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#disabled law student

vividstardustrevolution · 6 months

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Disabled people (both people with physical disabilities and people with psychological disabilities) should be able to get housing, food, medical needs, etc met without having to work or stay in school. ...Okay, really, everyone deserves access to free or affordable housing, food, and medical care, but disabled people ESPECIALLY deserve it because if I, a law student with "low support needs" autism, depression, GAD, OCD, and ADHD, cannot afford to take a break from school and take a semester off because I'd have to start repaying my loans because I had to drop down to three credits last fall and because I would have to get a job, so it wouldn't really be a break (which, I have had one job in my life, and I'm not fully convinced it wasn't a fluke, and also, trying to maintain a job when you have disabilities is difficult), I can only imagine that disabled people with higher support needs are even more fucked than me when it comes to being able to get housing and food and medical care without much, if any, funding.

Yes, Medicaid, Medicare, Food Stamps, and housing programs exist in the US, but, uh, I hate to break it to y'all, but that doesn't fully fix the problem, at all. There are a lot of old apartment complexes that are straight up inaccessible if you use a wheelchair. I'm living in one now. Applying for Medicaid and other programs can be a pain in the ass, especially when you're disabled.

"Just live with your parents!" My parents were emotionally abusive and emotionally neglectful, transphobic, and they literally harassed me so much during my 1L year that I still have nightmares.

"Live with a roommate!" I tried to. It went fucking terribly.

"Are you really disabled if you're able to be in law school?" YES. YES I AM.

Actually, on that note, law schools and the law profession need to become more accommodating for disabled people ASAP. Buck v. Bell needs to be overturned. Courts should be wheelchair accessible. Having to get past seven plus different forms of ableism just to graduate and pass the bar is ridiculous. Seriously, can we get some resources for disabled people in law school and the law profession, please?

Disabled rights matter, and we have every right to be able to live in peace and get our needs met, regardless of our support needs, disabilities, or anything else.

#disability #disability rights #actually autistic #actually adhd #actually disabled #ocd #actually ocd #lawblr #disabled law student #US centric but it has to be said #In all seriousness though please I need a semester off #actually traumatized #cw abuse mention #accessibility #real lawblr

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sunflowergazer · 2 days

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Welcome!

Hi, welcome to the blog 😊

I made this blog to express my life and have a safe space to share my thoughts and feelings of life.

A little about me,

Im a law student at university, struggling through the trials and errors of adulthood, trying to navigate social life and family life.

I am apart of the LGBTQA+ community and the world of neurodiversity and disabilities. Also being a mental health advocate.

I am here to just journal in a sense and let others express their opinions in a safe space.

All are welcome so please feel free to ask questions or message me with anything. I am not an expert but if I can help in anyway please come my way. Your safe with me 😊

#mental health support #lgbtq community #early twenties #nurodivergent #disability #student life #lifestyle #safe space #about myself #new blog #welcome to my blog #books and reading #gaming #journal #skincare #welsh #university #law student

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chowowed · 1 year

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All of the Plaintiffs in the Mills v. DC Board of Ed (1972) ruling are students of color. Despite that, the case itself was about DC’s BoE allowing school districts to exclude, suspend, expel, and transfer these students for having “exceptional” disabilities. They sued on behalf of the estimated 12,340 disabled students who were unfairly cut out and left to rot. Doesn’t that just make you feel a certain kind of way?

#jazz.txt #sorry im doing sped law fact sheets and #almost all of these rulings and suits were made / brought up by parents and students of color with just a few recent exceptions #and yet the ''face'' of special education is the white houswife autism mommy who didnt give two shits abt her kid's needs until it was cool #so much of the educational system's flaws were so painstakingly hammered out the trials and tribulations of people of color #english language learners and disabled people #o(-<

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super-snert · 3 months

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Slither

Based on events of November 17, 2023, and reflections on disability living that resulted.

I remember that at one moment I remembered the women lingering around my connection she keeps meeting my gaze but my mind can’t find her. When she finally cracked and said “fall,” memory began to slither, a snake, dismembered just below the vital organs, I walk, still. and will fall again, and I wonder as I move, not for my fate. Would the minds resting on an able body, and resting…

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#2024 #A-DISability #concussion #exercise #law student #reflection on 2023

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hellyeahsickaf · 4 months

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I found an extremely dope disability survival guide for those who are homebound, bedbound, in need of disability accommodations, or would otherwise like resources for how to manage your life as a disabled person. (Link is safe)

It has some great articles and resources and while written by people with ME/CFS, it keeps all disabilities in mind. A lot of it is specific to the USA but even if you're from somewhere else, there are many guides that can still help you. Some really good ones are:

How to live a great disabled life- A guide full of resources to make your life easier and probably the best place to start (including links to some of the below resources). Everything from applying for good quality affordable housing to getting free transportation, affordable medication, how to get enough food stamps, how to get a free phone that doesn't suck, how to find housemates and caregivers, how to be homebound, support groups and Facebook pages (including for specific illnesses), how to help with social change from home, and so many more.

Turning a "no" into a "yes"- A guide on what to say when denied for disability aid/accommodations of many types, particularly over the phone. "Never take no for an answer over the phone. If you have not been turned down in writing, you have not been turned down. Period."

How to be poor in America- A very expansive and helpful guide including things from a directory to find your nearest food bank to resources for getting free home modifications, how to get cheap or free eye and dental care, extremely cheap internet, and financial assistance with vet bills

How to be homebound- This is pretty helpful even if you're not homebound. It includes guides on how to save spoons, getting free and low cost transportation, disability resources in your area, home meals, how to have fun/keep busy while in bed, and a severe bedbound activity master list which includes a link to an audio version of the list on Soundcloud

Master List of Disability Accommodation Letters For Housing- Guides on how to request accommodations and housing as well as your rights, laws, and prewritten sample letters to help you get whatever you need. Includes information on how to request additional bedrooms, stop evictions, request meetings via phone, mail, and email if you can't in person, what you can do if a request is denied, and many other helpful guides

Special Laws to Help Domestic Violence Survivors (Vouchers & Low Income Housing)- Protections, laws, and housing rights for survivors of DV (any gender), and how to get support and protection under the VAWA laws to help you and/or loved ones receive housing and assistance

Dealing With Debt & Disability- Information to assist with debt including student loans, medical debt, how to deal with debt collectors as well as an article with a step by step guide that helped the author cut her overwhelming medical bills by 80%!

There are so many more articles, guides, and tools here that have helped a lot of people. And there are a lot of rights, resources, and protections that people don't know they have and guides that can help you manage your life as a disabled person regardless of income, energy levels, and other factors.

Please boost!

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ziggyandleo · 6 months

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If I ever become a law professor, the hypos I give are just going to be fandom based and unhinged.

If my torts professor can write an entire exam based on the Magic School Bus, I can one day aspire to write one based on Our Flag Means Death.

