got a good look at his kind face. And oooh boy what a face it was. He was striking in his own boyish way, with the perfectly styled hair and the arrestingly blue eyes.

You wanted to ask so many things: what his name was, what he did around the base, if he was going to work out in the gym… but again, words seemed to have failed you. You must have been staring at him for quite a while, looking quite foolish, as he was shifting his feet uncomfortably.

“Right, w-well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sorry again, and I’ll just ah— h-head inside.” With an awkward wave and pointing in the direction of the gym, he left.

Good job, scolding yourself. You didn’t even get his name and you had no idea what he was. Sighing in disappointment, you had no other choice but to leave and head back to the office.

“Ugh shit.”

Hours later, as the workday was ending, you discovered that your earphones were missing. It was most likely back in the gym, and you just hoped that it was still there. Otherwise, you were out another pair of earphones twice in just the last six months. You were looking forward to leaving the base as soon as possible and resting in your own place, but now a detour appears to be necessary. It was better to look for it now, you reasoned to yourself, instead of tomorrow, as it would be more likely to be gone by then.

Grabbing your bag, you opened the door to the medical bay, only to collide yet again with someone. 

And as it turned out, it was the same someone as earlier this morning.

You found yourself again face to face with the bespectacled man from earlier this morning, the same sheepish smile on his face. This time, he was dressed in his uniform: ah, another aviator, you thought.

“Can I help you?” you said with a smile. “I’m headed out, but if you need a quick lookover for something, I can stay for a bit…?” Truth be told, you didn’t want to stay longer than needed… but maybe for this instance, it wouldn’t be such a bother.

“Uh— i-it’s not anything medical,” he said. “I’m not injured, or anything.”

“Oh?” you perked up.

“Yeah, um… I accidentally took this earlier,” he said, holding up your earphones, the very same ones you were searching for.

Your face lit up instantly. “Oh! I was just looking for this!” you exclaimed gratefully. “Thank you so much, Lt.—”

“Floyd,” he answered. “Or you can just call me Bob.”

“Bob,” you repeated with a smile. Finally, a name to the handsome face. “What about your callsign, pilot?”

“Still just Bob,” he said, seemingly embarrassed. “And I’m uh— a WSO, not strictly a pilot. So yeah…”

“Well, Just Bob, thank you again,” you told him. “I was just looking for these.”

Bob’s features brightened with a sincere smile. “You’re welcome.”

He looked like he was about to awkwardly shuffle away again, but something gave you pause. “Wait,” you blurted to stop him. “You knew who I was? I mean— you knew to come here to return this to me?”

Bob smiled sheepishly again, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Uh— y-yes, ma’am.”

You’d be lying if that did not make butterflies appear in your stomach, and you felt your own cheeks heat up.

“I guess that covers our introductions then,” you said, extending your hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Lt. Floyd.”

“Likewise, ma’am,” said Bob, clasping your hand, his bright smile and blue eyes an image you’ll likely never forget any time soon.

It started unconsciously. That’s what you told yourself for the most part.

Following that first interaction, you stuck to your original schedule for the gym. The preference was still to exercise in relative peace. For some reason, though, you lost track of time and ended up closing the last set much later than usual. You luckily did not encounter any of the specific people you’d rather avoid; instead, you once again ran into Bob, but not quite literally this time.

You were leaving and he was just entering, and he greeted you with a small smile and nod. “Ma’am.”

“Lt. Floyd,” you greeted back, smiling too.

“Call me Bob, please,” he insisted. You agreed, but only if he used your first name as well. Neither of you stayed beyond the pleasantries, but the interaction kept a smile on your face for most of the day.

On the second day, you still started at the same time you normally did. What changed was that you suddenly did not feel the need to keep to the strict time frame originally set. While stretching, you once again sensed another familiar presence nearby. Bob just entered and greeted you, this time not so formally, and you did the same. Like the day prior, it did not extend beyond that and you both went about your own ways.

On the third day, you claimed it was an experiment. You entered the gym later than usual this time. Halfway through your exercise, you were surprised to see that Bob was already there. If you weren’t mistaken, you never encountered him here this early. Your heart skipped a beat at the implication of that, but immediately squashed the thought. It didn’t do you any good to entertain anything of the sort. Instead, you greeted him like you normally did, and so did he. As with the previous days, nothing more happened after that.

For the week that followed, you and Bob had an unspoken agreement about the shared time at the gym. You honestly couldn’t recall who initiated it, but once the wall of simply staying within pleasantries was broken, there was no going back. It was a wonder how the two of you were ever awkward around each other to begin with. You and Bob could talk about anything and everything. You’d trade exercise regimen tips with each other (it didn’t escape your notice that Bob was just as built as the rest of them, but he hid it well). Bob would tell stories of their flight training, the non-confidential details of course. In turn, you’d also share the goings-on in the medical bay, while not as interesting as flying in fighter jets, Bob seemed to be genuinely enthralled. You both discussed your families, motivations for joining the navy, and so many other things.

It was quickly becoming your favorite time of the day. You used to think that your alone time in the gym was sacred, but you found that your time with Bob was even better.

Until one day, he failed to show up.

The clock ticked away, and you had to force yourself not to watch it.

Perhaps he was just running late, you initially thought to yourself. Yet as the minutes flew by, it was becoming clear that he might not be showing up. You had to school your expression into nonchalance, if only outwardly. The rational side insisted that there was no cause to be disappointed, as there was no formal agreement between the two of you. The pilot was not beholden to whatever this was, and neither were you.

Still, that disheartened feeling couldn’t be helped.

You eventually decided to call it in early, as you weren’t even getting a good workout anyway. 

You were about to resign yourself to a mundane day, when you heard your name being called in the distance. Down at the end of the hall was the man you’ve been spending most mornings with, running towards you. He stopped just a few steps away from you, but he looked absolutely spent. His face was red and sweaty and he was completely out of breath. Gasping your name again, he had to prop himself against the wall.

“Bob!” you exclaimed in surprise. Without really thinking about it, you held his face in your hands, checking for any obvious signs that something was terribly wrong. “What’s going on?”

“I—” gasped Bob again, but he was still severely panting.

