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#and people attacking Karen
nube55 · 5 months
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Never have I felt so represented by Kermit
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forbodium · 1 year
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how do i politely ask the ladies at my knitting group to not talk about politics in my peaceful place. when i go to the library to relax and work on my scarf, i don’t want to hear “i saw on fox news the democrats are accusing the republicans of conjuring the hurricane and refusing to turn it off”
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signedmio · 2 months
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I need drama. what if their s/o is an angel who is in hell "illegally". they decided to help Charlie after her visiting Heavens. they have wings and a halo, and can easily move between heaven and hell. One evening they hurriedly leave the hotel, saying that it was "a very important meeting up there. I need to come so they don't suspect anything" and that they would be back in a couple of hours. and fled away. they have been gone for few days. Arriving at the hotel at night, they accidentally run into a character, and let's just say, their s/o is not in the best condition. Everything is beaten and covered in blood, but the worst thing is that golden blood is flowing from their backs and their wings are missing. holding the injuries, where the blood comes from, barely standing on feet, they whisper with a smile "They found out everything. Very soon they will start an attack. I'm so sorry."
For Alastor, Husk and platonic!Charlie
WTFF THAT IS ACTUALLY SO COOL !!
but yes, I will write that for you, rn ;)
Although, due to the fact that this is a bit lengthy, I’m only gonna do Husk and platonic!Charlie (assuming you want them separate) So I hope that’s okay!! But I could always do an Alastor version in the future :)
(pssst… there will be a part 2… you didn’t hear it from me…)
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“Bad Little Angel” Pt. 1
Husk x Seraphim!Angel!Reader
Warnings: Swear words, S1E6 spoilers, alcohol mentions, use of (Y/N)
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“I can’t believe Lucifer’s little cunt thinks, not only, that she can bring sinners up here, but also bitch to my manager? Like just say you’re a slutty, lesbian Karen and move the fuck on.” Adam whined as he walked with Lute out of the courtroom, “I couldn’t agree more, sir.” Lute said with a nod, taking off her mask and shaking her hair slightly.
This wasn’t right, and you knew that. None of it. But you knew, you had to do something.
A true Angel wouldn’t continue to let human souls die off, whether they be Hellbound or not.
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“Sooo, how’d it go?” Lucifer asked enthusiastically as Charlie walked through the door, only for her to walk right past him, his face slightly falling as she did so, she fell face forward into one of the couches before mumbling some incoherent words into the pillow.
“Eh, wha?” Angel asked, as he turned to look at her from the bar, “Fine.” she mumbled, lifting her head up, simply to be audible, before slamming it back into the pillow. “Wow.” Angel remarked, before shutting up after Vaggie gave him the eyes.
Before more words could be exchanged there was a knock at the door, Charlie sluggishly walked to swing it open, and there you stood, one of the three Seraphim’s that were at the meeting, although it was hard to notice due to the white cloak that hung over your body and face.
“— Can I come in before we begin this? I just don’t want anyone to see me.” You said sheepishly, as Charlie stepped aside to let you in without uttering a word, slightly stunned by your presence.
You walked in, and neatly put your cloak on a nearby coatrack, your wings and hall now on display, and now it felt like everyone in the hotel had eyes on you…
Most of which you had either remembered from the meeting or the live video of ‘The Porn Demon’ — or as Lute said ‘Some crackwhore’
“Hello!” You said with a bashful wave. “I’m-”
“Smiles? What are you doing here?”
Smiles? Only people in Heaven called you that. You turn to see Vagi looking, almost confusion? Shock? Perhaps undecided for now.
“Ah yes, hi, Vagi-”
“It’s pronounced ‘Vaggie’”
“Oh. My apologies!”
Vaggie. Noted.
“As I was saying, I’m one of the Seraphims, Ms. Morningstar was in Heaven earlier this afternoon, and I must say, I’m invested in this hotel of yours.”
Charlie’s face lit up instantly, but you could feel the Porn Demon (for a lack of his name) and Vaggie eyeing you suspiciously.
“I… I know we’re different, but I really want to help, this whole hotel is about putting others together despite their differences, so, y’know.. well, I didn’t really think through what I was going to say before I came here.” You said, chuckling under your breath as you looked down bashfully and played with the tip of your shoe.
“Fine.” Vaggie said, before coming up to you, “But know everything is confidential, you don’t get to spill all our shit because you feel like it, I don’t care who’s in charge who’s telling you to do this, if you don’t follow our rules, you don’t get to be here.” Vaggie finished, looking to a deer-like demon, who has a big grin on his face as he comes up to you, and offers to shake his hand.
You hesitate, but shake it, a green light swirls around the room and flickers away the moment your and the deer’s hands lose contact.
You turn to Vaggie, your face serious about the promise just made, “You have yourself a deal.”
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“So this is Angel! You saw him from the video! That is Alastor, he’s the one you made the deal with! Ooh oh! And that’s Pentious and Niffty — Niffty’s the one cleaning, by the way!” Charlie said pointing to a small cyclops girl sweeping and a snake man who followed behind her — he seemed to be a.. you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it, but you settled with magician.
“That’s Husk, the bartender!” Charlie said with a point, and the cat man gave a small nod — now that was a magician, but if he was a magician, what the hell was the snake supposed to be? Eh, it doesn’t matter.
“And this is… Oh, well you already know Vaggie! From.. er…” Charlie trailed off, it was obvious she was referring to what Adam had announced in the courtroom.
“So is, ‘Smiles’ like your real name? ‘Cus I’ve never met a damn person in my whole afterlife who’d wanna be named that…well, maybe except for him.” Angel asked from the bar, gesturing to Alastor for his last reference.
“No no.” You said with a chuckle, approaching Angel slightly to talk to him more efficiently. “Smiles is a nickname that Vaggie knows me as from… past social circles..” You explained, trailing off, “But anywho, you can call me smiles, or (Y/N), whatever you want!”
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“You want a drink?” Husk asked, as he finished up cleaning Angel’s cup, as he just went to bed for the night, “No, I don’t drink.” you explained as Husker chuckled. “I just… never really got to know you.” You added.
“There’s only so much to know.” He said, “And didn’t Charlie say something about a ‘live video’ from that meeting? See, you know enough about me, new kid.”
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It had been about a week since you made it to the hotel, you had been in Heaven for about half of that time though, but everyone was nice so far!
Charlie was amazingly kind and understanding during shared planning periods, you were starting to build a friendship with Vaggie again, Angel was turning into your bestfriend, you loved the chaotic energy with Pentious and Niffty, Alastor was creepy…but he was okay, and Husk was so soothing and understanding — you have to admit, that maybe something a little special was going on.
It was late, you had just been out on a walk around the block with Husk and Angel, and you were in your peejays, ready to clock out, simply scrolling on your phone, you see a text pop up, and you click to view it.
Lute : There’s a meeting on Sunday. Don’t miss it.
A meeting? For what? We just had a meeting..
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“Is everything okay?” Charlie asked as you rushed to get your cloak and clip it below your chin. Angel, Vaggie, and Alastor also watched you scramble around the lobby of the hotel.
“Look, Heaven really needs me, and I need to leave now if I wanna make it there when I need to, I’ll be back, I promise.” You explained quickly and sternly, Charlie and Angel exchanged concerned looks, Vaggie looked a bit suspicious and you couldn’t help but feel awful, and Alastor had his signature grin.
“You’ll be back, right?” Charlie asks with a hopeful smile.
You hesitate to answer, but give a smile back to her that has the same hope within your eyes, “Of course.”
And then, you flew off.
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sincerestlove · 19 days
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Anxious - R.G.
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hello again! hope you enjoy this short one. and thank you for the request!
Request: Helloo can I request one where like Regina keeps asking reader to come to a party but reader doesn’t want to, but like Regina is forcing too much so reader comes to the party and like have a sort of panic attack because of the noises and crowds and Regina comfort reader etc? Thanks!!
Pairing: Regina George x Reader
Warnings: Anxiety and mental health struggles - please read at your own discretion. anxious reader, comforting and supportive regina
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"Gina, please don't make me go."
The blonde rolled her eyes at you, putting the final touches on her makeup, lips puckered as she stared intently in the mirror.
You had been fidgeting on Regina's bed, feeling anxiety bubble in the pit of your stomach at the thought of attending tonight's party. Karen invited half of the student body to her house tonight to celebrate her birthday, which meant it would be crowded. You hated large crowds.
"Y/N, it'll be fine. I'll literally be with you the entire time, I promise." The blonde capped her lipstick, turning around to walk over to you, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. Her bright eyes softened as she met your gaze, rubbing circles into your shirt soothingly. She could always tell when your anxiety spiked. "Listen, if things get too overwhelming, we can leave, okay? Just take a deep breath."
You nodded, taking hold of her hand and squeezing to bring your heart rate down.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
~~
You were wrong.
It was horrible.
As soon as you pulled up to the house, you could feel the bass booming, speakers blaring, filling every corner of the house. You held onto Regina's hand for dear life as she led you through the house, looking for your friends.
Gretchen and Karen were talking animatedly in the kitchen, sipping on bright red solo cups filled with god knows what alcoholic concoction. Your nose turned up at the smell of sweat and cheap liquor that hit your senses.
The two girls greeted you and Regina, pulling you into a hug. You smiled nervously back at them, an uncomfortable chill running up your spine.
"Here, Y/N!" Karen stuffed a cup into your hand, encouraging you to take a sip. You obliged, cringing at the burn in your throat. Regina smiled at you knowingly, taking the cup from your hand and replacing it with orange juice.
You mouthed a quick thank you, taking a generous gulp. The three girls fell into conversation as you stood close by the blonde, curling into her side. You did your best to drown out the music - but it was so loud you literally couldn't even hear yourself think.
You felt the familiar claws of anxiety digging into your skin, little beads of sweat forming on your forehead.
There were so many people crowding the house, it felt like oxygen was being sucked out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe.
"Gina, I-I'm going to the bathroom." You mumbled and pulled away without waiting for a response, fumbling your way toward the bathroom. Luckily, you had been to Karen's enough time to know where it was. You locked yourself inside, taking a deep, ragged breath in, feeling the burn of your lungs. Every breath you took felt like it wasn't enough.
Your hands began to sweat and your skin flushed, suddenly feeling too hot in your thin blouse. With shaky hands, you shut off the lights, sat on the toilet seat and caged your head between your legs, praying for the noise to stop.
You weren't sure how much time had passed before fists were banging on the door, jiggling the door handle. "Y/N? Are you in there?" Regina's voice flooded the room. "Let me in, please."
You were barely able to get up and unlock the door, falling back on your butt onto the floor. Regina barged in, closing and locking the door again behind her. She decided to keep the lights off, kneeling beside your cowering, shaking frame. "Hey, I'm here, baby. It's okay, I'm here." She took you into her embrace, holding on to you tightly.
"It's too loud, Gina." You spoke quietly, hands covering your ears. Regina nodded, helping you to stand up.
"Okay, Y/N, it's okay. I'm sorry, baby. Let's go home. Come on, let's go." She whispered to you encouragingly as she led the pair of you out the front door and into her Jeep.
Regina held your hand the whole drive back to her house, ushering you inside quickly and into her bed. She helped you change into a pair of loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, wiping your makeup off before tucking you into her bed.
The rest of the night was filled with apologies and sweet words from Regina, your favorite snacks (that she kept in her bedside drawer just for you), a Netflix movie and soft kisses, until the two of you fell asleep wrapped in each other's embrace.
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hope you enjoyed!
as always, please leave requests if you have any! :)
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souliebird · 3 months
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[[and then I met you || ch. 12||
Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit
Summary:
A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.
pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
Words: 5k
banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen
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Even in the middle of the night, the heat of summer in Hell's Kitchen is oppressive. It doesn't help that there is a storm rolling in and it is so humid Matt feels like he's breathing in water. Sweat is pouring off of him and he's glad he opted out of wearing his red armor - he has the feeling he would have overheated within an hour.
The only good thing about it pushing eighty degrees at two am is that only people that have to be out are out. Even though it is Saturday night/ Sunday morning, the streets are empty and Matt has only encountered people on their way back home. He hasn't even needed to scare off any muggers or stop any break ins. In fact, all he has really done all night is track people to make sure they got to their destinations safely.
There was a small surge of people around midnight coming off the trains and they had been rowdy, but hadn't caused any problems. Matt quickly worked out they were part of the protesters who have been crowding outside the courthouse for the past few days and deemed they were not a threat to his beloved city.
He's spoken to a few of them while at the courthouse and he fully supports their cause and their right to protest. Admittedly, Matt is not one to stay on top of current events, but he thinks it is suspicious that the government will not reveal what caused the massive explosion in Connecticut. It's been weeks but instead of answers, it feels like everything about the incident is being shoved under the rug and Matt knows if it was closer to home, Karen would be chomping at the bit to investigate.
Over six hundred people lost their lives and no one is being brought to justice for it. They are saying it was an attack, but no one is claiming ownership or being blamed for the destruction. It makes him angry, and though this isn't his fight, he'll do his part protecting the voices in his community who demand the truth.