#ofmd #I'd rather just be a disability lawyer #But still #Asking an entire class to tell me what Blackbeard is liable for in #an elaborate scenario involving a pirate ship crash #where the wheel turned out to have a manufacturing defect #seems like a fun time #Becoming a law professor means I can write fanfiction #and inflict it on my students #Just can't make it smut

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hashtagloveloses · 9 months

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The headline is pretty awful but this is one of those things that gets worse as you read it:

The 14-page petition, filed in Shelby County, Tennessee, probate court, alleges that Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy, who took Oher into their home as a high school student, never adopted him. Instead, less than three months after Oher turned 18 in 2004, the petition says, the couple tricked him into signing a document making them his conservators, which gave them legal authority to make business deals in his name.

"Michael Oher discovered this lie to his chagrin and embarrassment in February of 2023, when he learned that the Conservatorship to which he consented on the basis that doing so would make him a member of the Tuohy family, in fact provided him no familial relationship with the Tuohys."

Oher was a rising high school senior when he signed the conservatorship papers, and he has written that the Tuohys told him that there was essentially no difference between adoption and conservatorship. "They explained to me that it means pretty much the exact same thing as 'adoptive parents,' but that the laws were just written in a way that took my age into account," Oher wrote in his 2011 best-selling memoir "I Beat the Odds."

But there are some important legal distinctions. If Oher had been adopted by the Tuohys, he would have been a legal member of their family, and he would have retained power to handle his own financial affairs. Under the conservatorship, Oher surrendered that authority to the Tuohys, even though he was a legal adult with no known physical or psychological disabilities.

While the [movie] deal allowed the Tuohys to profit from the film, the petition alleges, a separate 2007 contract purportedly signed by Oher appears to "give away" to 20th Century Fox Studios the life rights to his story "without any payment whatsoever." The filing says Oher has no recollection of signing that contract, and even if he did, no one explained its implications to him.

The [movie] deal lists all four Tuohy family members as having the same representative at Creative Artists Agency, the petition says. But Oher's agent, who would receive movie contract and payment notices, is listed as Debra Branan, a close family friend of the Tuohys and the same lawyer who filed the 2004 conservatorship petition, the petition alleges. Branan did not return a call to her law office on Monday.

"Mike's relationship with the Tuohy family started to decline when he discovered that he was portrayed in the movie as unintelligent," Stranch said. "Their relationship continued to deteriorate as he learned that he was the only member of the family not receiving royalty checks from the movie, and it was permanently fractured when he realized he wasn't adopted and a part of the family."

For years, Oher has chafed at how "The Blind Side" depicted him, saying it hurt his football career and clouded how people view him. He has said that based on the film, some NFL decision-makers assumed he was mentally slow or lacked leadership skills.

"People look at me, and they take things away from me because of a movie," Oher told ESPN in 2015. "They don't really see the skills and the kind of player I am."

"Beyond the details of the deal, the politics, and the money behind the book and movie, it was the principle of the choices some people made that cut me the deepest."

#original post #the blind side #michael oher #this is one of the worst things i’ve ever read #this movie always was awful but somehow it got worse

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reasonsforhope · 4 months

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"Research on a police diversion program implemented in 2014 shows a striking 91% reduction in in-school arrests over less than 10 years.

Across the United States, arrest rates for young people under age 18 have been declining for decades. However, the proportion of youth arrests associated with school incidents has increased.

According to the U.S. Department of Education, K–12 schools referred nearly 230,000 students to law enforcement during the school year that began in 2017. These referrals and the 54,321 reported school-based arrests that same year were mostly for minor misbehavior like marijuana possession, as opposed to more serious offenses like bringing a gun to school.

School-based arrests are one part of the school-to-prison pipeline, through which students—especially Black and Latine students and those with disabilities—are pushed out of their schools and into the legal system.

Getting caught up in the legal system has been linked to negative health, social, and academic outcomes, as well as increased risk for future arrest.

Given these negative consequences, public agencies in states like Connecticut, New York, and Pennsylvania have looked for ways to arrest fewer young people in schools. Philadelphia, in particular, has pioneered a successful effort to divert youth from the legal system.

Philadelphia Police School Diversion Program

In Philadelphia, police department leaders recognized that the city’s school district was its largest source of referrals for youth arrests. To address this issue, then–Deputy Police Commissioner Kevin Bethel developed and implemented a school-based, pre-arrest diversion initiative in partnership with the school district and the city’s department of human services. The program is called the Philadelphia Police School Diversion Program, and it officially launched in May 2014.

Mayor-elect Cherelle Parker named Bethel as her new police commissioner on Nov. 22, 2023.

Since the diversion program began, when police are called to schools in the city for offenses like marijuana possession or disorderly conduct, they cannot arrest the student involved if that student has no pending court case or history of adjudication. In juvenile court, an adjudication is similar to a conviction in criminal court.

Instead of being arrested, the diverted student remains in school, and school personnel decide how to respond to their behavior. For example, they might speak with the student, schedule a meeting with a parent, or suspend the student.

A social worker from the city also contacts the student’s family to arrange a home visit, where they assess youth and family needs. Then, the social worker makes referrals to no-cost community-based services. The student and their family choose whether to attend.

Our team—the Juvenile Justice Research and Reform Lab at Drexel University—evaluated the effectiveness of the diversion program as independent researchers not affiliated with the police department or school district. We published four research articles describing various ways the diversion program affected students, schools, and costs to the city.

Arrests Dropped

In our evaluation of the diversion program’s first five years, we reported that the annual number of school-based arrests in Philadelphia decreased by 84%: from nearly 1,600 in the school year beginning in 2013 to just 251 arrests in the school year beginning in 2018.

Since then, school district data indicates the annual number of school-based arrests in Philadelphia has continued to decline—dropping to just 147 arrests in the school year that began in 2022. That’s a 91% reduction from the year before the program started.

We also investigated the number of serious behavioral incidents recorded in the school district in the program’s first five years. Those fell as well, suggesting that the diversion program effectively reduced school-based arrests without compromising school safety.

Additionally, data showed that city social workers successfully contacted the families of 74% of students diverted through the program during its first five years. Nearly 90% of these families accepted at least one referral to community-based programming, which includes services like academic support, job skill development, and behavioral health counseling...

Long-Term Outcomes

To evaluate a longer follow-up period, we compared the 427 students diverted in the program’s first year to the group of 531 students arrested before the program began. Results showed arrested students were significantly more likely to be arrested again in the following five years...

Finally, a cost-benefit analysis revealed that the program saves taxpayers millions of dollars.

Based on its success in Philadelphia, several other cities and counties across Pennsylvania have begun replicating the Police School Diversion Program. These efforts could further contribute to a nationwide movement to safely keep kids in their communities and out of the legal system."

-via Yes! Magazine, December 5, 2023

#philedelphia #pennsylvania #united states #us politics #school #high school #school to prison pipeline #prison system #arrests #education #students #schools #good news #hope #rare case of police not completely sucking #police #policing #law enforcement

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nothorses · 9 months

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"the public education system is intently evil and all teachers are abusive because it was the worst experience ever for me personally"

guys, look, I'm legitimately sorry that happened to you. that's fucked up. it shouldn't have happened, and it shouldn't be allowed to happen again to you or anyone else. I'm sorry.

public school was hard for me too, at times, and I'm still suffering the consequences for the harsh grading, the arbitrary deadlines, the hours of completely useless-to-me homework. I could name a few teachers who have been pretty fucking terrible. the fact that nobody considered getting me evaluated for ADHD has had an impact on my self image and academic success that I can't erase.

and also.