“Alright, come on, let’s get you checked out,” you said, bringing him inside the medical bay. You guided him to a seat first, and then started grabbing the essential tools. As you moved around to get what you needed, Bob was still attempting to gasp out an explanation. None of it was remotely coherent, but you made out some words like ‘Maverick’, ‘training’, ‘200 push-ups’. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and it made sense that Capt. Mitchell would put the aviators through some grueling training. Still though, it wasn’t clear why Bob was compelled to tell you any of this right at this moment.

“Let’s slow down, okay, Bob?” you said calmly and took both his hands in yours. “Breathe with me.” Later on in the day, you’d revisit this moment and think endlessly about the gentleness of his touch, despite his rough hands. Right now, however, that was not at the forefront of your mind. Eventually, Bob had relaxed enough and looked less flushed. 

“So what were you trying to tell me?” you asked softly. It was only then that you noticed how close you really were. His hands were still grasping yours tightly and he was staring down at them. 

“M-Maverick, he—uh… he had us do 200 push-ups for failing the exercise,” said Bob. “I had to do mine this morning and I tried to do it as quickly as possible. But uh— it still made me late for our gym time.”

You stopped breathing momentarily at the use of “our”, and things were starting to click into place.

“I ran first to the gym,” he continued. “But you weren’t there anymore… so I ran here.”

All of the earlier disappointment melted away and your insides were squirming with what was probably delight. Yet, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. You could feel his gaze boring into the top of your head. 

“So yeah, I—I’m sorry,” he said with an almost audible gulp. That made you look up and meet his steely blue eyes.

“Oh Bob,” you said, chuckling softly. “It’s nothing. We still have other days.”

He gripped your hand a little tighter, shaking his head slightly. “How can I make it up to you?” he insisted.

“Well,” you began, pondering your next move. You weren’t entirely sure what had gotten into you: it was probably the relief you felt, or the warmth of his proximity to you, or the softness of his hands in yours, or the intensity of his gaze on you, or the combination of all of it. Whatever it was, it made you brave enough to intertwine your fingers with his. “How about we leave the gym for that?”

Bob’s response made your heart rate quicken: he tightened his fingers around yours and said, “It’s a date.”

Bonus (This was a scene I couldn’t shake from my head, and I figured I should add it anyway!)

You had woken up late today, thus deciding against going to the gym. However, it was clear that soldiers were quite strict with their schedule and not as keen to skip their regimen for whatever reason. So you knew where to find the one person you were looking for.

Entering the gym, it was packed as usual with members of the squadron in varying states of activity. You walked straight through the middle of the throng of people and machines, and your entrance gained the desired effect.

“It’s you again,” said Hangman, trademark smirk on his features.

“Lieutenant,” you greeted with a smile of your own.

“Miss me already?”

“You wish, Seresin,” you scoffed. “I’m actually looking for someone.”

Hangman was relentless, and had it not been part of the plan to get to this point, you might have punched his perfect teeth. “No need to look further, baby,” he announced, with his arms wide open.

“Please ignore him,” said a pilot from behind him, another one you recognized. Lt. Trace unceremoniously slapped Hangman’s arms down and regarded you with a smile. “How can we help?”

“I’m looking for Lt. Floyd,” you said kindly.

“Bob?” said the two lieutenants simultaneously: Hangman incredulously and Phoenix (if you remembered her callsign correctly) mildly surprised.

This caught the attention of the aviator in question, who was in another corner of the gym, minding his own business. He met your eyes, slightly startled, “Y/N?”

“You know her?” said Hangman, still in that incredulous tone, as Bob made his way closer.

You ignored Hangman and focused instead on your kind-faced lieutenant. You handed him his khaki uniform button-up, neatly folded, making sure everyone else knew exactly what it was. “You left in quite a rush this morning, and you forgot this.”

Bob’s cheeks instantly turned pink, and you were certain he was recalling the exact reason why he hadn’t taken his uniform with him in the morning. You had woken up in the middle of the night and, not wanting to go nude into the bathroom, you grabbed the first article of clothing within reach. It just so happened to be his uniform. He must have woken up as well while you were in the bathroom: when he caught sight of you in nothing but his uniform button-up, an intense, almost hungry, look graced his features. Suffice it to say, the two of you lost about another hour or so of rest, and you had fallen asleep after that in blissful exhaustion while still wearing it.

Everyone in the vicinity were shell-shocked, even the others like Lts. Fitch, Garcia, and Machado who joined in on the commotion. Except perhaps for Rooster, as he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying what he was witnessing. Bob himself was quite stunned to silence, and you marveled in how flustered he is now when he was anything but that last night.

“I—y-yeah,” stammered Bob. “T-thanks, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” you said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You didn’t wait for him to answer and simply walked out, your goal having been accomplished already. You heard some laughter from the group and hushed whispers, like a bunch of gossiping teenagers. 

“Always good to see ya, Doc!” called Rooster to your retreating back, the mirth apparent in his voice. While exiting, you saw in the mirrors that he had happily clapped Bob on the shoulder in support, and the latter was sporting a small confident smile. You also caught sight of a still gaping Hangman.

You smiled in satisfaction. You couldn’t wait until you saw Bob again tonight.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I currently don’t run any taglists, but I may reconsider if enough people are interested. Please do leave a comment and reblog.  💖

Check out the other stories in this universe:

A follow-up outtake of this one-shot called “In khaki and nothing more”.

A fluffy drabble on Bob and Reader’s date

A smutty drabble on Bob being called “lieutenant”

A one-shot featuring Rooster and Penny’s niece

A drabble set right before Rooster and Niece!Reader have their date

[shedaresthedevil]

I Should Be In Church But I'm Raging On A Sunday

Pairing: Matt Murdock X NB! Reader (reader uses she/they pronouns)

18+ Minors DNI!

Warnings: ANGST, Religious trauma, catholic guilt,afab!reader mentions of cancer/death, matt being a soft boi™, mentions of S.A(Brief, vague instance), violence

Word Count: 8,335

AN: My reader OC and Matt’s first meeting….in the cathedral, after mass, on a Sunday.

This is the origin story of my reader OC and Matt, at least the Daytime one. for my best Avocado @matt-erialgirl , I hope its everything you wanted. Don't worry, I'm already working on the nighttime one. This is slow burn yall, buckle up.

@freshabogados @loki-silver-tongued-god @pleasedin @mydeerprongsie1960 @lexlovescoffee

If you see a mistake, no you didn't.

please leave me a comment, I CRAVE IT. tell me what your favorite line was. What part absolutely destroyed you, etc.