Tonight, it seems like his community is safe and Matt will be able to get more than two hours of sleep before he needs to go to Mass. He needs to do a final pass around the neighborhood before he turns in for the night, so he pushes himself up from where he has been crouching like a gargoyle and stretches his limbs. His knees pop and his back screams at him and he decides that despite the heat, he will take a scorching shower to soothe his muscles. He may not have gotten into any big fights the past few nights, but that doesn't matter to his body - it's always aching and throbbing in one way or another.
He pulls his mask down over his face, hating how it instantly makes his forehead sticky and wet, and starts his loop.
He starts at the top of 10th and weaves across and down until he passes Foggy and Marci’s apartment. He pauses across the street and crouches down as he tunes his ears to their bedroom. They are both in a deep sleep and there is no threat he can detect, but still he stays for a minute just to be sure. Daredevil may have complicated his best friend's life, but Foggy has never had trouble making his own enemies. He may not be a vigilante, but his sense of justice is just as strong as Matt's and that has caused people to come at him violently. Someone breaking in is not out of the question.
Marci has her own enemies but if anyone ever tries to come after her, well, Matt will pray for their soul because not even he is that self-destructive. She once made a joke about becoming a crime lord and he still has the occasional nightmare over it.
Matt scans the surrounding buildings for any problems once more before he starts off towards Karen's place. She was still awake when he last passed her building and the odds of her still being up are pretty even. He wouldn't be surprised to find her typing away at some article - stirring up the pot as always. He loves her for that personality trait, even if it mentally puts him through the ringer with worry over her - he supposes it is nothing compared to what he does to her.
But luckily, for the collective sanity of Nelson, Murdock, and Page, more people care about Karen's well-being than care about Matt's.
He knows she has Jessica's number on speed dial - letting them meet is one of his greatest regrets in life. He is well aware of the cameras set up by Frank's computer friend and while the Marine is out of town, he's left her with another layer of protection - his dog Max.
Not that Karen can't take care of herself.
If she and Marci teamed up to take over Manhattan, Matt doesn't know if he could stop them.
Maybe he'll tell her that for her birthday - it will make a better gift than anything he'd be able to think of.
Matt lands on the roof of Karen's building, relieved to find she has gone to sleep since he last checked on her. She must have let the dog get in bed with her, because it's snoring is making it hard for him to tune into her without concentration. She's safe and seemingly happy, so he lingers only a moment before resuming the last dredges of his patrol.
He heads down to the docks next. There are people there, but they are meant to be - prepping for the fish markets and early morning cargo ships. These are good, hard working men who don't dabble in things that would make the Devil hunt them. In fact, he's got a good contact in one of the fish mongers, who will let him know if there's been anything suspicious in the wee hours of the morning. He doesn't need to check in now, as there have been no whispers as of late, and he disappears back into the shadows of the city to head towards Clinton Church.
Matt's stomach turns as he gets closer to where he grew up. His feelings about the location and the people there have been a ridiculous rollercoaster since he found out he was a father.
He deeply misses Father Lantom. Despite what everyone has told him, he firmly blames himself for the man's death and does not understand why God made that choice. It hurts that he isn't here and Matt can barely bring himself to go into the church - he's only started to re-attend Mass since learning about Minnie to seek guidance from God about this new path. He'd give anything to be able to speak to the man who mentored him in life - to hear what he would say about Matt having a daughter.
It isn't that Matt dislikes the new priest - he just doesn't like him. He's resistant to change and it should be Father Lantom giving Communion and taking his Confession.
It should be Father Lantom who Baptizes Minnie, not this man Matt has never even spoken with.
Maggie is trying to get Matt to interact with the man, but his relationship with her is going through a rocky patch and he hasn't actually spoken with her in about two weeks. She hasn't done anything wrong - he is just having an internal crisis over how learning he is a parent changed him and his abandonment issues. He's spent a lot of time in reflection and understands why she left him and his father, but he now has a renewed anger at her for not telling him the truth sooner.
Did she not love him like he loves Minnie? Was it something he did wrong?
Will she love Minnie like she loved Matt? He trusts her to care for his daughter, but will she love her granddaughter the way she deserves to be loved?
Everything is made more complicated over how guilty he is over having these feelings and so, instead of talking to his mother, he's been avoiding her. He knows he needs to eventually address it, but for the moment Maggie is none the wiser about his mini-me.
He'll tell her after he tells you about her.
It is something he needs to do still - it just hasn't come up yet. Most of your conversations center around Minnie and you are still getting to know each other. You've shared few stories about your childhood - mostly about school - and Matt isn't so sure how your anxiety will handle Maggie. His mother is a good person, but she is a lot and he knows you have your own parent issues.
Like at the docks, there are people active at the Church. A few homeless patrons are seeking shelter before the rain and there is a nun tending to their needs. The kids are safely tucked into bed, and while it sounds like a few are having nightmares, there is nothing he can do for them at the moment.
If they wake and cry out, he prays their calls are answered.
Matt practically flees the sacred grounds and his anxiety only settles once he crosses into Chelsea.
As he runs, he hones his senses to the apartment building you live in. It is easy for him to lock onto - he's already spent countless hours perched on the boundaries of the two neighborhoods listening to you and Minnie sleep. He knows it is creepy, but he cannot help himself.
Minnie’s laugh is his new favorite sound, and not far behind it is your heartbeat. Much like his daughter, he's found himself focusing on it when things get too much and it is the perfect way to end patrols - winding down while you and Mouse dream.
You mumble in your sleep and it is the most endearing thing he's ever encountered. He likes to respond to your strange statements, imagining he's right there in bed with you. There has been a recurring theme of parrots and he is thinking that the bird exhibit will be off limits during Minnie’s birthday trip to the zoo, based on what he's heard.
But it isn't you mumbling in your apartment tonight - it's Minnie.
His daughter is awake and has moved from the bedroom to the living room. The television is on - playing what he thinks is Sesame Street - and she seems to be fussing with a toy. Context clues tell him she's playing with a doll or stuffed animal - dress up is one of her favorite games and he knows it is one of her Quiet Games.
“Nexts,” she says sweetly to her toy, “we gotta do your make ups.”
Matt decides to wait until he's landed on the roof before he makes her aware of his presence. He kneels and takes a moment to center himself, taking a deep breath to do so. He focuses on calming the Devil in his chest - this is the first time he's caught Minnie awake in the middle of the night and he needs to address it as Matt and not Daredevil.
He doesn't want to scare her, after all. She'll probably be very confused as to why he's there and being scared won't help anything.
“Minnie, sweetheart, can you hear me?” He asks, keeping his voice soft as possible as he does.
To her credit, she doesn't start at all. It takes her a moment to process, but then she questions, “Daddy?”
The name makes his heart soar - everytime she says it, he breaks into the biggest smile. It is the sweetest sound and the fact she switched to calling him that all on her own means the world to him.
She wants him to be her Daddy.
“Yeah, sweetheart, it's me. What are you doing awake?” he questions, smiling as he hears her get up and start to walk around. He wonders if she is looking for him and his guess is confirmed when he hears her start lifting things up to look under them.
“I'm watching Cookie Monsters,” she replies and Matt chuckles. He thinks it is so adorable she is also so direct with her answers. She always answers exactly what is asked.
“I don't think it is time for Cookie Monster, Mouse. I think it's sleep time. Mommy is sleeping.”
You are in a deep sleep, your breathing slow and even. He can tell you've been exhausted lately and probably need the sleep. More than once he's found you awake during his patrols. If Minnie tried to wake you up, you probably weren't responsive and she had left you to sleep.
She peters her way back to in front of the television and plops back down after checking under the dining table. Matt waits for her to respond, knowing sometimes it takes her time to form what she wants to say.
“I can't sleep,” she mumbles, upset clear in her voice, “there's a monster.”
The Devil flares up inside of him and he instantly scans the area for a threat. There are few people awake in the area and he focuses in on them - none of them appear to be any sort of danger to his daughter. At the moment.
But they could have been earlier. They could have woken her up by doing something horrible. A mugging. Domestic violence. Something worse.
He curls his lip into a snarl.
He'll find whoever upset his daughter and drive them from his city. The state.
It's a miracle he manages to keep his voice calm and gentle, “A monster?”
“A monster,” she confirms sadly. Her breathing becomes muffled and Matt figures she has shoved her hand into her mouth to self-comfort.
“Can you tell Daddy about the monster?”
She sucks on her fingers and with her free hand, pulls her toy into her lap. He wants to push her to tell him, but he knows he can't. She's not a witness or a suspect - she's his daughter trying her best. He can tell she wants to answer, he just needs to be patient.
“He ran really fast,” Minnie starts to say, barely taking her hand out of her mouth to do so, “and went eek-eek-eek and smelled like poopy-butt.”
The words baffle him and Matt knits his brows - this monster was close enough for Minnie to smell him? The monster in his chest snarls and he has to fight to keep his composure. He knows Minnie is locked onto him and if he lets his rage show, she will know and she will get scared.
He needs to protect his daughter. He needs to believe God will not test him in this.
“Minnie, sweetie, can you tell Daddy where the monster is?”
Her little head turns up to face exactly where he is standing, asking in a small voice, “are you gonna fight him?”
The Devil roars ‘yes’, but the Father in him says, “Do you want me to?”
“Mommy scares him away,” she advises hesitantly. He can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her and it makes him clench his fist.
Matt doesn't understand. This has happened before?
Then it beams him in the head like a baseball and Matt feels like a complete idiot.
Minnie is a toddler. Her monsters are shadows, creaky pipes, and the four legged creatures in the city. Those are things that no longer register on Matt's radar but she hasn't learned to tune them out yet. Of course she would be scared of those things - Matt was scared of those things when he first got his senses and he was much older than Minnie at the time.
He remembers his first phone call with you and how it ended - something about Monster Repellent.
“I can go scare off the monster - would you like that?” he asks, the Devil in him settling down now that he knows no one is trying to hurt his little girl.
He doesn't know if it's Minnie sensing his shift in mood or if she didn't want him to fight the monster and scaring it away is what she wants, but she untenses her shoulders and her hand comes out of her mouth.
“You'll scare him away?” She asks after hugging her toy right to her chest.
“I'll scare him away,” he quickly promises.
“He smells like poopy-butt,” she repeats and Matt wonders if she is making a stinky face. That is something you tell him he and Minnie share - a certain curl of their lips when they find something unappealing.
“That's okay, sweetie, I'll make him go smell bad somewhere else. He won't bother you,” he says. “Can you tell me where he went and I'll go chase him away.”
Finally, she points down towards the alleyway between her building and the neighboring one and adds, “He can climb walls. Like Spidey-Man.”
Matt resists the urge to huff over the mention of the other vigilante. He has met the kid twice before and his biggest take, besides it was a kid under the mask and that had been its own thing, was that he needed to learn how to throw a proper punch. It confirmed for him all that Avengers training and showboating really meant nothing and they really were better off fighting aliens and wizards than helping out real people.
“Don't worry, Mouse, I can climb the walls, too.” He's definitely letting his Pride show through, but if he can't show off for his daughter, who can he show off for?
He makes a quick map in his head, then goes to the edge of the roof. Minnie’s head is still angled up towards him and she ‘watches’ as he parkours down to street level. If he adds a few unnecessary flips, well, that is no one's business but his own.
Once he is on the pavement, he opens his senses to the things he normally blocks out. The city becomes far more lively around him - cats, raccoons, birds, dogs, all sorts of bugs and things he doesn't like to think about. There's yowling and chirps and suddenly so much more movement, most of it under his feet.
Mouse’s monster is easy to find. It is a disgustingly large rat that has built a nest of trash and grime under a dumpster. The thing has a respiratory infection, which has it wheezing and rattling and he very much understands why Minnie was scared of it. It is not a pleasant sound and the infection is not at all helping how the creature smells. Animals smell at the best of times, but this rat clearly enjoys the sewers and ‘poopy-butt’ doesn't begin to cover how rancid it is.
Matt starts to work out what he needs to do to make sure this sick rodent stays far away from his family. If it has a nest, it will come back, so he needs to destroy that - without damaging the animal. He doesn't have the heart to actually hurt the thing.
He pulls out his billy clubs and snaps them together to make a bo staff, then moves to crouch in front of the dumpster. “Okay, sir, I'm here to evict you,” he says, more for Minnie’s benefit than anything. “You gotta go.”
He jabs at the nest of wet cardboard and almost immediately, the rat scurries out and hisses at him. It snaps its jaws at him a few times instead of running away and Matt huffs at the display, turning his staff towards the creature and swatting at it. “Get out of here.” To its credit, it tries to fight him, biting at his billy clubs and screeching at him, but after a few good thwacks to its side, it realizes it has no chance against him and dashes toward a nearby grate.
He listens to it go down into some pipes and once it's out of range, he tilts his head up towards Minnie, a smile starting to form in his lips, “The monster has been vanquished, my princess.”
His words make her giggle and he can't help but chuckle as well. He hears her push up into standing and she toddles towards the window. There's a table in front of it, so he knows she can't see out of it, but he knows she's trying to find him.
“He's not gonna come back?” She questions and in response he starts to break up the nest. He spreads the trash around, knocking things down and away. It's not a big very big rat den, relying heavily on the dumpster.
“He's not, he's gonna go find a new home,” he promises as he works, and once he's satisfied with his destruction, he collapses his billy clubs and holsters them. He pushes up into standing and steps away from the trash can.
“Far away?” Minnie asks and his heart breaks for her. The stupid animal must have terrified her.
