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cheezbites · 9 months

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Chris McLean As Your Ex

✎: My second Chrissy blog 🙈 it ain’t my fault he’s so bbg. (ex!Chris x f!reader) (Celebrity Reader)

♡Summary: Chris still has feelings for you after you broke up. Now he’s going to do everything in his power to win you back.

WARNINGS: Language, (toxic?) relationship, mild anxiety, arguing, angst, fluff, (catcalling?😭) smut next chapter and not really proofread. :(

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The day you met your ex-boyfriend Chris McLean was the day your picture-perfect life turned to shambles, or maybe it was the minute you agreed to host with him on his sadistic show… You were too busy to remember.

After filming another successful episode of your talk show: ‘Icons Unveiled', infamously known for it’s ‘unique’ contestants, (which is why people loved it so much) - the drama, fights and scandals discussed on your popular talk show are the main factors why people religiously tuned in. From a fourteen-year-old fanboy that became known online for hardcore obsessing over you, to an iconic personality with everyday petty drama that’s publicised way too often: GlamZoe.

And today’s episode featured a well-known kid influencer, Big Mia, and her ‘best friend’ Isabella, who blasted her secrets online for clout. Their feud only escalated, despite their ironic intention of 'peacefully hashing it out'.

“You’re calling me stupid? Bitch you were dumb enough to tell me all about yo’ shit in the first place. How ‘bout that?” Isabella disdainfully yelled, swiftly flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

“You only have clout because of me, know your place.” Big Mia retorted.

The audience erupted in applause, laughter, and audible gasps as a result of their vulgar responses.

“And? everyone likes me more than you anyways, so…”

“Guys - let’s relax, you came on here to bless this beef, not open a butcher shop.” You quipped, taking a sip of coffee from your signature ‘Icons Unveiled’ mug. The steam emitting from the mug fogged your Versace sunglasses, making you place them on your head.

“I’m gonna fight this hoe outside, how about that?” Big Mia asserted, rising from her seat as she tied her hair in a few sharp motions. Instinctively, security had to restrain her and ensure she remained seated. You noticed most fights were embellished by the participants for two reasons: you, a known and highly admired celebrity were witnessing it all unfold, and the instigating noisy audience: bloodthirsty for any scandal. People would do anything to Y/N L/N’s attention, anything.

You couldn’t refrain from seeing yourself and Chris in their thoughtless arguing, there was this one specific argument that was the final blow to your unhealthy relationship:

“Chris, we can’t keep hiding from talking about it. The fans are concerned, we need to address this situation openly.”

“We can’t risk making things worse by giving it more attention, they don’t need to know every detail.”

“But that’s the problem! they’re not stupid, they’ll eventually find out and they’ll lose trust in-“

“Trust me, I’ve been handling this for a long time. It’s better to let things settle on their own.”

“So have I! You’re not the only one, Chris. I’ll politely remind you I’m famous as well.”

“I know that… I know. I just can’t when you-“

“When I what? Am I just a distraction?”

That back-and-forth conversation went on and on… until it transitioned into an argument before even realising it.

“Changing our approach could backfire, Y/N! It will affect the ratings!”

“Ratings ratings ratings, that’s all you seem to care about!”

“I have to! Why don’t you don’t get it.”

“Tell me something, Chris. Who would you pick, me… or the ratings? The amazing fantastic ratings you can’t stop thinking about.”

“Y/N, just… fucking listen to me. You’re choosing to ignore me,"

In hindsight, your power couple relationship was really toxic. Instead of talking it out or apologising to one another, you just had sex. Which is exactly what you did after that argument, (yes, the same argument that made you breakup). You shouldn’t have to fuck or kiss someone to prove that you ‘love’ them, that’s a commonly known fact. Yet it seemed like your relationship didn’t get the message.

But your viewers were going to be thoroughly entertained by tonight’s episode, that’s for sure. As the bathtub’s floral, sweet-scented warm water soothed you, you enjoyed every second of the chaotic scene unfolding on your iPhone, making you feel amused and mildly exhausted. People never mention how drama is better tenfold when you’re actually witnessing it, front-row seats and all. Their animated gestures and exaggerated words only further enhanced their bickering. Soon enough, the speculations on social media were flooding in - so were your pay cheques.

You couldn’t resist but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Midway through the episode - just as they were about to reach the boiling point on your screen - your phone rang causing your heart to skip a beat. Nobody ever called you, the only exception was if it was undeniably crucial. Everyone understood how busy you were and the demands of your time. So when your phone chimed, that signalled something demanded immediate attention - the last thing you generously handed out.

The caller ID displayed ‘Liam Harrison’, your agent. You knew this wasn’t going to be just another casual conversation - he’d usually try to mask it as one before delivering bad news to you.

“Y/N?” he spoke, in that familiar gravelly voice you were unfortunately used to.

“Yes, this is she.” You laid back in your back tub and scarcely crossed your legs, mentally preparing for what was about to hit you.

“Tonight’s episode … crazy, right?” He said, a sense of relief lacing his words. Essentially because it was you who picked up the phone - not your voice note that he was unfortunately used to. You immediately picked up on the tone of his words and the slight relief present in them, It would be rare for anyone else to have picked up on this, but you were discreetly intuitive.

“Mmm,” you hummed in response.

“Right, erm, so I’m sure you’re aware of the high demand and the public being visibly upset about your absence on Total Drama.”

“Fuck me…” you muttered as you massaged your temples. Your anxiety gnawed at your thoughts, making you toy with your hair as you listened. As Liam presented his case, the high demand, phenomenal ratings, substantial income - the best part of it all: the increased fame.

You were focusing on the coffee mug that sat on the edge of your bathtub as you inattentively listened, it would always be comfortably cupped in your hands for every single episode as you watched scandals unfold, the viewers always called it ‘iconic’. Its pink interior contrasted the pristine white exterior, ‘Icons Unveiled’ etched onto the surface in a delicate font, this globally adored mug had soon gained a life of its own. It became so popular that it would be more rare to see someone who didn’t have your mug than to see someone who did.

Your business-savvy mindset embodied your influence, the minute you put them on sale it was even titled ‘The long-awaited merchandise masterpiece’, and it sold out in under half a minute. ‘Skyrocketing’ would be an understatement to describe how the sales performed - and it wasn’t just that, you sold coffee blends crafted to your taste, cute matching sets with your infamous catchphrase: ‘Getting up, close and personal with the icons!” and so on. Amidst your racing thoughts and tremors of anxiety, you realised something. Your smart business decisions pushed you so far ahead in the entertainment industry, something even Chris, (with all his charisma), hadn’t managed to accomplish yet.

“Y/N, what do you say?”

The abrupt noise enticed you to faintly jump, being so lost in your never-ending thoughts made you completely forget the disheartening situation you were in. You knew the moment you said ‘Yes.’ was the moment you sold your soul to the devil, to your demise to you have no other choice.

“I can’t wait,” you stated, not sounding as confident as you intended to.

“Great. We will be handling the contracts, drafting, legal approvals… all that stuff. As well as the promotional campaign to build anticipation for your appearance.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Goodnight, Ms. (L/N).”

“Night, Liam.” You hung up and your iPhone automatically resumed Icons Unveiled, you absentmindedly watched as your mind was in a completely different place.

The recruitment made sense so you couldn’t be too upset about it, when two wealthy and famous personalities collide, the mesmerising sparks are inevitable. You’ve built countless businesses just by having people on your show, you were consistent and dedicated to your craft, and some may say that you had it easy - that you were rich the moment you were born and got everything you wanted, luxuries and riches were an everyday thing. You played your cards right, became rich and famous, and were worshipped worldwide. Your alluring and humble personality made you hard to ignore giving your universal appeal, evoking envy and admiration from others in the entertainment industry.

Maybe this was what led to your breakup - your wits and marketing techniques may have triggered Chris to be slightly envious. But you weren’t innocent either; as his fame grew over time so did your jealousy. You weren’t exactly the jealous type, though. But the constant comparisons, busy schedules and fans feeding his already indestructible ego ignited something in you that you never knew was there.

On the other hand, he started feeling uneasy about your immense success. Chris was mainly looked down upon, but viewers kept tuning in as they were in a trance by the cruel ideas he came up with. You positively influenced your fans (or so they thought), but deep down you were just like him. You hated admitting it but you were both equally insane, you were made for each other. The spotlight that shone on you made him question whether he could measure up to your achievements, and he hated that.

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After a long yacht journey, you arrived at Camp Wawanakwa; your new dreadful and thankfully temporary home. An isolated island with an untamed forest, towering trees and tepid cabins. The air’s musk had an earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves, the nostalgic smell that without warning brought you back to when you previously hosted.

As you stepped out of the lavish yacht, nervousness and excitement churred in your stomach. Chef, Chris’s loyal assistant, greeted you with a warm smile.

“You look just as young as I last saw you,” he chuckled in that familiar thick and passionate voice. Chef afforded you a reassuring pat on the back as he helped you with your luggage.

Although the campers were confined to their cabins until filming began, you could sense the excitement from the peeks you caught through the cabin windows. Whispers, screeches and a few wolf whistles followed you as Chef guided you to ‘The Chris Crib’.

You couldn’t resist but to wave at the girl's cabin, and blow a platonic kiss to the boys.

“Oh my God! Y/N L/N waved at me!”

“No, she waved at me! We all saw it!”

“Shut up - she waved at all of us.”

“Boys… she clearly digs us.”

“Yeah, did you see the way she blew that kiss?”

“She’s so fucking hot, I need her in my bed.”

When you entered the ‘Chris Crib’, (which looked way better than the worn-out cabins, very typical of Chris) the first thing you did was walk into your room to unpack your bags, not even bothering to greet …him. Your room was left untouched and Chris's faint scent lingered; a subtle sweet-smelling cologne. You caught sight of some lingering items you left behind.

You changed into your pyjamas, a silky white spaghetti top paired with satin shorts. After a brief moment, you picked up on the faint sound of his voice, your nosiness forcing you to overhear. He spoke in a hushed tone about how he couldn’t get you out of his head - how he still loved you and wanted to see you. Yeah, right. With the way he treated you? Sure he did. He can keep lying to himself if that’s what helps him sleep at night after tormenting innocent teenagers.

But the weight of your emotions and the relentless grip of anxiety had been tightening around you for weeks, pulling you into a tornado of racing thoughts. Today was no different, you found yourself lost in thought, sitting in your bathtub - the one inside the bathroom which was connected to your bedroom, you were still fully clothed in your PJs. You didn't even bother to lock any doors, so anyone could walk in at any given moment. A rumour on socials spread like wildfire about Icons Unveiled being staged, making your viewers worried and doubting you and your show.

Maybe you actually were just like Chris? You cared too much about what the fans thought. More than you think you should - but it was reasonable - they were your source of income. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s okay, your team would handle it, right? It’s all going to be okay. But this subtly affected your episode’s performances, some days you were better at hiding your inner emotions than others but the speculations made it ten times more difficult. This coupled with the continuous pressure to serve content was a lethal combo. You were grappling with the mounting burnout that had begun to take a toll on your physical and mental health.

The announcement of co-hosting TDI was a cruel twist of fate, a decision driven more by the demands than your own desires. As you wrestled with your thoughts, your racing heart gave way to a full-blown panic attack. Your audible heartbeat and heavy breathing and an overwhelming urge to just escape… You felt as if these were your last moments, as if these were your last breaths, last heartbeats.

This situation couldn’t get any worse until Chris walked in, you didn’t even want to look at him. Your wet hair draped over your shoulders and shielded your face, yet you could still sense a worried and concerned expression on his face. He’s seen this happen before - you had odd ways of coping, the one he was most used to was drowning yourself in your thoughts in any accessible bathtub. He saw your vulnerability and offered a steadying hand like he was reminding you that you weren’t alone.

“Hey, hey - take deep breaths,” His voice was gentle yet reassuring. He knelt beside you, and even though your pyjamas had turned completely see-through, he placed one hand comfortably around your back.

“I’ve got you, alright? You’re safe here.”

You reluctantly nodded, trying to focus on his words as your heart’s abnormally fast rate gradually decreased. But you couldn’t prevent the tears streaming down your face, tracing a scorching path along your cheek. The once bubbly and vibrant colour of your eyes was killed by the bloodshot hue, your breath hitched in your throat, catching on the sobs that wrecked your body. Each gasp for air was a painful reminder of the tightness gripping your chest.

“Panic attacks are tough, you’ve faced harder challenges. Remember that time you nailed that live episode? You’ve got this, listen to my voice.” he continued, his tone steady.

You always liked listening to his voice, so that would be simple enough task. It was husky and satisfying to the ears; it effortlessly put you to sleep on multiple occasions. You mentally recalled the day you had a panic attack before filming a segment for Icons Unveiled, three of your team members spent what felt felt like fifteen painstakingly slow minutes trying to calm you down. When it was Chris, him being there for only a minute or a few seconds would have you feeling much more serene.

You closed your eyes, trying to heed his words. You haven’t met his gaze once this whole time, avoiding revisiting the memories you shared just by simply looking at him. His presence was like an anchor, bringing you to reality amid the chaos in your mind. As your breathing slowed, his hand never left your side. “This will pass, you’ve got the power to overcome it.”

Finally, your words escaped your lips, and the grip you had on his other hand tightened as if your life depended on it, which heavily contradicted your next statement:

“I hate you.” The words were tremulous and engulfed with tension, yet your gaze told a different story. He knew you better than you realised - the emotional whirlwind that was happening inside you, and the conflicting feelings.

He hated (when I say hated I mean hated) seeing you in this state, struggling to fight an extremely challenging battle was so hard for him to see. He knew deep down it was because of him, which made him feel way worse. In that look you gave him, he sensed your frustration and appreciation. The Y/N way of acknowledging his presence when words weren’t enough.

No, he doesn't genuinely care... he's crazy. Crazy would be an understatement to factually describe him, you've seen the shit he pulls on his show. Chris is an emotionless man - in your scenario, it was all different. You give him emotions he's never felt before.

He gently tucked a few stray strands of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering momentarily. His voice was a soft barely audible whisper,

“I know.”

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Part Two

Also, holy shit. I would've never thought I’d make it this far- THANK YOU SO MUCH BBS!!!💕 Sending virtual hugs rn.

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jeridandridge · 4 months

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Atomic

Jacob takes Melissa to a gay bar.

CW: Implications of religious trauma, internalized homophobia.

In the break room at Abbott Melissa sits tapping her boot on the floor while Janine jabbers on about the newest situation she wants Barbara’s guidance on. While the kid goes on and on the redhead sits at the table looking over her shoulder every so often at Jacob.

The younger teacher sits at the table with Janine nervously nibbling his sandwich. No one wants Melissa Schemmenti looking at them like they have a target on their back that they don’t know about.

“What?!” He shrugs almost irritated looking at the redhead.

Melissa shakes her head going back to her phone. “Nothin, kid. Just uh, come to my room after the bell.” With that she grabs her stuff and goes back to her class for the afternoon.

Dropping his sandwich the young teacher looks to Barbra with an agape mouth. The older woman holds up her hand gathering her things.

“I don’t know a thing, Jacob.”

In her classroom, Melissa sits at her desk getting back to the grading she was doing before lunch. She has five minutes until she has to get her kids from the lunch room, and in those five minutes she has to talk herself out of a panic attack.

She doesn’t know why she’s this way but she hates it. Her thoughts run wild about the topic. She’s old. She’s divorced. She’s not as thin as she once was. Who could want her? Who could want her when she’s not sure what she wants. The cross around her neck feels like it weighs a ton, enough to pull her down and down further and further into her somber thought. The thoughts only stop when her watch chimes alerting her it’s time to get the kids from the lunch room.

At the end of the day Jacob contemplates shimmying down the side of the school from his window so he doesn’t have to go see Melissa. He paces back and forth before he finally gives in. “I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go!” He huffs grabbing his bag and leaving his room.