He heard you before he "saw" you. Matthew heard the glide of the graphite against paper, the music in your headphones, and your heartbeat, strong and steady. Even through Father Lantom’s words, he could hear you. Matt could not pinpoint where you were, not with everyone still here for Sunday Mass and not without "looking" around and drawing attention to himself.

“Grief, while it is a difficult beast, can be beneficial. The loss of a loved one is never easy- it never should be, but it can teach us the value of what we have here, now.

“Incorrect. All it does is make you bitter.” Matt heard you whisper, continuing to mark against the surface of your work.

Father Lantom went on.

“Grief cannot be defeated, but we can learn to live with it, as difficult as that may be. Grief is something we must learn to coexist with.”

“Only because we don’t have any other choice.” You sounded resigned, certain of this.

“The lord does not grant us more than we can bear, remember that. Trust in Him.”

You scoff, placing a brush into your ink.

The sermon concluded, and communion was given. Matt was so focused on the sound of the brush softly sweeping across your piece that he nearly missed his.

“Something on your mind, Matthew?”

“No, Father. I’m just tired I guess.”

“Make sure to get some rest, being weary isn’t in your nature.”

“Oh, if only you knew.” He thought, raking his hands through his hair.

Matt agreed, bid the Father a good day, and made his way down the aisle, careful to reach for the pews for guidance that he didn’t truly need. He had forgotten his cane in a rush to get to the church on time- not that he needed that either. Matt was listening for you, and the further away from everyone else in attendance he became, the easier it would be to find you. He wasn’t certain why he was fixated on you, other than him being merely curious as to why you were not with the rest of the congregation if you were here for mass. He was curious as to why you were skeptical, if you were here and listening. But where were you?

The answer came to him as he paused under the balcony of one of the upper levels. You had dropped a brush, a soft sigh leaving your lips.

Up.

You were up in the gallery that overlooked the pews of Clinton Church, hiding from judging eyes.

Between the tattoos, the wine-colored stripe in your hair, and the overtly dark choice of clothing, people of the church tended to shy away from you.

“Good. Stay away.”

You didn’t want them looking at you anyway. But there was someone in the gathering of people you had not seen, or rather hadn’t noticed until today. You were in here to admire the craft of the cathedral, the architecture. You came every once in a while, to recreate its beauty on paper or canvas, and to escape; so you could simply exist without fear of being perceived. But he was here, second row, sitting by himself even though there were a few dozen people here for mass. He was nicely dressed, grey suit and tie. His feathery hair swept up and away from his face, the auburn hidden within the burnt umber strands shining in the early morning light that streamed in through the windows. Stubble covered his strong jaw, and round sunglasses covered his eyes, their burgundy hue casting a shadow on the planes of his cheek bones. The man was hauntingly beautiful, like a renaissance painting. He had not read along with the scripture, instead mouthing every word with his ample lips because he knew it by heart. You had started to sketch him before you had even realized what you were doing.

Did they avoid him too? Why? Was there something wrong with him too?

“Stop.” You chastised yourself aloud. “You’re finding commonality where there is none.”

You knew better, or at least you should. The master’s degree in psychology that hung on your wall should be a testament to that.

I should be in church but I’m raging on a Sunday, lie to confess, fuck it worry about it someday.

You let out a laugh, always surprised at how your music was almost always calling you out. But you were both at church and raging on a Sunday. You resumed your piece, dipping your brush into the red ink wash to colorize his lenses and their refraction. That would be the only color on the piece, and you were grateful you had chosen red as your colored ink of choice today. The man had begun to leave, and you turned your focus back to your work, not hearing his careful footsteps up to the location you were sitting in a few minutes later.

Matt was cautious, quiet. He stood in the entrance of your hiding spot, listening to you work. The smell of ink and graphite strong in contrast to the faint remnants of the perfume you wore. Sandalwood, patchouli and… something floral.

Then the answer came to him: Orchids. The floral scent was orchids. A client had gifted some to the office earlier that week and that was the exact fragrance. Matt had never smelled those three things together, but it was calming, heavenly even. The brush of the pencils and ink across the paper was rhythmic, almost comforting, like rain on the rooftop. He found himself smiling at your small hesitations when you thought about your next area to shade, amused at the way your nose crinkled and the click of the handle of your brush when you held it in your teeth. Your hair was shorter, whisking against your jaw as you shifted to get more comfortable. Matt had no idea what you were drawing, unable to discern the piece as it had no heartbeat, no breath to stoke the flames of his “sight”, but he could see your hands moving carefully across the page. Your demeanor changed immediately once a new song filled your ears.

“You see all the world to believe

That there's a lot inside of me

“But it's time that I'll come clean

I'm not what I seem, no

Some would say I'm possessed, yeah

But I'll confess, I've just been obsessed

With life and death and emptiness, I guess

Can't you see all of the change in me?

The movement of your hands stopped, unsure.

You took these starving limbs, try to see

Try to see what they could be

I thought it would be something

I thought you'd complete me

That you'd erase all the pain that I felt in my brain

If you fill my heart with love

Then you'd fill my voids above

And now you see I didn't change a thing

You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your head atop them.

What do you want from me?

What do you want from me?

I'm empty, I'm empty

I'm empty, I'm empty”

You breathed deeply, and Matt tasted salt in the air.

Crying. You were crying. Matt continued to stand there, conflicted on what to do. He could leave and pretend he never found you, or he could say something.

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

Your head snapped up, your body turning slightly. You took out your headphones to hear more clearly.

Your hands moved quickly as you spoke, not even deigning to look at him.

“I’m fine, thank you. Why are you up here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I’m up here to draw in peace, which you are disturbing. I like the architecture of cathedrals. The pointed arches, the rib vaults on the ceiling, the stained glass. It’s more beautiful without people around to be honest.”

Your hands were still moving in time with your words, keeping up with your cadence. Signing. You were signing simultaneously, he realized.

“I don’t like anyone looking at my art before its finished, so I’d appreciate it if you left, please.”

“Ironically, you don’t have to worry about that part, at least not from me.”

You turned around fully, finally facing him. It was the man you had drawn, up here as though illustrating him with your ink had manifested him into your presence. His voice was… nice, low, even. Like someone who found everything to be loud, like he was trying to bring the volume down.

You outstretched your hands, palms toward the ceiling, and moved them side to side.