“Very, very far away.”
He locates the fire escape and starts to scale it back up to your apartment floor. As he does, he starts closing off his senses again. Things begin to fade into the background - the things he will need to start teaching Minnie. She's got a good handle on it already, having learned to function with it instead of needing to adapt.
He's so proud. So unbelievably proud.
She's such a good and pure child. She always wants to help and asks about other people. She may be shy, but she's empathetic.
You've taught her well.
Matt understands how Minnie is a mini-him in her abilities and mannerisms due to those abilities, but her sweet nature is from you.
He knows he's gone for you.
Foggy has pointed it out. Karen has pointed it out. God has smacked him in the face with signs.
His realization moment was hearing a man purchasing an engagement ring for a woman who shared your name. He had gotten so furiously jealous he had to go take it out on the punching bag.
Foggy laughed so hard at him.
He doesn't think you noticed at all. It is nothing against you, he completely understands. You are like him - you don't think you deserve love. You had been painfully shy your first night together, as well, and he had been charmed by it.
He's angry at himself for letting you be a one night stand.
He should have been there when you needed him most.
He's not going to fuck that up again.
He pulls off his mask before making a show off popping up in front of your window and Minnie dissolves into giggles.
“Hi, Daddy!” She waves at him and he can tell she is absolutely beaming. He eagerly waves back and he knows he's matching her smile.
“Hi, Mouse.”
“Why are you outside?”
He's planned for this. He has discussed this with Foggy and Karen at length. He did the unthinkable - he asked Frank - who apparently knew who Minnie was before either Foggy or Karen did. They had attacked the question from all sides. As the firm. As friends. As parents.
They couldn't lie to Minnie. Matt can see the signs she's picking up on what different heart beats mean. She's going to know and there's nothing they can do to hide it. She can hear all of Hell’s Kitchen just as well as he can. It may not happen until she's older, but she'll figure it out.
So, he's not going to lie to her. He thinks you would approve. You don't like lying to her - you soften the truth into something she can comprehend. He's going to follow your lead.
“I'm working,” Matt answers, crouching on the rails and resting his wrists on his knees. He's suddenly very glad he had a very boring night. “What are you doing inside?”
Mouse accepts the answer and hugs her toy to her chest, swaying side to side “I'm talking to you.”
He laughs at her utter sweetness. She giggles along with him.
He gives a fond shake of his lead, then leans forward so she can see him a bit better, “What should you be doing, sweetheart?”
She scrunches up her face as she thinks, then she falls into a pout, “Sleeping.”
“Yeah, you should be sleeping. You're going to be tired tomorrow. It's not going to be fun,” he gently warns. He knows it isn't her fault, but he knows it will eventually help her learn to push those noises to the background.
“Okay, I'll go bed. I gotta clean up first. Mommy says …Mommy says don't leave it until morning. You'll make morning you sad. Be nice to morning you,” she recites, patting her hands against her stuffed animal - it's not Scooby or Pig. (He doesn't know this one. His best guess is it's a Raggedy-Anne type princess doll. His little girl loves princesses - no specific one, just the concept and aesthetic.)
He loves the values you are instilling in her. He's going to steal this mantra and tell it to Foggy and Karen.
“Okay. I'll keep watch for any monsters,” he tells her. This is one of the reasons he wants her to know the truth. He wants her to know her Daddy will protect her from all of the monsters.
“Okay. Thank you. Love you!” She chants, then turns away.
“I love you, too, Mouse. So much.”
And he will tell her every chance he gets.
She carefully walks back to where she had been sitting and turns off the television, then goes to put her toys away. Like always, she's very methodical about what she does. He could spend hours watching her play. She fascinates him. She picks up one toy at a time and tells it good night as she puts it back into her toy chest.
She doesn't have much to clean up and when she finishes, she turns to face him.
“Will you tuck me in? Please? Thank you?” Minnie asks like he can say no.
“Of course, my love. Are you all ready for bed?” He questions as he hops down onto the fire escape - one of the screws holding it together shakes and he decides he'll come back another night with a wrench to tighten everything up.
“All ready!” she confirms and he can tell she's watching him with great curiosity.
He begins to run his fingers over the edges of the window, searching for a way in. You certainly don't make it easy - you invested in apartment security and it takes him a moment to disable it. He's careful as he slides the window up and pops out the screen. He slips into the apartment, then quickly closes the window behind him, leaving the screen on the floor.
Minnie has the decency to wait until that moment to run to him with open arms. Matt scoops her up, swinging her a little before putting her on his hip and once she is settled, he leans down to press his forehead to hers.
“We have to be quiet, okay? We can't wake up, Mommy,” he tells her and she quickly nods in understanding.
He doesn't know what he'll do if you wake up and find him in your home - but luckily you are still in a deep sleep. As long as Minnie keeps calm, you should stay lost in Dreamland.
He kisses her forehead then starts towards the bedroom. She returns the affection, planting a big kiss on his cheek before she gently smacks him in the face with her doll with a quiet, “mwah!” Then, she flops against his shoulder, using him as a pillow.
He has to fight back a pleased huff - his little angel is so sweet. He'll never get sick of getting kisses from her toys - it's so loving and innocent and he is greedy for any and all affection.
Your bedroom is a good twenty degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment - there's a fan going and accompanying it is a little window unit blowing in cold air. It feels like Heaven in the blistering heat that is the rest of the city. The chill seems to suck the consciousness from Mouse - she gives a big dramatic yawn, smacking her lips against his neck. Her body slumps into him and he rubs her back encouragingly.
He crosses the room carefully, hyper aware of any toys that may have found their way to the floor post-bedtime. It absolutely breaks his heart to have to pull her away from him and she does try to stay clinging to him - not fighting him just resistant - but she ends up in her bed and under her covers. He doesn't know if he would have had the strength to force her to let go if she really did want to stay in his arms.
He helps her adjust her sleeping headband so it is around her eyes and ears, then kisses her cheek one final time, “ready for sleep?”
The response is a barely there nod and Matt can't help but feel so much love for his daughter. Being able to conk right out as soon as she's comfortable shows how much she trusts him. His little girl is always so wary and subtly alert.
He's going to cherish this moment forever.
“Love you, Mouse.” He whispers.
“Luvo, Daffy,” is what it sounds like she says as she rolls to bury her face into her pillow. A moment later she is snoring.
Matt allows a few tears to fall before wiping them away and turning his attention to you. You have nested yourself under your blankets, breath hitching every so often. He's learned over time from various people this usually means bad dreams - not nightmares but things that can leave you shaken.
He doesn't dare move closer to try to soothe you with touch - that would certainly wake you up.
Instead, he promises, “I'll chase all your monsters away, too.”
tags:
@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 
 @petrovafire39 @allllium
@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt
@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374
@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @
Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 
@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 
@
two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13
 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday
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foli-vora · 11 months
Text
without you
matt murdock x f!reader
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A/N: made myself hurt with this one tbh. I'll think about a part 2 if enough are interested, but I'll warn you - it won't be a happy ending lmao. Enjoy the angst-fest loves! x
Summary: You return after the 'blip'. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time.
Word count: 2.1kish
Warnings: ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST. i got sad af writing this. i don't even know what to put in the warnings. the events of infinity war & endgame, brief mention of the avengers, severe and utter fucking heartbreak, i would lose my fucking mind coming home after an apparent 5 years and finding the love of my life *******, lots of anxiety/panic, severe panic attack, passing out. no hate to karen here - she's a fucking babe.
-
It happens within a blink.
One moment there’s no one, and the next, an older woman is suddenly standing in your way and you can’t help the brief twitch of annoyance that she’s there. You have a meeting, you have groceries to get… you can’t just play chicken with a stranger on the pavement all afternoon.
She freezes, like many others you notice, and your frown deepens, confusion starting to take over the irritation. They all look at you, but not just you.
Time seemingly comes to a momentary freeze and you just don’t understand. Why is she looking at you like that?
The next minute—panic.
There’s a rush.
People scramble for their phones, they run. Cars swerve and there’s chaos. There are people crying, people start screaming, but there’s also awe, laughter. People embrace strangers. You know they’re strangers by the way they look around in complete bewilderment in the arms of the other, seemingly just as confused as you.
Five years.
Why do you keep hearing ‘five years’? Why are shop fronts different? What the hell has happened? 
“You’re… you’re all back,” the woman utters, tears starting to build along her lash line.
Back?
You feel it in the pit of your stomach, a sick feeling of dread slowly building until it feels like it sticks uncomfortably in your throat. Something happened. You don’t know what, you don’t know how, all you know is that you need to go home immediately.
It’s halfway back to the apartment, after passing things that weren’t there previously, shops that you had passed just hours before now different, and your phone simply refusing to connect for unknown reasons, that you break into a panicked run.
You want home, you want somewhere familiar.
Matt left for work the same time as you—would the new mayhem taking over the streets bring him home to you? Maybe he’d already be waiting, sensing the frenzy before you?
The view of your building is a welcome relief, and you slow as you reach the door, heart pounding in your chest as you take the stairs as quickly as possible. The apartment is unlocked, and you berate yourself for forgetting to lock up earlier, but Matt’s cane resting by the door turns your inward irritation to understanding.
He’s home. He got here before you. He must be waiting, maybe he’d have answers—
“Matty?” you call, “do you have any idea what’s—”
A clatter, a sweep of air, and then he’s on you.
He’s curled around you before you can even finish, his arms so tight and constricting you struggle to take in a full breath. He’s talking, muttering incoherent words into the skin of your throat and all you can do is stand there, mind whirling in a maddening rush, not even able to lift your arms to return his embrace due to his restrictive hold.
“You’re here,” he breathes, almost disbelieving, “you’re here. I didn’t want to have hope but—God, I—”
“Matt, I’m so confused,” you breathe, unsure of why tears are starting to gloss your eyes or why your heart suddenly feels like it’s beating in the back of your throat, “what’s going on? It’s crazy out there, I don’t know wh—”
“I know. I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you. God, I’ve missed you. It’s been so long, I didn’t think I’d ever—” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence and a few more panicked kisses press into the side of your throat.
He’s crying.
You feel the wetness of his tears smear over your skin and it’s enough to bring your own falling heavily from your eyes. What is he talking about? You saw him this morning, only mere hours ago. You made breakfast, you kissed him goodbye like every other day, nothing had been different. 
“Matt,” you whimper, “what the hell is going on?”
Five years. You were gone for five years. Just one day—poof. Out of existence, never to be seen again. The city had been clouded by dust, remnants of those also taken disappearing with the autumn breeze. So many people just lost. You don’t remember any of it.
There was no pain, no suffering. You had no recollection of the time lost at all, and yet for Matt it had been years.
Years since he had touched you, kissed you, felt you. He tells you that he looked for you for weeks, months. Even went to the damn Avengers—or what was left of them—and found out what had happened. He’d been distraught, falling into a deep, dark pit of despair and heartbreak from the sudden loss of you.
You cry for him, for the time you’d lost together.
Nothing could ever make up for it. Sure, you’re here now, but could you ever truly make up for the loss of time? What had he gone through during your absence?
The two of you don’t part for what feels like hours.
Matt clings to you, inhaling you deeply and kissing whatever inch of skin he could reach. He doesn’t pull away to answer your questions, instead letting the low rumble of his voice melt through the fabric of your shirt and flooding warmth along your shoulder.
His hands still roam over you, almost as if they’re retracing your dips and curves to remind himself of how you felt when you disappeared five years ago. You catch his fingers with a sweet flutter in your chest, lifting his hand to press a tender kiss to the back of it when the smooth feel of metal catches your attention.
It’s a simple gold band, fit snug around the fourth finger of his left hand and you rub your finger over the shiny surface of it in curiosity. He wasn't wearing a ring this morning...
A ring. 
A wedding ring.
You feel sick.
He senses the moment you realise it, picking up on the sudden quicken of your heartbeat and the clammy sting of sweat that builds along the back of your neck.
His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as you stare at the smooth gold band in shock, feeling as if the room had suddenly gotten ten times smaller. He starts to shift, his fingers quickly flipping to wrap around your wrists to keep you from moving away.
“Let me explain—”
“You… are—are you married?”
“Sweetheart, please—”
You hurriedly stand, wrenching your hands from his and stumbling on your quick step back as he advances after you. He’s married? How can he be married?
Maybe he’s not. Maybe he just slid the ring you both picked out onto his finger when you disappeared in an effort to keep your memory fresh… but with the shine of guilt starting to seep into his features, you fear it’s not as sentimental as you hope.
Panic consumes you. Your eyes flitter around the room, your ears filling with a dull ring that drowns out whatever words fall from his lips as he cautiously steps after you.
It’s your apartment, but it’s… it’s not.
You start to notice the little things you had missed upon coming home so quickly. That throw over the back of the couch isn’t yours. The coffee mug next to Matt’s on the kitchen counter isn’t yours. Your trinkets aren’t lingering on the shelves where you’d placed them. Your shoes aren’t thrown by the door. Your photo with Matt isn’t in its usual spot on the wall.
Instead, another picture hangs there.
Bile burns the back of your throat. Your heart thunders away in your ears. You know what it is, you can see the general feel of it and who stands within the frame through blurry eyes, but you simply can’t accept it.