I grew up in an area where education, in particular, is incredibly progressive-leaning. educators are working really hard to create and try out education philosophies and practices that prioritize kids and their learning, rather than teachers and what they think kids should learn.

My sex ed was comprehensive, and came entirely from school. My gay sixth grade teacher taught me about HIV/AIDs in a useful, accurate way. In high school, I learned about the way orgasms work & I was prepared not to feel shame for normal stuff.

I learned that Communism was not what the USSR actually practiced, and what it really means. I learned about atrocities and, specifically, the genocide of indigenous people committed in/by the US. I learned about the military industrial complex, the school-to-prison pipeline, and I learned about manifestations of racism specific to my local area. I learned about Stonewall, and the intersection of the civil rights movement with gay rights and disability justice.

My creative writing teacher taught us about LSD, and the real reasons we shouldn't do it, after a hilariously ineffective assembly run by some local cops. He spoke gently, carefully, and emphatically about his friends and his own experiences. Later in the semester, he read us a story he wrote about two gay men finding each other in a deeply homophobic environment.

My sci-fi teacher made me feel safe & seen as a kid with "weird" interests. My US History teacher helped me research and put together a 10-page paper on the modern relevance and mission of Feminism. My government teacher made me feel appreciated for the work I put into the class, and the thought I put into what I said in it, even though he disagreed with a lot of it. My sixth grade teacher bought me books to read with his personal money, whichever ones I asked for. My third grade teacher made me feel safe. My science teacher in middle school made me excited for and passionate about science, and saw and nurtured the effort I put into her class.

A lot of stuff sucks, absolutely. But I am seeing new teaching methods being tried out all the time, and I am watching teachers get really excited when I teach their students about the roots of modern graffiti in US black history & to question property laws, and just...

There's hope. there are so many people doing so much work to make things better. so many people agree with you on what education should be, and are trying so fucking hard to put that into action, and so many public schools- not just teachers, but whole schools and even districts- are really doing that work. so much is getting better.

I had more to say, about necessary childcare and trusted adults and outside contacts and time away from abusive family. But like. Please just sit down and listen to more people on this, and please talk to educators and education professionals about what's really going on in this big huge world of philosophy, science, and practice.

#education

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belokhvostikova · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | After finding out about their exclusion from the school yearbook, Hellfire—Eddie Munson—isn't keen in letting his feelings fall for your attempt to fixing said issue.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, and mentions of bullying.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Don’t know why, but I have an obsession with referring to Eddie by his full name, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

By the coming of the fall season of 1982, the Hellfire Club had garnered the stigma of satanic cultists that tainted the lives of those associated.

What started as a throng—four losers—of curious minds, on an endeavor to escaping the suffocating suburbia of Hawkins, Indiana, transpired into a league of camaraderie, fighting the hellscape of dark wizards and evil lords. Perfect comb-overs and pristine pom-poms who lived on the green laws that housed Reagan signs couldn’t touch them under the guise of their characters who built their strength and thick skin to defeat the wicked of suffering towns and cities through quests. Those four were invincible in the threshold of the drama room.

But in the real world, they had a target on their backs that merely grew as the years passed.

And Eddie Munson was victim number one, placed at the forefront of all propelled abuse.

But the beauty of Hellfire allowed the proffering of solutions, in which he quickly found solace within. See, the notion of characters, and qualities, and disguises permitted the perfect opportunity to build a facade unlike one’s truest self, that protected the vulnerable inside.

The terrors of childhood abuse, loss of loved ones, and the torment of classmates couldn’t be seen on the sneering smirk and scowling eyes that accompanied Eddie Munson everywhere he went. The act of toughness was not a thing to be found difficult; he saw it in its worst quality within the bruteness of his father, and he saw it in its best quality within the perseverance of his uncle.

Eddie Munson had no issue opening his arms to those who were caught in the pressuring seas of conformity, and he surely had no issue abusing back those who started it first, with a insult or shove being met with his harder kick and punch.

See, both aspects of toughness.

And while the idea may have protected him from the superficial blows of a socially divided high school, it actually hurt the potential improvements to his well being, suppressing all that left him weak and vulnerable, and choosing the outlet of a drink or substance that disabled his mind from the thoughts of reality.

But Eddie Munson couldn’t care about himself, no ever did anyways.

Until you. And he hurt you.

“This is bullshit! Complete and utter fucking bullshit!” If it hadn’t been for the cacophonous shrills of the school cafeteria, surely Eddie Munson would have garnered the usual attention from his antics. But instead, everyone’s attention was captured by the occurrence that was happening on the southern end of the crowded room. “I mean, really, what the fuck is this?!” His broad hand flung a pretzel out of frustration, not bothering to acknowledge the innocent bystander that got caught in the crossfire of his heated action.

To say Eddie Munson was pissed would be the understatement of the century.

The gnawing agitation that seemed to innately follow him wherever, had now been triggered by the bright smiles of individual students, paraded in their best attire, with glee of acknowledgement. Today was club picture day, and Hellfire was not included. As the lunch period progressed to its ticking last minutes, students of all age ranges savored the remaining bits of their glorious thirty minute break from school hell, but not Eddie. Nope. Because for every minute of those thirty minutes, Eddie watched as clubs, one by one, walked the notorious stage where all Hawkins High’s productions had been showcased, and sat with cheesy smiles at the notion of being a valued representative for their school’s yearbook.

But not Hellfire.

The heavy, black curtains provided the cleanest backdrop for its low budgeted cost, giving ample focus to the students, who sat with the straightest of all postures, amongst the perfect array of chairs—the good ones, too, not the ones that make your butt go numb after twenty minutes. Row by row, everyone had a place, even being complimented by the two large, fake plants that added a splash of color with their faux green leaves.

Gareth sighed. “It really is, man.” He turned back from watching the drama club get their picture taken, returning to pick at the cold spaghetti that stained his plastic tray. Everyone got photos, Hellfire got stale food. “But what do you expect, dude? This school already treats us like garbage, as it is.”

“We shouldn't tolerate this treatment, Emerson!” Eddie snapped, slapping Gareth’s hand that was causing the insistent scratch of his fork scraping his plate. The boy could only scoff in defeat at his ruined lunch, now that his plasticware landed on the dirty tiles of the lunchroom.

Eddie was becoming revved up. He groaned in irritation, feeling the need to slam his palm into the table, eliciting the flinches of each boy.

“Look, well, there’s nothing we can do.” Mike, at an attempt, reasoned with Eddie. But he merely got a seething glare that asked him who does he think he’s talking to.

“Oh, no?” Eddie snuffed with a mocking face. None of the boys were daring to challenge his eye contact. None of them ever did when he got like this. His worst days. “You boys gotta learn to take what you deserve.” He spoke too calmly for anyone’s liking. “It’s the only way people like us make it through life.”