“What?”

Matt tilted his head, letting out a small breathy laugh through his smile.

Then it clicked for you, the pieces in place. His hands on the pews as he had walked down the aisle, the way people danced around him, the lack of using the text provided, the glasses. He was blind.

“Well, I feel incredibly stupid.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, either you’re a giant asshole that wears sunglasses inside, or I have been signing uselessly to a blind man for the past three minutes.”

His lips pursed, head tilting even further.

“I could see how that would make you feel that way. Are you…” he trailed off, thinking perhaps you were reading his lips? Matt tossed that thought aside; You weren’t facing him for majority of the conversation, so that could not be the case.

“Deaf? No, I’m hard of hearing in my right ear. I sign for my clients and for… never mind. If I Don’t continue to use it, I will forget it.”

“Clients?”

“I am a grief counselor, with a specialization in deaf adolescents.”

“That is way more interesting than what I am.”

“Overly- confident?” you offered, keeping your walls up. You had already given too much information. You wanted him to forget you were here, forget you existed, just like everyone else.

“No, I’m a lawyer. Matt Murdock of Nelson and Murdock.”

He extended his hand, and you shook it reluctantly. His knuckles were bruised, a deep dark purple like the sky right before a hurricane descends.

“A lawyer who boxes in his spare time from the looks of your hands.”

Matt smirked. You were observant, smart. He would have to be careful with anything he told you from this point forward.

“Something like that, yeah.” Matt replied, keeping his answer vague.

“Why do you care if people see your work? Surely the process is just as fascinating as the end result.”

“I need to have some air of mystery to me, don’t I?”

“I would say that hiding in the gallery of a church to draw has plenty of mystery.” He countered, testing the water.

“Fair enough. I care because I have this unnatural fear of failure. If no one sees the imperfect process, then they don’t know that I struggle to create, even when I want to.”

Why the fuck did you just say that? Why was this man so easy to speak to? Normally you were guarded, defensive, and unwilling to share minimal details, let alone intimate personal ones. Something about him put you at ease, and alarm bells went off in your head. Something was amiss, something wasn’t right. Fight or flight had engaged, and you didn’t want to fight in a church. You weren’t catholic, but you also weren’t disrespectful. Flight was the only option, so you started to pack up your work, attempting to appear casual.

Matt heard your heart rate increase, noticing your anxiety spiking.

“I’m not going to hurt you; I was just curious as to why you’re up here instead of down lower with everyone else.”

You ceased in your movements, a question weighing on you.

“I’m not Catholic, and therefore typically not welcome. If you’re blind, how did you even know where I was?”

Matt was taken aback at your bluntness; normally people danced around his lack of sight like glass. He loathed that, but your candor made him more intrigued.

“I heard you- well your music specifically.”

You head cocked to the side. Your music was not that loud, but maybe with the only other noise being Lantom’s voice for the past hour or so…it was plausible.

“So I guess you must just have super hearing. Is there anything you can’t do, Matthew?”

“Make a successful crème brulee. I always burn it, I can’t imagine why.”

“Funny. Have a good rest of your day Mr. Murdock.” You responded, moving to pass him and go down the stairs.

“Wait.”

It sounded somewhere between a plea and a command. Against your better judgement, you paused, looking up at him now from the stairs.

“Yes, Mr. Murdock?” you sighed, shifting in your boots.

“It’s just Matt, please. I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t offer it. My names not important. Forget you ever saw me, Matt. I’m the physical embodiment of the devil’s own luck, and you don’t need any of that if you want to help others.”

You hurried down the stairs before Matt could say anything more. To your surprise, he followed you quickly for someone who supposedly couldn’t see. You were nearing the end of the pews, close to the exit when his voice rang out again.

“What the hell does that even mean?” he demanded, matching your stride.

Why thatchoice of words? What did you know?

“Never mind what it means Ma-”

You were cut off at the sight of Father Lantom heading straight for you.

“Ah, I see you’ve met our young artist, Matthew.”

“Good to see you Father, I hope you’re well.” You spoke politely. You had known Father Paul Lantom for years; he had been friends with your mother. Had been.

“I have indeed. I only wish I could see her work.” Matt jabbed; his tone equally as polite.

“I could describe it to you, if they will allow me to see it.”

They?

Reluctantly you handed over your portfolio, and Father Lantom thanked you…and called you by your name.

Matthew repeated your name aloud, satisfied with having an answer.

Lantom began to describe your sketches, and you hoped he would not get to your most recent piece that lay in the back of the pages. As fate would have it, he described it anyway.

“They’ve drawn you, too, Matthew. It looks just like you, the stained glass behind you is immaculate. I don’t know how you can even see all that detail from that far away.”

You felt your face flush, stating that you were simply farsighted, but otherwise your vision was near perfect as you reclaimed your portfolio.

“Thank you for that Father, it was quite enlightening.” Matt concluded, pleased with himself.

You turned to leave, feeling the Fathers hand upon your turned shoulder.

“How are you? Would you like to -”

“No, Father, I would not. Thank you, but no thank you. Perhaps another time.”

You continued to make your way to the door, hoping that neither would follow you. They did not pursue you.

Matt kept his head turned in the direction of your exit, knowing the door was only a few feet away.

“What was that about? She said something about her being “the embodiment of the devil’s own luck” I’m not familiar with the phrase.”

“She thinks she’s cursed. She had experienced quite a bit of loss in the past five years. I keep asking if they want council, but they won’t have it. They think they are beyond help, like someone else I know. They are hurting Matthew. They could use a friend.”

With that, the Father turned and walked away, leaving Matt standing there visibly confused. Matt rolled his eyes and rushed out the door after you. It took only a few minutes to find you, your perfume was that distinct. You had parked a few blocks down and were heading for your car. Matt wasn’t sure why, but he took a chance and called out your name. Your eyes lifted from your door handle and found him across from you, standing over your Veloster.

“Didn’t I tell you to forget I existed?” you spoke, firm.

“I just want you to answer my question.”

“What am I, on trial? I don’t have to tell you anything.” You snapped, irritated at his feeling of entitlement.

Matt swallowed. You were right. You owed him nothing.

“I don’t disagree.” He conceded, stepping away from the car.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong to follow you.”

Matt began to walk away, heading for home, when he heard you groan.

“Wait, Matt.” What had you gotten yourself into?