The young teacher is too nervous to even give Mr. Morton a fake friendly smile as the man says hello to him, too afraid for his own life. Keeping his shoulders back he holds onto the strap of his bag tightly as he pokes his head into the redheads classroom.

“What’s your deal over there?” Melissa nods looking up from her desk as Jacob looks side to side and up at the ceiling.

“Just checking, making sure there aren’t any traps or surprises.”

“What are you talkin about, kid?” She rolls her eyes, “I just wanna talk to ya.”

Noting the serious tone shift in her voice, he comes in leaning against the kids desk across from Melissa. He’d never seen her look nervous like she does now, fingers fidgeting and no eye contact.

“Melissa, whatever you need to say, you can and I appreciate you feeling comfortable enough to tell me.” He explains gently. In reality he expected her to snap at him and say forget it, instead the redhead lets out a breath and motions for him to come closer as she gets up closing her classroom door.

The two teachers are quiet as they both stand closer to each other. Melissa can feel her heart beating against her ribcage and she gathers up the courage.

“Listen kid, I might give ya a hard time and tease and all that, but I do respect you.” She tells the young man. “And I think you can help me figure some things out.”

Jacob, for once, is at a loss for words.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinkin, after breaking it off with Gary and all,” she waves her hand, “and I think I also like women.” She finally lets it out, feeling instantly better.

Jacob smiles at his co worker feeling honored.

“Well first off thank you for telling me this very personal, inspirational info. Saying something like that out loud, it feels good doesn’t it?”

“It actually does,” she smiles. “It feels airy. But I guess I just wanna know how to start. I mean, I ain’t young anymore and catholic guilt is a bitch.” She shrugs.

“Let me ask you this,” he starts, “Do you want to explore, and get to know the real Melissa?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “That’s the point ain’t It?”

Jacob has to hide his smile, grin growing on his face. “Tell you what, Zach and I are going out this weekend, nothing crazy, just a bar. Why don’t you come with us?”

Melissa tries to come up with an excuse, she really does, her stomach is in knots at just the thought of a gay bar.

“Okay, but we ain’t telling anyone about this.” She points at him in a warning.

“But what abou-“

“No one, kid.” She cuts him off shooting him a look.

Jacob nods comparing himself. “I’ll email you the details.”

Saturday comes all too quickly for Melissa. After a day of trying to distract herself with cleaning and cooking, her house is spotless and she has four different dishes in her fridge big enough to feed a small army and even that doesn’t slow the clock down.

At nine o’clock she finds herself walking arm in arm with Jacob to the bar, Zach the sweet guy he is, behind them.

“Honey! They’re doing karaoke already!” He smiles looking over at the crowded karaoke stand in the corner.

Melissa looks around the dimly lit bar, spotting black lights, rainbows, and plenty of decor on the walls.

“Go on, honey, I’m sticking with Melissa tonight.” Jacob squeezes his hand before Zach goes off with a smile.

Melissa stands with her hand on her hip, her leather jacket, her armor not even able to give her the confidence she needs. feeling totally out of place in a bar like this not because it’s a gay bar, but because everyone’s so young she pats Jacob’s arm. “G’head, kid. I’ll be at the bar.”

If there’s one thing Melissa knows it’s where to find a nice bourbon or a crisp glass of wine. When Melissa saddles up to the bar she quirks a brow at the pretty woman behind it, toned arms on display and long hair in a pony tail.

“Hi gorgeous, what can I get for ya?” The bartender gives Melissa a smile that makes her stomach flip. The redhead knows how it works, she bartended in college herself, she knows bartenders flirt to get more tips.

“Bourbon neat, hon.” She orders with a friendly smiles.

Grabbing a glass the bartender fixes her drink sliding it over. “So, are you friends with Jacob? I saw you come in with him and I’ve never seen you before.” She smiles.

“You know Jacob?” Melissa quirks a brow, “That Jacob over there?”

“Yeah,” the bartender laughs with a nod. “Jacob Hill. We’re friends, sorta.”

“I give him crap, but he’s a good kid.” Melissa nods. “I’m surprised he’s friends with a,” she trails off looking at the woman, “toned, tattooed, twenty something.”

The bartender tips her head back in a laugh, leaning forward with her arms on the bar to get closer. “Thirty something actually. This is my bar.” She smiles. “What about you, gorgeous? How do you know Jacob?”

There’s that word again. It’s catches her off guard once more and this time the stunning woman is even closer, a warm, raspberry vanilla smell hits her nose. Suddenly the blaring music and the sounds of glasses clanking and chairs moving become too much on top of her thoughts.

“Woah, hey, you okay?” The bartender asks gently resting her hand on the redhead’s.

At the touch of the woman’s hand Melissa pulls away almost like a flame has grazed her skin.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shakes her head, “I’m-“

“Don’t sweat it,” the bartender smiles. “Hey maya!” She calls over her shoulder, “cover the bar for me. You, come with me,” she waves Melissa over as she comes out from behind the bar.

Melissa stands and follows the woman, almost drooling when she sees the tightest jeans known to mankind.

The bartender reaches back gently grabbing her hand. “I don’t normally do this, but since you’re Jacob’s friend I’ll make an exception,” she smiles leaning in towards Melissa’s ear.

Melissa’s breath hitches in her throat at the closeness of the woman. Through a hallway the woman opens up an office door revealing a pretty normal room with a few posters and a pride flag on the wall behind a desk.

“It can be a little too rowdy out there,” the bartender smiles handing her a cold water bottle from the fridge.

Sitting on a black leather couch Melissa sips the water hearing a muffled Blondie song from the outside, the beat almost as fast as her heart drumming against her ribcage.

She eyes the bartender who sits at her desk, arms above her head in a stretch.

“Sorry, hon. It’s been a weird time recently.” Melissa apologizes.

“No need to an apologize, gorgeous. I’m a bartender, I might as well be a therapist.” She jokes. “If you weren’t Jacob’s friend I wouldn’t have brought you back here to my secret lair.”

This gets a laugh out of Melissa. “Some lair, it’s not dark and mysterious or anything. And you don’t have to keep calling me that. I’m Melissa.” She finally shares.

“Nah, I’ll still call you gorgeous.” She smiles yet again, making Melissa’s heart jump. Sipping the water she shakes her head.

“I knew it’d be a gamble coming here.” She sighs. “I can’t even handle talking to a woman.” This makes the bartender frown.

“First time in a gay bar?” She asks, not a single note of judgement in her voice.

“Yeah,” Melissa nods. “Jacob convinced me to come even though I’m noneya business years too old to be here.”

The bartender sits back in her desk chair almost examining the redhead, making Melissa shift in her seat. She knows the woman sees right through her, soft eyes meeting hers.

“You know, one night I was here, it was a Tuesday,” the bartender starts softly, “There wasn’t much happening yet, it wasn’t even seven, and this old woman comes in with her great granddaughter. They both take a seat at the bar so I come over like always, and we start talking. The woman was 93 years old and you know what she said to me?”

Melissa sits with a small smile playing on her lips as she listens closely, shaking her head no, enthralled by the story.

“She said she just turned 93 and finally, after decades, had the courage to be her authentic self. Isn’t that beautiful?”

The question makes Melissa think. Really think. All her life she did her best to please others, stuck with tradition, and did her best to make her family proud despite trying to go against the grain as best she could.

“Yeah, it is beautiful.” She hums quietly parting her lips to speak again, only to be interrupted by the door opening.

“Hey, boss the ice machine is jammed again.” The other bartender pokes her head in.

“Alright,” the woman sighs, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

When the door closes again Melissa stands up, following the woman back into the hall towards the music and crowd.

“Listen, I’m pretty new at this sorta thing,” Melissa says shyly, not like herself. “But I’d like to talk to you more, get coffee or dinner sometime? doesn’t have to mean anything.” She adds quickly.

The bartender gives her a soft smile, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “When you’re ready, Melissa, you know where to find me.”

With a wink and a gentle squeeze, Melissa’s left standing in the doorway of the hall with a ridiculous smile on her face watching the woman spring into action.

She’d have to thank Jacob.

#we need more Melissa x Jacob content ok #melissa schemmenti x jacob hill #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti x you

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xxx-silhouette-xxx · 1 year

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Am I the only one disappointed with season 3 of The Mandalorian?

Contains SPOILERS - so skip if you don’t wanna know

Tonight was, painful.

I’ve REALLY been trying to hang on with an open mind but after tonight, there’s no going back.

And I’ve got some things to get off my chest.

Din Djarin has had NO character development from the sacrifice he made for Grogu’s life. This has been inarguably, the biggest disappointment for me. I was hoping for a season of exploration of a man’s moral compass and worldview being hauled upside down, a young boy who’d been orphaned, traumatised and taken in by a cult that raised him with titanium religious beliefs. Who grew into a hardened bounty hunter but gave up everything he knew for the sake of a lost child. Became shunned for protecting said child and despite doing what he felt was right, strived to seek redemption and forgiveness. There was so much potential for Din as a character in terms of growth and development, all of which was swept under a rug within the first two episodes. He has instead become apart of Disney’s formula of “the boss ladies side bitch” with nothing to add to the scene but his catchphrase “this is the way”. That and the sudden revival of his hate for droids even though he had been working on that issue in past seasons.

Grogu is more or less the commodity Disney grew cash dollar signs in their eyes over for the sake of product marketing and just have him doing cutesy shit for the sake of being cutesy.

And then there’s Bo Katan.

Now disclaimer - I’m not the type that hates an actual person for a character they play. Yes, I’ve never liked Bo Katan (that much I’ve made clear in recent posts) but I also think that Katee Sackhoff does a brilliant job playing a character as such. And to see her come to life in season 2 was incredible and to me, Bo Katan from season two is the REAL Bo Katan.

Because I’m sure as hell disappointed with what they’ve done to her character in season 3. Bo Katan was a terrorist who broke away from Mandalore unable to accept a new direction in leadership from her own sister. She massacred and terrorised innocent people, she plotted towards the death of her sister, splintered off from her terrorist group after the throne of Mandalore was taken by Maul and continued to fight against his loyalists and later the empire itself.

And we all saw the look of death on her face when Gideon pointed out that the dark Sabre belonged to Din

This isn’t someone I was rooting for but this was someone who didn’t know when to give up and would go to any means possible to get what they wanted. This is the same woman who made an oath in the throne room of Mandalore, saying that an outsider would never rule the people. The odds were against her in many ways yet she still fought like hell…. Where is that woman? And who replaced her with Disney’s first emo teen princess whose suddenly forgotten her xenophobic upbringing?

And as for Lizzo and Jack Black’s appearances in episode six?

My partner said it best when he commented that they turn the whole show into a parody of itself.

Personally, I found Christopher Loyd’s character as flat as cardboard and an absolutely pointless goose chase used to build up momentum all to throw away the opportunity for a twist ending.

It really breaks my heart to see the series diminish into what it has. The whole reason people fell in love with the show was due to Din and Grogu’s father son dynamic and that’s all been thrown to the side in favour of other characters, setting up for the future of other shows and tying off the ends to the sequels.

Season three completely lacks the drive and purpose of the previous seasons.

It should and could have been so much more than what it is.

And Din Djarin deserved more depth in his story then to be abandoned to the side lines.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian season 3 #din djarin #pedro pascal #star wars #mando #mando spoilers #mando fanfiction #katee sackhoff

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charmedreincarnation · 1 year

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Hi Maya I am this person. Can I be your 🧿 anon because I am Greek and middle eastern

https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/714864628452212736/i-got-into-the-void-state-using-your-method-bu

I did end up getting into the void state with your theta method and manifesting everything I desire and it feels so great ☺️☺️ this is the evening for me and i have been living my best life so I wanted to thank you. You say don’t do that but your page has been motivating and helpful 🧡

I manifested in the void

My family having a net worth of 200 million dollars. Before my dad made 40k a year as a carpet cleaner and my mom was a stay at home mom.

Moving to La with my family and living in my dream super mansion.

Having a loyal and diverse friend group. I never had good friends before and when I did they always left me out or bullied me and used me as the D.U.F.F ugly friend.

Having a natural 90s beauty and my desires 90s body like Kate moss but with big boobs and I’m 5’7.

Loving accepting spiritual family who is not religious. My mom was never even Muslim she’s white but married my father who is Arab. He was fine except for the strict Islamic rules he mad me us follow so I revised that.

Having a private plane. My mom has already planned so many summer trips to Monaco, Mykonos, Milan, and Cabo for the summer. We have never travelled outside of the state and now we are going all over the world I am very excited

Awesome confident, personality and aura like tomie and Alexa deme, bad bitch energy, and energy of Saturn because you always talk about Saturn and it’s connection to woman and it sounds awesome 😎

Good intuition, safety from harm for my friends my family and me, being good with dieties and my spirit guide and being a master shifter. I haven’t done it yet but your shifting story sound very fun so it is something I want to explore

Always feeling like I got 9/10 hours of sleep no matter how long i sleep

Being a wonyoung Pilates pink princess girl. That’s why number 9 is so important because I’ve been obsessed with that lifestyle on Tik tok but I’m a night owl so now I can get to early :)

Omg this is the best thing I could have waken up to this morning <3 I am beyond happy for you 🧿 anon! Also the sleep manifestation is so goals I did the same thing earlier this year :)!!!

Anyways thank you for sharing 💗 I hope you continue to live your best and happiest life!

#void success #law of assumption #void state #manifesation #manifesting #law of attraction #shiftblr

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o0anapher0o · 9 months

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Miss Lily and character stereotpyes

I’ve been re-reading @halo4life2017-blog's rewatch blogs and the discussion we had about Miss Lily and about how Lestat might at some point tell us he only killed her because she was actually planning on blackmailing Louis or something like that, and I had some more thoughts I need to get out.

The thing about Lily as Louis presents her is, she’s a stereotype. The ‘whore with the heart of gold’ is a common trope. It’s a cliché the same way the though, street-hard, black pimp is, or the rich European genteel who is abhorred by American racism, the stately southern matron who saves face at all cost even if it means waving off a guests outburst with a comment about the weather, the sassy little sister who supports her gay brother and only wants to see him happy, or the religious zealot who is really a gentle angel when he’s not possessed by the holy spirit. All those are sterotypes that Louis uses when he introduces the people in his life to the story, ways he tries to shape the narrative perception of them. Or maybe lies he tells himself about them.

And all of these stereotypes get dismantled within the first episode: Louis is really a sensitive baby gay who likes to read and cries at the opera. Lestat is a terrifying vampire, who we can rightfully assume has never cared about how black people are treated anywhere prior to meeting Louis, and really still doesn’t. Florence is an emotionally abusive bitch who happily unloads her own grief on her child, Grace is mommy little princess who deserts Louis when he needs her most to side with Florence and Paul is a condescending brat who shamelessly uses his mental illness for the liberties it gives him (we don’t talk about it enough because mental illness is tricky and Paul is a great character, but the way he acts towards Grace’s fiancé and wedding, and how he talks to the priests when he goes to confession are on a level of entitlement that’s breathtaking. And that’s instances when he’s supposedly ‘right in the head’. My favourite is ‘I wasn’t being rude”, like, yes, you were. Just because the voices in your head told you to say it doesn’t mean it’s not rude to say it and the fact that you’re trying to justify it tells me you know that.).

You could probably make a similar case almost all other characters, Bricktop, Tom Anderson, Levi, all of them are initially presented in a very stereotypical way and later we’re shown they are not quite what they seem at first (Fenwick might be the exception here, he’s always a horrible racist pig). Except for Lily. She never gets the chance to be shown as more, because she gets killed off-screen and is never brought up again.

But we do get hints that everything isn’t as Louis presents it with Lestat’s throwaway comment on her wretched life, or the fact that it takes Louis two weeks to even notice she was dead, which tells me they weren’t as close as some people seem to believe. (Yes, he was a regular customer, one she might even have liked but they definitely weren’t friends.). So yeah, I won’t be surprised if we do learn about some nefarious goings on she was involved in. That’s not to make Lestat look better btw, he did kill her and the main reason was no doubt to get a reaction from Louis and/or to dismantle his support system, but I do think there was more to it than that just ‘she was a poor substitute’. And just as a side note: since we tend to treat Louis as an unreliable narrator (justifiably so) if and when the time comes we certainly need to look at Lestat’s story the same way, because I’m pretty sure if anyone is trying to make Lestat look better, it’s going to be Lestat.

#interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv meta #there is also the question how gabrielle survived that long #louis de pointe du lac #miss lily

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crimeronan · 2 years

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the fondest specific compliment i’ve gotten on my toh fic is that everyone swears in a way that’s very true to character. where it feels like they Definitely talk like this offscreen, like it flows naturally & isn’t jarring despite the G-rated source material

this delights me because i have spent SO MUCH time thinking about the owl house cast and how different people swear. limiting this post to POVs i’ve written but here’s a few headcanons

luz: almost never swears. if she does she’s either doing it for Maximum Emphasis or because it’s very funny in a very specific situation with very specific peers (hunter & willow. she can’t swear in front of amity or gus bc she feels like she’s tarnishing her Innocent Image). even when luz CAN say “fuck” in T-rated properties, she does in fact default to “jeez” and “crikey” and “wow” and “EAUGHHH NO OH NO EUGH NO” at all times. some people swear in their other main language around english speakers but luz is not one of these people. generally in situations where most reasonable individuals would yell “HEY ASSHOLE” or “DUDE??? WHAT THE FUCK????”...... she simply throws things and/or starts biting. That’s My Daughter

hunter: swears more than luz but still not Super Often. most common go-tos are ‘shit’ as a panicked exclamation & ‘bullshit’ as an unimpressed observation. he knows more curse words than anyone else in the show including eda because of How The Coven Scouts Are. several of the curse words are wholly made-up epithets shared by approximately ten trauma-bonded weirdo soldiers. that said, he.... legitimately does not know which muttered oaths are just weird idioms versus Actual Swears bc he’s never Needed to know. (formal speak with belos automatically removes all of these informal interjections in the first place, and no one else is gonna question how The Golden Guard talks, so.... no reason to learn.) if anyone tries to explain these nuances to him later in life he will get into an autistic shouting match about how that’s SO STUPID and UNNECESSARY and MAKES NO SENSE you DUMBSHIT MOTHERF-

eda: tries hard to tone down her language around The Chillens but swears... sssSSSO MUCH. sailor tongue ahoy the woman was raised by wolves (ie: her mom who even in her old age will still shout “YEAH RUN YOU PUNK-ASS BITCH” at randos on the street). eda says “fuck” aloud an average of once or twice in any given fic chapter but should say it more. if i ever write her alone with raine it will become 200 times per chapter because with raine she casually flips back to her high school self and all her creative teen lingos. yknow, back before she learned to be all Mature and Professional. a class act. as she rifles through heaps of garbage and develops hives at any sign of emotional intimacy

darius: theoretically swears a lot and has nothing AGAINST a very verbose “motherfucker son of a bitch dick-for-brains are you fucking SHITTING me you INCOMPETENT-” however he USUALLY uses boiling isles swears. not because he’s being censored by the writers but because a muttered “mother of titans i’m begging you to come down and cast these fucking imbeciles into the boiling sea before i lose my fuckdamned SHI-” is just. Yeah. That’s Him. darius is the guy who WOULD be saying ‘jesus h christ’ and ‘christ on a stick shift’ and ‘mother mary of god PLEASE either end this meeting early or STRIKE ME DEAD BEFORE MASS’ except. yknow, he’s got other religious figures to invoke. sidenote he’s been dying to shout “KIIIIISS MYYYY ASSSSSS” at 98% of his coworkers for 30 straight years. to the point that he sometimes dreams about it

bonus

camila: swears exclusively in french (a language in which she is not fluent) bc she doesnt want luz picking up bad language. she learned these expressions from an old friend from montreal which means that luz now has a weirdly broad knowledge of extremely rude quebecois slang without knowing any specific definitions. she just knows that these are words you recite to french-canadians if you want to start a bar fight.

#toh #luz noceda #hunter toh #darius deamonne #eda clawthorne #camila noceda #the camila one is just lifted from my childhood. idr the swears now tho its been too long since i saw my dad [pensive]#spent an unbelievably long time editing this shitpost for maximum lolz. please appreciate it

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celestiall0tus · 6 months

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Miraculous Paradise - Chapter 13 - Call to War

Beginning || Previous || Next

Gabriel entered his office after seeing Adrien to his room. He locked the door and strolled over to his desk. He took out his phone and scrolled through the contacts to Nathalie. He hesitated for a moment before he dialed the number. It rang once before Nathalie picked up.

“This better be an emergency, sir,” Nathalie remarked.

“Did you see the news?”

“You mean the fairy and her side bitch preaching the end times? Yes, I saw that foolishness.”

“Did their faces look familiar to you?”

A long pause. “Yes. They looked like Emilie.”

“One of them was. The other I’ve no doubt is Amelie.”

“Well, isn’t that wonderful. I see your wife has finally gone off the deep end. Not that she would have taken the news about Adrien well regardless.”

Gabriel frowned. “Nathalie, I have a big favor to ask you. Something that I can only trust to you.”

“Right. What is it this time?”

“Whatever happens, stop us.”

“Us?”

“I cannot go against Emilie. It’s painfully obvious why she does this and I cannot take a stand against her. However, you are not bound as I am. You are free to act accordingly. Please, don’t allow for this ‘Paradise’ she speaks of to be created. Help the little ladybug girl stop both sides of this war. Help her stop Emilie, me, Amelie… and Felix.”

“So, it wasn’t just me then. The ‘Cat Noir’ guy was Felix.”

“There’s no doubt. The way he walks, talks, everything is Felix. I’ve no doubt that Colt put him to this for the good of the business.”

“Then who is that woman with him?”

“I’m not sure. Far as I’m aware, Felix doesn’t have any partners. I’ve heard whispers from Colt and Emilie’s parents about arrangements for an auspicious match for Felix, but nothing beyond that. Perhaps that’s who she is?”

Nathalie snorted. “Let me know when that conversation happens. I would love to see the utter shitshow that becomes.”

“Will you settle for a recording?”

“I suppose so. Colt is notorious for just springing things on people after all.”

“Indeed. Hence why I believe he roped Felix into this. As for the fox lady, I’ve no idea who that would be.”

“I see. I’m sure I can find out. Shouldn’t be too difficult for me and my assistant.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

“Of course. I’ve never been a religious nut as such the prospect of Paradise doesn’t entice me in the slightest. Not to mention I’ve grown rather fond of the finer things in life thanks to being in your employment. Granted you’ve treated me better than most of your employees.”

Gabriel chuckled. “You can thank Emilie for that one. She made sure you were treated well for all that you do.”

Nathalie laughed. “I better enjoy it while it lasts. Can’t imagine she’ll take too kindly should she find out I’m opposing her. But that does beg the question, what exactly will you do sir?”

“I will support her in any way possible. Even if it means becoming whatever it is that she has become.”

“I see. If you are willing to go that far, you’ll need to be ready to fight, Gabriel. This is war now and all is fair. No one will pull their punches, so you can’t either. Do you understand?”

“Regrettably.”

“Good. Tread carefully, sir.”

Nathalie ended the call. Gabriel sighed and sat in silence. He mentally prepared himself for Emilie’s return and the conversation that would follow.

“Quickly! In here!” Luna called.

Hope and Huntress rendezvoused with Luna with Cat Noir tied up in Hope’s yo-yo. They disappeared into an abandoned building where Odette and Luna waited with one of Bridgette’s illusion copies dressed in a dark purple hanfu robe lined with black fur, a fox eye mask, ears, and nine tails. Huntress placed Cat Noir down, but Hope kept him tied up.

“Oh, lovely. Now that we’re all together, what the fuck were you thinking, fleabag?” Bridgette yelled at Cat Noir.

“Right back at you, slag. I don’t need you messing things up for me with your little lies. I’m here to keep Paradise from happening and don’t need to be associated with you.”

“Then you should have thought of that before you came in destroyed the whole ass cathedral. Fuck’s sake there was nothing left. At least I was leaving pieces of it to send a small message. But that’s not enough for you, is it? You needed to destroy the whole damn thing!”

“And what fool wouldn’t? Why let them keep their so-called sanctuary? Might as well burn it all to the ground now.”

Luna bounced over and intervened. “Sorry to interrupt your squabble, but fighting over it now isn’t going to help. Plus, your thread is turning gray.”

“Thread?” Cat Noir asked.

“Yup. Forgive me. I am Luna, the rabbit of connection. I’m able to see the threads that connect us all. And right now, your white thread is darkening, and I’d rather avoid that. After all, we can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves.”

“I second that. We need to be in tip top condition if we’re going to pull off our plan,” Odette added.

“What plan? What have you lot concocted?” Cat Noir demanded.

“We’ve been presented with an interesting opportunity after that show. As far as the people see it, Armageddon has begun. The servants of the Lord have arrived and are here to combat the Devil’s minions. The servants being the Paradise holders and the demons are you and Void. You with me so far?” Huntress asked.

“I am. You’re insisting that we play the villains to combat the real enemy,” Cat Noir said.

“Yes and no. Part of us will play the part of the demons, but also the heroes. This is where Hope fits in. See, while a majority of the people easily recognize the war of good and evil about to take place, they are unsure of the ‘little ladybug girl.’ All the while, they pray that she will be their true salvation.”

“And what difference does that make?” Cat Noir demanded.

“Well, what is the one thing stronger than fear?”

Cat Noir scoffed. “There is nothing stronger than fear.”

Huntress considered. “Oh? Is that so? Then prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

Huntress grinned. “You heard me, old man. Prove to us that there is nothing stronger than fear with your accomplice, Void.”

Cat Noir opened his mouth but was interrupted by Odette.

“I bet he can’t do it. Man doesn’t know what fear really is. He’s just a spoiled rich boy.”

Cat Noir’s ears pinned back while his tail lashed. He attempted to speak again but was cut off by Luna.

“Maybe we should find some others. Surely there are other holders or people worthy that would help meet our goals better than him.”

“Hold up, you little brats. Don’t dare to speak about me like you know who I am. None of you know what I am capable of.”

“See, you’re wrong. From what I see, you’re the heir to a wonderful fortune who had his childhood robbed of him. You were to be molded into the perfect clone of your father if not for your mother. Even then, you desperately cling to the parts of her you picked up but can’t escape the fact that you’re nothing more than another of your father,” Odette surmised.

Cat Noir’s head snapped around to Odette. “How do you… how do you know all this?”

Odette bowed. “I am Odette, swan of soul. All souls are laid bare for my eyes. Your deepest secrets are no longer safe before me.”

Void snorted. “Daddy issues? Is that all?”

Cat Noir turned and hissed at Void. “Drop it! I don’t want to hear another word of this. Do you all hear me?”

“Then prove yourself, rich boy. Prove that through your pampered, silver spoon lifestyle you can compete with a mere commoner,” Void challenged.

“Too easy. I’ll have you eating your own words before the sun comes up.”

“Good. That means we can start now, and you can-!”

Hope moved between Void and Cat Noir. She stomped her foot and glowered at them.

Void sighed. “Right. We start tomorrow.”

Cat Noir laughed. “Perfect. I can get a head start tonight and-.”

Hope heel turned and glared at Cat Noir. He had a stare down with her, then sighed.

“Fine. I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

Hope looked over at Odette, who gave a thumbs up. Hope nodded and released Cat Noir from her yo-yo.

“Alright, now here’s the plan. We’re going to play their game. Void and Cat Noir will be the ‘demons’ who will cause as much destruction and devastation as possible. The ‘servants’ will combat the demons while Hope and the rest of us safeguard the people,” Huntress explained.

“And if other holders should appear?” Cat Noir asked.

“Well, we kinda play that part by ear. But, if we can, we sway them to our side. Especially any Paradise holders that pop up.”

“Right. We’ll see how that goes,” Cat Noir remarked.

“It’ll be alright. We got this!” Luna cheered.

Cat Noir rolled his eyes. “Well, as much as I’d love to stay here, I’d rather not. See you lot tomorrow.”

The girls watched as Cat Noir and Void exchanged dirty looks before he left. Odette and Huntress grinned while Luna and Hope looked worried.

“I’ll see you back at home, Hope,” Void said and vanished.

“Hey, Huntress, bet you ten euro they fuck,” Odette said.

“Odette! How dare-!” Luna started.

“Let’s sweeten the pot. For every month they don’t, we add ten more in and whoever month it is, gets the jackpot,” Huntress interrupted.

“Huntress? You too?” Luna demanded.

“What? Either they’ll kill each other or sleep together. Either way, it’ll be hilarious to watch.”

Hope gave Huntress the side-eye.

“Oh, relax, girl. It’s just some harmless fun. We won’t do anything to egg them on,” Huntress promised.

“No need to. They’ll do that themselves,” Odette remarked.

Hope grimaced and looked away.

Huntress put a hand on Hope’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, girl. We’re here and so are you. We all have Void’s back. Promise.”

Hope looked at Huntress’s hand, then at Huntress with a smile. She hugged Huntress and let out a heavy breath.

“Let’s head back to your apartment. I think this calls for a sleepover. Do you agree?”

Hope considered and nodded. She gestured for them to follow as they returned to her place.

“Oh, this is bad. This is bad, this is bad, this is so very bad!” Sabrina yelled.

Chloe raised a brow as Sabrina fumbled for her whistle and blew it between deep breaths.

“What do we do? What can we do? I can’t believe this. I just-!”

“Just use the whistle.”

Sabrina nodded and blew her safety whistle.

Chloe hummed and looked at the floor. Since the news broadcast had started, the peacock woman was so familiar to her, but she couldn’t place it. That was until the fairy showed up. She couldn’t see it immediately in the fairy’s face, but she heard it in the voice and how the fairy spoke. It was Emilie Agreste. It was seeing Emilie as that fairy that she had realized that the peacock had to be Amelie Graham de Vanily. It was even more obvious when she saw them side-by-side.

Chloe clung to a pillow as she reflected on the twin’s words. They would be ushering in whatever Paradise was and clearly had the power to do it. It was a foolish idea that would surely end in ruin, but a part of her hoped otherwise. Perhaps, if they created Paradise, then Adrien would be saved. Maybe they could save her childhood friend and brother.

A knock interrupted Chloe’s thoughts. She headed to answer it when Zoe’s voice came from the other side.

“Everything alright? I heard Sabrina’s stupid whistle from my room.”

Chloe sneered. “Everything is just fine. Run back to your room and do whatever you were doing.”

“Right. Sabrina, are you alright? Is Chloe being nice?” Zoe asked.

“O-oh, yes! She’s being wonderful. We just saw something terrifying.”

“Wow, Chloe. Making Sabrina watch scary movies, are you? I knew you didn’t give a shit, but treating your girlfriend that way? You’re pathetic.”

Chloe scowled. “Fuck off, brat! No one wants you here. You were just a fucking mistake of a one-night affair with some lowly American peasant!”

“At least Mom remembers my name unlike you. Are you sure you weren’t the mistake that trapped Audrey in a loveless marriage with Andre?”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. She fumbled the lock and flung the doors open, but Zoe was long gone. She growled, slammed the doors, and locked them again. She plopped down on the couch with her arms crossed and a terrible sneer on her face.

Sabrina looked away as they sat in silence. She waited a few minutes before she spoke.

“Chloe? What do you think we should do?”

A pause. “I want to help them?”

“You… what?”

“I know you don’t know them as well as I do, but that was Emilie and Amelie. I also have no doubt that they’re doing this all for Adrien. After all, he’s only got a year left to live.”

Sabrina gasped. “He does? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I just… I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Sabrina moved closer. “Chloe, please. Don’t bottle this. I know you love Adrien, and this news must hurt.”

Tears fell from Chloe’s eyes. “Well, of course, it does! Adrien was my first friend and my brother. I spent years with him, hoping he’d survive. I hoped he’d live a long life and we’d live them out together as family. But now I’m going to lose him in a year. And it’s not fucking fair! Why him? Why did he have to be born sick? Why does he have to die so young?”