It’s morbid curiosity that makes you take those few steps towards it, a part of you screaming to not look, to turn away before it really hammers that final nail into the coffin and fucking destroys you. Maybe your mind needs to truly see it in order to make sense of it… but no. It only makes you more confused, more distressed.
What the fuck?
Oxygen is impossible. You can’t fucking breathe. You can’t—
“Sweetheart—”
It’s a wedding photo.
Matt’s wedding photo.
Matt and Karen’s wedding photo.
“Oh my god,” you whimper brokenly, clutching a hand to your chest in an effort to keep yourself together. You press where you feel the rapid beat of your heart, half wondering if you’d be able to feel the break of the frantic organ under your palm.
The room starts to spin.
This morning you’d woken up with an apartment and a fiancé, and now, only a few hours later, you have nothing. How can you have nothing? The apartment is home to you—you left your pyjamas on the floor of the bathroom this morning. You had your coffee at the counter. The love you feel for Matt is present as it always had been, there in the centre of your entire being, so sweet and consuming and yet, his love for you had seemingly vanished.
Disintegrated, along with your body apparently five years ago. Maybe with a clearer head, you’d come to understand that five years is a long time and it’s understandable that he had to move on at some point, but in the moment you feel nothing but hurt—rage.
Matt’s hands are frantic on your body, grabbing at your arms and keeping you from falling to the floor as a sob tears its way out of your chest. You can hear him try to soothe you, hear his worry that your heart is erratic and you just need to breathe.
Breathe, sweetheart—please, breathe.
You can’t. You simply can’t.
Oxygen isn’t coming as easily as it should. Your lungs burn. You’re shaking, unable to stop the tremble taking over your body as you choke on your tears. They burn your skin, painting your cheeks with the bitterness of your heartbreak and they just won’t stop. 
He supports you as you sink towards the floor, legs no longer having the strength to hold you up. He goes down with you, hands cradling your head to his chest and you can’t find it in you to push him away and escape his touch.
It’s Matt. Your Matt. 
You shouldn’t want to shrug him off. You shouldn’t feel guilty at his touch. He’s your Matt, has been for the eighteen months you’ve been together. It was meant to be you in that frame, swimming in white with a smile stretched along your lips, Matt dressed to the nines in an immaculate tux and his ever present red shades beside you.
But it’s not. It’s… it’s Karen.
It’s not you, there’s no trace of you anywhere to be seen. Had you been that forgettable? Foggy’s there, Marci a step behind holding a beautiful little girl with ribbons in her hair. They had a baby? You’ve missed so much.
You start weeping for the life you’d missed out on, for the chances and opportunities of growing older with them and the sweet potential you had had with Matt.
Gone.
All of it, just—gone.
Where would you be now had your soul not been chosen? Married? Promoted? A godmother to the sweet little angel cradled in Marci’s arms? 
“Sweetheart, come back to me,” Matt’s voice cuts through your despair, low and soft in your ear and you cling to him tighter, “breathe. I’ve got you, I’m here.”
“I-I’ve lost so much,” you choke out, hiding your tear stricken face in his throat and desperately trying to get ahold of your body jerking with each difficult inhale and broken exhale, “and I didn’t even know—”
You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything when you apparently ‘returned’. It’s all so haunting and overwhelming and so fucking confusing. 
He stills smells the same, feels the same, despite all these years. You cling to him, desperate for comfort in the moment of your utter heartbreak, but it doesn’t work like it used to and that only makes your pain increase tenfold. His hold feels wrong now. His hold isn’t for you anymore. He has a wife.
You still don’t understand. You can’t comprehend the fact that he’s married, that the arms that hold you are now meant for someone else. They were yours this morning. It’s not possible. You had him this morning; you felt him this morning, you kissed him—
“Sweetheart,” he’s urgent now, manoeuvring you in his hold until you sit in front of him, your back pressed up against his chest and his arms tight around your torso, “breathe with me. Feel my chest, listen to me and follow—in… and out. Come on—”
You pay attention to the exaggerated feel of him breathing against your back, focusing on every expansion of his chest and attempting to match the pace of your inhales. It doesn’t work. Your heart still thunders away against your ribs, your mind still runs fucking wild, and your eyes threaten to roll back from the rush of it all.
“Stay with me,” he begs, but his voice starts to sink to the back of your mind, taken over by the high pitched ring sounding in your ears.
It’s not long until black fully engulfs your vision, and Matt’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear, frantic and terrified. Maybe you'll find peace in the darkness.
-
matty tags: @javier-pena, @dihra-vesa, @a-reader-and-a-writer, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @acourtofsnakes, @mstgsmy66, @evyiione, @stardust-galaxies, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @withasideofmeg, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @fangirl-316, @xoxabs88xox, @federleichtefreiheit, @lavenderluna10, @mindidjarin. @stardustingold, @androah, @itwasthereaminuteago, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @h-hxgirl, @Unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @celestinemuse, @chaoticemz, @alexxavicry, @mylifeispainandiloveit, @cran-berry-vodka, @nishi-reads, @mandocrasis, @lawfulgranola, @ew-erin, @fuckoffbard, @spaceserialkiller, @captain-jebi
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matan4il · 4 months
Text
Daily update post:
I've seen the following headline discussed on several news sites:
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And most of the discussion surrounded the issue of why are the terrorists shirtless (which takes the gold medal at the "turn a simple answer into a pointless debate" olympics. They're shirtless to make sure they're not carrying suicide vests, that they plan to detonate in the vicinity of the soldiers). What people should be noting about this, is that these armed terrorists were coming out of a hospital. It's another needed piece of evidence that Hamas has been using Gazan hospitals for their military operations. I am once again encouraging you to think about the UN, the Red Cross, the journalists reporting from Gaza, and every "respectable" human rights organization, like Doctors Without Borders, which operated in these places, and COVERED THIS UP for Hamas for the past 16 years.
Denmark's police announced that they have arrested 3 people (with one additional person arrested in The Netherlands) for planning to carry out a terrorist attack against Jews and Israelis.
Israel's top satire show continues to ridicule the inability of the world to have any moral clarity, of even the most basic kind, when it comes to antisemitism.
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And that's how you could have done it, SNL.
In the same context, I watched the House debate on the bipartisan resolution calling for the presidents of Harvard and MIT to resign. Some of the arguments against the resolution were absolutely infuriating, either types of "whataboutism" ("But what about all the other things we should be doing to combat antisemitism?" Well, Karen, you can do those, too. There's absolutely no contradiction. At the same time, you say that you've dedicated many years to fighting antisemitism, and yet look at the state of your fight. Maybe holding people in position of educational power personally responsible, maybe making people see that there is a price to pay for taking Qatari money and allowing antisemitism to thrive, would make a difference, on top of those other measures that should be taken to fight Jew hatred) or just repeated, "But free speech!" (as if that line of defence wasn't obliterated during the hearing, when it was demonstrated that other marginalized groups' right to protection has been treated as superseding the right to free speech, on the same campuses where these presidents failed to define a call for the genocide of Jews as harassment, which means that not only did these universities fail to protect Jewish students from antisemitism, they engaged in discriminatory behavior towards Jews themselves).
Thankfully, the resolution passed, 303 to 126.
Here's a reminder of what Jewish students have been dealing with:
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On the last day of Hanukkah, I wanna share with you this story. You might have seen this picture before:
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This is the Posner family's hanukkiah. In Dec 1931, a moment before the Nazis' rise to power, and when their imminent threat is already well felt by German Jews, Rachel Posner puts this hanukkiah at the window, knowing that the Nazis' headquarters in Kiel, the German city where her husband is the community's rabbi, is situated right across the street from their home. After lighting the candles, she's suddenly inspired to take a picture of the hanukkiah with the Nazi banner in the background. When she gets the picture printed, she writes on the back:
"Judea, drop dead!" says the banner. "Judea will live forever," answers the light.
"Judea, drop dead!" was a part of a common Nazi slogan back then. It went, "Germany, wake up! Judea, drop dead!"
The Posner family heeded the warning signs, and left Germany in 1933, one of the last moments when that was still possible for Jews. The family moved to Israel, and was saved. Once established, they decided to donate the hanukkiah to Yad Vashem, Israel's Holocaust remembrance authority, to be displayed at our museum. The family only asked for one thing: to get to light the hanukkiah every Hanukkah. Now, museums are not supposed to say yes to this. If you donate something to a museum, that's it. The artifact belongs to the museum, you don't get to ask to use it, and in fact, for preservation purposes, it's not supposed to be used. But YV understood from the start that our museums is not going to be like other ones, and that when people donate artifcats to us, these are not just inanimate objects. These are the remainders of people who are lost, innocence that was robbed, a world that was destroyed. These are reminders of hope and life in the face of hatred and murder. And we can't take that away from people. That's why YV agrees to this type of request.
So, when I take people on a tour of our museum during Hanukkah, and go into our "German Jews room," and I show the corner where a large "window" bears an imprint of Rachel Posner's photo, I have to explain why the display next to the "window" is empty, other than a small note that reads, "temporarily removed." And why Hanukkah is the only time of the year when visitors can't see this hanukkiah.
This year was no exception. Hanukkah came, and we got the Posner family hanukkiah out of the glass display case... Except this year, after the Oct 7 massacre, things are different. The hanukkiah first traveled to Germany, where it was lit by the families of the hostages asking for their loved ones' return, and then it traveled back to Israel, and from there to Gaza, where it was lit by a great grandson of Rabbi Akiva and his wife Rachel Posner.
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This is 41 years old Tal Haimi.
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Tal was a third generation at kibbutz Nir Yitzhak. He's one of many Israelis, from which there was no sign of life since Oct 7, though there was an indication that they're held in Gaza (most commonly, their cell phone signal was picked up there). Yesterday, his family got confirmation that he was murdered during the Hamas massacre, and it was his body that was kidnapped to Gaza. His wife Ella is pregnant, and was documenting the course of the pregnancy for the past two months, hoping to share that with him, when he returns from captivity. May his memory be a blessing.
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
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Why does Susan prefer Rosie? Susan headcanons?
I like the fact that even though Rosie doesn't have any high views on Susan, Susan herself seem to prefer Rosie on the stage over Charlie and probably over Alastor as well.
But I want to do more headcanons for hell's greatest Karen.
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Susan definitely hackles Alastor whenever he's alone on stage, trying to play piano or tell dad jokes for the people of Cannibal Town
Susan survived the extermination attack. To both Alastor and Rosie's dismay. Out of all the cannibals dying that day, Susan survived (IDK if she did survive though.. but that would be hilarious)
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Susan takes the longest time to chat with Rosie at Rosie's Emporium, being the main reason to why the lines at Rosie's are always so long.
Susan finds any and all reasons to come at visit Rosie, even when it's not related to what the shop sells or what Rosie personally provides, relationship advice.
Susan, is not married, at least not in hell. No one can stand her. But she probably was married when she was alive. Poor fellow.
Susan may or may not have a crush on Rosie. She's most likely denying it to herself. Because she's a proper lady and she doesn't even have a word for the feelings she feels towards Rosie. Rosie in turn might have picked up on this and that's why she hasn't gotten rid of Susan completely. The old lady can't help it, but it's not like Rosie is gonna entertain the idea either.
Susan died of old age.
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insoupid · 4 months
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I am sure someone has talked about this before but the whole abundance of "Karen" videos on the internet just proves how no one takes women's anger seriously. Like I'm not defending mean ladies yelling at and attacking people but the reason you don't see as many videos of men acting like this is because people are actually afraid of men and take their anger seriously.
When a man is pissed off there is like no time to pull out the camera and talk more shit.
When women yell, people point and laugh. When men yell, people react in fear and de-escalation.
The result is women are turned into a joke online meanwhile men get away with a reputation that they can handle their emotions better..