He turned, surprised at your words.

“I appreciate the effort, I do. I’m sorry too. I’m not used to people just being kind to me for no reason. Usually, they want something. You were just being nice.”

He heard the slight tremble in your voice, regardless of your attempts to hide it. This was incredibly difficult for you.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee and we can call it even?”

“Is it because you want to or because your catholic guilt is eating at you?”

He tilted his head once again, considering. “Would you believe me if I said it was both?”

“Shocking, but I’m going to have to decline.”

Matt gave an awkward smile and nodded, defeated.

“Because I don’t drink coffee. I know a place that has coffee and tea though. I’d like to take you there, as an apology for being such so suspicious.”

Matt flashed a charming grin, confidence renewed.

“You want a man you barely know to get in a car with you?”

“And a person you’ve just met has invited you into their vehicle and you’re considering it? I could be a serial killer Matt. I’m not, but I could be.”

“Sounds like something a serial killer would say, but I think I’ll take my chances.”

"Do you need help getting in? Or am I correct in assuming you're far more capable than you let on?" You asked, teasing.

You were trying so hard to not be hostile, fighting what had become your nature. You became unapproachable, and people stayed away…until Matt. It was as though the more you pushed him away, the harder he tried. No, not tried, pushed back.

Matt entered the car and buckled his seatbelt, you slid in shortly thereafter. He hears the click of your belt, the jangle of keys as you placed them in the ignition. The engine roared to life, settling into a smooth, yet still loud idle.

"You drive a stick shift, and you live in New York?" He chuckled, amused.

"Well, you know what they say, don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that." You muttered, your arm draping over the back of his seat as you looked to reverse. Once it was safe, you shifted gears and hit the gas, moving quickly along the streets. Had it been any other day or time of the week, you would have been in stop and go traffic.

"Aren't we going sort of… fast?" he asked, preoccupied by the way you were weaving your way through cars.

You laughed, turning down your music even further than you already had to be able to hear Matt.

"I guess so, why? Am I making you nervous? I've seen taxi drivers that are far more reckless than I am." You challenged, grabbing your sunglasses from the visor at a stop light.

"No, not at all. I’m just not used to sitting in the front seat I suppose. Where are we going anyway?"

"It's a little hole in the wall place called Fable Grounds. It's just outside Hell's Kitchen, if that's okay? Please tell someone you know where you’re going. I don’t want you to think I’m taking you somewhere to murder you." You explained, wanting to put him at ease.

He smiled and dear gods you swore your heart stopped momentarily.

“If I was under the impression that you were going to brutally murder me, I wouldn’t have gotten in the car. It’s green, by the way.”

You hit the gas, crossing the intersection and merging onto your exit.

“How did you know it was green?”

“Oh, I just heard the cars around you start to move is all.” Matt concluded nonchalantly.

You nodded, much to your embarrassment.

“You just nodded, didn’t you?” he sounded light, almost pleased.

“I did, I’m sorry.”

Matthew shook his head, a crooked smile forming across his lips.

“You don’t need to apologize every time you forget I can’t see, sweetheart. I have a question for you.”

Matt kicked himself internally; why had he called you that?

You tensed, not only at the proposition of a question but also at the term of endearment.

Matthew continued, hoping to change the subject.

“Father Lantom referred to you as she and they interchangeably, am I missing something?”

You breathed out, temporarily relieved. The question wasn’t aggressive, but the next part was always difficult.

“I, um… I use both she and they pronouns. Either is fine and you can use whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

Matt nodded, thinking.

“So, you’re non-binary? Is there any phrases or words I should avoid? I don’t want to make assumptions.”

Gratitude flooded through you, and you felt like you would cry; someone understood it.

“Yeah, and no, you can use traditionally effeminate terms if you want. They don’t bother me. You use he/him, right?”

“Yes, thank you for asking.”

Speaking to Matt was like breathing; it was involuntary and simple.

“I wouldn’t want to make assumptions.” You teased, mirroring his words from moments before.

The ride continued, both of you asking questions back and forth and talking like you had known each other for years. It was beginning to make you fearful; you couldn’t let anyone in, not ever again, but the more you spoke, the more natural it felt. Perhaps, just this once, you could break your rule.

You turned into the parking lot, the smell of coffee, tea, and sugar reaching you as you pulled into a space.

“This is the part where I’m going to need help, I don’t have my cane and I’m not familiar with my surroundings.” Matt said, getting out of the car and feeling around it needlessly to get to you. If he was going to keep up the façade, he needed to act the part.

“Of course. You can hold my hand or arm or whatever is most comfortable for you. Unless you’d like me to carry you.”

Matt extended his arm, telling you that just an arm and verbal direction would do just fine. You led him over the curb and up the stairs to the upper level where the coffee shop was. You tripped at one point because you were so focused on him, and Matt helped you regain your balance. He instantly felt every set of eyes on the pair of you as you entered the shop, and knew you were blushing.

He chuckled as you led him to your favorite table in the furthest corner, secluded and away from everyone.

“What’s so funny Matt?”

“You’re shorter than I thought you were.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “What did you peg me at, 5’8?”

“I was thinking closer to 5’6 but yeah, I thought you were taller. Your personality just reads taller than… 5’2?”

“I am 5’3, thank you. How do you take your coffee, Mr. 5’10? I don’t see you as a fluffy coffee sort of guy, but you never know.”

“Surprise me. Nothing too sweet. Cream is also fine.”

You made your way to the counter, delighted to see Alexandria working. You had been friends for a long time, and she knew your order.

“One ‘big as fuck iced chai tea latte, no ice, extra whip and extra cinnamon’ coming up.” She recited, smiling upon your arrival to the bar.

“Actually, I also need something else today.” You clarified, glancing back at Matt who had his head turned to the window as if he was looking out of it. You weren’t aware, but Matt was listening. He just couldn’t help himself.

“That wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the man you walked in with, would it? I see you found a new friend?”

“You could say that. It’s more like he found me. Your best coffee, splash of cream, and… two spoons of sugar for him.”

“This is good. I’m happy for you, I really am. It’s a good sign that you’re moving past-”

Alexandria stopped speaking at the look you gave her. You had drawn a boundary with her about discussing last fall, in any context.

“All I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you have a friend, especially today. I know it’s not for the same reason as the thing I’m not supposed to talk about, but I know it’s hard all the same.”