Eddie jumped from his chair, the force too heavy for the flimsy thing, as it scraped the tile flooring before clashing with the ground beneath. All eyes were on him. Puffing the laps of his jacket, he strutted his way to the stage, all leather and chains, bumping shoulders with those who stood in his way. Done diligently, his worn sneakers stomped the couple steps, announcing his arrival. Those in the drama club were quick to move out of the way, refusing to become belittled for their judgemental stares against the Freak. But they were disregarded. Closest to Eddie Munson sat Nancy Wheeler, co-editor of the 1986 Hawkins High Yearbook. She rolled her eyes, fidgeting with her precious pen that had been used to check-off every name of every member of every club to ensure publication was precise and correct.

“Wheeler.” Eddie taunted, coming close to her table, tightly-balled fists supporting his weight as he leaned close to her face. “Funny,” he peered at his watch, “lunch is almost over and you have yet to call us up.”

There was no need to clarify “us.” Everyone knew—for worst reasons—who they were.

Nancy huffed, professionalism embedded in her character as she responded with such cadence, “That’s because you’re not on the list, Eddie.” And it was such professionalism of cadence that ticked him off. As she held up the roster of all clubs and members, contaminated with the ink of her pen, scratching titles off, Eddie snatched the paper from her hold, Nancy wincing at his aggression.

“The Art Club, the Aviations Club, the Math Club,” He read off, “the fucking ROTC shitbags!” He slapped the paper down with a harsh slam. “Some fucking wannabe soldiers, who aren’t even a fucking club here, can get their fucking picture taken, but not Hellfire?!”

Nancy was attempting to control her emotions from the ambush of his angry words, his spit coating her delicate makeup with every yell of his tirade. “Look, Eddie, that’s the list Principal Higgins gave us.” She pointed between herself and you.

Shit, she pointed to you.

You, who’d been quietly watching this shitshow go down, standing near the edge of the stage, with a camera held tightly in your sweaty palms. While his outburst had you racking with worry, it also elicited a wave of sympathy due to their obvious exclusion, clear as day as to why Principal Higgin’s didn’t want their association with Hawkins High. It was fucking awful.

But Eddie Munson didn’t see you. He saw you.

You, as in the fake smile that accompanied your obnoxious cheers, where’d you hangout with your bitchy friends, mingling amongst Jason Carver’s goons, before heading back to school the next day where you ran the student body government, finding yourself involved in all school activities, making the Principal's List and Honor Roll every year, and was about to be crowned prom queen by May and valedictorian by June.

And now, partnering with the Newspaper Committee to create ‘86’s yearbook.

Though he may not have known you, Eddie Munson fucking hated you.

He followed Nancy Wheeler’s pointed finger, now aiming his degrading scowl that shot bullets at you, and you peered down from the intimidating stare. “Oh, I see!” His terrorizing laugh stifled the already straining atmosphere. “Fucking, little Miss Pom-poms jerked Higgin’s cock to make sure we weren’t included. Isn’t that right, princess?” His sneering smile showed just how amusing he found your evident discomfort to be, as he marched his way towards you, the tip of his toes scuffing your pristine sneakers. “Tell me, sweetheart, was Carver there, too? Huh?”

“N-no, w-we didn’t do, uh-”

“Uh, uh, uh.” Eddie mocked. You could feel his large eyes scan your face, taking in all your features, and seeing your chest heave from the confrontation. “Bunch of fucking pussy, all of you, huh?” He glared, refusing to break from you luring eyes.

Saved by the bell, the obnoxious ringing gave you an out, and Eddie was quick to jog back to Nancy, who was beginning to pack up her station. For a second, his daunting demeanor relinquished, and his eyes softened with panic. “This isn’t fair, Wheeler, and you know it. C’mon.” He pleaded. “We’re as much of a club as any other bullshit clique here.” Eddie tried to reason, as Nancy sighed, trying to quickly gather her things.

Despite his hostile behavior, there was merit to his concerns. Hellfire was a club, and though Eddie Munson was the biggest asshole you’ve ever met, you understood his petition. Everyone knew why they weren’t included. They were never included.

“Your own brother is in the club.” Nancy stopped in her tracks and looked at Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry, Eddie, really, I am. But if you have a problem, take it up with Higgin’s not-”

“Maybe we can just take their picture.” You felt stupid for interrupting, hearing your voice waver under their snapping, stern stares—one more of anger than the other. “Um, Higgins already approved of our, uh, layout, so he may not even see the final draft until it’s already been printed.”

“And then what, we get in trouble? Not happening.” Nancy affirmed, more comfortable with disregarding Hellfire than staining her clean track record.

Eddie scoffed. “Fucking screw this!” He stood straight, adjusting his posture. Any shot at his ego and feelings went unnoticed, as he returned to his callous attitude. There was a moment in which he simply stared you down; all that was clouding his judgment was your refined Hawkins High cheerleading sweater. Your well known name printed at the forefront—cursively embroidered in velvet gold—encasing the pinnacle of all things Eddie Munson hated. As Nancy Wheeler left you be, Eddie trudged his way against you again, hot breath fanning across your smaller stature. “I don’t need your fucking bullshit pity. You understand?” He gritted with clenched teeth.

And he merely left it at that, nudging passed you, as he joined the stagger of students who were fleeting out of the cafeteria.

And you stood in disbelief.

You were crazy. You were out-of-your-fucking-mind crazy.

It was late into the night, and you were ready to break school rules for something so trivial, but seemed so desperately important to others.

You groaned in the palms of your hands, as you stood outside of the newspaper room, stolen key in hand. Why were you even doing this? Eddie Munson was an asshole to you. He didn’t like you. But this wasn’t for him. No, this was for the other members. Yeah, the other members, like Nancy’s brother, Mike Wheeler, or Lucas Sinclair, you sweetest kid you’d ever met on the basketball team, who were both totally innocent in all. Jesus shit.

“Hey!” Chrissy waved out to you, as you watched her flood out of the gym doors with the rest of the squad from practice. Clearly, your plans of leaving early to avoid them fell through. “What are you doing, I thought you left already? You coming?”

“Yeah, no, I just need to check over some things for the yearbook.” You lied, with your infamous fake smile. “Don’t know how long it’ll take, so I’ll just have my dad come pick me up.”

“Make sure my picture is front and center!” Jessica joked, as the girls laughed, and waved you goodbye.

As soon as they left, your head dropped back in your clammy palms. In all honesty, leaving would probably be a better choice, right now; you could drop your heavy cheer bag, get out of your sweaty shorts, have a nice bath, and dine out on some food. But instead, for whatever reason you tried to excuse in your brain, you’re here. Probably getting ready for whatever shit Eddie Munson was going to shout in your face when you appeared.

But fuck it.

“The weathered wood creeks beneath your feet as you confront the abandoned foundations of Barlok’s Tavern.” An unnerving sense consumed the boys, as Eddie’s bravado narrations subjected their quest through the ominous grounds of Havocs Beacon. “The merchant of Dunbar Armory has promised this place to be of pure seclusiveness, unknown to even the commoners who dwell the treacherous forest.” All attention was sucked, this was the escape. The escape from the conformity that abused the boys. And Eddie Munson was their protector. “The fate of decision lies in your hands, boys. Do you enter or run?”