Sabrina grimaced as Chloe broke down into sobbing fits. She held Chloe and comforted her. She wished she could help her more, but there wasn’t anything she could do. Not about Adrien. This was the only thing she could do, and it cut her deep.

“He doesn’t have to. Not if you help with the creation of Paradise,” a woman’s voice said.

Chloe and Sabrina gasped as they looked around. They eyed a pair of orbs that materialized and morphed into a pair of kwamis, a bee and a dog.

“What the fuck are you creatures?” Chloe demanded.

The bee kwami bowed. “I am Pollen, kwami of devotion. We are godly creatures that are capable of the miracles that you mortals pray for.”

“Yup, yup. And I’m Barkk, kwami of love.”

“O-kay. And just why are you two here?”

“What else? Paradise!” Barkk squealed.

“That and we were drawn to you too. Not like how we would be with very special individuals. No, your desires call to us. You each want a miracle,” Pollen added.

“I’m not sure-,” Sabrina started.

Chloe jumped up. “Yes! Can you save Adrien?”

“Not exactly. What I can do is help you to help the Paradise set to create the Paradise that’ll save Adrien,” Pollen said.

Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

“Chloe? Maybe we should-?” Sabrina attempted.

“And for you, puppy, I can help you so you can help the one you love with all your heart, so she won’t be sad anymore,” Barkk interrupted.

Sabrina’s breath caught, but she hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

“Oh, please, my darling pet, won’t you help? Pretty please.”

Sabrina sighed. “Alright. For you, my Queen.”

Chloe clapped and hugged Sabrina. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Ready, ladies?” Pollen asked.

“Ready!” Chloe declared.

Pollen summoned a hair comb and gave it to Chloe while Barkk summoned a collar necklace and gave it to Sabrina.

“Put these on and you’ll need to speak our transformation phrases,” Barkk explained.

Chloe and Sabrina nodded and put on the jewels. Sabrina stared at her necklace as fear grew within her. Chloe noticed Sabrina’s unease and took her hand. Chloe gave Sabrina a reassuring smile before she looked at the kwamis.

“Now, to transform, say, ‘Pollen, buzz on.’”

“And for me, it’s, ‘Barkk, let’s play.’”

“Ready?” Chloe asked Sabrina.

Sabrina nodded. “Barkk, let’s play.”

“Pollen, buzz on.”

Zoe sat outside the door as she listened in. She frowned when it went silent. She waited a moment longer before she sighed and returned to her room. She stood against the door before she stomped to her bed. She grabbed a nearby pillow and tore it apart. She vented all her rage and hatred of Adrien onto it until she ripped it into a pile of feathers.

Zoe seethed a while longer before she collapsed onto her bed. It wasn’t fair. All Chloe cared about was Adrien and not her. Chloe called him her brother, her sibling, but not Zoe, her actual sister. Now Chloe was going to side with the stupid zealots from the news just to save Adrien. Something she knew Chloe would never do for her.

A tear fell from Zoe’s eyes and she screamed. She grabbed another pillow and flung it around into furniture and the walls. She hated the zealots that promised their stupid Paradise. She hated that Chloe didn’t love her. She hated that everyone treated her with indifference. But above all, she despised Adrien.

The pillow exploded into a shower of feathers. Zoe huffed and fell to the floor. More tears fell before the dam broke and they poured from her eyes.

“Poor, sweet child. Abandoned and betrayed by all those around her,” a woman’s voice said.

Zoe gasped. “Who’s there?”

The shadows converged and morphed into a black spider kwami with many yellow eyes. Zoe recoiled at the sight of the kwami.

“Greetings, child. I am Silkii, kwami of betrayal.”

“Kwami? You’re what those creatures that approached Chloe and Sabrina are?”

“Indeed. And I approach you with a similar offer as I wish to help you.”

Zoe scoffed. “What price would you ask?”

“Come now, dear. There is no price. At least not one you aren’t already paying in some form or another. Besides, wouldn’t you want to put an end to all your troubles? To Adrien Agreste?”

“You can do that?”

“You can. And to sweeten the deal, you can actively hinder your loathsome sister. Make her pay for everything.”

“I can? How?”

“See, she is in possession of devotion, my opposite. Which means, any followers she gains with her powers, you’ll be able to severe those threads with upmost ease.”

“What about the bonds she has with other people?”

“Oh, yes. Even those too. No bonds of loyalty are safe once we bind.”

Zoe’s eyes lit up. “I’ll do it. I want to make them pay.”

Silkii grinned. She summoned an anklet and gave it to Zoe. Zoe quickly put on the jewel.

“Now, to seal this covenant, utter the phrase, ‘Silkii, sever the thread.’”

“Silkii, sever the thread!”

“Sass? Sass, are you there?” Adrien quietly called.

A loud sigh came from around Adrien as Sass materialized as a human.

“What can I help you with?” Sass asked.

“I have questions.”

Sass deadpanned. “Of course, you do.”

“Did you see what happened earlier?”

“Unfortunately.”

“How were those people the way they were? The fairy, the peacock, and the ladybug.”

“That would be another function of my kind. We can bind with mortals to give them a fraction of our power.”

Adrien’s eyes lit up. “Can we transform?”

Sass stiffened. “Why?”

“I want to help the ladybug girl. I want to keep Paradise from being made, like you wanted.”

Sass’s eyes widened as he raised his brows. “Do you now? You know you’ll paint a target on you if you do. Don’t forget that we are a component of Paradise, and they’ll do whatever it takes to sway you.”

“They can try, but they can’t offer me anything. Not when you made your terms clear.”

“Huh. Then why don’t we see if you truly are up to the task. If your convictions are where you claim.”

“How do I do that?”

“To put yourself through the gauntlet, speak the phrase, ‘Sass, scales slither.’”

“You got it. Sass, scales slither.”

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fabbyf1 · 1 year

Note

Are you still responding on comments at AO3?

Besties,

I want to talk about something that makes me uncomfortable. I hope you’ll allow me to speak my mind, hear what I’m saying, and not jump to any conclusions. Please don’t read any further into this than what it’s actually about.

I want to talk about comments on AO3.

Comments on AO3 are so fucking important. If you’ve ever published something on AO3, you know how incredibly special they are. Writing is such a long, lonely process that we all do for free. We challenge ourselves to be creative and to produce content that we want to see in the world. We take time away from our own lives and responsibility to do something that we love to do.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll build up a little following of people that enjoy your stuff. People who will read your fics religiously, even if it’s not something they would have previously clicked on. And that, my friends, is an insane feeling of validation. It’s something I’ve never experienced before, even though I’ve been writing since I was 12.

F1 RPF is such a special place to be.

Having you all back me and support me is insane. I love it so much. The fact you have such faith in my writing that you’ll click on a fic and go into it with an open mind simply because I wrote it is mind-blowing to me. I never want that to change, and I never want you all to feel like I’m immune or numb to that. I am so incredibly thankful for your support.

I’ll never be able to find the words to express how much joy I get from posting a fic and seeing you all freak out over it. It makes it worthwhile. It inspires me to keep going. It builds my confidence and helps me continue to take time out of my personal life to write these things, knowing that I’m not just doing it for myself anymore.

But that’s where the tricky part comes in, and I’m not sure how to talk about it without sounding like a whining little bitch. I don’t want you to think I’m telling you how to praise me. I never want you to think I’m taking feedback, comments, or praise for granted because I promise you I’m not.

I still cry and gag and scream over every single comment I receive, no matter how long or short the comment is. I screenshot them and send them off rapid-fire to my little group of besties so that we can all cry over them together.

But I think it’s important we keep it on the right platform.

Very recently, I have stopped responding to comments on AO3. It wasn’t an easy decision for me, and I cried actual real-life tears about it because I didn’t want anyone to hate me or think I was a rude, self-absorbed lil bitch.

Up until this week, I was religiously responding to every single comment I received. Because I wanted you all to know how much they meant to me. But I’ve reached a certain point now where it’s taking too much time out of my day to respond to them all when I feel like I could be using that time for better things. Like producing more content for you.

But I’ve noticed, particularly this last week since I stopped responding on AO3, that my Tumblr inbox is suddenly full of AO3 comments. I can’t help but think it’s because I still respond to (almost) every Tumblr ask I get but have opted out of responding on AO3. And if that’s the case, I totally get it. Because interaction is important, and we all enjoy talking to each other!

I don’t want anybody to think I’m asking you not to interact with me.

I fucking love talking to you guys. You all make me laugh, and cry, and gag, and scream and panic-pace around my apartment with some of our conversations. I never want you to stop sliding into my dm’s or sliding into my asks, on anon or off anon, to scream about things with me.

But what I’m asking... is that you also leave a comment on AO3. If you only have the time or desire to write on one platform... please make it AO3. Come to my tumblr to talk to me, Kate, about anything you want. Or, copy and paste the AO3 comment into my tumblr ask so I can repost it for everyone to see. But I’d ask that you not skip the AO3 comments to post on my tumblr instead. Because... they belong on AO3.

I’m so incredibly honored that you would take the time out of your day to leave me a comment (of any size). Seeing them on any platform brings me so much joy, but I think they belong on AO3. Whenever I’m feeling sad or down, I’ll go reread the comments on my AO3 fics. If they’re split between two platforms, comments are more likely to get lost in the mix, and that makes me so sad to think about because I want to reread them.

Because you took the time to tell me something nice.

Also... stats matter. And I hope you don’t think I’m being cocky or entitled when I say that. But comments, kudos, and views matter. It’s how your fics get more traction and more attention and how you widen your audience. Stats are an awkward thing to talk about, especially for me, but they really do matter.

I hope you all can understand where I’m coming from.

And I truly hope you don’t think I’m complaining or trying to dictate when and how you should praise me. Because I promise you that is not my intention. I’m just... a real person behind a screen, with real feelings and real emotions. I love you all so much, and I’ll never stop crying about how loved and special you all make me feel.

Thank you for listening, besties.

[tl;dr I think AO3 comments should stay on AO3, and not go into Tumblr asks. Please don't hate me.]

#I really hope you read all of this even though it's long #i'm sorry for being so long winded THIS IS WHY I CANT WRITE SHORT FICS EITHER BESTIES #please undersatnd that i love you all so fucking much #you bring so much joy to my life #i brag about you to everyone i know

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beneathashadytree · 2 years

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Hi Maya!

I have loved your writing for such a long time now but I’ve never actually sent in a request !

my request is for a risotto nero x reader drabble from jjba where risotto and the reader get into a heated argument (I imagine it would be over something in their relationship, and it’s just blown way out of proportion) and the reader walking out, only to come back a few days later and find that the rest of la squadra has been killed (in the events of vento aureo). so the reader would be a part of la squadra as well, and i imagine them being risotto’s like, right hand man/woman. the theme would essentially just be angst. I hope this makes sense ! thank you so much for taking the time to read my request. <3

CRUELTY - RISOTTO NERO X READER

Warnings : mildly graphic descriptions of blood and mild gore, death, some religious depictions, this is not proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : angst

Word count : 0.6K words

Additional notes : Thank you so much for your sweet words and for requesting! I love it when requests are variable and have characters I’ve never written for before. It gives me a new challenge! I don’t think I’ve ever written pure angst before, so I hope you like this 💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

Cruelty could tear them apart far worse than Risotto ever physically could to an enemy using his stand, and cruelty had dug its nails into their flesh over and over again. His words were sharper than a glinting dagger carving into their skin, and they ripped apart their insides every time he spoke.

They couldn’t even remember what the fight had originally been about. For all they knew, it could’ve been nothing at all, and yet it could’ve been everything. The vague memory that lingered in their brain was of it slowly escalating into a screaming match; a competition to see whose pride would win.

They’d demanded more of his time, he’d snapped at them to stop bitching. They’d yelled at him to unlodge the stick up his ass, he’d slammed his fist down on the table in a fit of fury. Their indignation and self-preservation drove them to slam the door shut behind them as they left him behind, swearing up and down that they’d rather see him dead than come crawling back to him.

It was well within the range of being counted as treason. No right-hand would abandon their post, and especially not at the cusp of a grand discovery that could change their fates. But they’d had enough—enough of having to set their life on the line in the name of love every single day, only to have it tossed back in their face. No; it was best to leave Risotto behind, and erase all traces of him from their heart and soul.

La Squadra could tear itself apart from within for all they cared. They had no more energy to expend, and no more toeing the line with death before it finally caught up to them. It was, after all, all a matter of time before they came back to snuff their life out the moment they caught wind of their crime of abandonment. No one dares to leave the mafia and live to tell the tale—and they’d morbidly made peace with that. Death was inevitable.

And inevitable it was, they thought, stomach churning as bile crept up their throat, watching the way his mangled body sprawled on their doorstep; the same threshold they’d been thinking of crossing to hopefully make amends.

With trembling fingers and shuddering breaths, they took a fearful step back, vision hazy at the sight of him, limp and drenched in his own blood that stained the marble underneath him with the color they knew would never properly wash away and would seep through the cracks. Stumbling over their own feet, it felt like they were taking repeated punches to their gut, and the tears swimming in their eyes were near impossible to blink away when it felt like their heart was being ripped to shreds.

Hell had been brought to their front doorstep, and the devil had brought him back to taunt them; to mock them with Risotto’s blank unmoving eyes, his bluing skin, and his hair mottled in crimson. The devil laughed in their face, as despair clutched at them and they cried out in agony. Truly a tragedy to be admired—the way their hand clawed at their chest, as though begging the scene in front of them to be nothing more than a figment of their worst nightmare.

But no—as it often was, reality was far crueler than it often passed itself as. It was crueler than a lover’s biting words; crueler than their neglect. And it would force them to trudge forward, bearing the weight of their regrets and sins, until they pulled the very essence of them under to join him in hell, where their cursed souls would remain forever entwined.

Taglist: @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna

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farfromstrange · 2 years

Text

Foreigner's God: Chapter 7

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: There is something incredibly off about Tony’s behavior, and Eliza decides she can’t do it anymore. She’s done. The fight leads to several revelations. One, she might be going slightly insane and two, Clinton Church is actually quite the nice place to go to if you’re having a panic attack. Other than that, Matt is still himself. While that might lead to some tension between them, she’s never been happier to have a place to go to that isn’t lonely, and he cares. This friendship might just be all she needs, after all.

Warnings: this is so long, mentions of drug abuse, alcohol consumption, there’s some foreshadowing, Tony Stark is being slandered, a phone call with Peter, hallucinations, panic attack, religious imagery, confession, praying, S3 spoilers, Eliza’s ever-lasting guilt, arguing, yelling, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), crying, not feeling good enough, some bad humor & cliché age gap joke

Other characters: Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Tony, Clint, Peter Parker, Father Lantom & Sister Maggie, also some random homeless man just trying to help a girl out

Word Count: ~ 10k

A/n: I tried working out some of my own religious trauma with this one and also… well, this shit is plot-heavy so you might need a clear head to read this. If anyone asks, no I’m not okay. And no, Tony just acts like an asshole. He ISNT the villain. Still haven’t done him dirty enough, but we’ll soon be done with the slander. The next chapter will be posted tonight as well!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Read Chapter 7: right where you left me Here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

The first time Eliza Bennett met Tony Stark was the day Loki destroyed New York. She’d only been working for SHIELD for a short amount of time back then, trying to get accustomed to her new life, her new identity. It’s safe to say she has always been exceptionally good at it. At being an Agent, being a hero, and every other thing way beyond her maturity level. She was never taught any better. Being an Agent in the field resembled her life at Hydra almost down a tee. Except she wasn’t killing people and she had her own free will, which was nice, but also not so much. She followed orders but she had a choice to stay or to start a new somewhere, get a taste of that human lifestyle everyone kept telling her about. It was new and scary, and she hated the fact that it didn’t feel like her.

May 3rd, 2012.

She was undercover at a gala when she heard the static rushing in her earpiece. “Mission’s over,” Natasha said.