Alex finished your order, stopping you as you reached for your wallet.

“It’s on me today, don’t worry about it. Go sit with handsome.” She said, gesturing toward the table where Matt was.

“Alex I can’t-”

“Please, let me be nice to you. I know you hate it, but it’s not out of pity. It’s because I care, that’s all.”

You sighed and agreed reluctantly.

“Is my favorite troublemaker here at least?”

Alex grinned from ear to ear.

“I’ll let her know you’re here, go sit.”

You made your way back to the table, setting Matt’s coffee in front of him.

“I hope I don’t have to help you drink your coffee too.”

“No, I can do that myself. Can I be forward for a moment?”

“Are you going refrain even if I say no?”

“Probably not. You aren’t Catholic yet attend mass. You attend Mass but hide from everyone there. Father Lantom seemed very concerned for you, yet you decline his offer for council. Why?”

You stared into your drink contemplating how to answer. You were already in deep, and you didn’t see the sense in lying.

“Father Lantom has known me since I was a child. He and my mother were friends.”

Matt did not miss the use of past tense.

“I hide from the people there because they either look at me like I’m diseased, or they stare at me with this…outrageous look of pity. I don’t want either of those things. My mother sang in the choir, came to church every Sunday. She was devout, honest, had the dirtiest laugh, and was the epitome of what a Christian should be. She loved everyone, the color of your skin, who you loved, how you identified - none of that mattered to her. My mother would give you the shirt off her back, and she did quite literally once or twice. ‘You help people if you can, because you should. Because it’s the right thing to do.’ She would tell me. She was bright, and brilliant and my biggest supporter. She was my lifeline, Matt.”

Matt shifted in his chair, listening. He didn’t like where this was headed.

You swallowed.

“And then she got sick. Cancer. Stage four, in her lungs. She had some in her spine and some in her brain. It was a death sentence. I knew it, she knew it. She told me to have faith.”

You felt hot, angry tears sting your eyes. You would not let them spill, not here.

“I would hear her praying in her bed through the wall of our house. Praying for God to give her strength, to give me strength. To heal her, to save her. I was the one who cleaned her up. I was the one that sat through chemo with her. I was the one who picked her off the floor when she fell because she could barely stand. I watched her wither away, day by day. Still, she prayed. She never wavered, not once. Until it was almost the end.”

“I’m sorry.” Matt whispered, brow furrowing in thought.

“Me too, because I’m the one that heard it. One night her prayers changed. My mother pleaded and begged for death. For God to take her, to end her suffering, to end mine. And you know what she got? Nothing, Matt. Silence. He didn’t save her. He didn’t help her.”

The tears fell down your cheeks, but you didn’t care; Matt couldn’t see them anyway.

“She suffered for five more months, and eventually we moved her to hospice. A week in, I told her that she could go. That if she was ready, she could go, that she didn’t have to stay for me. She died and I wasn’t even there. I left for a class and told her I’d be back right after. I gave my professor my phone and asked her to answer it if they called. They did. She died and I was taking an exam. My professor had stepped outside to take the call, and the way she looked at me… I knew. Everyone just stared at me, and I pretended not to notice, I had to finish my exam. My mom worked her ass off so I could go to college, I had to finish it. I have never completed anything so fast in my life Matt.”

It poured out of you, every detail and you were shocked but you just. couldn’t. stop.

“Today would be my mom’s 55th birthday. She died five years ago. I was 22. I go to mass to feel close to her, I hide because I don’t want their pity. They look at me like I’m a wounded animal that just needs to be put out of its misery and I cannot stand it.”

You wiped your face, taking another sip of your drink.

“They look at me like that. Exactly how you’re looking at me now.”

“Well, you see I’m not looking at you at all. I can’t, but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

A smile spread across your face, and you laughed, deeply from your chest. Matt thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

“No, I don’t suppose you can, but you know what I mean.”

“I do, and I am sorry about your mom. She sounds like she was a wonderful woman. The -”

“I swear to yourgod if you say, “The Lord works in mysterious ways” I’m going to throw my drink at you.”

Matt held up his hands in surrender, feigning dramatics.

“I wasn’t going to say that at all. And my god? What about your god?”

“I told you, I’m not Catholic. In a weird twist of fate, my catholic mother raised a pagan. She taught me the value of life, that everything has an energy, a purpose. I think she was secretly a witch to be honest.”

“I find most religions to be similar if you strip away the pretense and leave the basic components.”

“I agree but organized religion somewhat ruins that, at least to me. Some people get too caught up in the idea of a God that the don’t realize that they are using their faith as a scapegoat, as a justification to be awful. That’s the other reason I hide. Half of them don’t approve of me even being there or they don’t like how I dress, or both.”

“Then why do you even listen?”

“What?” you quipped, confused.

“Why do you listen to Father Lantom when he speaks?”

“How did… never mind. Just because it’s not my faith of choice, doesn’t mean something won’t resonate with me.”

How could he tell you were listening, even with your music in your ears?

“Auntie!” a tiny voice shouted, followed by the thundering of little feet racing toward your table.

A small child flung herself at you, her dark curls flying.

“Hello Rhiannon. What is all over your face?” smudges of black paint striped her face along with runes.

“It’s protection paint like you used to do at the renaissance festival!”

“Renaissance festival?” Matt raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Yep! She was a knight because she didn’t want to be the princess. Sir Amaranth!”

“Look at you Rhiannon, you even pronounced it right!” You praised her, giving her another squeeze and a kiss to the head.

“She used to sing to before their pretend battle, she’s really good!”

Rhiannon lowered her voice and gazed over at the piano in the corner.

“Will you sing for us today, pretty please?”

Your smiled faltered; you hated this part.

“Not today, sweet girl. Maybe next time.”

Even lower still, Rhiannon spoke, “Is it because… you’re still sad?”

You nodded, forcing a smile yet again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be happy again one day, I promise.”

Matt listened to your heartbeat; lie. You truly believed that you would not be happy ever again.

Rhiannon made you pinky swear and twisted around in your lap.

“Who are you?” the child demanded of Matthew.

“I’m Matt, it’s nice to meet you.” Offering a friendly smile.

“I’m Rhiannon, I’m six. Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?”

You gave Rhiannon a stern look, second only to the parental glare of her mother.