They peered at one another, unsure of their next move. “Remember, there is no shame in running.” Eddie’s malicious smile worried them.

But before a consensus could be determined, a soft knock spooked the boys, Dustin’s shriek being most evident. Eddie’s eyes shot at the door, narrowing with his brows furrowing. Everyone went quiet. Too quiet. Maybe they misheard. But sure enough, a delicate knock came again.

Eddie trajected from his throne. “One of you expecting someone? On Hellfire night?!”

His agitated voice was quick to receive a series of stern no’s and insistent head shakes that saved the boys from an invective of shouts for interrupting Hellfire. But for whoever was behind that door? Yeah, they were about to be hit with a diatribe of yells.

Eddie’s breath heaved with irritation as he stomped his way to the large door, swinging it open with a heavy, “What-” But he was quick to shut up.

You timidly dropped your balled fist from the air, and held eye contact with Eddie. His gaze was intimidating, but unlike the earlier occurrence in the lunchroom, it was weirdly softer. His eyes widened at the tired state in which you appeared; sweaty hair messily splaying your head, face heated from clear exertion, your lip plumped raw from your nervous chewing, and then he looked down. Unabashedly, too. You watched his eyes peer at your glistening chest that was displayed from your low cut long sleeve, then found his attention primarily focusing on your tight spandex shorts that hugged your hips and exposed your legs.

“Um.”

His eyes shot back to yours, but you lost the ability to formulate words, both of you staring silently at one another.

“Uh, Eddie?” Jeff’s voice snapped him back to reality, as he turned back to see his buddies—all terribly confused—watching his blanking face obviously check you out.

His vulnerability was showing. And just like a switch, Eddie turned back to you, “What the fuck are you doing?!” You cowered at his sudden yelling. “We’re in the middle of a fucking campaign!”

“I-I’m sorry.” You stuttered from embarrassment, as you saw his friends watch and wince at you. “I-I just needed to, uh, take your photo. F-for the yearbook.”

“What?” He scoldingly questioned you.

“Your picture, um, Hellfire’s picture.” You pointed to his shirt.

Before Eddie could get another word out, Gareth, who you only recognized as a random friend of Eddie's, did, “We’re getting our picture taken?” A small smile appeared on his face at the idea of inclusion.

“Wait, seriously?” A young, curly-haired boy spoke up.

There was a glimmer of hope oozing from their expressions, one that they didn’t get to experience often or lavish in, just at the mere idea of getting their picture taken, because it was a big deal, and seeing their excitement was enough to take Eddie’s hatred with honor to grant them their wish.

So you nodded your head. “Yeah, I’m here to take your picture.” You smiled, waving the stolen camera to prove so.

“Is this some fucking joke to you?!” And just like that, your smile was gone. “Don’t mess with their feelings for some sick joke!”

“N-no, this isn-”

“This is just a prank?” Eddie’s friends’ sullen voices simultaneously asked.

“No!” You were quick to assure. “I promise, it’s not. I would never.” You ignored Eddie’s scoff.

“Then why didn’t we get called up during lunch?” Mike, who Nancy Wheeler informed you about, asked.

“That was totally on me. After lunch,” you nodded towards Eddie, “I asked Higgin’s why you weren’t included, and he was just as confused.” You lied. You never visited Higgins. It was obvious why he didn’t want to include them. “And, well, apparently it was just some fluke with the system, and you guys were included! All of you, uh, Eddie Munson, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair… and t-the rest of you.”Lucas gave you a shy wave, which you softly returned, as he’d always shared his sense of not fitting in just yet with the basketball team. You were there to reassure he was okay and welcomed—and right now, thanking god that you knew him and Mike’s name to confirm your lie. “It was all on the revised list, and I should have checked the first one better. Totally my fault.”

Eddie stared at you warily.

“So, uh, come on!” You smiled, and the guys were quick to flood out of the drama room.

“Wait! W-We’re in the middle of a campaign!” Eddie warned. “We’re not fucking stopping for some dumb photo! I mean, c’mon, guys.”

Everyone stopped.

The younger faces of the group fell, as they contemplated going back or following you. Jeff sighed, walking up to his longtime friend with pleading eyes. “Come on, man. Just let us have this.” He whispered.

Eddie groaned, taking in the faces of the younger crowd, and nodded regardless, “Fine.” And a cheer of the younger boys echoed through the empty halls. “I’m bringing our logo! Wait- can I bring our logo?” Dustin—the young, curly-haired boy—asked.

“Uh, yeah, by all means, go ahead.” Logo? With a gummy smile, he ran back into the drama room, shortly returning with the round shield that mimicked the drawing on their shirts, encapsulating all that was the beauty of Hellfire.

Lucas smiled up at you, “So where are we going?”

“Oh, well, I didn’t have time to set up the fancy stage, so…” you thought quickly, “…against the wall in the main hall should be fine. Is that alright?” You grinned back. “We can just hang your logo up, though you guys will definitely stand out from the formality of the other photos.”

“Good.” Eddie mumbled. “Wouldn’t want to conform to this bullshit school, anyways.” He sneered, bumping into you with no apology.

Ignoring his hostility, you cleared your throat and directed the group of boys into the main hall, clear of all lockers, and decorated with plaques and awards honored to the Hawkins High establishment throughout the decades of operation. Catching sight of the familiar photo of Principal Higgins—one that had been countlessly vandalized by yours truly, Eddie Munson—you made the rash decision to dismantle it from the rusty nail that was drilled in six years ago when he first became principal. “Okay, hand me your precious shield.” You smiled at Dustin.

“Handle her with great honor, your majesty.” He unleashed his greatest—not so great—British accent with a bow to his knee.

You giggled, joining his playful antics, “Wouldn’t think to do any less, kind soldier.”

Eddie studied your interaction. His lips were fighting to flash a tiny smile, but his ego was stronger, choosing to focus on his sneaker scuffing the floor rather than you.

You, who was breaking every belief in the Munson Doctrine about prissy cheerleaders who hung off the arms of meathead jocks, and who was actively making his group of bullied outsiders feel included with your kindness; such kindness that Eddie was adamant he could not fall for. No matter how nice, how pretty, or enticing you were, all he saw was you.

You stepped back from hanging up their logo. “Okay, how’s that?” You asked the boys. After Dustin’s insistent need of a little to the left and just a bit to the right, it was perfect. “Alrighty, you guys line up there, and we can take a couple.” You smiled.

Every member was quick to find their designated spot against the wall, Eddie though, he slowly walked up beside you, as his friends got ready. He sighed, as he looked down at your warm face, “Are you actually putting us in the yearbook?” For a moment, you wanted to savor the little moment of bliss, in which Eddie Munson wasn’t throwing an insult or condescending comment towards you, but his genuine concern about your sincerity had your heart aching at his unmistakable plea to wanting to be included, also.