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bugsbenefit · 4 months
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hellfire in s5, and how it's Really not looking good for the members
the hellfire club is, in my opinion, one of the most obvious set ups for s5 and i never see enough people acknowledge how blatant the show actually is with it. because it's a directly addressed ongoing issue that slowly worsens over time and directly threatens three main characters (Dustin, Lucas, and Mike), at Least
there's a clear structured progression of the threat getting worse, with a major part of the s4 Hawkins plot being only Jason and his team chasing Eddie down, and by the last episodes of the show the rest of the town sides with them and joins the objective. however, we never get any consequence of the town agreeing with Jason, aside form the kids parents getting reaction shots looking insanely worried. the only thing even resembling partisan participation is a dogwalker (the same man that agreed with Jason first and then caused every other member in the town hall to also agree) informing Jason and co about there being someone in the Creel house. a single character ratting someone out is not pay off for a scene that rallies the entire town with anger and fear. especially because he was the First one to agree with Jason, arguably the next reaction, in parallel to the town house scene, will have everyone else also involve themselves
and everything Jason actually said in the town hall looks INFINITELY worse by the end of the season because he not only died the same day (how odd that must look), the town was also hit by a severe earthquake. (and hell-gates open in town but we don't know how people will react to that yet, or if it will even be immediately obvious to them)
like. it's a Terrible look. and with Eddie being dead now, the main target that represented the hellfire club in s4 and got the primary share of blame is now officially un-prosecutable
s4 also goes out of it's way to associate Lucas, Dustin and Mike explicitly with the hunt on Hellfire, ages before the whole town gets involved
Lucas is put on edge by the basketball's team hostility towards his friends constantly and has to actively lie his way out of the line of fire multiple times. the basketball team is also looking for Dustin to question him about Eddie's whereabouts, even going to his house where a confrontation only doesn't happen because he's not home. and they even manage to go out of their way to drag Mike into it despite him being out of town, when Jason starts a conversation with Nancy specifically to threaten her and then asks about Mike right after
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which leads to the other thing; not only are all the kids already on Jason's radar, he's also getting more and more direct with the fact that he doesn't just want to have a nice chat with them (culminating in actually physically attacking Lucas by the last episode)
and if them setting all of the kid members of hellfire up for a bad time wasn't obvious enough, it's also fascinating to see the posters of hellfire we get over the season also show a clear shift in focus
when we see the hellfire club year book photo for the first time the focus is on Eddie. he's who Jason sees as the main culprit and when we get a close up of the burning poster we see Eddie
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but when we see the hellfire club photo again 4 episodes later the focus isn't on Eddie anymore. not in dialogue and not visually
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the shot is from the Wheeler's pov (Karen's specifically), and the only part of the picture that's in focus is the far right corner, with Mike and Lucas. (makes sense that's her son that's currently being implicated in satanic murders). Eddie never gets unblurred, he's not who the audience is supposed to look at in this shot. verbally Jason is also explicitly blaming the whole club now. it's not just Eddie who's "crazy" and killed Chrissy, it's the whole club who's responsible (it's also very notable that he's handing out yearbook photos of the whole club, not just Eddie. a really distinct prop choice. everyone in town now not only thinks hellfire is directly responsible for multiple ritualistic murders, they also know Exactly who's in the club)
and looking back at the season in hindsight, there's actually more than enough instances that would make the members of Hellfire look kind of guilty, or shady at best, even if someone were to do some research. there's multiple instances of hellfire members lying to the basketball team about hellfire member's whereabouts which definitely doesn't make them look more innocent in the team's eyes. not only do Eddie's band members try to brush them off, Nancy pretends to not even know about Hellfire when Jason asks about Mike, and Lucas goes out of his way to keep Dustin and Eddie's locations from them by deliberately lying and sending them to wrong locations
and that's on top of the entire montage of Dustin and Mike trying to find a substitute player for a single game on the same day a student with no previous affiliation to Eddie Munson dies at his trailer? that looks Horrible in hindsight. especially with them asking pretty much every other student, from almost every club, while both prominently wearing hellfire shirts. if anyone actually remembers them and thinks about the events post Chrissy's death they could definitely make some assumptions
it's just bad looks all around. and that's not even mentioning how they have the potential to look even worse in s5. if it got out Lucas was with Max when she somehow died and broke all her bones? would look horrible. or Dustin now associating with Eddie's dad? and we don't even know how he'll fulfill Eddie's wish to "look after the little sheep"
and even Mike, who didn't even have the chance to attract suspicion post e1 due to being out of town has a whole thing going on with his image paralleling Eddie, with being the other DM and having his s4 style be directly in reference to Eddie's looks
while there's building hostility towards the hellfire members, and the focus (both visually and vocally) switches more to the members Other than Eddie, by the end of the season there just hasn't been a chance for the townsfolk to respond to Jason's speech yet. they all agreed with him, but everything immediately went to shit the same night. however, even the last few minutes of the show, that always have the most direct foreshadowing for the next season, include a shot focusing on the rise of religion and the fearmongering that started with Jason's speech
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which serves as a great reminder that the entire town hall just agreed with Hellfire being a satanist cult they need to stop
s4 ends with the hellfire set up being one of the most explicitly obvious plot threads that are about to be a problem for multiple main characters in s5. like the few other obvious established about-to-be struggles: the gates opening, Vecna still being alive, Max being "gone"; we've gotten a full set up there but no payoff yet
and then there's obviously the question of what the people would even DO in s5? they all agreed that Hellfire needed to be stopped, so... what now?
on one hand there's the interesting concept of the town refusing to help the protagonists but they could also be acting as a hostile force against them
say anyone tried to warn the town about the upside down or it's creatures, the chances of people listening to them talk about actual "demons" and reacting in any positive way is probably near 0. even if you saw a Demogorgon nibble on your neighbour an hour ealier, would you really listen to someone you think intentionally opened the Hellgate that let the creatures through in the first place?
but then there's of course the active antagonistic angle they could also take. Jason was calling for Hellfire to be actively opposed and stopped, not passively. and the show Does go out of it's way to show the overcrowded weapons store in multiple shots post Jason-speech
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we're supposed to know these people are armed going forward. whether they're buying them to go hunting, or wanting to go shoot Eddie Munson, the weapons are there now... also ignore the 7 separate hellfire wanted posters in the opening shot of the store alone 💀(it's actually 9, i didn't circle the two that are cut off in the bottom corner. that whole board is just plastered with that one photo)
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(the implication of what the guns are for couldn't be more obvious if they tried. again, also the scene where Jason tries to intimidate Nancy and directly asks about where Mike is. also the scene where Erica and co try to hide from the basketball team members in the store. the scene features, guns, hellfire posters everywhere, and characters specifically asking about the whereabouts of a member while other people are actively hiding)
and the weapons could play out in a positive way in s5 too, say the lady from next door gets hands on involved and takes shots at the Demobats in her front yard
but the reactionary, scared, and angry town that blames a specific small group of people for everything that's happening could also lead to MCs having to actively worry about getting shot by someone they've seen at the supermarket for 10+ years on top of the supernatural threat
TLDR: re Hellfire, none of these members will have a good time in s5
Edit (because i forgot to include these images and am silly)
Hellfire even makes it on the local news by the end of the season
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and in line with the focus shifting from Eddie to the other hellfire members, the news anchor then goes to say that Eddie Munson is presumed dead after the earthquake but that that isn't enough for the town. the news even mentions the conspiracy theory that the hellfire murders CAUSED the earthquake. so anyone who hasn't heard Jason's speech, now they're getting it from a "reputable" source too. call that high quality journalism, let's throw the local highschoolers under the bus
we're supposed to remember the fear of the "satanic cult killing children" that Jason spread to the town. it's still there. and it's not just in the local town hall anymore, its being broadcast on live television. so just in case you didn't catch wind of who caused a "gate to hell" to open in your suburban neighbourhood the first time, the news anchor thankfully tells you who everybody Says is responsible, it's the 14-18 year old satanist serial killers duh
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Lifeline
pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 
summary: When Matt starts to shut down, your stubbornness saves him.
warnings: swearing, angst, panic attack description, pining buffoons, pre-relationship, Matt's mental illness and fear of abandonment
a/n: This is a short birthday fic for the wonderful @abucketofweird who wanted a fic similar to Renegade with Best Friends to Lovers. I hope you enjoy, my dear! 🥳🥰❤️
I know it's short and pre-relationship but there is plenty of angsty Matt! (Also, yes she calls him a million nicknames, but they're not ~explicitly~ together in this). Please let me know if y'all are tired of seeing me write crying!angsty!Matt because I know I write that a lot.
w/c: ~4k
Matt could still remember the day that the Devil had first emerged. It was before his accident, after witnessing a group of teens bully his elementary school classmate on her way home from school. Years of seeing his dad throw hits and his own unwavering moral compass had forged a new being within his own; his rage overtaking his consciousness, forming shaky fists and a flower across his face. 
At the time, he hadn’t known how to fight properly and had gotten his ass kicked. A few decades had passed and, though his ability had grown, his rage had stayed the same. 
Fury was a useful tool, most of the time. Allowing him to push through discomfort and injury until he’d taken down whatever evildoer he’d gone after that day. It was his wrath that kept him going, but it was also his biggest inhibition. 
The desire to beat powerful criminals bloody was overpowering. His gut boiled with anger anytime he heard someone crying for help, knowing that, more than likely, the only thing sparing them from that cruel fate was him—a blind Catholic with a chip on his shoulder and lacking self preservation skills. 
It was his rage that caused tunnel vision. Which in turn caused sleep deprivation, which led to more injuries. The cycle didn’t end there though, at least not recently. His tendency to prioritize his alter ego over his own health wasn’t something that could be solved by a simple nap these days. Not when he had people worrying about him, and when his efforts to meditate or find another outlet for his emotions remained futile. 
More injuries meant it was more difficult to hide them. A bullet wound in his stomach, a sprained ankle, these were more noticeable to his coworkers, to you. While you were eternally patient and understanding about his double life, his business partners were not. He tried his best to ignore Karen’s gasps and Foggy’s pointed stares every time he limped into the office or winced while pouring his coffee. Despite his efforts, it always aggravated him, fueling his rage and thus perpetuating the cycle further. 
This week, Foggy had snapped. Yelling at Matt for putting himself in danger, for jeopardizing their recent case—they’d had to postpone a meeting with the prosecution given the state of Matt’s face—and their firm. In return, Matt had lashed out. Screaming about the greater good and Foggy not trusting him. It quickly became an all out brawl, both men hurling insults at the other despite Karen warning them that they were going too far. But her intervention came too late. 
“You claim to be so worried about people leaving but I don’t see how that’s fucking possible when you try so hard to scare us off, Murdock. Guess what!? It’s working!” Foggy snapped, throwing his hands in the air with a huff. 
Logically, Matt knew Foggy didn’t mean that—at least not in the way Matt heard it—but his throat felt swollen anyway. His heart pounded, the argument sitting on his tongue dissolving as his mouth grew increasingly dry. Loosening his tie, Matt stalked to his office to gather his things. 
“You know what, I think I’ll work at home for a few days.” He spoke stiffly, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 
“Matt,” Karen took a step towards him but he refuses to acknowledge her placating tone. 
“I’ll see you in court next week. I’ll drop off my opening argument tomorrow night.” Without waiting for their responses, he retreated to his apartment. 
With every step along the damp Manhattan sidewalk, his irritation grew. His brain was flickering back and forth between despair and indignation, his hands itching to hit something. Tonight would be productive, that much was clear. 
Though he usually waited until the late hours of the evening to go out as Daredevil, his argument with Foggy had ignited an impatient buzzing beneath his skin—his muscles clenching and anger bubbling until he caved to the Devil. It was risky, dashing from roof to roof in his suit at dusk, but his patience had worn out hours ago. 
The night felt endless, yet it was over far too soon. He raced through the streets, taking down thug after thug, until a serrated blade caught him off guard. With a jagged rip across his thigh, he made for his apartment—planning to crudely stitch the wound before finishing what he’d started. 
As he approached his loft, his ears locked on to a familiar heartbeat, its pattering mulling about his place as he grew closer. Foggy had sent in reinforcements, he supposed, though he wasn’t thrilled about it. 
Opening the rooftop door, Matt stomped down the stairs, hurling pieces of his suit across the space as he ripped them from his overheated body. Pretending not to care about the spike in your heartbeat, courtesy of his pounding steps, he tore the mask from his face, setting it beside the sink before filling a glass with water. 
Fidgeting with your sleeve, you approached him slowly, saying nothing as he downed a glass of lukewarm water before jutting his chin at you. 
“Say what you’re going to say, then leave.” His voice was harsh and deep, the Devil still fully in control. 
You inhaled slowly, not scared of his current state, but clearly unhappy all the same. “What makes you think I have something to say?” 
Matt bit back a scoff. “Foggy sent you, which means you’re on his side and are here to tell me off.” 
“On his side…Christ, Murdock.” You were a few paces in front of him, just behind the counter, your clothes rustling as you crossed your arms in frustration. 
“Why else would you be here?” Matt stormed around you and into his bathroom, unbuckling the bottom half to sew himself up. If anyone else had been here, he might have been more worried about modesty, but you’d seen him in more compromising positions than this over the years. 
Gritting your teeth as you trudged after him, your arms remained folded against your chest. “Because I care about you, asshole. Karen told me what Foggy said. I was worried.” 
Your heart thumped steadily with your honest admission, eliciting a pang of guilt deep in Matt’s subconscious. He remained silent, rubbing a damp cloth over his wound to clean it up before he attempted suturing it. At his lack of response, you scoffed, “Don’t know why I was so worried. You’re clearly taking it very well.” 
Spinning to face you, his lips curled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 
“It means exactly what you think it means, Matt.” You snapped back at him, regretting it when his jaw twitched in response. Sighing, your voice softened. “You are so strong, and I know that Foggy and Karen give you a hard time but they’re not entirely wrong. It’s ok to ask for help.” 
“I don’t need their help.” Matt muttered, leaning against the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” 
“No one is saying that you’re not.” You tried to reason, but he refused to listen. 
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Foggy was saying, actually. How would you even know? It’s not like you were there.” He bit out, resentment prickling through his words. 
Ouch. He was right. You weren’t there. Because you’d taken a new job across the city. And he clearly was still not ok with that fact. 
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You spoke gravely, brushing away a smudge of dirt on his cheek with your thumb. He tensed under your touch, but didn’t flinch away. “But you know that I don’t agree with what Fog said, right? Regardless of whether he meant it, it was wrong for him to imply—“
Shoving your hand from his face, his lips formed a scowl once again. “What? That it’s my fault? That people leave because I make them? Maybe he’s right.” 
“Matt, that’s not true. You know—“
“Don’t tell me what I know!” He roared pressing into your personal space, eyes blazing with fury. 