“Because my eyes don’t work. I can’t see, so I don’t have control of where I’m looking for the most part and that makes people uncomfortable sometimes.” He explained, gentle in his tone.

“Can I see?”

“RHIANNON.”

This child was dead set on embarrassing you.

Matt just laughed, insisting to you that she was fine and removed his glasses.

Rhiannon stared in awe at the blank gaze of Matthew Murdock. His eyes were brown, warm and inviting. He placed the red shades back on after about a minute. The small child twisted around again, cupping your ear to tell you a secret.

“He has really pretty eyes. He’s really pretty.” Rhiannon whispered, giggling into your ear.

“Yeah, I suppose he is, isn’t he? Go help your mom and I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Pretty? That was a new one for Matt. He had never been called pretty in his life.

You glanced over at Matt, who smiled still at the interaction between you two.

“You should keep him; he makes you happy. She would want you to be happy.” She said, hugging you tightly as your face crumbled.

She jumped down, waving goodbye to her new friend that couldn’t even see it. You watched her run to her mother, a pang of guilt lancing through you.

“She’s precious.” Matt said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, yeah she is.” You stammered out, hands shaking as you signed.

“I don’t look at you with pity, I want you to know that.” He stated, unyielding in his conviction.

“I listen to you and I hear someone who is angry, and rightly so. You have been through hell and back, more than once. I’m certain there is more that you haven’t told me, that frankly is none of my business. I envy you; I don’t pity you.”

“Careful, Matthew. Envy is a sin.” You joked back, deflecting.

“It’s one of many sins I have committed, it won’t be the last either. I don’t hear someone who wants pity; I hear someone who is strong, resilient. It is your strength I envy. You have all these walls up to keep people out, and still, you have it in you to be kind. I don’t know if I could do the same, if the situations were reversed.”

“I am exhausted by my strength, Matt. Sometimes I want to be weak and give in, but I can’t. That’s not how I was raised, it’s not in my blood.” You whispered, feeling exposed at how easily he had read you.

“We have that in common. I just can’t seem to quit, my father instilled that in me. “Murdock’s don’t quit.” he’d tell me. He was a boxer, and he didn’t always win but he never quit. My grandmother used to say that we had the devil in us, the Murdock boys. Sometimes I think she was right.”

“I’m sure your mom was pleased at that notion. Knowing when to quit is a sign of strength, not weakness.”

Matt laughed, swallowing his coffee hard.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met her. I don’t even know who she is.”

You nodded, understanding.

“So, you’ve got mommy issues too, huh? Aren’t we a pair? Truth be told I don’t know how I do it either, Matt. I don’t even know how I manage to be kind. I have this darkness in me that eats me alive. I’m no good to anyone, that’s why I keep my distance. That is my anathema - everyone around me gets hurt. I use my greatest sin to keep everyone away, to keep them safe.”

“And what is that?”

“Wrath. I am angry, vengeful even. It keeps people far enough away that they can’t be harmed. If I hold everyone at an arm’s length, I can’t hurt them, and they can’t hurt me.” You confessed, still bewildered at the ability of Matt’s presence to make you this vulnerable. Your heart galloped in your chest; terrified.

Matt understood that feeling, all too well. He felt guilt for even having Karen and Foggy, and now he had added you to the fire.

“Sounds like we both have each other figured out pretty well.”

You laughed again, the melody a gravity pull to Matt’s ears.

“I guess we have. I’m not as mysterious as I thought. Damn, I’ll just have to try harder.”

Matt shook his head, disagreeing.

“You have plenty of mystery to you. I don’t know what your favorite color is or how you became hard of hearing, a tragedy really that you have withheld this information from me.”

“It’s black, but some would argue that isn’t a color so if had to choose one…phthalo green and wine red. I was born hard of hearing. It just sounds lower, muffled, I guess. Were you born blind?”

“No, I went blind from an accident, and that’s two colors. I’m not even sure what color phthalo green is, could you…describe it for me?”

You were taken aback at the request, but thought of how to illustrate the color nonetheless.

“Phthalo green is…. not quite green, not quite blue, and not quite teal. Somewhere in between all of those. It’s the darkest green in an evergreen forest, in the early morning where everything is still tinged with blue, right before the sun comes up.”

You wanted to paint him a picture, one that he might be able to envision. Listening to you talk was one of the loveliest things Matt had heard in a while.

You couldn’t read Matt’s facial expression, and your brain instantly assumed the worst.

“I’m sorry, was that too much? I guess I could have left it as somewhere between teal, green, and blue.”

“No, I just like listening to you talk.”

You were so used to being told you were too much and that you over explained everything, and this man just told you that he found pleasure in hearing you speak.

“I-”

Matt’s phone started to ring in his jacket pocket, cutting you off.

Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.

“I’m sorry I have to take this, would you mind?”

“I assume that’s the Nelson half of Nelson and Murdock? Justice never sleeps, does it? I don’t mind, go ahead.”

You went back to your drink, waiting patiently while Matt spoke to his partner. You looked around, not finding staring, pity filled eyes, but rather people carrying conversation, reading, and enjoying themselves. Maybe it was all in your head that people still looked at you that way. I had been five years since your mother, and nine months since the other incident. Maybe you could let yourself have this. It was… nice to have a friend, especially one that already seemed to understand you.

“Alright Fog, I’ll be there as soon as I can. See you soon.” Matt hung up and sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Everything okay? Do I need to take you home?”

“Not home, but the office. Foggy needs help going over some case details for a trial we have tomorrow. I’m really sorry to have to cut this short.”

“Were you having a good time? Shame. We’ll just have to come back another day.”

Matt agreed, you both gathered your belongings, and you took Matt’s arm to lead him down the stairs. You walked without fear of perception and found yourself smiling. Until both of your heads flicked to the left, hearing something no one else could.

“I said no, please leave me alone.”

You felt Matt tense beside you, anger roiling up inside him. Your rage was deeper, faster to surface.

You released Matt and made your way to the alcove behind the wall, a place where no one could see if they were sitting in the main common area. He had her pinned to the wall, hands in places they shouldn’t be. His back was to you, and the woman made eye contact with you, silently pleading for help. You winked, tapping on his shoulder.

“Get lost, I’m busy.” He grunted.

You would have none of that. You reached up, grabbing his chin in your hand, making sure your nails dug in, and turned his face toward yours.

“I believe she said no. Do you need a refresher course on consent?” Your wrath needed somewhere to go, and you felt this was a good place to put it.