You softly spoke with a gentle nod to your head, “Yeah, of course.” You smiled at him. “Right where you guys deserve to be.” But his deep stare into your eyes had you pulling back from the moment that was happening, “J-just like Higgins said to do.” You were quick to add.

His heart could only manage a tight-lip nod back. “Right. Higgins.” He eyed you before joining his friends.

You took a deep breath. “Okay, guys-”

“Wait, you don’t expect us to, like, stand up straight or whatever?” Mike interjected.

“No, no,” you laughed, “be yourself, do whatever you’d like and just be comfortable.” You smiled, holding Eddie’s eye contact for a second longer than the others. “Okay, big smiles!”

Lining the camera to focus on the seven boys, you peered through the lens to see their uniquely catered pose establishing themselves through their individual personalities. Thumbs up, leaning postures, hands on hips, and beaming smiles, you snapped the photo with a large flash. You peered away from the camera and titled your head at Eddie. “What about big smiles did you not understand?” Your lips twinkled with delight of teasing. “You, too, Wheeler.” You giggled.

“Trust me, I look best without smiling.” Mike was able to rationalize.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Okay, and your excuse?” You smiled at Eddie, who was undoubtedly using all his willpower to bite back a grin.

“I don’t smile.” His stern voice was no match for his wavering smirk.

“Why not, it’s so beautiful?” You giggled, as his cheeks flushed with redness, apparent that he was not expecting such a compliment. “Come on, for me!”

His smile started appearing at you, though his friends were quick to ruin the moment. “Oh, you are so beautiful, Eddie.” Jeff mocked with a girly voice.

“Just wanna kiss you.” Dustin was quick to add kissy faces.

“Fuck off, both of you.” He shoved them, though his laugh was evident along with his smile, and were happy with such accomplishment.

Because you weren’t lying, Eddie Munson had a beautiful smile.

“Alright, alright, alright.” You laughed. “No more teasing. I want big, beautiful smiles—with the exception of Mike—so I can get the most perfect photo.”

The boys shook out any giddiness, and were quick to, once again, get into their own poses. Eddie, for once, showing you his crookedly perfect smirk as he leaned into his friends comfortably. Instructing them to get ready, you realigned the camera and focused on their beings, capturing the fun that was occurring at Hawkins High’s center hall at 8:59 p.m.

“How lovely.” You smiled at them, as they cheered and excitedly congratulated each other for actually being in the yearbook.

As you watched the utter glee consume their face, you caught eyes with Eddie. He flashed you a small grin, one that lingered longer than he was anticipating, but how could he not? No one had ever thought to include them, and here you were doing just that, tugging on the string of his heart because you cared. You actually fucking cared.

“Okay, um,” you caught their attention, “sorry for interrupting your game, you’re free to go back. I’ll be sure to have these quickly developed for the yearbook.” You smiled.

You were quick to get a multitude of thank you’s from the boys, though it was then when Eddie suddenly fell uncharacteristically quiet. He cleared his throat, snapping back to reality, and once again, his apathetic face was nimble to mask his genuine smile that was once shining on his face. As the boys started flooding back into the drama room, you turned to catch his staring at you, though when you went to flash him a smile with a small wave, you were only met with cold eyes that stared your figure down. The same eyes that degraded you nine hours earlier at lunch. The eyes that you thought you managed to break through after today.

Speed walking away from his glare, you fumbled into the newspaper room, returning the stolen camera. You took a minute to adjust yourself, still stuck in your sweaty practice clothes, that only seemed tighter after Eddie’s scowl. But maybe you were just reading too far into it. He had been smiling at you before, maybe he was simply slipping back into his character to resume his campaign.

Placing the camera back—Nancy was going to have one out with you when she found out—you locked up, closing the heavy door quietly behind you. It was once you did so, a heavy hand prevented you from walking away. Turning you around, you were, once again, faced with Eddie’s daunting demeanor as he stood over you.

It seemed like a common occurrence now, that every time you came face-to-face with him, his unnerving eyes were always studying your face, from your eyes to your lips. “H-hi.” You gently spoke, breaking his trance from his detailed staring.

He cleared his throat, “I know Higgins didn’t tell you to do that.”

He wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t like you exactly sold your lie too well. “Uh, yeah, b-but you guys still deserve to be included, and well, I’ll just take the fault if Higgin’s does find out. But I can assure you he won’t, so you’ll still be in there, I promise.”

Your reassuring voice that was laced with nervousness made him drag his hands across his face in frustration. It made all what he was about to do that more difficult. “Look, what you did back there…” He huffed. For a second, you thought that he may actually thank you and apologize for his previous actions towards you. But that’s not reality. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.” The way your face dropped had him slowing the lump in his throat knowing that he caused it.

“W-what?” Your eyes became round with confusion, and Eddie screwed his eyes shut to refrain from looking into them and being swept away. “B-but I thought-”

“No, no, stop.” He cut off your quivering voice that was sinking his stomach into a deep pit. “I, uh, I told you before that I don’t need your pity. We don’t need your pity.” He casted his face down, unable to face your disheartened look.

“No, Eddie, I promise, this wasn’t out of pity.” You were swift to defend. “I did it because you guys deserve to be in the yearbook, just like you said. I swear-”

“You’re gonna get their hopes up!” His. His hopes up. You flinched at his booming voice, attempting to find the strength to control the stinging in your eyes. “Some gorgeous, popular cheerleader being nice to them, leading them to believe all’s good, they won’t get hurt, only to come back and find you and your friends tormenting them as if today never happened!”

“No, I wouldn’t! I never even have! I’ll tell my friends to back off, Jason and Andy, I’ll tell everyone to stop, I promise. I didn’t do this to be some savior, you were just right earlier, and it wasn’t fair to exclude you guys.”

“Stop, just stop!” He couldn’t trust your words, though every fiber in his body was yearning to, but he just couldn’t subject himself to do so. His hands pulled on the roots of his hair. He wasn’t going to fall for you, in no alternate reality did Eddie Munson falling for a perfect cheerleader ever work out in his favor. He was an asshole before, and he’ll be an asshole right now, because that’s what kept him safe. “Just stay away from me- I, uh, my friends! Just stay away from my friends.” He choked with a shaky sigh, watching as you were fast to wipe away a running tear while looking away. Fuck.

He sighed, chest heaving with emotions he didn’t want to come out. “Just stay away.”

Eddie Munson was choosing to run.

Before he could crack from your glassy, round eyes, he marched back into the drama room with a heavy slam to the door, leaving you there.

Alone and crying.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #mean!eddie munson

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 6 months

Text

the lakes - m. murdock

a/n: hey guys so i've been struggling a lot with the fact that i might have hearing loss (i'm going to the doctor next week) and as always i am projecting, but i am not 100% sure everything in this fic is accurate and for that i apologize. but it's my little passion project and i hope you enjoy <3 as always, comments and reblogs are always loved and appreciated! warnings: hearing loss, hearing aids, tinnitus, reader struggling with being disabled, some parts are more vulnurable and don't have the reader being like overly confident in their disability, matt being soft, some suggestive behavior at the end, kissing, nicknames, pretty pg-13 honestly word count: 3.0k summary: your hearing aids run out of battery, and you're forced to struggle through a day of ringing ears and being deaf. matt helps, as he always does. pairing: matt murdock x hard of hearing!reader now playing: the lakes - taylor swift "take me to the lakes/where all the poets went to die/i don't belong/but my beloved, neither do you."