Breathing evenly, you shifted your weight away from him. Not flinching out of fear, just a natural reaction to his behavior, yet the movement still stung. Retreating from you, he picked up the cloth and refocused on the gash across his thigh. 
“Go home,” He spoke your name coldly. This wasn’t a question, it was an order. 
“Matt—“ You started but he glared at you. 
“Go.”
You nodded, pacing back into the living room to grab your purse from the couch. “Call me if you need anything, Matty. I’ll be around.” You spoke softly, your soft footsteps fading as you left his loft. 
Biting back an irritated snarl, Matt tread into the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. Taking a full swig, he pushed his guilt and pain aside and picked up a needle. 
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Burying your face in the collar of your jacket, you scrunched your nose as a particularly fierce gust of wind smacked you. Soldiering forward, you sped down the street towards the dimly lit building you were aiming for. 
It might be a mistake to return to Matt’s loft, but you couldn’t leave him there alone when he was so distraught. At least, not in good conscience. 
You respected his request for space, absolutely—taking time to return to your own apartment and retrieve his worn Columbia sweater, which you’d stolen a few weeks ago and simply not given back. It was soft and oversized, for you at least, making it ridiculously comfortable. But it was clear Matt needed that comfort more than you did right now. 
After tucking the garment in your bag carefully, you headed back out into the blustery evening to pick up a large order of food from Matt’s favorite Italian place. 
If he still didn’t want you there upon your return, so be it. But the man wouldn’t go cold or hungry on your watch, dammit. 
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him to take care of himself, you just recognized that self-preservation wasn’t a priority for him when he was…like this. Brooding. Angry. 
In the decade and a half you’d known him, you had started to piece together Matt’s various moods and this was a common one. His heightened senses igniting something inside him that pulled him into fights all around the city. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt hearing innocent civilians in trouble constantly. But eventually, he’d stop restraining himself. Sleep less. Eat less. Go to work, go out as Daredevil, and do it all again the next day—even when he was a jumble of exhaustion and bruises. 
In these moments, he was no longer your beloved Matthew Murdock. He was a candle, with a burning wick and a torch at his base. The wax slowly melting away, until his sanity was nothing but a distant memory. 
This was something you’d seen a handful of times when working with him and Foggy, even back when you three were just interns at Landman and Zack. It was the thing about Matt that you and Foggy argued about most these days. 
See, Foggy believed the solution to these episodes was to remove Daredevil from the equation altogether. You couldn’t necessarily blame the blond for thinking that, given how Matt’s vigilante antics impacted his work and his ability to be a good friend. 
Despite understanding Foggy’s concerns, your faith in Matt didn’t hinge on his nighttime activities. These periods of great stress were a sign that Matt needed support. Not an indication that he was no longer able to lead a double life. 
While the average person might snap or cry when they were overwhelmed, Matt would force himself to take more on. You assumed this was a symptom of the manipulation he’d endured during his youth. 
Matt hadn’t disclosed much about his childhood mentor, but you knew that he’d been encouraged to work through periods of distress, simply bottling up his feelings in order to ensure productivity. Given that he’d never had those beliefs challenged until well into adulthood, it was second nature for him to add more to his plate until he couldn’t anymore—whether that was because someone forced him to rest, or he was literally comatose. 
He’d confessed to you once—on another night like tonight when he was so tired of fighting everyone that he caved to your questioning—that rest wasn’t something that came easily to him. It was almost an enemy, in his mind, preventing him from helping as many people as he could. Resting meant he was a failure, and failing meant people would leave. 
This conversation lived in the back of your mind every time the dark haired man frustrated you. Every sleepless night spent pulling your hair out while you waited for him to text you that he was alive, every morning spent patching him up in the conference room because the walk to work had pulled his stitches out. Each and every time Matt’s other identity impacted your life, you reminded yourself that, in his mind, he didn’t have a choice. 
This time was no different. 
Though it probably didn’t help that Foggy had insinuated that he was thinking of leaving Matt. Not when Matt’s subconscious was desperately trying to pretend his life was balanced to keep everyone happy. Which is why you allowed yourself to be more stubborn than usual this dreadful evening, worming your way back into Matt’s home so he knew that he wasn’t in danger of being alone. 
Removing one ungloved hand from the safety of your fleece lined pocket, you yanked open the door to the restaurant, smiling softly at the hostess as her eyes met yours. 
“I have an order for pick up?” Giving her your name, you curled both hands back into your pockets, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited, somewhat impatiently, for your food. 
After what felt like an hour, the hostess handed you two bags stacked with containers, grimacing apologetically. “Sorry about the wait!”
“Not a problem!” You shrugged, grabbing the bags. “Thank you!!”
Dashing around the crowd forming behind you, your feet carried you the few remaining blocks to Matt’s building. Treading up the stairs slowly, you panted, taking a moment to breathe before making it to his door. 
Here goes nothing. 
You bypassed waiting for Matt to open the door, instead choosing to knock gingerly and use your spare key to unlock the door. 
“Matty?” You called softly, receiving no answer. 
Inhaling deeply, hoping you weren’t about to irreparably damage your relationship with Matt, you stepped over the threshold and into his space. Shuffling around the corner at the end of the hallway, you peeked into the loft, scanning it for any indication of your overworked friend—but there was no sign of him. No obvious one, at least. 
As you blocked out the muffled sounds of the city that had managed to penetrate the walls of the loft, your ears picked up a hushed sound from somewhere in the kitchen. A rapid whooshing—like panting, or choking. 
Rushing around the counter, your eyes widened in shock as you found Matt curled against the dark wooden cabinets. He was seated, but hunched over his knees, his hands tightly wrapped around his shins to keep his body in the position as he rocked back and forth. There was a jaggedly stitched line along his thigh, surrounded by mottled skin and goosebumps. Given his lack of clothing—he was only wearing his boxers—and the frigid temperature in the room, the poor man was shaking violently. A combination of his harsh breathing and his low body temperature, you assumed. 
As your presence became more noticeable, Matt tilted his head up, chin wobbling, eyes frantic and shining. Calling your name shakily, his weak plea almost made your own eyes well up. 
Crouching before him, you set the bags in your grasp aside, opening your palms to him. “It’s me, sweetheart. I’m right here. What happened?”
“D-don’t know. Can’t breathe.” Matt choked around the words, leaning towards you as you scrambled closer. 
“Can I touch—“ You asked, hesitant to take any major steps without explicit permission. 
“Yes. Please,” He sobbed, collapsing against your chest as your arms opened. 
“It’s ok. You’re ok, sweet boy.” You rubbed a hand over his back in a circular motion, using your free hand to guide one of his palms to your chest. “Feel my breathing?” 
Matt nodded against your chest, nails digging into your shoulder blade as he tried to get his breathing under control. 
“That’s my guy. Doing so good for me, handsome.” You praised softly, tracing your hand up his back and into his hair in the way you knew he loved. “That’s it, nice even breaths.” 
Unwinding your body from its squatted position, you sat on the cold floor, spreading your legs to allow Matt to fall into your lap. Perched across your thighs, Matt’s slowly stopped heaving. He was still covered in goosebumps and bruises, but his probable panic attack had been avoided for now. 
“There we go. Good job, honey. Feel a bit better?” You scratched diligently at Matt’s scalp, his skull knocking against your fingers with a nod. 
“Yes. Thank you.” He murmured, hot breath hitting your collar bone, a contrast to his icy skin. 
“Ok, sweets. Are you cold?” 
Another nod, making your lips twitch with a tiny smile. “Yah, stupid question. Here, put this on.” 
Pulling your bag over to you, you yanked out the sweater and handed it to him, mourning the loss of contact as he sat up to slip it on. After his chest was covered, his brow furrowed, a hand coming up to trace the text on the front of the hoodie. “My sweatshirt?” 
Cupping his stubbled cheek, you stroked a thumb over his jaw. “I brought it back. Thought you might need it tonight. C’mon honey, why don’t we go lay down, hm?” 
Allowing Matt to crawl off your lap, you drew him from the floor as you stood, laying your arm around his waist and holding him upright as he hobbled to his room. Tumbling onto the mattress, he haphazardly threw his sheets over his bare legs, curling into fetal position. His body was stiff, as if he was clenching every muscle to prevent writhing in pain. Sitting next to his waist, you fussed with the covers, drawing them more tightly around his rigid form. 
“There, that’s better. Just close your eyes and—“ you attempted to encourage the weary man to rest but his small voice interrupted. 
“You came back.” Matt spoke lowly, blinking back a new wave of tears. “You came back when I told you to leave.” 
“Do you need me to go? That’s fine, Matty, I’ll just—“ 
“No!” His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. “Please don’t.” 
“Ok, sweet boy. I’ll stay here. As long as you want me to.” 
Matt nodded once, tears trailing down his face again. “You came back.” No longer talking to you, it seemed that he was trying to make himself believe that he was no longer alone. 
Sliding down to face him, you ran a hand over his arm, letting him murmur silently to himself until he spoke to you again.
“I don’t think they’ll ever be happy.” 
“Who won’t be happy, handsome?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up on an elbow to study his face as he answered. 
“Foggy and Karen. Maybe you too, I’m not sure.” His voice cracked, tears pouring down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. 
“Hey, hey,” You shushed, drawing him back into your chest. “Oh, Matty—“
“What am I supposed to do?” His hazel eyes reopened, revealing a hopelessness you were shocked to see. “I hear people screaming for help and I…I can’t just lay here doing nothing. I don’t know how. And I try to explain but no one understands. I don’t know what to do,” When he uttered your name this time, it was a desperate request—to confirm that you understood, that you wouldn’t hold his actions against him. 
“Oh, Matt, honey, I’m so sorry.” You rested your chin atop his head as he sobbed into your collarbone. “Sweetheart, you are so good at what you do. You’re a fucking hero. No one is mad about you choosing to use every ability you have to help people, we just worry about you, sweets, that’s all. And, I can’t speak for the others, but you shouldn’t have to worry about making me happy, ok? As long as you’re alive—“
“He’s going to leave me.” Ah. That’s where his mind was getting stuck. The words were broken, Matt’s voice strained beyond recognition as he voiced his fear. “He’s going to leave me like you did.”
A lump of emotion clogged your throat, tears wavering against your waterline. “Matt, you know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”
He shrugged against you, body still trembling as he cried. 
“Matty, I adore you. I loved working with you and seeing you every day, sweets. I just couldn’t live on pies and hand-knit gloves in one of the most expensive cities in the country. I needed income, not an escape. I’m still here. I’m still yours.” 
Heaving out a shaky breath, Matt nodded. Caressing his cheek, you asked. “What did my heartbeat tell you?”
“Truth.” He whispered. The two of you sat in silence, your hand absentmindedly running through his mussed hair as his body stopped shaking. Just when you thought the fear of abandonment had been swayed for the night, he piped up one last time. 
“What am I supposed to do?”
“About Foggy?” You clarified, biting your lip when Matt nodded. With a sigh, you brought your fingers to his silky hair once again. “Matt, I am not psychic, I don’t know what the future will look like for the two of you, but I know that Foggy loves you. So does Karen, and so do I. And you don’t leave the people you love. You talk it out, you forgive them for their mistakes.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Matt whimpered. 
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. But I’ll be right here with you through it all, ok?” Pressing your lips to his forehead, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “I don’t want to scare you, sweet boy, but I have to go into your kitchen for a moment. I brought some food with me that I’m going to put in your fridge for later. I’ll get you some water too. Anything else you need?” 
“Aspirin.” He murmured, blank eyes glossy with tears. 
“Of course, sweets. I’ll be right back.” With another brush of fingers over his scalp, you wriggled out from under him and hurried to the kitchen—shoving the food into his bare fridge while grabbing water and pills. 
He took the medicine you handed him diligently, his expression uncharacteristically blank. Draining the glass of water, he handed the empty cup to you without a word. You could see him slipping away into the recesses of his mind, trying to shove everything down once again, to handle it all himself. 
Sliding under the covers next to him, you wrapped him in a tight embrace as he buried his damp face in your neck. 
“Talk to me, sweets. What do you need?” 
“Just you.” Matt choked out, fisting your shirt in his hands as if worried you were imaginary. “Please.” 
“I’m right here. Always.” Kissing his crown, you ran a hand along his spine, humming softly as his breathing evened out. 
He wasn’t through the rough patch yet, but that was ok. You were going to be here regardless. And you’d tell him that every day until he believed you.
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tonyspank · 9 months
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TRUTH HURTS
Summary: Your girlfriend finds out your secret.
A/N: I was listening to Lizzo when I wrote this lol. And I didn't revise this at all, so if there are mistakes, sorry!
Warnings: Reader and Jenna being too cute at the end. But actually, I can't think of anything.
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"I just took a DNA test turns out I'm 100% that bitch! Even when I'm crying crazy." You sing on top of a rooftop, your Spider Suit hugging your body. Karen (an artificial intelligence user interface created by and installed in your Spider Suit by Tony Stark) had turned on your swinging playlist that you had created last month. You pause your singing to take a bite of your sandwich you'd gotten from the deli a few blocks down, savoring its sweet and salty flavors.