Finally, he turned around, moving enough for the woman to get away.

“Go behind the counter with Alex, tell her what happened.” You spoke, hand digging harder into the mans face, drawing blood. Even though he grappled with your arm, your hold remained firm. She ran and the coffee shop went silent.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, bitch? Unless you want to take her place.”

Then he made a mistake; he hit you, hard across the face. Matt heard it and started to move but stopped when he heard you laugh. You licked the blood from where you had bitten your cheek from your teeth, looking up at the man through your hair. You moved the strands from your eyes with your free hand.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You growled, ripping your nails across his face. He cried out, and you took advantage of his moment of weakness. You grabbed him by the back of the neck, shoving him hard against the wall and onto his knees. His face slammed against the surface, smearing blood along the light blue paint. You pulled his arms behind him and dragged him backwards into the light, so everyone could see the face of a coward. Matt stood in awe as he “watched” you carry out his punishment. The moment you released him, he was scrambling backwards on the hard wood floor. Your footsteps were quick, light and intimidating. He tried to sit up, only to be met with your fist across his face.

“I suggest” you began, grinding the heel of your boot between his legs to emphasis your words, “you stay down and listen.”

No one moved or spoke.

You leaned forward, applying more pressure with your foot. He screamed, flinching away as your fist rose again.

“If someone says no, that’s the end of it. Coercion is assault, keep your disgusting hands to yourself. If I ever see you in here again, I will do so much worse. If I ever see you again period, I will do so much worse. Understand?”

“You’re insan-”

You stomped your boot downward, impatient.

“And here I thought I was the one who was partially deaf. Let’s try again; do you understand me?”

He nodded frantically, desperate to get away.

“I can’t hear you nodding, I want an answer.” You commanded, not removing your boot.

“Yes, I understand.” He choked out, finally.

“Good boy. Now get the fuck out of here.” You whispered, releasing him.

Matt swallowed, head tilting to the side. Matt was not about to lie to himself and say he didn’t find it incredibly attractive to hear what was happening.

He struggled to get up, searching for someone to help him. His eyes found Matt and he appealed to him for help.

“Sorry sir, I’m blind. I didn’t see a thing.” He grinned, waving a hand in front of his face.

You were beginning to like Matthew Murdock more by the second.

The coward raced down the stairs- well as quickly as one could after having his genitals crushed by a knee-high doc marten.

“Sorry about the blood on the wall Alex.” You called back, offering to clean it up.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve done plenty. Get out of here, and don’t drive too fast on your power trip.” She replied, beaming.

“It’s like you know me or something.” You took hold of Matts arm, sliding your sunglasses back on and heading towards the stairs. The little points at the top corners of the lenses were supposed to reminiscent of cat eyes but reminded you more of horns. Devilish was an accurate word for your actions, and you smirked at the thought.

“You hide from people looking at you with pity, but you can do that?” he asked, waiting until you were both in your car to ask.

“Wrath overrides anxiety, I guess. I will not be a bystander. I refuse.” The engine rumbled to life, and you drove Matt back to the office of Nelson and Murdock. You both talked and laughed the entire way there, finding solace in each other’s company. You parked in front of the building, a wave of disappointment washing over you. Matt saying your name got your attention, and you turned to him.

“I’m sorry, I zoned out. I didn’t hear you.”

“I asked if can I touch your face? It’s sort of how I see, but I wanted to ask before I did. It’s the only way I can make out what someone looks like.”

You looked up and nodded.

“Ugh, I did it again. You can touch me, Matt.” You agreed, sliding your glasses off so they wouldn’t be in the way. Doing so might smear your eyeshadow, but it had already been ruined by your crying earlier, so you did not care.

Matt slid his hands up your arms so he wouldn’t ‘accidentally hurt you trying to find your face’, not that he needed to.

You could hear him breathing, and suddenly your own felt too loud. Your heart pounded against your temple as his hands slid up your neck. His hands cradling each side of your face made you let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering closed. You had to resist the urge to lean into his hand, you were so starved for touch, and you felt safe with Matt. His fingers roamed delicately across your face.

Your eyes were smaller, slightly upturned from his best guess. His fingers swept over your cheek bones, they were high, but softly hidden by the roundness of your face. Your nose was straight and short, and Matt was careful of the piercing in your right nostril. Your breath hitched as Matts fingers ghosted over your mouth, his thumb catching your lower lip in its decent down your chin, your throat, his right hand coming to rest gently on the hollow of your neck. His left hand came back to you lips, wanting to touch them again.

You were beautiful. Curves and planes as opposed to angles and hard edges. He was close, far closer than he needed to be, and Matt felt your breath against his fingers as you opened your eyes. Matt removed his hand from your face, the other still placed on your neck. This was far more intimate than it normally was, and Matt could hear your heart thrashing in your chest. Matt was so distracted by your heartbeat that he did not notice the one that belonged to his friend approaching the passenger window.

“I’m going to assume that’s Foggy.” You concluded, pulling away from Matt and rolling down the window.

“Hey Matt, that’s one nice looking taxi.” Foggy joked, taking in the deep red color of the paint, the flecks of glitter in the color shimmering in the afternoon light. “I thought you were going to be here in like ten minutes.”

You looked at foggy, and instantly adored him. His fluffy hair, bright smile, and overall golden retriever demeanor made you grin.

Foggy stopped mid-sentence when he finally noticed you.

“I am so sorry, I am incredibly rude, Foggy Nelson.” He extended his hand through the window and Matt scoffed as his arm crossed his chest.

You giggled and shook his hand, offering your name. If he was friends with Matt, then he had to be safe enough to permit the gift of your name.

“I’ll see you next Sunday, okay?” Matt whispered, excusing himself from the vehicle.

“Will you though?”

You swore you could feel Matt’s eyes roll.

“Please, can I see you next Sunday?”

“Only if your eyesight is magically cured buddy.” Foggy inserted, patting Matt on the shoulder.

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, and assured Matt that you would see him again before you drove off.

You felt a weight in your chest lift, even in your reluctance to leave. You felt lighter than you had in months. Something about Matt Murdock was different, and you found yourself unable to stop smiling the entire way to the cemetery. You had one more stop to make before you went home for the night.

Unbeknownst to you both, you would cross paths again much sooner; both of you had a secret to tell.