“What?” Eliza looked down at the glass of Martini in her hand, then back at the dance floor on which the Senator she was watching kept twirling his date around. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” she said. “I practiced my tango, like you told me to. It’d be a shame if I couldn’t show it off!”

The woman laughed. “I’d love to see it, but this is urgent. Pack up! We’re going back on the Helicarrier. I’ve got someone else covering our Russian spy senator and his bimbo.”

“Don’t call her a bimbo, Nat.“

“But it’s true. Admit it.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Eliza left the party, the black limousine waiting for her at the entrance. The nice valet opened her the door, but he was dangerously pale around the nose. She cocked her head. Someone had been threatening him.

Natasha sat in the dark of the backseat, holding a file. She should’ve expected the redhead to make her appearance so soon. Urgent meant nothing less than time sensitive and when it came to matters with such a label, she was always first on every scene.

“Wait, weren’t you just in some Russian guy’s lair?” she asked her.

“Yeah, Coulson bailed me out. Threatened the guy. I almost had him. Ended up kicking his ass like the little bitch he was.”

“Did you get the intel?”

“What do you take me for?”

“Of course, you did. So, what’s up? What’s up with the urgency?”

“I know you’ve never done this before,” Natasha said. She handed the file over, her hand enveloped in black leather gloves. “But the fate of the world depends on it, and we could really use your help right now.”

She opened the brown folder, the first page a picture of a glowing blue box. “The tesseract,” Eliza choked out. An object with the most magnetic pull.

Fury never once allowed her to be less than ten feet of it. She had to stay in the circle. Why, she didn’t know, but he had his reasons.

“Yes, it’s recently come into possession of a, uh… I don’t know what he is. An alien? Some guy with greasy hair and a spear. He’s not of this world, that’s for sure. He stole it from the base earlier tonight.”

“This thing has unimaginable power. How could he just steal it?”

“As I said, he’s an alien. And he’s Thor’s brother. Turn the page.” She did. The next series of pictures were screenshots from the security cameras. The man with black hair stared straight at the screen. He was attractive, sure, but the crazy in his eyes killed the mood.

“Jesus.” Eliza shook her head. Somehow the glow of his scepter felt… familiar? It was just a picture, it was probably stupid, but she felt drawn to it nonetheless. “What’s the procedure?” she questioned.

Natasha smirked. “We’re getting the band back together.”

With the band, she meant the Avengers. The Avengers Initiative failed before. Imagine her surprise when the pair set foot on the Helicarrier to find the group of unlikely allies meddled together for the first time ever. None of them looked like they belonged there.

“I could imagine better things than to be trapped on here with the Hulk,” she told Natasha. “And the guy whose brother is currently threatening to take over the world.”

“He’s still my brother!” Thor snapped from somewhere in the distance.

“He killed eighty people in two days.”

“Well, he’s adopted.”

“And I’m a former Hydra operative. What’s your point?”

“See, so even you have made mistakes, earthling.”

Eliza glared at the blond man. He was attractive. He was tall and muscular and every woman’s dream. In that moment though, all he did was infuriate her to the point, her blood boiled.

“Don’t call me earthling, you daft Asgardian Shakespeare.”

“I feel like you have been misinformed about me. I’m Thor, the God of-“

“Thunder, yeah, I know. I don’t care.” She turned to the rest of the team. “If I end up squashed,” - she pointed at Bruce - “under the edge of a Vibranium shield,” - she pointed at Captain America - “shot with an arrow through the eye,” - her eyes narrowed at Clint - “hit with a magic hammer or ATTACKED BY A FUCKING METAL SUIT, MISTER STARK!” Tony felt her finger poke deep into his chest. “I will make sure we all die up here,” she finished. “You got that?”

But Natasha taught her all about control, so she swallowed the red threatening to expose her and focused back on the task at hand.

Tony was actually the only one to eye her with curiosity instead of fear. “Do they usually start this young?” he asked.

Eliza used to be a very superstitious person. She didn’t trust anyone outside of her fellow Agents and even then she kept her distance. She was a scared girl in a big world, not knowing who she was or how she got there, with powers raging inside of her that she couldn’t quite grasp. The Avengers were a pool of strangers that she was tossed in without ever having learned how to swim.

So, naturally, when Tony made his jokes, she put her guard up. “No,” she told him, “We usually start younger.”

“So, baby spies?” He’s never been a particularly serious person.

It was twisted that this was the thing that enthralled him about her. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him. Eliza was so frustrated to the point where she considered putting a bullet through his iron suit. Though when he flew that missile into space, she couldn’t help but pay her respects to his heroic antics. The careless man she’d met before somehow appeared in a different light then.

“You’re a great kid,” Tony said to her after the battle. “We should do this again sometime.”

That was four years in the past.

Eliza warmed up to Tony instantly. The respectful, caring side of him. It was the original reason why she agreed to move into Avengers Tower in the first place. She ditched SHIELD for the Avengers. He mentored her. Tony was the first person after Fury to see something in her, willing to do just about anything to bring it out in her.

Tony Stark made her feel loved for the first time in her life. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much to see their once so-invincible bond break apart.

Eliza asked herself where exactly they went wrong. Was it something she did or something she could’ve prevented? As so often, there was nothing to explain Tony’s behavior other than the fact that he was just Tony.

Tony wasn’t the man he used to be, and he certainly didn’t portray as the kind of person he wanted to be. He turned from an idol into an antagonist – Eliza wished it would’ve been a sudden change, but reflecting on the past two years she realized it was meant to happen.

Eliza knew better than to try and make him see. He had to fall head-first into the abyss to realize his mistakes. He needed a swift kick in the ass and an excellent punch to the face. She couldn’t do that. Life had to do it to him.

Like Steve once said to her, “If holding onto something hurts you more than letting go, you need to let it go. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come back to you. If it’s not, at least you got rid of the pain.”

By the time Happy pulled up to the compound, Eliza accepted the fact that it would never be the same again. She had to let go eventually. She would give him one last chance, she decided, and if he decided to turn around and shit on it, she would take Steve’s advice and save herself. For once in her life, she had to listen. Holding onto the wrong people was her best talent, but sometimes even talent has to be laid off to protect your fragile little heart.

“We’re here,” Happy snapped her out of her thoughts.

She dreaded every step into the compound. Her heart beat up to her throat. The oxygen supply sank with every passing second.

Eliza took the familiar road to Tony’s office. He was waiting for her behind the door. She hesitated, hand on the handle. She hated confrontation. She didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t her turn to apologize, but somehow she felt like she had to. Sad, wasn’t it? He had her judging guilty without even trying, even when she didn’t need to. She was just that dependent on his approval.

She pushed the thoughts away. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult. Adults don’t make their lives dependent on one person, no matter how much they mean to them. Adults are supposed to stand their ground. She had to learn how to do that. She did it the previous night, she could do it again. Tony didn’t own her.

“You came,” Tony’s voice sounded breathy, hungover, from the corner of the room.

Eliza exhaled, a mix between a sigh and a scoff. “You left me no choice,” she said. “Sending Happy to my place was a desperate move.”

“I couldn’t reach you. At first, I thought maybe you lost your phone, but then I realized you blocked my number. If anything, you left me no choice. I wanted to talk to you without dozens of people around to ask stupid questions.”

“Why?”

“You left before I could talk to you last night.”

“Seriously? You’re just gonna act like this is all it is? Miscommunication?”

Tony scoffed. She saw the bottle of Scotch on his table, the half-filled glass. It was ten in the morning.

“Are you drunk again?” she asked.

“You don’t get to do that.”

“I don’t mind day drinking, I only mind hypocrisy.”

“I asked you here to apologize for what I said.” He took a sip.

“You were drunk, Tony.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I had one too many drinks because I didn’t want to face Secretary Ross sober. Every time I see him, I’m reminded of Rogers and what he did.”

“What Steve did?” Eliza glared. “You both screwed up! It wasn’t just him.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“It kind of seems like you don’t.”

“Give me a break!”

She flinched away. Her eyes fluttered close, her feet carried her a step back, and her arms instantly lifted themselves in front of her chest as if physically defending herself was going to block the words from entering her ears. It didn’t.

Tony’s frown crumbled. He didn’t have the power of empathy on his side, but he saw the fear displayed in her eyes and he felt a sudden ping of regret. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieter this time. He opened his arms - a peace offering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“You’re drunk,” she whispered. The tears stung behind her still-closed lids. “You’re drunk,” she said once again. She opened her eyes again. “I know what chronically drunk people are like, so I know that anything you say could either be complete bullshit or the honest-to-God truth. Tell me, why should I believe anything you say right now?”

He watched the tears slide almost elegantly from the corner of her left eye, down her cheek, and her neck. He waved his hands a little. “I’m not drunk. I’ve had two glasses of Scotch to fight off the hangover.”

“There’s still alcohol in your system. Too much to consider it sober.”

“You’re right, I’m not sober.”

“I know. What I don’t know is what you want from me. My pity?”

“No!” Tony scoffed. “It’s just been hard for me,” he began to explain himself. “Ever since Rogers - Steve - left, I’ve been feeling like I failed. Do you know what that’s like? I’m the man who killed the Avengers. I saw it. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No, hear me out. When that little witch Wanda played with my head, I saw it. I saw all of you, dead. It was my fault. I’m comparing these two right now and I don’t see much of a difference. Look, I’m on my last straw right now.”

Eliza shook her head. “You could’ve told me,” she said.

“I tried! I tried to tell you that this is my worst nightmare come true. So many times.”

“How, by calling me a lost orphan in front of the most powerful people in New York City?”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I was drunk and angry and I didn’t mean it.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand because you’re not making any sense.”

“I made our friends enemies of the State. I did. Rogers, Romanoff, Wanda, all of them! I killed the Avengers.”

“And you know, Sam, Scott, even Vision, just because he’s in love with a fugitive. Can’t even say their names, can you?”

“Jesus!” He scoffed. “You’re turning my words against me.”

“Can you blame me?” Eliza asked, challenging him.

“This isn’t about blame.”

“What, you want me to feel bad for you?” She cocked her head. “This is on you, not me. If you’re waiting for the pity party, you’re not getting any.”

“Listen, kid. I know you’re struggling and I’m sorry I’m not there for you like I used to be, but this is hard on all of us. Especially on me. This shit show is getting on my last nerve. The press, Ross, fucking Rhodey and Happy- you know, it’s not easy when the world is resting on your shoulders,” he said.

The exasperated laugh was an answer of heavy proportions. “Boohoo, cry me a river, Tony! Honestly, you either complain or apologize, you can’t do both and expect me to roll with it.” She wished she had the same glass of Scotch he was carrying only so she could swallow the horrendously bitter taste on her tongue, but she didn’t. She was glad she didn’t. She wanted to be better than him. She wanted her words to be sober. She wanted him to understand, for whatever the desperate attempts were worth.

Tony shrugged. “It’s true. There’s a lot more I’m carrying that you don’t know about,” he said, “and I’m glad you don’t.”

“And you don’t know about the shit I have to carry,” she replied. Her lip twitched into a sour smile. “But I’m glad you don’t.”

He smirked, but it was fake. The way she spoke left no space for interpretation of just how sour she was. She was mad, offended, disappointed, all of those things and yet, she came. She always did.

“All I need is some time to clear my head, and Scotch. Lots of Scotch.” He poured himself another glass from the small bar in the corner of his office, a small mahagoni table overlooking the New York skyline behind the compound. The perfectly trimmed grass and bushes in the front yard lead to the small forest separating the Avengers from downtown. It was beautiful.

“You need time,” she repeated his words. “It’s funny because when you say it’s hard on all of us, I feel like it only entails you. I had to clean up your mess, again,” she said. “I shouldn’t have to. I struggle too, you know. I’m not saying you aren’t, but maybe you should take your own words into account and think about the people around you. You aren’t the only one who lost, we all did.”

His shoulders tensed. Something changed. Was that regret she saw in the colors around his soul? She could’ve sworn she saw black somewhere, but it was hard to tell with the mess he was and the alcohol that seemed to turn the shade of anger darker, and the pride threatened to consume him.

“I always have to take care of everything. I trained you, Eliza. I made us a team. I got you all a job you could count on. You had all the benefits in the world. Healthcare, stability, housing… you had all of that. It was safe. You guys were safe. And yet - and fucking yet - we managed to blow up. We always do. Everything always blows up, no matter what I do, and I’m tired of watching it happen without having an ounce of control in it. I think it’s time I finally focus on myself.”

“How can you say that after everything that happened? I can’t take this anymore,” she said, and she meant it. “I have to soften all the blows. It’s not even my job!”

“You need to learn how to take responsibility,” he argued.

“Responsibility?” That was the last straw. “I’ve been taking responsibility since the day I got here! I’ve been cleaning up the messes you’ve made again and again. Now, I didn’t mind. We were a family, but lately, it feels like I’m just doing it because I’m supposed to. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted being used like that.”

“Being used?” Tony asked, voice dangerous as he rose from his chair. “I did everything for you. You got a home, money, and a job. You met people others can only dream about. What else do you want?”

“Maybe some appreciation, for a change. I mean, are you treating Peter the same way?”

“Peter- is this what this is about? Are you jealous of that kid?”

“No!” maybe a little. “My point is that I was around Peter’s age when we first met. After everything you learned over the years and what I’ve been through, don’t you think it’s my right to tell you your place?“

“Pepper took you under her wing, Happy worries about you all the time, I mentored you. I got you back on your feet. I made sure you didn’t go to jail. Hell, I even funded your drug addiction when I didn’t even know you were taking those stupid pills, and yet, I’ve never asked you to pay me back!”

“Oh, please,” Eliza spat back. “What would you ever do without having my mental illness as a justification for your actions? Honestly, you’re acting like that’s all I am. Fuck you, Tony! I thought you cared about me.”

“I do!” he said. “All I ever did was because I care about you. I saw your talent when no one else did. Not even Fury shaped you the way I did. So don’t tell me you’re not being appreciated! I care more than anyone else on this planet. I saved your life, goddamnit!”

“Jesus Christ, Tony, why can’t you just listen?” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. The water crept dangerously close to the brim, threatening to bubble over. Eliza wasn’t even surprised.

She’d cried more in the past couple of days than ever before. She was a wreck. Time had done its damage. Life had taken its toll. She was bound to break eventually, she just never thought it would happen like this. She never thought it would come to this. The world stopped spinning the day the Avengers left her behind.

“I’m so sick and tired of fixing everything,” she said. “I’m not your therapist. Hell, I’m the one who needs one. I’m not just some messed up orphan that’s become your burden. You were everything to me…” The ocean was too wide and she never learned how to swim. “I looked up to you. I idolized you and wanted to be like you. You taught me so much and yet nothing prepared me for the person you’d be.”

Eliza wiped her cheeks furiously with the back of her hand. “This isn’t you! Ever since you and Steve fell out and the Avengers broke up, you’ve been spiraling out of control. You changed! You turned into this wreckage of a man, a shell of who you used to be, and that shell is filled with so much sour hostility. The Tony Stark I know wouldn’t risk everything by putting down the guests at his party. He wouldn’t hurt his friends and family in front of everyone. The Tony I know would listen to what I have to say. He’d take my worries into account. The Tony I know would do anything to protect me, but you’re not there. You haven’t been there in a very long time, but I lived with it because I still had hope. I had faith in you, Tony.”

He aggressively downed another glass of Scotch, knuckles turned white from the hold he had on it.

“You taught me to always believe in the good in people, and help when someone needs it. I made it my personality trait. What happened, Tony? What happened to make you this way?”

“You don’t get to do that,” he said. “You don’t get to ask me what happened when you were the one who completely lost herself all those years ago!”

“I picked myself up again! I admit that I’m broken, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on people. That’s what you do. You blame everyone but yourself for everything that’s wrong with you-“

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t listen!”