“Are you deaf?”

“What?”

You’re eighteen, home from college for the first time since fall break. Your family sits around for Thanksgiving, and there are so many people talking. There’s about thirteen people at this long dining room table, and they are all talking at once. You’re sitting next to your sister, but you can’t hear her well.

You know she’s speaking, and you’re sure you’re yelling, but you’re frustrated.

“I said, are you deaf? I repeated myself like, four times!”

You feel your face flush.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. You’re mumbling, and it’s loud in here.”

Your sister looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I’m right next to you, and I’m not mumbling. In fact, no one is yelling, either.”

You poke your fork at your sweet potatoes and feel hot, angry tears in your eyes as you avoid everyone’s gaze.

Your mom sits across from you, and frowns, planning to tell you to make an appointment at the student health center when you get back to campus.

She doesn’t even have to. You’ve booked one by the time she says it to you.

At the student health center, they administer a hearing test, and then refer you to a specialist for further testing. You call your mom, crying and she gently comforts you, before driving to the nearest bookstore and picking up a book on hearing impairments and a copy of ASL for Dummies.

At the specialist, they do another round of tests. Your doctor tells you that you do in fact have hearing issues and that you should come back in a year for more testing, to see if your hearing gets worse. For now, you get a doctor’s note that requires all your professors to take your hearing impairment into consideration. The process for getting that applied at your university is painful, and only gets worse through your years there.

Before you get to law school, your doctor tests you again, and tells you how your hearing has been decreasing in quality in the past few years. He says that you’ll need hearing aids to regulate it. You cry because you cannot afford that.

You get captioning accommodations throughout law school, as well as a note taker for certain classes that are entirely lecture based. You still try to take your own notes, but it frustrates you that suddenly you need all this help. Your own notes are incomprehensible and often miss key parts of the lecture as you sit for a few minutes trying to decipher what your professor had said a few minutes prior.

You go into corporate law after law school, choosing to stay out of court initially because you find yourself frustrated that you wouldn’t be able to process all of what’s going on due to the many voices.

You stay at this company long enough to get your hearing aids, long enough to pay your loans, and long enough to save up a good fund for your hearing aid needs.

You quit your job and get hired at Nelson, Murdock & Page as an interim while you decide what you want to do.

With your hearing aids, life isn’t so frustrating anymore. You find yourself enjoying casual chatter and not worrying about processing what your friends are saying. At family dinners, you take your hearing aids out when you’re mad at your family, to which your stepdad, another hearing aid user, always laughs.

And, despite the pay not being stellar at your job, you love it. You love working with people who need help, love fighting injustice, and you love your coworkers.

...

If only Matt Murdock would reciprocate your feelings towards him.

You’ve been dancing this dance for months. You come into work with coffee and stutter when you get to his doorway.

You wonder if he’ll ever know how desperately you want him.

You go about your days quietly, going to the bar with them at the end of a long week. You love your friends and find yourself hoping they know how much you love them.

Karen and Foggy, as well as Foggy’s fiancé, know about your hearing aids since they sit sort of clunkily on your ears.

You don’t tell Matt, though, not at first.

You know how bad it is, to not even tell your blind crush that you have hearing aids. But you’re embarrassed. It makes you sound like an old person even though you’re in your twenties.

But when Matt crawls into your window late at night, bleeding, you don’t even flinch as he crashes onto your floor behind you. You’re reading, your hearing aids out, and he’s unsure why you can’t hear him. Your heartbeat had no reaction, it’s like you don’t even realize he’s there.

He taps you on your shoulder and you turn quickly, and gasp, before starting to sign at him. Even in his disoriented state, he knows you’re doing something with your hands and moving your mouth. At first, he thinks that he might have stuff clogging his ears, but then he realizes you’re signing, probably because you think Daredevil isn’t blind.

He takes off his helmet.

“Matt?” You say, and it comes out a little louder than it should, because you can’t hear yourself to gage how loud you’re being.

He says something, and your gaze focuses on his mouth, where you can barely make out what he’s saying.

“I can’t hear you.” You say, softer now. You reach over to your bedside table and put your hearing aids on. By the time you look back, Matt has passed out on the ground. Oh fuck.

You get your first aid kit and begin to work on his wounds. When you’re done, you pull him onto your couch, now stained with his blood, and watch as he sleeps. Blood covers your hands, and you listen to him breathing.

When he wakes up that morning, you’re asleep on the couch, and when you feel him start to stir. You grab your hearing aids, and turn them on, before watching him wake.

He says your name softly, and you take his hand in yours.

“Hey.. You.. You’re Daredevil...”

“You’re deaf.”

“Hard of hearing. Not fully deaf, just… My right ear is a lot better than my left, but without my hearing aids I’m close to deaf, yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Daredevil?”

“I was scared. Scared that… That you would view me differently, scared that you wouldn’t like me as much.”

“I was scared too..”

“When did you start losing your hearing?”

“In college. I realized it when I went home for Thanksgiving, and then it got worse from there..” You tell him. A hand reaches out to your face, and you lean into it, letting your cheek rest in his palm. His fingers trail up towards your ear and gently run his fingers over your hearing aid.

“Thanks for stitching me up.” He says softly.

“No problem.”

“The hearing aid does explain the buzzing I always hear when you’re around.”

“You can hear my hearing aids?”

“Apparently. I can hear a lot of things. I have heightened senses. You use pomegranate shampoo and had red velvet cake for dessert tonight. Your heart is racing.”

Your face flushes.

“I can turn them off if it’s bothering you.”

“How would you hear me, then?” He has a point.

“I just don’t want them to bother you.”

“Don’t offer to hide your disability just to make other people more comfortable.”

You kiss him when he says this, in a careful way. You’re gentle, making sure not to hurt him as you do. He lays there and lets you kiss him, his hands on your face. You realize you had no reason to be scared that Matt might reject you for your disability, because he is the only person in your everyday life who really gets how it is to have a disability that affects all aspects of your life.

You trace the healed scars on his skin as you kiss him gently, careful not to hurt him. You promise that you’ll kiss him more passionately when he isn’t freshly stitched up.

• • •

A few weeks passed after that night. You and Matt start seeing each other more and more as you fall deeper in love. You find it silly that you wasted so many days, afraid of talking to each other and maybe disappointing each other over the fact that you both lack a vital sense.

But Matt never views it that way. You wear hearing aids and it’s perfectly fine because most of the time, you aren’t struggling to hear him and cannot communicate with him, and he can’t see when you can’t hear him.

Instead, Matt loves that he can hear your hearing aids buzzing softly because it always alerts him that you’re there. He can hear your heartbeat and smell you, too, but it’s not quite the same as this soft little buzzing that reminds him often of a bee.