Being New York's Spider-Man/Woman was absolutely exhausting. Yet, the thrill of it all was worth it. You smiled, content with the knowledge that you were making a difference in the city. You had to balance your heroic tasks with your everyday life, but it was worth it. You felt proud to be able to help people in need and make a difference in the world. You had found your true purpose. Sometimes you'd fear for the people you loved. You didn't want them to get involved in the crime you fought everyday. You kept doing your best to protect them while taking on the criminals. You knew that you were making a change and that's what kept you going.
Jenna, your girlfriend and also an upcoming actor didn't know exactly who you were. She thought you had a normal job, and thought you were just an ordinary person. She had no idea that you were Spider-Man/Woman, risking your own life to save others. You were afraid to tell her the truth, but at the same time you wanted her to know the truth. You decided maybe one day you could tell her hope she would understand.
You freeze your dancing and chewing, seeing a group of thugs walking into an alleyway. You knew you had to act fast, so you shoved the remaining half of your sandwich into your mouth, pulling down your mask. "Karen! Pause my playlist please." You asked the AI assistant installed in your mask. You started running, jumping off the roof and shooting a web out towards the alleyway, determined to protect your neighborhood.
You followed them, keeping a safe distance, and watched as they opened a door in the back of the alleyway. The door revealed a secret hideout with a large stash of weapons. You web yourself to a corner of the hideout, waiting for an opportune moment to act. Suddenly, the door opened and several armed men entered the hideout. You knew you had to act fast and without hesitation. You quickly webbed one of the thugs to the nearest wall. 
"It's Spider-Man/Woman!"
The other thugs were taken by surprise raising their weapons at you. "Now that's no way to treat company!" You say with a smirk under your mask. "I was on my lunch break before this!" You fired a web at the thugs and they were suspended in mid-air, helpless. You quickly zip around the room, disarming each thug and taking their weapons.
You turn to the last one, still suspended in the air, and say "Let that be a lesson to you. Don't mess with me on my lunch break." Before you fire another web, your phone vibrates. You drop to the ground, pulling it out of your tight pocket and read the contact name, which reads "Jenna" Face-Timing you.
Really? Now? When you're fighting criminals? The thug attempts to attack you with a crowbar, but you dodge it easily holding��up a finger. "Dude, please? I gotta text my girlfriend."
The thug stops, stunned, and laughs. He throws the crowbar to the side, shaking his head. "Man, you got some serious priorities. Alright, go ahead and text your girl, I'll wait."
 The thug stepped back and crossed his arms. He watched with amusement as you texted away, trying to explain to Jenna you were too busy to Face-Time. After a few moments you put away your phone, turning back to the thug. "Alright, I'm ready." The thug grinned, showing off his broken teeth. He took a step forward and raised his fist. "Let's get this started then," he said.
You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, preparing for the fight. The thug lunged forward, but you were ready, dodging his attack and counterattacking with a flurry of punches and kicks. In a few short seconds, the thug lay on the ground, defeated.
"Karen could you call this in and call Jenna back for me?" You nicely ask the AI, Karen responded, "Yes, of course. I am calling Jenna now." Karen connected Jenna to a call and the police were dispatched.
You web away from the scene, as Jenna answers and you hear her lovely voice. "Hey, where are you?" You answer, "I'm at home. I just got back from Feast. " Jenna is suspicious but you assure her that you were just busy helping your Aunt. 
She reluctantly believes you, "Oh, okay. Well, I have good news!" You swing low in the streets, dodging cars to entertain yourself. She continues, "I got the role!" You nearly get hit by a car, but move just in time. You yell with joy, "That's great! Congratulations!" Jenna laughs and tells you how excited she is about the new role. You talk to Jenna for a few more minutes, sharing your excitement about her news. "How about I take a shower and come to your place?"
 "Orrrr," She trails off, "I come to your place and we use your vinyl player and celebrate over dinner?" You hesitantly agree. Were you going to make it back home in time to shower, prepare dinner, change, and beat her there? You start swinging off your webs faster, hoping not to run into anything with the speed you're going. You see your apartment building in the distance and you're relieved. You quickly swing inside from your open window. You turn around to close your window, but your heart drops when you hear a gasp behind you.
You spin around to find your girlfriend standing in the doorway, her mouth agape. How did she get here so fast?! You stand there frozen, unsure what to say. She stares at you, her eyes wide and searching for answers. Your heart beats faster as you try to come up with an explanation. You take a deep breath and take off your mask throwing it somewhere in your room as you open your mouth about to speak.
You finally blurt out, "It's not what it looks like!" She looks at you skeptically and you can tell she doesn't believe you. You take a step back, trying to figure out how to convince her otherwise. You open your mouth to explain, but no words come out. You sigh, "Okay, maybe it is what it looks like."
She stares at you, and you take a step closer to her. You reach out to take her hands in yours. She flinches and pulls away, but you continue to hold out your hands, looking into her eyes. She takes them, and you squeeze her hands, letting her know that you understand. "I wanted to tell you."
"Why haven't you?" "I was scared," You say. "I thought you wouldn't believe me, or worse, that you would think I was crazy. And I don't want you to get hurt because of me." She nods, letting go of your hand to run a hand down your cheek. It was a claw scratch from months ago, a battle you had with The Black Cat.
"What happened here? I’m now starting to realize it wasn’t Ms. Browns cat." You take a deep breath and tell her about the fight, and the superhuman strength of the cat, and how you managed to get away. You tell her about the strange feelings you have been having lately, and how you think something strange is going on. She listens quietly, her face a mix of concern and understanding.
"Are we okay?" You ask, your voice barely above whisper. She smiles softly and takes your hand again. "We're okay. I believe you, and I'm not going anywhere," she says, her voice gentle but strong. "We'll figure this out together." She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You take a deep breath, the tight knot in your chest loosening a bit. You can do this, with her by your side.
You nod, your eyes meeting hers. She smiles again and brings your hands to her lips, kissing them softly. You feel a warmth rush through your body as you realize that, together, you can take on anything. You pull her into a hug, your hearts beating in time.
You whisper in her ear that you love her and she whispers it back, her breath tickling your neck. Holding each other, you guys are okay. You stay like that for a few minutes, before finally pulling away. You both laugh and she takes your hand in hers, the warmth of her skin instantly grounding you. You walk together towards the future, ready to take on the world.
"So, Black Cat. What's she like?" She grinned, her eyes twinkling with mirth. You playfully roll your eyes at the question, "A real wildcat and a tease." You smiled, "You kind of remind me of her." Jenna looks at you, a brow raised. "I remind you of one of your villains?" You chuckle, "In some ways. But that's why I like her. She keeps me on my toes." Jenna grins and shakes her head, "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."
You laugh, glad your girlfriend took everything so well. You didn't know what you would do if you lost her over your secret identity. Jenna puts her arm around you and says, "I'm just glad you're here with me. I love you no matter what." You smile and kiss her forehead, relieved that you could share your secret with her and that she accepted it. 
After you change, shower, and prepare dinner Jenna and you spend the rest of the night talking about your powers and how you got them. You feel a connection to her that you didn't before, because you can now be open and honest with her. You are grateful for her understanding and love.
Jenna steps out of the apartment as her phone rings, and you lay down on the sofa, relieved as you watch TV. You feel like you can finally take a deep breath and enjoy the night's calm.
Outside of your apartment door, Jenna answers her phone. A known voice is on the other end. "Kingpin," Jenna murmurs into her phone, sighing. "Hey Felicia," Jenna grits her teeth together in anger. "That's not my name anymore. I left it behind along with that life." Jenna pauses for a moment, her heart racing as she remembers her old life. She takes a deep breath and continues. "I'm not going back." Kingpin laughs, a mocking sound that grates on Jenna's nerves. "You know I can find you wherever you wander."
"Listen," she says firmly, her voice full of determination. "I'm done with the old me. I'm creating a new life, and I'm not going to let anyone drag me back." She takes a deep breath and straightens her posture, her eyes blazing with determination. "I'm done with crime."
"But is it done with you?" I've seen you on the TV. Trying to convince everyone and yourself that you're a good person." Kingpin replies, on the other side of the phone. "I know what you're trying to do, I can tell. But you can't run away from who you are." Jenna remains silent, not knowing what to say.
He continues, "Or do I have to touch that spider of yours to remind you?" Jenna takes a deep breath, feeling like a million thoughts are running through her head. "You won't get the chance," she says angry. "If you or your goons show your face in New York, you're done with."
He laughs. "I admire your courage, Jenna," he says. "But don't forget who you're dealing with. I'm not some kind of joke." The line clicks, and the call is disconnected. Jenna takes another deep breath, trying to calm down. She knows she's made a powerful enemy, and she's not sure what to do next. She has to be careful, she knows. She can't let her guard down. But she also knows that she has to stay strong and fight for what she believes is right.
Suddenly, the door opens and Jenna comes back, a small smile on her face. "You okay?" You ask, concerned. Jenna nods and smiles, not wanting to worry you. She takes your hand and leads you away, ready to take on whatever comes next.
Jenna jumps at a noise emanating from your bedroom. With your super-hearing you can hear it clearly. "Oh, when you walk by every night. Talking sweet and looking fine, I get kinda hectic inside."
"Sorry," you mumble, embarrassed. "That's Karen playing my swinging playlist." Jenna's face relaxes in relief, and she smiles. You take her hand and lead her to the bedroom. You ask Karen to turn up the music, and you both start dancing to the music coming from your mask. You both laugh as you twirl around the room, forgetting the world outside. As the song ends, you pull Jenna close and kiss her. You both agree that there's no better way to spend your Saturday night.
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idanceuntilidie · 3 months
Note
YAN DEMON X HUMAN READER X YAN ANGEL PLS SORRY I HADNT REALIZED YOU DIF ANGEL ALREADY VKVK
I hope it was okay!! it accidentally got long.. sorry pookie wookie woo damn this would make a good vn ngl
yan angel x gn reader x yan demon
tw: yandere themes and behaviours, mentions of killing
The light from the billboard always shinesBut it changed twelve times since you went away
Requests are open
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“An angel sat on one shoulder, a devil on the other. Both of them wore my face.” But you are not really sure they have your face. You are not a very religious person, so you didn’t understand why they decided to bother you exactly but at least you weren’t lonely anymore. Mirui appeared first, you remember the meeting very well, hell, it gave you a heart attack. You work in a small cafe, a gem hidden in the mud. You liked it very much, your boss was nice and you even made friends with some of the people you worked with.
Well you didn’t think it was so nice and fun now, working as the cashier reminded you about the thing you dreaded. Interactions with other beings that you do not know, see for the first time and could be really fucking mean at times. Homosapiens. A woman in her mid twenties stood in front of you, waving her hands and screaming her lungs out. Your polite smile tightens as your nails dig painfully into your forearm. She found out that what she ordered was really expensive, it’s weird because there are prices next to the stuff you guys make. The woman's face flushed deep beet red in anger, and you are pretty sure she spat on you. Ew. You heard a small chuckle followed by a loud snort and laughter from your right, it startled you, but when you looked there you saw no one. After another fit of laughter you noticed a small red thing sitting on your right shoulder. A small human-like creature. It looked back at you, eyes flickering with mischief and a small full of white sharp teeth. “You should spill that coffee on her, ya know? It’s still hot, it can’t go to waste” it said Your eyes slowly went back to the screaming woman, then on the hot coffee on the counter.
To be fired or not to be fired, that is the question. Before you even got a chance to fully think this through, your boss appeared behind you and shooed you away to deal with the customer. Your boss was a savage old lady, the customer stood no chance against her. Out of sight out of mind. The small demon muttered something, disappointed, it crossed its arms and pouted. You scurried away, to the kitchen to take your mind off of things and maybe help around a bit.
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Faith appeared a few weeks after Mirui did, successfully stopping you from chugging only energy drinks, spilling coffee and doing pranks on rude customers. “Do it, do it, do it, do it!” she giggled manically, clapping her hands happily. Today Mirui decided to be feminine, she sat on your right shoulder like she always did. You noticed every day she had new outfits, very revealing of course, it made you blush slightly. “Shut up, I can't focus.” “Dear child, they might fire you.” a new voice on your left stated calmly. God damn it another one. This time a painfully white angel sat on your left shoulder. He didn’t even look at you, his attention was focused on little stone tablets sitting on his lap.
“Ew who the fuck are you” Mirui spat pointing a very sharp manicured finger on the angel.
“The only rational one here” “It looks disgusting, Y/N quickly throw it off!” she grabbed your collar and shook it violently. The angel rolled its eyes and looked at her. “Stop it demon spawn, I was sent here to make sure this disgusting-” it started but when it looked at Mirui, a look of disgust appeared on its face. “Piece of work won’t do too much damage to such a pure soul, y/n leave that salt alone.” You and Mirui groaned, you will have revenge on that karen. “You suck” “Go suck dick and shut up” “Language both of you” “Ew, let’s call it Faith or Angelico or something, it’s basic- just like it” Mirui gagged. Faith went back to his stone tablets, not looking at you or the demon. Even though it wasn’t looking, you could feel how he judges you. In the end, they didn’t leave you alone. 
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You wake and fall asleep to their constant bickering. You figured it’s because Mirui is a demon, and Faith is an angel. Or maybe it’s because they are so different? It makes you tired honestly. Yet their different personalities and behaviors made your life a little bit more interesting.