“Oh, I am listening. I am listening very well. Let’s talk about what I’m listening to, yeah? Except for the fact that you’re trying to make me feel bad for one stupid slip-up-“

Eliza interrupted him with a frustrated groan, “It wasn’t just one stupid slip-up, Tony. It’s a fucking series and I’m done watching!”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he said. “You call me a hypocrite, but while you accuse me of neglecting you, it’s you who won’t listen. You think you’re so smart, prancing around at night, behind my back, with a criminal? And then you have the nerve to pretend like you’re a good girl and lie to my face! That’s what hypocrisy is, Eliza! You’re a hypocrite!”

The words tasted like poison on her tongue.

Tony was nowhere near done. The fire just kept on burning. “You’re jealous of Peter? Well, he learned his lesson after I called him out. You didn’t. You did the exact opposite of what I told you. Fucking hell!”

“What are you even talking about?” she asked.

“Daredevil.”

“What?” The name rang in her ears. Her mind instantly went to Matt. It made her wonder just how much he knew.

“Don’t play dumb now,” he bellowed. “I know you’re working with him. You’re following down circumstantial leads that almost got you killed.”

“How would you even know?”

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, remember?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” she tried to justify herself, but it was essentially all useless. Her secret was out. What terrified her most was the fact that she didn’t care.

“It’s not? Who do you think is keeping the press off your ass right now? It’s only a matter of time before your little secret comes out and then it’s Ross knocking on my door all over again.”

“You didn’t listen to me.” She remained dangerously calm. “So I took matters into my own hands.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He threw his hands up. “You’re not a vigilante! You were with Pfeiffer when he got shot. What did he tell you? Did he play into your suspicions?”

Eliza cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know I was there?” she asked. The truth itched the back of her brain.

Tony sighed, nostrils flared. “I put a tracker into your SIM card when I got it for you.”

“You did what?”

“In my defense, you tend to get into trouble quite a lot.”

It wasn’t that easily justified. He was monitoring her like a criminal because he didn’t trust her. If her heart hadn’t been broken already, it surely would’ve broken right then and there.

“This only proves my point,” he said. “You could’ve gotten shot over a suspicion! And now Pfeiffer is dead and his blood is on your hands.”

“Don’t you dare,” she ground her teeth. “It was Hydra, you and I both know that. You just don’t want to acknowledge the fact that we failed.”

“You’re paranoid, Eliza. I stand by that. People died because of your inability to stay out of shit that doesn’t concern you-“

“It doesn’t concern me? Tony, they stole my childhood, they experimented on me and tortured me! There’s nothing more of my concern than that stupid organization! This is so much bigger than we thought. You’d know that if you’d just listened.”

“I listened, I didn’t like what I heard so I’m cutting you off,” the statement was final, she saw it in his eyes. But Eliza was done for good. He could do whatever he wanted. She was done.

“You know,” she said, “We used to be such a good team. We swore to eliminate threats. What happened to that?”

“Agendas change,” he stated.

“No, not this time. You just want to control me. I don’t know why, maybe you’re scared or maybe you just don’t have any faith in me. Either way, I’m not gonna stop. We both know that.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Am I? Or am I just not following your orders?”

“Not following my orders is a mistake. Trust me. You’re doing the wrong thing, Eliza. You’re chasing the wrong ghosts. If you do this, I can no longer protect you.”

She shrugged. “I’ll take that chance.”

“You don’t understand. If you do this, I’m gonna stop. If you do this, you’re no longer an Avenger.”

“I haven’t been an Avenger since Berlin.”

The emptiness in Eliza’s eyes put a distance of miles between them. Tony was waiting for her to pull back from the edge of the cliff, to run back into his arms. He was waiting for her to make a different decision, one that didn’t entail losing her, but one look into her eyes told him that he was no longer welcome. He wasn’t just losing her, he already had.

“I didn’t ask you to keep the press off my ass,” she said to him. “If Ross wants to arrest me, let him. I’d rather go to jail than sit back and do nothing to save this city. If you decide to do the latter, that’s your choice. It’s not mine. I want to see them burn the way they burned me. If you try and stand in my way, I might just burn you too.”

“Are you threatening me?” Tony asked.

“No,” she smiled, “it’s a promise.” The door handle felt hot instead of cold under her hands this time.

She looked down. The veins underneath her skin were glowing bright red instead of faint blue. In the reflection of the window, she caught a glimpse of her eyes. She was standing knee-deep in her misery and the pain did little to help her stay in control.

He’s lying to you. She tilted her head. Her reflection moved towards her. The window turned into a one-way mirror. Smoke started to pool at her feet. The stranger was trapped behind the glass. She pressed her hand against it, eyes switching between Tony at his desk and Eliza, clawing at the door handle. A strange magnetism kept her tied to the metal.

She tipped her chin. Leave. Her mouth wasn’t moving, so how could she possibly hear her voice, so close yet so far away?

Don’t look back.

“If you walk out that door,” Tony said, one last attempt to close the distance between them, “We’re done.”

Eliza pulled. “That’s fine by me.”

“Maybe you should just think this through-“

“I did. I made this decision on my own. Nothing you say or do can change that. I may not be an Avenger anymore, but at least I’m not the one that killed them. You killed the Avengers, Tony. You ruined us. Do with that as you will, but if I were you, I’d rethink the decisions I made.”

She wasn’t sure what came over her.

“Eliza-“

“No, I’m done. Paint me the villain, I don’t care. At least then I know I’ve done it right. Here,” Eliza reached into the pocket of her jeans. The film of pictures weighed heavy in her hands. She hesitated, though the decision was a conscious one. “Good luck cleaning up the mess you made.” She let the snippets fall to the floor. Her face was broken in half, eyes scattered around, all familiar faces that once had been there but were long gone. “I’m not gonna do it for you,” she said. “You can lie in this yourself.”

All the strength Eliza displayed at the compound magically evaporated the second she set foot outside. She didn’t even tell Happy why she was running or where, for that matter. She wasn’t even sure where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to get out; she needed to put not only emotional but also a physical distance between her and Tony and everything else that reminded her of the life before, and just get out of the life she once lived for good. It was over anyway.

Happy gave her space, he always did. He thought it was because of what Tony said, but the truth was much worse than that. She couldn’t stand being around him. He would do anything for her and that thought was so suffocating, especially after the conversation, that all she wanted was to abandon him completely. It wasn’t for her good, it was for his. She would always push him away, she would always hurt him in some way, and he would always come back, no matter how hard she kicked him.

Eliza only realized she was running when she came to a halt in front of the memorial established downtown. Their names were engraved golden on the metal plate. The Battle of New York. A silent reminder of the day the sky opened up and aliens invaded the planet. Proof that humans weren’t alone in the universe, after all.

She’d torn apart the last piece of them she had left to prove a point. It was pathetic. Those were just names on a plate, meaning the world to people. The faces lay scattered on Tony’s office floor. People read the sign and remembered the destruction. No one cared about the faces behind the names, unlike they used to.

They used to be a family. The names on the sign slowly grew into strangers. Eliza felt like everyone else, bystanders watching from the outside. Just names, no faces. Those heroes saved the world once, but that was all they were. The memories of happier times slipped further away. It seemed like she’d watched the time fly by from her little bubble like she hadn’t been part of life back then, only a watcher amid the public eye.

She’d told Natasha once, “I’m afraid that if I accept this to be true, if I accept this one good thing for myself, that I’m gonna lose it eventually. Because there has never been anything good in my life before and I’m scared. Good things don’t come to people like me, not without a price.“

How right she’d been. Yet she was foolish enough to accept Natasha’s reassurance. “Stark may not be the most promising person, but I think he’s onto something with this group,” she’d said. “You deserve this more than anyone. You deserve to be part of a family. No one’s gonna take that away from you. I can’t speak for the rest, but I, for one, will always be there for you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

I guess always was a lie, too.

Eliza wiped her nose. “No,” she whined. “Get out of my head!”

The sight must have looked insane. Anyone walking by could have easily mistaken her for a psychotic.

Why? It’s not like I’m doing anything.

“Then why the fuck are you talking to me?”

I’m… not?

“Liar.”

Well, to be fair, you kind of brought this upon yourself. The young woman looked like her. Same hair, same body type, same eyes, but there was something eerily different about her too. In every nightmare she had, the demons didn’t have a face. She was tormented by memories and self-deprecating thoughts.

If hell was real, she assumed this was how Satan and all her demons spoke because she hated it and it made her want to die.

Did you really think you could continue lying to yourself?

“Peter, hey,” she spoke as soon as the line of her phone clicked. “How are you?”

“Liz?” the boy’s confused voice sounded from the other end.

“Hi!”

“Is everything okay?”

She silently wiped the snot from her nose. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” she said, and then she laughed. She laughed as if what she’d said was the truth.

“Oh, you just usually don’t call me unless it’s urgent,” he said. “So I thought something happened. Is it the Avengers? Do we have a mission?”

“Yeah, about that…”

He’s not gonna understand.

“What?” The school bell rang distinctively in the background. “I actually have class right now, so if it’s not that important and you don’t mind, maybe you could make it quick? Or perhaps call back another time? Not- not that I think what you have to say isn’t important. It always is! It’s just- I’m kind of behind with my grades and stuff and I really want to get into MIT. Spider-Man has really been kicking my ass lately.” He chuckled.

You’re gonna hurt him.

Eliza copied him. “It’s fine. I just- I have something to tell you and all I ask of you is to just listen. Can you do that?” she asked.

There was a pause. “Okay,” Peter agreed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m officially done with the Avengers. That’s the truth.”

And you can’t change who you truly are.

“What-”

“Hear me out. Don’t say anything. Please.”

Don’t fool yourself again.

“O-okay.”

“Truth is, I’m done, Peter. I’m no longer an Avenger and I no longer want to be. Tony said some things… he said and did some things and I just- I quit. I know you look up to him, it’s your thing. You see him as a mentor and I want you to continue doing that, but my time here is over. It was the second Steve got onto that ship, I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. I tried to stay strong, and I tried to keep my faith, but I can’t. You’re too young, you haven’t known them as long as I have – hell, you didn’t know them at all. It’s a good thing, Peter, because that means you’re still innocent. There’s still hope,” she said.

The tears clogged up her throat and it was getting significantly harder to breathe. “I know you wanted us to be friends and I’ll continue being there for you, but it’s time I face the facts. The Avengers are done, at least the way I know them. I should’ve left earlier. It was only a matter of time before this would all escalate. There are some things you can’t be involved with, like the things I’m about to do, the things you’re gonna hear about me… The less you know the better.”

The cabby stopped where she told him to, his head turned patiently, waiting for her payment. She exhaled into the phone.

“Eliza, you’re scaring me,” Peter’s voice was small.

“Don’t be,” she told him. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m just trying to make amends before it’s too late, that’s all.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but it sounds like you need me right now. Maybe I should-”

“Drop my number, Peter. It’s for the best.”

“What, no!”

“I’m sorry.”

The phone cracked between her fingers. Glass scratched the inside of her palm. She watched as the broken device fell to the ground. She stepped on it, once, twice, until it was nothing but flat garbage. The SIM card was broken entirely, and the tracker was disabled and gone for good. Tony didn’t have anything on her anymore. She could go wherever she wanted, do what she wanted and say what she wanted. She didn’t need him and he didn’t need her. It was over. She was free. Though if that had been the truth, she should’ve felt that way, too. She didn’t. Instead, she felt fucking trapped. She felt chained. War was only just beginning.

Eliza stood alone in the middle of downtown New York. There were no walls around her, not a shield to protect her. People bumped into her on their way down the street. The briefcases of businessmen dressed in black suits hit the back of her knee, making her stumble left to right. They were all so focused on themselves, she was nothing but a mere rock in the way that could be pushed aside. In our most natural habitat, we’re all selfish assholes focused solely on whatever target we’ve set our minds to.

The voices were so loud, she could hear the conversations overlapping. Her ears were ringing. Emotions swarmed the air like an army of mosquitos. The tornado was heading straight for the village, strong enough to destroy everything in its path.

Congratulations, Eliza. You just fucked up everything good in your life.

“We’re a team,” she remembered Steve saying. “Ain’t getting one without the other.”

“I think Steve might be onto something,” Wanda came up to her one night. “I don’t know a lot about working as a team, but you guys make it seem easy. Makes me want to try and be better, you know.”

“You might just be the last straw holding this team together,” Natasha said shortly before they arrived at the UN, a dreaded talk on the plane after the events in Lagos.

“We knew this would happen eventually.” The worst part wasn’t the words coming out of Steve’s mouth, it was the way he said them. He sat in the dark, glass of Scotch in hand, blue eyes endless like the dead sea. “In the end, I don’t think we were meant to be,” he said. “Every great hero falls eventually. I think this is it. This is our fall.”

She begged him to stop, begged him to find another way, but to no avail. You can fill in the blanks on this one.

At the airport in Berlin, she looked at her friends for the last time. She had the choice between helping Steve or staying on Tony’s good side. Back then, she truly believed in him. She promised her loyalty. As she watched her friends get carried away though, her heart screamed, “You made the wrong choice!”

Eliza crossed the corner into an alley just in time. She pressed against the brick wall, the darkness shielding her from the tourists and native New Yorkers crowding the streets. So many people, and so little space. The walls caved in on her. There was so much oxygen in the air and yet not enough to make its way into her lungs the way it was supposed to.

She tore the hoodie over her head. Sweat ran down her spine. Her chest ached and the burning was only getting worse. She tried to breathe - she tried to exhale, inhale, then exhaled again. She tried everything she could think up in her fogged-up brain, but the air tore through her lungs like a flaming fire.

She threw her head back. The stone dug into her skull. Her fingers tingled. Thousand little ants covered her skin. She scratched, she gasped, but the animals fed at her like a cannibal’s teeth. The sea brought its waves higher, water filling her chest, choking on salt. She was trying to stay afloat, but it was getting harder and harder to breathe and the current grew strong enough to pull her down.

Tony was going to let the press eat her alive, and in tow with the press came Secretary Ross. She only read the first couple of pages of the Accords, but it clearly stated that any kind of mission had to be approved by the government first. Even just the suspicion of risk had to be shared before hunting down leads. No playing the hero without the official ‘go’. Those were the rules. She broke them, clean through. She was playing the vigilante, jumping into the line of fire, using the dark web for answers. She believed Hydra was still out there and she had proof, too. She was obligated to tell Secretary Ross since Tony refused to listen - technically. Technically, she was supposed to be the good girl and wait. Sit down, look pretty. Technically.

Eliza was never one to accept technicalities. She rather fought for what she believed in instead of following the rules. It was foolish, she knew that. It was stupid, reckless, and lacking common sense. She was aware of all of that and yet when it came to her gut, she knew she could count on it.

Secretary Ross would arrest her the second he found out. He’d incarcerate her. She didn’t even want to imagine what they’d do to her in prison. Being an Avenger she might as well just walk naked into a lion’s den.

Hydra was out there. They were more than willing to kill her. While she was hiding in an alley, tucked away from the world, there were people out there getting kidnapped for human experiments. The only thing standing between Hydra and success was Eliza and maybe Daredevil, but she was the bigger threat.

Eliza loathed herself. She hated her body, hated the mind she was in. None of what she had on her felt like it belonged there. She didn’t deserve the powers, she didn’t deserve the love and care she received. Her existence was trouble, it brought danger to everyone close to her. She was cursed. She knew she was cursed, she had to be.

You care too much about people - you might just be digging your own grave.

“Hey, lady, you alright?” the homeless man next to the trash container leaned over. She hadn’t realized he was there.

Eliza blinked through the smoke standing up to her ears. “What?” she wasn’t even sure the words came out.

“You look a bit pale. Want some beer?”

She shook her head. “I- I need to get out of here.” Her fight or flight response was damaged, she knew that better than anyone. She needed to get out, she needed to go somewhere safe. Somewhere no one could find her. Somewhere she wouldn’t be recognized.

Sure you do. Run. It’s all you know how to do. Run from the truth, run from who you are.

She bumped into someone. “Sorry,” she apologized.

People turned to the disturbed woman running through the masses. She paved the way by elbowing her assailants in the ribs. She ran without destination. She knew New York like the back of her hand, but the many sounds and the people made it hard to focus on the map she had painted up in her head.