Except for this one day.

You slept over at Matt’s on a Thursday and really, you should have known better. You knew your hearing aids were going to need a battery change soon, but you’ve been so busy with work and with Matt, and worrying about him at night, that you’re tired. So tired that you forget to pick up batteries before your hearing aids die.

You sneak out of Matt’s apartment early, sending him a text that you needed to go get changed before work. Really, you want to avoid the fact that you wouldn’t be able to hear him. But he didn’t respond to your message. You decide that you don’t care at this moment and head out to work, debating the right way to tell your coworkers about your predicament.

When you get to work, Foggy is immediately talking to you, and you are tense.

“Foggy—” He’s not stopping. It sounds like he’s mumbling, and there’s this ringing in your ears. “Foggy, I can’t hear you.” He finally looks to you, and says something, you make it out to be a phrase of confusion. “My hearing aids died.” You tell him. You’re frustrated, and Matt isn’t in the office yet.

You deem this as a blessing and a curse. Foggy goes to tell Karen what’s going on and as you’re settling down for the day, you get a text. You hope it’s from Matt, but when you see Karen’s name, you falter slightly.

‘Hey! Foggy told me what was going on. We’ll have your calls redirected to one of us and you can spend the day doing housekeeping and paperwork.’

‘Thanks’, You respond, “Sorry about all this. I’m usually on top of my battery life.”

“Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”

“Still, thanks. Did you hear from Matt at all?”

“No, he probably just slept in late. He should be in soon.”

You try to ignore your anxieties over his absence even though you know that when he does come into the office, you’ll have to struggle to communicate with him all day.

So, for the first hour or so of your day, you try to get some work done but there’s a light ringing in your ears that’s getting worse and worse as you attempt to try and focus on other things. Everything sounds so muffled. You’re so focused that your teeth grind against each other, your muscles tense, as you attempt to try and block out the ringing in your ears.

You have a feeling that by the time you leave today, those hot frustrated tears will be threatening to pour once more.

You don’t hear Matt as he steps into your office and stands by your left side, where you’re almost completely deaf. He stands there for about ten minutes, trying to get your attention before he realizes the light buzzing of your hearing aids are not there.

You must not have them in.

So his hands find your shoulders gently, and instead of tensing, you actually relax under his touch, because you realize that it has to be Matt. A slight turning of your head confirms it and you lean into his touch.

Neither of you say much for a while, deciding to let your frustration slowly dissipate as you lean into his warm hands. They stay on your shoulders and upper arms, rubbing gentle patterns into your skin.

After a good ten minutes of this, his body shifts to your right side and he leans down, before speaking at full volume, maybe even a little louder, just to make sure you can hear him. It still sounds like he’s mumbling, but you can hear him.

“Forgot your hearing aids?”

“Batteries died.” You tell him. “You never answered me.”

“My phone died. I forgot my charger, too.. Are you gonna be okay to work all day?”

“Mhm..” You smile softly, “You’re gonna have to help answer calls, though.”

He kisses your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He says, a soft smile on his face.

The day goes by pretty much as you expect it. You spend it doing paperwork and dodging phone calls, your tinnitus gets worse as the day goes on. By the time the day is finally winding down, Karen sends you one final text.

“Matt’s staying a little late to catch up on some work. Want me to walk you home?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

You realize that because she and Foggy are heading home, you’ll be able to sit with Matt, maybe get a little bit of peace. You’re thankful, too, because you’re about to lose your mind over all of this. The ringing is just getting to be too much.

You wait a few minutes after Foggy and Karen head home before you go into Matt’s office. He smiles at you and gestures for you to come in, and you do. You lean against his desk, as he speaks loud enough now that you can hear him.

“I’ll just be a few more minutes, Bee.” Even the soft-spoken nickname doesn't get you out of your funk, too busy wanting to get on your hands and knees and beg God for your hearing back.

That doesn’t usually happen, but every once in a while you ask him for a normal life.

God sends you a blind man as your soulmate, because he must think that the whole thing is quite funny.

“Okay…”

You feel hot tears pooling in your eyes as you bite your tongue and dig your fingernails into your skin. You almost draw blood.

“What’s wrong?” He can tell that something is wrong. He can always tell, and you’re foolish to think anything less of him, and even more foolish to forget his super senses. A part of you bites back a bitter feeling, since you wish you could’ve had super smell, super sight, super taste, anything in exchange for your hearing. You were not given an exchange, only forced to give, with nothing in there for you.

You forget that your boyfriend has super senses and can taste and smell your salty tears and blood in the air. Damn him.

“Loud… Ringing in my ears, my tinnitus is always really bad when I don’t use my hearing aids for a while..” You say softly. “It’s just.. it really hurts...” You confess, tears slipping down your face.

“Sweetheart..” He takes off his glasses and rests them on the desk in front of him. “C’mere..” You can’t hear that last part, but the way he opens his arms gives you the hint.

You sit on his lap, burying your face in the crook of his neck with a shaky sigh. You feel the thumps of his heartbeat and hold onto it, the ringing in your ears slightly muffled by his skin. It doesn’t fix the problem, but it helps.

His hands linger on your body, gentle caresses of your knee or thigh happening here and there. He just wants you to know he’s there, in the same way he desires when everything becomes too much for him.

“”m sorry..” you say gently, and he just hushes you softly, kissing your head. He traces patterns into your skin. He traces words into it as well.

L-O-V-E.

S-W-E-E-T-H-E-A-R-T

He traces your name, his, and your last names.

You kiss him softly, realizing that you might never be 100% okay with your hearing, but Matt will help. He’ll understand. He loves you, and it’s enough to be confident in your future again.

You spend only a few minutes more in the office before you decide to head home, his hand never leaving yours.

You make it back to his apartment and Matt plugs his phone in in case you need to text him and get his attention. You wind up stealing a pair of sweatpants, a tee shirt, and a pair of fuzzy socks. The two of you wind up tangled together on his couch.

Your ear is pressed against his chest as he gently caresses your skin, occasionally moving your hair from your face. He mumbles sweet nothings, and while you can’t hear them, you feel the rumbling vibrations in his chest, and you relish in them. You bathe in the feeling of his heartbeat thumping against his skin.

You fall asleep like this, with Matt touching you and talking in this low tone to make sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest and in his throat. It’s enough just knowing he’s there. That this thing you thought would deem you unlovable is no match for Matt Murdock, who on your wedding day will throw up the sign for ‘I love you’ in ASL.

For Matt Murdock, who, when you’re taken for loving the devil, will find you and take you into his arms and kiss you so that you know he’s real.

For Matt Murdock, who touches you in all the right ways so you can hear the sounds of your own pleasure.

For Matt Murdock, who will gently trace patterns into your skin when you need to be grounded. For Matt Murdock, who feels himself slipping further and further in love with you and finds himself searching for the soft buzz of your hearing aids when you walk into the room.

#matt murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murodock hurt/comfort #matt murdock angst #matt murdock imagine #daredevil fic #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #hoh!reader #hard of hearing!reader #deaf!reader #self indulgent

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