Faith sat on the edge of the couch, watching as Mirui did a little fashion show. You were forced to watch too,  he wouldn’t leave you alone if you didn’t. Your eyesight got a little blurry, you were tired. Very very tired, so in the end you couldn’t help but just doze off. Mirui noticed it first, giddy as he returned to his normal size. Giggling and swinging his feet as he watched you slowly fall asleep. Carefully, he gets up to sit right next to you. He sighed dreamily as he played with you hair. Aren’t you just the cutest? Naive too, just perfect. He nuzzled against your cheek, smiling widely. He could feel how warm your body was, hell he could even smell you. Mirui covered his mouth with his hand to prevent the laughter that was slowly bubbling up.
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He heard a very loud scoff from Faith and when he looked at them, they had a very unpleasant look on their face.
“What’s up?” he smiled „Jealous?”
„It’s disgusting how you cling to them when they are asleep.” Faith hissed
“Oh is the baby mad because they don’t have the balls to actually get this close?” Mirui smiled proudly, cuddling up to you even closer than possible. You stirred a bit in your sleep, your pretty face scrunching in confusion before returning to a calm state. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep on your side, only to be yanked back by his hair by Faith. “Back off, you demon scum” “Oh oh careful now or I might start to like it” “I am serious Mirui” Faith hissed, grabbing the demon's throat as they squeezed it painfully. Their touch was painful, Mirui swore he heard a small sizzling which made him hiss. “leave, they are mine and you knew that.” “fuck off, I love them more than your sorry ass does.” he said as he tried to get away from the angel.
It happened a lot, especially when you slept. None of them wanted to give you up, let the other have your love and attention which resulted in fighting. Oh how surprised you would be if you found out that those arguments were about you, and they didn’t just appear out of thin air. Hell they have known you way before you even noticed their existence. Always there, in the background, watching, listening, admiring. Mirui was first to approach, thinking that Faith would eventually back off, and then he wouldn’t need to kill them, but they didn’t. 
And Faith, well, at first they didn’t know about Mirui, but when he eventually wanted to meet you he saw that little red slut sitting on your shoulder whispering sins. Oh their poor sweetheart, tainted and tortured by a monster. He decided to watch for a bit then appear as your savior.Now both of them are stuck being next to each other almost all the time, none of them would give up though. They will stay by your side.
Your eyes slowly open to see a white and red blob strangling each other. Your face twists into a frown, before sighing and going back to sleep.
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findafight · 1 year
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Oh my god!!! That Steve/baby sister fic!!! If you ever want to build it out more I’d be obsessed (ie the party + extended party’s reactions, hop + Joyce and how everyone pitches in)
╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯ awwww anon!!!!!
Honestly I have been thinking about it and I know I put in the tags of the original post, buuuut. Robin called Steve Bud or Buddy which morphed into Bubba when they are being particularly soft with each other, and the baby (who I am possibly leaning towards calling Tina so her nickname can be Tintin because it's cute idk) picks up on it so calls Steve her Bubba. Also because "he's my big brother" can sort of become "he's my Bubba!" If words are smushed together by baby babble
But before all that, Steve (who walked to work that day because he didn't have a baby car seat yet and wasn't going to leave his baby sister whom he always wanted and loves so dearly already ALONE or worse. With their FATHER.) goes to, of all people, Mrs. Wheeler for help. He'd go to Joyce but she's working and Karen Wheeler has the youngest kid he knows so is the best bet for maybe getting some tips and also maybe a carrier because the bjorn isn't going to cut it for long. So he goes and Mr. Wheeler immediately thinks Steve's Accidental Baby Acquisition is due to Steve's own recklessness. (Steve is a prolific lover, sure, but he's smart and safe about it! When he was thirteen his dad sat him down for a talk about not wanting the disgrace of a shotgun wedding and his grandpa gave him a run down of venereal diseases he saw (didn't mention having but. Well.) His pals have in WWII that put the fear of God in him regarding unsafe sex. Moreso than the potential babies. So. He's always very careful. For this very reason!! Except apparently his dad didn't use his own advice but Steve isn't complaining because, once again, he always wanted a little sibling.)
Anyways the wheelers are like ohhhh a Harrington Scandal not involving the boy our daughter dated? Okay sure here's Holly's old baby carseat. Hopper is just. He's like. I thought Steve and that kid I kept giving warnings to about selling dope to were a thing and Steve is like "will people stop assuming she's mine!! I know I am a bit of a slut but I am terrified of chlamydia!!! And even if this WAS my fault (which it is not and also she's a gift I love you little baby sister you're the light of my life) I am taking responsibility for it so maybe we all need to be a little less judgy hmmm??"
Joyce and Karen give him some hand me down baby clothes and books, some good tips about feeding and burping and things like that, and Claudia and Sue offer to come passive aggressively congratulate Steve's dad.
Dustin is a little jealous because this Steve Time is going to be encroached upon by This Literal Infant but Steve is like Dustin... you are my Little Brother... My silly pal...Now you have a sister too!! 🥰 And Dustin is like Oh Shit That's Right and proceeds to try to teach this Literal Infant, it cannot be stressed enough that she is a few months old and cannot stay sitting up by herself, how to build a radio.
Eddie is just trying to not have a heart attack from the concentration of Pure Longing activated by seeing Steve With A Baby and has also been forbidden from playing anything loud near them. He is fine and deals with this by writing ballads that make Gareth gag from their sweetness and Jeff have a very knowingly indulgent look when he sees the lyrics. But Gareth lets he hit his drums with he baby hands and Jeff pretends she stole his nose so they aren't that put out by it.
El is Fascinated by the tiny human and asks lots of questions and wants to play with her, give her experiences of softness and kindness right off the bat she knew she herself was denied, so she's often the official baby holder when Steve needs to do something when the Party is around.
The rest of the party is pretty meh on the baby. Sure it's exciting at first but she just kinda becomes part of regular life. They take turns doing actual babysitting for Steve so he can work or run errands or even, gasp, have some normal early adult fun times, but it's all pretty regular. Erica is glad she's not the party baby anymore.
They do however probably secretly fight over who gets to be baby's godparent. Steve isn't allowed to know.
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upon-a-starry-night · 2 months
Text
Number Neighbor Pt. 16
Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader
Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1k
Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?
----
Nat knew from the moment the coffee machine broke that morning that something was off about today. Tony had bots clanging in the kitchen all day and every member of the tower was on the verge of strangling him. She didn’t feel up to going out though so she was forced to stay in her room all day. However, she didn’t expect her evening to go from 10 to 100 in a matter of minutes. And it all started with a text from you at 11 pm.
Not unusual for you but the message lacked your usual humor
Y/n🍦:
Nat.
No attempt at guessing her name, no witty quip to go along with it, no extra letters or emojis. 
Something was going on and she didn’t like the pit forming in her stomach. This was a situation she’d never found herself in. Did she act calm? Did she… call you?
She shook her head, she could be freaking out over nothing, maybe you just had a long day and you were tired. The voice in the back of her head scoffed, Nat knew she was only trying to convince herself that these next few moments weren’t about to happen.
Nat🔪:
Y/n.
What’s going on?
Y/n🍦:
Help i-
I think I’m being followed.
Nat🔪:
Think or your sure
Y/n🍦:
You’re*
Nat rolled her eyes. Of course, you were trying to be funny right now, humor was your biggest coping mechanism. She knew your humor was a defense against coming across as weak and vulnerable- it was an attempt to make the other person less aware of just how scared you were, but she knew. She knew you were probably shaking as you texted her and there was nothing she could do about it.
Y/n🍦:
Fuck.
I’m sure.
Nat’s heart sank. 
She could get your location from your phone but could she arrive in time? You lived in Brooklyn and she was in Manhattan- 12 miles away, at her fastest, she could probably get there in 30 minutes. Not enough time. Stalkers will only follow for so long before attacking. You didn’t know this man's intentions.
For you, this could be a life-or-death situation.
Still- she called Peter, he was on patrol tonight, hopefully, he was in your area. He picked up immediately, his boyish voice ringing awkwardly through her silent room. She didn’t give him the time to speak more.
“Peter there’s a girl in Brooklyn being followed” Her tone was solid, she couldn’t let the vulnerability she felt slip through either. It’s been many years since she’s felt this helpless about someone she cared about. And that was not a wound she was ready to reopen. God you were bringing out every part of her. 
Peter didn’t ask a single question, all Nat could hear was the thwip of his webs and the rush of wind against his phone. 
“I sent you the address, how close are you?” She heard the faint sound of him mumbling before Karen’s robotic voice repeated your phone’s location
“I’m 20 minutes away” It wasn’t fast enough but it was as good as she was going to get.
Nat🔪:
It’s okay Y/n
Have you called the cops?
Y/n🍦:
No, I tried calling Leon
He lives nearby i thought maybe-
fuck I’m so stupid
Nat🔪:
No, y/n, you’re not stupid
You’re scared.
You’re not going to be perfect at handling 
This kind of situation. No one is
Nat🔪:
Do you have any weapons in your bag?
Y/n🍦:
Nat listen-
If I don’t…
Nat🔪:
Don’t.
Y/n🍦:
Please.
Nat🔪:
No, i’m not listening to any requests you have
You’re going to be okay
Is he still there?
Y/n🍦: 
Yeah
I’ve walked around the block a few times
I don’t know where to go
Nat’s fingers itched over the call button, she would be a lot better at reassuring you over the phone. But her voice was raspy and recognizable, would you realize it was her as soon as she said hello? Would that be a bad thing? Could she risk telling you her identity? Could she trust you? After so many years and so many people were you finally going to be the one to break down her carefully constructed walls? She sighed frustratingly, now was not the time. You needed her. 
Y/n🍦:
Fuck 
I think he’s getting closer
Nat🔪:
Y/n go to a house with the light on
And knock on their door.
Or look for a large group of people.
Find a public space.
She was growing more desperate by the minute. God if she ever got her hands on the bastard that’s making you this petrified she was going to do more than just kill him.
“Peter, how far away are you?” 
“Five minutes Miss Romanoff” She could hear his breathlessness, she didn’t imagine it was easy to swing across buildings at that speed.
Nat🔪:
Y/n, keep talking to me okay?
Y/n🍦:
I don’t know why I decided to go out.
I just wanted some ice cream
I’m so stupid
Nat🔪:
No.
You are not stupid
This bastard is. Trust me.
Do you have high heels on?
Or your keys?
Y/n🍦:
No-
I walked to the store
Nat🔪:
Look for anything on the ground
A glass bottle or rocks
Y/n🍦:
Nat
I’m scared
Natasha waited for you to keep texting. Waited desperately for something witty to come across the screen, anything to let her know you were still safe. Peter was close now, close enough to hopefully make it before any irreparable damage is done but- if this guy has a weapon. She sucked in a sharp breath.
Nat🔪:
Y/n?
Y/n answer me.
y/n c’mon
Y/n. please. 
The dam broke. She hit the call button. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t care about you even a little bit. It rang and rang, stone cold silence filled her room between each shrill toll of her phone. Don’t panic. 
She stood and began pacing back and forth, running a shaky hand through her hair.
Each ring was torture- and she knew torture. Come on Y/n. Another blare of useless noise before the line connected. All she heard was a brief 'umph' before the line went dead.
Fuck.
Pt.17
A/n: giving Y/n more trauma 'for the plot' ;P ~ Starry
---Taglist--
@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723
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odinsblog · 2 years
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Weird how transphobia and racism keep showing up at the same parties together.
After reducing the entire movie down to (Amandla’s) “excessive cleavage,” Lena somehow manages to unironically recommend that everyone go see Jennifer’s Body, a movie best known for it’s lack of cleavage. Like, at this point just say you hate Black people and gtfo.
Other relevant tweets that hit the nail on the head:
Finally, someone brave enough to come for truly the most powerful and over represented group - queer, Black women.
"I don't want anything more to come out of this... But now I will post this video which will 100% guarantee that more will come out of this, rather than, say, reply privately”
“I don’t want this person who has more social power than me to think that it’s fucking okay to do something like this.” <<image of Elizabeth Eckford being harassed by white women>>
Social power didn’t have a thing to do with this. It was a DM not a public exchange. This film critic brought “social power” into this by making it public over social media. Just a typical Karen/white tears situation.
It was a direct message? How is she display her “social power” if she came to you directly and privately? YOU made it public. 🤡
Here are more shots of what the characters wear throughout the film. (Also cannot stress enough that there’s not even any nudity in this movie, let alone a sex scene or anything resembling an ad for cleavage.)
Lord, if you're hearing this, I'm down for the worst day of my life being someone sending me a soft jab in a DM.
Let’s put the context behind the response. (video)
It needs to be noted that Lena Wilson apparently has some history of shitting on films with Black leads or mostly Black casts. This is a good example of white feminism™ that body shames, objectifies, sexualizes & polices Black people’s bodies; and seeks to replace privileged straight white male gatekeepers with privileged cis gay white gatekeepers. And when called out on her racialized misogyny, Lena retreats back to the familiar position of “powerless” white woman who was “attacked” and “victimized” for no reason. (Hint: this is a good example of weaponizing white femininity against BIPoC).
As much as Wilson likes to tell everyone she attained her “success” by hard work and pulling herself up by her own bootstraps, please remember that her mommy and daddy are prominent industry insiders. So her life hack, her secret sauce is just more of the same old “nepotism & being born into a privileged wealthy white family” that keeps journalism and Hollywood so disproportionately white.
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