Can’t you see everyone is lying to you? Open your eyes. This is all a lie.

“Stop it! Get out of my head!”

Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. We’re stuck together now.

“Who are you?” Something high and sharp pierced her eardrum.

I’m you. The real you.

She couldn’t see five things, only the sun blinding her into oblivion. The white stairs set in stone seemed like enough of a haven. She jumped the steps and through the gigantic doors, not knowing exactly where she was until she smelled the distant scent of candles, rosemary, and roses. Three things she could smell. That was a good start. She closed her eyes and felt the cold of the steel doors, the cool air on her heated skin, and the marble under her boots. The world finally seemed to slow down. The walls put space between them. She breathed. It wasn’t good, but it was better than nothing.

“Can I help you?” the voice startled her. She reached into the back of her jeans only to realize she wasn’t carrying any weapons.

Wide eyes looked around. It was no wonder the voice echoed off the walls. She stood in one of the largest rooms she’d ever seen. The windows were painted with colorful pictures - pictures that told stories almost every child knew. Wooden benches paved the hallway. Marble walls stood high and mighty above them, almost threatening.

The balding man lifted his arms with a smile. “I come in peace,” he said.

Eliza took another look around. “I-“ she exhaled. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Please, this door is open to anyone. Would you like to sit down for a moment, catch your breath?”

She hugged her arms around her torso. Her legs did feel kind of wobbly. “Yeah,” she said, “sitting sounds good.”

She followed him to the closest bench. He took place next to her, but he didn’t speak until she found her sound again.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never been to church before. This is all very new to me.”

“You seem like you’ve been looking for a safe space,” the man said. “There’s no place safer than church.”

“What do I call you? Sir? Or is it Father?”

He chuckled softly. “I’m Father Paul Lantom, but you may address me however you like. You want to tell me your name?”

“Eliza,” she told him.

“Well, Eliza, what are you running from?”

“I don’t know, life. I gave up everything I once knew, abandoned the people I loved - it was all I had left and I threw it all away. I thought I did the right thing. But now… I think I just made a huge mistake. Oh, God,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. Fuck!”

“Do you want to talk about it? I promise I won’t tell. I’m a priest, I’m under the oath of confession, no matter what you tell me.”

She wiped her cheeks. “So you’re like a therapist in a cloak?”

Father Lantom laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure,” he said. “I can tell you don’t have the best relationship with church. Would you still like to talk?”

“I don’t know. Faith and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” she said.

“Religious trauma, I take it?”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, religion is supposed to be comforting. You don’t appear comfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t have to see this as confession. When you say you struggle with faith, that’s your thing. I won’t talk you into something you don’t want to. God wouldn’t want that. You can just sit here and compose yourself in silence if that’s what you’d like. I’m just going to lend you some company and an open ear, if the need arises, to make sure you’re alright.”

Eliza frowned. “What does God want, exactly?” she asked. “Why does he let bad things happen to people?”

“God isn’t a person,” the father explained. “He’s a spirit, a deity. He’s a name, not a face. He’s whatever you believe, whatever you want him to be. Some people might see God in their pets, while others simply see him as a voice of guidance. Others don’t acknowledge his presence at all and still believe faith will show them their way. It’s not about God, it’s about what’s in your heart. Despite what a lot of people think, he’s not in control of the world. Things happen, some bad, some good, and some might be even considered a miracle. But he’s not a hero. He’s our hope, our faith, and with these two things you can turn bad things into good ones. For yourself, for others. That’s the thing about religion, about God, about faith – you don’t have to believe in him for him to have your back. Just because you’re an atheist doesn’t mean you’re going to hell. God doesn’t differentiate. We’re all the same in his eyes. Metaphorical eyes, of course.”

She clung to his every word. What once used to be forced on her seemed like a whole different thing now. The faith she used to have was twisted. It wasn’t God she prayed to, it was the face of evil. Hearing father Lantom’s words changed something inside of her; it opened the doors to her heart. She pulled her knee up to her chest. The candles on the altar in the front flickered with the comfortably cold chill.

“I abandoned my old life to do something I believe in,” she decided to tell him. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“You say you believe in it?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it your purpose?”

“I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Look inside yourself,” Father Lantom said. “Do you have to do it? Could you do something else and still get the same results? Do you live for it, or do you think about it at night because you can’t get it out of your head? Does it feel right, when you think about it?”

She answered instantly, “Yes, to all of it.”

“Then it’s your purpose. You made that decision for a reason. You wouldn’t have abandoned your old life to pursue something you only believe half of. Also, if it was so easy to abandon it all, maybe it wasn’t meant to stay that way in the first place. There’s always something waiting for you out there, sometimes it just takes some time for you to find it. It may come in the shape of a task, a purpose, or maybe even a person. And sometimes it’s all of that combined into one.“

“What if I’m not sure yet? What if I still question if I did the right thing?”

“You’re going to find the answer,” he stated. “Sometimes it just takes a while. That is something God can’t do for you. He can only guide you in the right direction.“

“Yeah, but how do I know that?”

“Let me tell you this: when the time comes, you‘ll know. There’s no guide to faith. When you’re on the right path, you’ll know because you’ll feel it deep in your heart.”

Eliza lowered her head. “I never saw it like that,” she admitted.

“Hardly anyone does.” He smiled. “Faith isn’t a task to be accomplished. You have to open your heart to it and when you do, you also have to enjoy it. It has to make you comfortable. If it doesn’t, it may not be the right time for you.”

She thought about it. No pressure, that’s what he was saying. She always thought religion, and going to church, always came with the pressure to dedicate yourself to the cause. She’d always imagined it had to be the way Matt saw God – having blind faith, always. Once in, you can’t pull back out. Just like that.

This time, Eliza felt comforted.

“So does God ever send you, I don’t know, signs?” she asked him then.

“The way you’re asking I assume you’ve been asking yourself this for a while now,” Lantom replied.

“Yeah, you could say that. A couple of days now, actually.”

“You met someone?”

“Yeah, how did you-“

“I’ve got a lot of people asking me this particular question lately. It’s like a global epidemic has broken out.” Eliza chuckled. He smiled at that. “Everyone’s seeing signs of God everywhere. It sounds crazy, and it probably is too, but I think it’s nice to hear some positive things for a chance. God knows I haven’t been getting much peace.”

“So it is possible?”

“Everything can be a sign, Eliza.”

“It’s like God sent me an Angel,” she blurted out. At this point, the confessions came straight out of the bottle. It wouldn’t stop. “When I first met him, I didn’t think much about it, but the things he makes me feel… no one has ever taken care of me the way he does. He understands me. He came when I needed him most – no, I needed someone and then he was just there and everything made sense. Or well, the things that need to make sense make sense, the rest is just… blegh.”

“You want to have my advice?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Seems like this is something you should pursue before it slips through your fingers.”

“He’s just so good.”

“Who’s to say you don’t deserve it? Nothing good is ever truly good and nothing bad is ever truly bad. You can’t sabotage yourself just because you think the good things aren’t meant for you.”

“They usually don’t come to me,” she argued. “Or when they do, they break.”

“That’s fear talking. You can’t let that take over.”

“But-“

“Stop making excuses. Someone you speak so highly of seems like someone you should keep around. Maybe he is a sign of God, maybe not. Does it really matter?”

Eliza pursed her lips. “This all just seems so surreal.”

“I know it does.” Father Lantom slowly rose from the bench. She looked up at him. “Think about it,” he said. “And when you need any more guidance, you know where to find me.”

“Father,” she pulled at his robe, “Thank you,” she said.

He smiled, patting her hand. “Anytime, Eliza.”

“Would you, uh, mind if I went to the altar and tried to pray?”

“This is a church. Why would I mind?”

His playfulness awoke a feeling of warmth within her. She nodded with a smile, excusing herself and making the long road toward the front. The cross hung high as Jesus lay nailed to it. She knelt, the steps turning colder beneath her knees.

“You know, when all else fails,” he turned back to her on his way to his chambers, “Talking to God almost always leads to revelations. He listens, even when you think he doesn’t.”

Eliza crossed her chest. She’d seen it in movies, but there was usually a lot more holy water involved. Father Lantom made her believe that there was no wrong way to speak to God. There was no right way to believe. She stared at the altar. How easy it must come to Matt, the times he went to church, the times he went to confession. It was almost like second nature to him. He carried his faith close to his heart, always.

“I don’t know how to pray,” she admitted into the high walls of the church. “But I’ll try because I need something to believe in. I tried to hold on to hope like I was taught. I thought I could do this on my own. God, I was so wrong. I have neither hope nor do I have my life under control,” she said.

Eliza stared up at the angels set into the ceiling. They soared across the sky, watching over her. God isn’t a face. Though as she looked up, she could’ve sworn she saw a silhouette in the clouds. Hidden between the angels and the endless blue, she liked to believe she wasn’t talking to a ghost.

“I’m kneeling here right now with nothing left to lose,” she said. Her knees ached, but she suffered through it. She suffered in the hope that if she surrendered completely, the sky would provide her with answers. “I have these powers raging through me, powers I don’t even know the full extent of. They’re- they’re changing the way I’m changing, and they’re growing, they’re getting stronger, and I’m so scared of what’s gonna happen next. I’m scared of what’s about to happen to me. It’s different when almost no one believes you. It’s just that everything and everyone’s slipping away from me. I’m scared I might even lose the last good thing in my life before this is all over.”

She sounded so desperate, so broken. Her cheeks were wet from the tears, lips salty with the taste. She was on her knees, begging, crying out; she felt like a little girl all over again. Submissive, at the edge of the cliff.

“I’ve been surviving for so long, I forgot what living feels like. No one’s taught me how to. And I can’t live, not like this, not when the fate of the world is on my shoulders. I just need a sign, anything, to know I can win this. That all the pain was worth it. It’s tearing me apart. I don’t know how to hope anymore. I regained some faith in this, in you, and for the first time, I feel like I have a hold on religion. But these people I’m hunting, they’re set out to destroy everything in their path. I can’t keep faith knowing I might just lose everything.”

Her lip quivered, “I can’t lose him, God, I can’t,” she said. “I like to think he came around for a reason, perhaps even a sign from you. He’s led by his faith and his grief, and all he cares about is doing the right thing. He thinks you gave him a purpose. Maybe this is mine. Maybe this is what I was made for, though I haven’t quite figured out what this is. I just know he’s with me and I’d be damned to lose him.

“I promise to worship at your feet every day from now on if it means we make it out of this alive, that these men get what’s coming for them. I’d do anything for that sliver of happiness. I need to finish this chapter once and for all. If I have to die to ensure everyone’s safety, I will. I’d do just about anything, I swear. Just make sure the people I care about don’t suffer for my mistakes. This is my battle. My sacrifice. No one else deserves to die.”

“You have so much love left to give,” Natasha’s voice sounded in the back of her head. “Don’t throw that away. Fight for what you want. No matter the cost.”

“I’m willing to pay every price,” Eliza spoke, God as her witness. “I’m done being in pain. I want to believe in you the way Matt does. I do. I need to win. I need this. I’ve sacrificed too much. God,” she cried. “Just this once I am begging for you to listen to me. I know I’ve committed many sins, and I know I’m probably going to hell, but if there’s at least some salvation left for you to give me, I promise I’ll be forever grateful. I’m going straight now. No one deserves to suffer the consequences of my actions but myself.“

You need to learn to take responsibility.

“I’m your disciple,” she swore.

I’ve been struggling with questions of identity as of late.

“Just don’t let me down, please. God, I’m begging you!”

Who am I?

“I need answers. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find them, but I have to try. What I’m about to do, I’m gonna do for a reason. Please, forgive me.”

He listens, even when you think he doesn’t.

She crossed her chest. “Amen.”

In the corner, where the confessional booth had its place, father Lantom watched from the safety of darkness.

“Lord, have mercy on her,” he quietly prayed. “Give her all the strength you have because that girl needs it.”

Eliza rose from the marble stairs. She was fragile, barely an adult. Deep down, she’d missed so much, she just wished to be a child again. She needed to lay in the comforting arms of her parents. All the things she’d lost, she just wanted back.

Father Lantom copied her, crossing his chest. His face had fallen, a worried crease above his brows. The shadow next to him shifted.

“I hope all that praying was worth it.” He watched her strut the hallway towards the door. “And I hope to God he listened to a word she said or else our boy’s gonna be in a lot of trouble.”

Sunlight fell on the face beside him. Soft features had all crumbled up in worry. She stared up at the father, the crucifix clutched tightly between her thin fingers.

“You think it’s her?” the woman asked.

“Hmm. I could tell the second she stepped in.“

“What should we do?”

“Nothing,” father Lantom stated. “If I learned one thing from listening to his confessions all those years, it’s that Matthew is his father’s son. He doesn’t give up, even when he should.“

“I wish he did,” she sighed. “Just once, I wish he’d stop.”

The metal doors fell shut with a loud bang. Eliza’s steps disappeared onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, swallowed by sun-hungry people and the summer air.

Father Lantom gave the nun a gentle smile. “Your son is resilient, Maggie. He never goes down without a fight, and he also never loses. Besides,” he looked over at the empty bench in the back, “I think Matthew finally found a match that doesn’t completely manipulate him.”

Maggie kissed the cross in her hands. “I just hope you’re right,” she said.

The last thing she wanted was to lose her son before she even got the chance to explain herself to him.

Matt could hear Eliza's heartbeat from miles away. He picked her up around the area of Clinton Church, but his abilities didn't quite place her in the confines of his favorite place in Hell's Kitchen, neither did he manage to pick up the father's signature voice serenading her and taking away some of the built-up anxiety. By the time he sought her out, she was on the run again, on the way to her apartment and then, sometime later, carefully making her way to the closest taxi cab.

She told the driver to stop two blocks from his apartment building. On her way, she made sure to take extra turns just in case someone was following her. He figured the action was intentional, just something she had gotten used to, and she wasn’t going to stop, especially not in times like these.

Then, her scent filled his nostrils, followed by the steady thump, thump, thump of her heart. She came in and the world lit up. Her presence brought fresh air into the four walls he called home. Though there was something about the way she acted. Her voice dropped a few octaves, her steps dragging tiredly across the wooden floor. It made him worry. He wondered what happened. Even the last spark he had seen hours before had vanished completely, lost somewhere on the dirty streets outside.

Foggy had poked around, asking him all kinds of questions about the night before after he quickly showed his face in the office. He asked about Eliza and if he could get her number to check on her, just to see if she had gotten home alright. Even Karen worried. Any normal person would be after the events that took place at the party. The worst part was that Matt had to make them believe that everything turned out alright.

“I walked her home,” he lied. “She’s… what can be expected. Stark really got to her but I, uh, figured it out. She’s okay.”

“Man, that sucks,” Foggy pouted at him. “I thought he was the good guy.”

Karen only laughed sarcastically at his words. “Won’t make that mistake again, will you, Foggy?”

“No. No, I guess I won’t. I’m sorry. Tell her that.”

Matt wasn’t planning on it.

“Don’t you have a front door?” Eliza asked from the staircase that lead from the rooftop to his apartment. “I mean, when you said ‘backdoor’, I imagined a ground-floor apartment, not this.” She gestured to the controversial entrance.

“I thought it would be better if no one saw you coming,” he said.

She hummed. No smart remark, not a single joke, nothing. The wood creaked underneath her boots. He tilted his head to listen closer. He analyzed the way she inhaled, slightly quivering with every second drag, and her voice was significantly more hoarse.

She placed what he suspected to be a duffel bag on the leather couch. “I made sure no one was following me,” she stated, concerning his earlier words, no doubt.

“Yeah, I heard.” He felt stupid just standing there, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“So you’re stalking me now?” What was meant as a joke sounded way more serious.

“What if I were?” he asked.

“I’d be offended, but given the circumstances, I’d forgive you.”

Matt chuckled. He moved over to the kitchen, his steps methodical, knowing exactly where he needed to go, yet his arms stretched further from his body in case something might end up in his path.

“You want anything?”

Eliza looked over at him. “Sorry, what?” she said.

“You want anything?” he repeated his question patiently. He opened the fridge, his bicep straining against the white dress shirt that hung clad to his torso. He had long discarded the suit jacket and the sleeves were rolled up. “I’ve got beer, wine, and water. That’s about it. I, uh, don’t keep many groceries here. I have some leftovers from the Thai place around the corner. Oh, and there’s an apple. It’s all that’s left from the gift basket I got from our last client.”

She chuckled. The truth was, her heart hurt. Not just her head but her soul. The new environment made her feel exposed. At least at the church, she had found solace. Under Matt’s gaze which wasn’t even a gaze, to begin with, but an even closer observation of her behavior, she felt naked. She felt vulnerable. He saw right through her, still trying to cover it up to allow her some modesty, but goddamnit, she knew that he knew something wasn’t quite right. He could probably smell the holy water on her. He could smell the sweat of anxiety, the dried tears, and the blood from gnawing on her lip too much. She wanted to run, though she decided against it since he would’ve found her sooner or later anyway. She couldn’t hide from Daredevil, not anymore.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked. “You sound exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Eliza intercepted.

He fiddled with the fridge’s door handle. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, really,” she said.

“Hm.” She was lying to him.

Against her claims, he handed her a glass of tap water. His nod motioned for her to drink. A silent demand. She lowered her head. It worked. She took a small sip, keeping her eyes on him as he brushed past her, hand ghosting against her lower arm. He didn’t have to speak for her to know.

Once again, she looked around the apartment. The sun was slowly coming down, darkening most of the apartment and if it hadn’t been for the gigantic billboard across the building, she would’ve been wandering in the dark.

The billboard would’ve been quite a nuisance to a seeing person. There couldn’t be many people who would volunteer to take such an apartment for longer periods unless they were, like Matt, blind. He probably found the soft buzzing at night comforting.

Eliza felt drawn to the different pictures flashing across the screen. She walked up to the window to take a peek outside. The glass was slightly milky in its natural state, slightly discolored too, but that’s what interested her in the first place. The architecture of the place fascinated her. It suited Matt, although it was nothing like what she had expected.

She wiped at the window, removing some of the fog caused by the sudden change of temperature inside. Matt liked his apartment cold, she realized. The windows couldn’t keep up with the presence of two people without condensation starting to prickle at the edges.

The billboard showed a commercial for an insurance company. Ridiculous, she thought. He probably didn’t even know about the kinds of pictures that flashed across his windows every night. Insurance companies, condoms, groceries, and from time to time, tv show announcements. Not that he would even care about the show that was put on in front of his apartment. It was new to her, all of this. He had a different perception of things. What she found annoying, he enjoyed. What he hated, she considered normal. She couldn’t see herself falling asleep to condom advertisements, but the colors were nice, so maybe it wasn’t all too bad even for a sighted person after all.

Matt chuckled behind her. “Say it,” he said.

“Say what?” she asked.

“You think it’s annoying.”

“What?”

“The billboard.”

“Well, this place is a shithole.” She shrugged, “but I don’t know, I think it’s a nice shithole.”

His chuckle transcended into laughter. “Yeah,” he grinned into his glass, “Sounds about right.”

“Rent’s probably through the roof, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I got a discount because of the Billboard since no one else would take it, but it’s still a lot. Especially for someone who doesn’t even make money.”

“Expensive shithole then,” she said.

He nodded. “Expensive shithole.”

The apartment's location was unfortunate, but the room itself wasn’t all that awful. Eliza stopped at the small wooden desk that stood in front of what appeared like a supply closet. Files were scattered around, a braille printer to one side and a laptop to the other. She traced her fingers over the rough wood, feeling the dots on the papers. She wished she could read Braille, but it seemed like a hard task to learn.

“Thank you for inviting me over,” she said.

“Sure, yeah,” he said. “How was your, uh, meeting with Stark?”

Eliza stiffened.

“You know what, forget it.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

She didn’t wait. “I quit.” Her nails dug into the paper. “I tore up our family picture and then I left.”

“What?”

“I left. I just… left.”

“Well, that’s- are you alright?”

“He knows about us, Matt!” The words came in a single breath.

“What?” he asked.

“Not about you, about Daredevil.” she had to clarify. “He knows we’ve been working together,” Eliza said. “He’s known ever since our second night together. The press caught wind of it. He said he was the only one between the news and Secretary Ross. If he found out-”

“You’d go to jail,” Matt stated. She nodded weakly. “Fuck! How did they- what is Stark gonna do now? He has to have a plan, right? He won’t just tell everyone. That’s not like him. Tell me that’s not like him.”

She couldn’t do that. She wasn’t sure if it was like him. In the past? Definitely not. After what she experienced in the past couple of days? Who knew?

“He said if I walked out that door, he wouldn’t protect me anymore.”

“God…Tell me you didn’t just walk out. At least not without negotiating a deal first.”

“I walked out.”

“Damn it, Eliza!”

“I don’t care!” her voice cracked. “I don’t care, okay? Ross can arrest me, I don’t fucking care! I realize that now. I don’t care, even if it lands me in jail. The Accords are stupid rules. Why should I have to live by them anymore?” she said. “The Avengers are toast anyway. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not making entire cities float. I’m simply fighting a fight no one else wants to. If that means breaking the rules, so be it.”

He began to pace the room. “This can’t be happening…” One of his hands got tangled in the mess of brown locks on his head.

“It’s not about him. It’s not about me. This is about doing the right thing. You taught me that!”

Matt turned around. “Do you even realize how much danger you are in?!” It was the first time he yelled at her and he regretted it the second the sound had finished bouncing his way across the apartment, and it slapped her right across the face.

Eliza swallowed hard. “I-” she blew air through her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he cooed softly. He took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“No, don’t touch me!” She shied away. Her armor faltered. The leather of the couch welcomed her with open arms. Teardrops pearled off the fabric, leaving even darker spots where the liquid slipped from her skin.

He wanted to punch himself. “I’m so sorry.” He slowly fell to one knee next to the armrest. “I didn’t mean it. I’m not angry at you,” he assured her, but his words meant nothing. She was scared.

Once again, she backed away until her thigh hit her duffel bag and she had to stop in the middle of the couch so as not to throw her belongings on the ground. Her hand remained in the air, a silent warning. He didn’t move, he remained on the floor, even though his knees hurt from the wood and he could feel his stitches barely holding on for dear life. He didn’t care though. This was his fault.

She lowered her head. “I didn’t sign up for this,” she whispered. “I didn’t sign up for any of this.”

“I know you didn’t. The reason I yelled-“ he sighed, “The reason I yelled was not that I’m angry at you. It’s not your fault. I just don’t want you to get arrested. They’d put you into special containment. They would lock you up for good,” he explained. “From what I’ve heard, enhanced individuals are considered flight risks to the government, so if you were to get arrested, they could easily use that to their advantage. I can’t let that happen.”

Eliza nodded quietly.

“I was wrong to raise my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I- I just don’t want you to get arrested because of me,” he said.

“But it wouldn’t be because of you.”

“No, it would be. You know why?”

“No ‘cause I’m not a lawyer,” she told him.

He hung his head, chuckling. “In the eyes of the law, Daredevil is a criminal. I read the Accords after we met. I wanted to know how far you’re allowed to go. You know they don’t just apply to you as a group?”

She shrugged. Her fingers fiddled with the necklace around her neck. She had forgotten it was still there. A nervous tick he had picked up on when he first met her at the police station, out of his costume.

“You know.” He nodded slowly. “I figured. You read them.”

“The first few pages,” she said.

“Not all of it?”

“No, it bored me.”

He shook his head.

“What I read though, I remember. I remember every word.”

“Alright. Well, the Accords state that you’re not allowed to work on missions without the government’s consent,” he said. “You cannot take any cases that haven’t been checked out by either the Secretary or his committee, and when they say you have to pull out, you have to comply. You’re a dog on a leash. Or, the Avengers are. Since you signed them, you are legally obligated to follow the Accords. If you break them, you’re automatically breaking the law. You’ll become a felon, there will be court proceedings, and then, depending on the extent of the crime, you could go to jail.”

“You did your research, huh?”

“It’s not just a rule book,” he insisted. “The Accords are the law now.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Eliza snapped at him.

“I know you do.”

“Then why are you trying to make me feel bad?”

“I’m not! I’m trying to tell you that the rules that apply to the Avengers as a group apply to you as well. You each have to follow the rules, even outside of working together. And you know why? Because you’re not the ordinary human population. The government doesn’t want you guys allowed to roam freely.”

“If I do anyway, I’ll go to jail. Yes, I’m aware. Hey,” she asked, “where are you going with this?”

“This whole thing is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode! These people can prove you’re working with me, that we were with Pfeiffer that night… They have the means to destroy you. Because of me, you’re in danger. That is where I’m going with this.”

“Oh, not this again.”

“You know, perhaps it’s better if we part ways. Spend some time apart until all of this has calmed down.”

“I made my choice!” Eliza cried. “This decision is entirely on me. My life, my rules. I take responsibility for what I did, and for what I’m about to do. This has nothing to do with you. You want to save this city? So do I.”

His breath came in hot, labored puffs of air.

“It’s not just some personal agenda that drives me, I actually care about the people! Don’t make this about you, Matt, not right now.”

“I’m not making this about me!” he argued. “I’m just trying to take care of you. I can’t do that if you’re in the crosshairs.”

“I’ve been in the crosshairs from the beginning. I grew up with several targets on my back. Even the law has known me for as long as I can remember.”

“What if I can’t protect you anymore, what then?”

“Then I’ll die!”

“I don’t want you to die!” He was yelling without even raising his voice, something she had done the night of the party after she found out who he truly was. They weren’t so much different after all.

Eliza wiped her cheeks. There weren’t any tears. She wasn’t crying, she doubted she had any tears left to shed, but she wanted to. The feeling burned in the back of her throat.

“We’ve still got time,” she said.

“Time? We’re running against time, Eliza! I may not be able to read the clock, but I know when a timer is running out.”

“I just have to be careful! We’re in this together now, Matt. We were the second you jumped into that Butcher shop to save my ass. Your desperate need to push me away just to protect me can’t control you. I’m not going anywhere. You gotta deal with that or else we’re gonna have a problem.”

“No, you’re gonna have a problem because you’re the one whose life is in danger and whose freedom is being jeopardized just by being with me. This- this isn’t a joke. This is your life you’re gambling with, you realize that, right?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I don’t want you to leave me!” she cried out. “Don’t you get that? I don’t want you to go.”

Matt’s eyes softened. “What?” he said.

Her bottom lip tangled with her teeth in a desperate attempt to stop it from quivering. Like her entire body though, she kept shaking. It was deadly quiet when she spoke again, and her voice paid the price, “You’re all I have left.”

He rose from the floor, situating himself on the couch next to her. She curled in on herself, too scared to even look at him. He reached his hand out. “Eliza-”

“You promised you’d be there for me,” she said. “That’s what I need you to do. To be there.”

“I’m not leaving,” he breathed.

“Are you sure because you seemed pretty convinced just now?”

“No.” He reached for her. This time, she let him. He tugged at her arm, gently at first, though when she didn’t get the hint, he hooked his arm around hers and pulled her towards him. She fell into his open arms only hesitantly. “I just don’t want to watch you die, okay?” he admitted. “And I don’t want them to take you away.”

“Maybe you can take me away,” she muttered. Her hand began to claw at his chest, her lifeline.

He chuckled breathlessly. “And where would I take you?”

“When this is all over, I mean. I heard Hawaii could be nice.”

“I’ve never been north of 116th street.”

“The more reason for us to change our identities and travel to Hawaii.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, “When this is all over, I will take you anywhere you want.”

They sat like this until the earth finished turning and the sun disappeared. Soft moonlight mixed with the ads crossing the billboard screen. His heart beat steady. She used the sound to come back to her body.

“The world feels so surreal,” she spoke into the comfortable silence. “Like I’m detached from its axis and I’m just spinning there like a broken record, lost alone in the vastness of space.”

She inhaled his cologne. Hints of sweat and rain, and sandalwood on his skin. He was so warm, a human blanket draped over her, almost like a shield from all the evil in this world. His grip tightened around her shoulders; she allowed herself to fall further into the embrace. She allowed herself to drown in his touch.

“It’s like I’m bacteria floating around in an organism, but that bacteria doesn’t have a name yet. I’m just… there. No one knows who I am or what purpose I serve, but what’s for sure is that I’m meant to cause damage.”

“You’re not bacteria,” Matt told her.

“But what if I am? What if I’m the virus? This story seems to depend on my talent to destroy things. Everything’s just gotten worse because of me. Because I got involved.“

“They would’ve found another way to cause damage.”

“If I hadn’t gotten involved, this could’ve been solved without having people die for it,” she said and pushed away from him. His arm caged her, she needed to get out. Matt continued to keep his hands on her. He let her bring space between them, but as she tried to flee, he pulled her back gently so she was facing him.

He didn’t need sight to see that she was burning red. The temperature of her skin mixed with the jitters told him enough to conclude.

“Hey,” he said, “you’re the one who broke this case wide open.”

“I don’t- what if that’s not true?” Eliza sniffled. “What if, in some twisted way, I’m the reason Hydra is doing this? You heard Pfeiffer, they’re trying to make more super soldiers, stronger than ever before,” she said. “They learned from Project Chaos, they saw what Strucker managed to achieve with the Maximoff twins. What if – just, what if – they’re doing this because we survived, and now they’re trying to combine the elements to make something far, far worse than what Wanda and I turned out to be.”

“Yeah, but what if scenarios are just speculation? It’s not real, at least not until it’s proven. What we need to focus on are facts. Plain and simple. Facts are what make cases. That’s our start-of point. Asking yourself what if will only hurt you more. Believe me, I know.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Trust me,” he begged. “That’s all I ask of you.”

Eliza tasted the words on her tongue. She wiped the tears away, though the sticky feeling of dried salt on her cheeks remained heavy. She leaned down slowly, her forehead pressed against Matt’s chest. His hand went around her neck, holding her there. The other rubbed comfortingly up and down her back.

“What does that even mean?” the sound was muffled through the fabric. “I mean, what are we?“ she asked.

Matt ran his thumb along her pulse point. “I’m just as confused as you are,” he admitted. He felt her pulse jump directly behind the skin.

She hummed. “I wish we would’ve met before. You know, before everyone convinced us that life is war.”

He pulled her closer. His chuckle blew through the tiny hairs standing off her scalp. “No one has proved us different,” he said. “Life is war, we were just taught to always fight on the front lines, no matter what happens. We were taught that being soldiers is the default for people like us. And now… now we can’t live without it.”

“We were just kids.”

“We didn’t know any better.”

“Yeah… we still don’t.”

“No,” he smiled, “we don’t.”

Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang out. Reality crept through the cracks in the floorboards and polluted them with its negative energy.

Eliza sat up again. This time, she reached for her duffel bag. “We gotta follow down that lead,” she stated, and so the mask went back on.

The softness of Matt’s features was etched in seriousness. He began to peel the tie off around his throat. It was a fascinating transition. The caring man she knew as Matt Murdock turned within a matter of a few seconds and there he sat Daredevil. He didn’t have to put on the suit, his attitude spoke for itself. There was just something about him, something that enthralled her, even as he turned into a cold piece of stone. She knew there was a broken, gooey nucleus inside – the man he presented on the outside was just an act. He kept the real Matt Murdock under locks, tucked neatly away where no one could find him.

Eliza should’ve felt honored to have him be so vulnerable around her. Yet, she believed there was still plenty to learn about him and this complicated piece of a soul he harbored inside.

“What do you have there?” he asked.

“My suit.” She opened the zipper. “Not the one Tony gave me. It’s my old SHIELD uniform. I asked to keep it before I joined the Avengers. Also,” - the cell phone fell into her hands -“I got a new phone. Tony used mine to track me.”

“So you just keep an arsenal of phones around you?”

“Yeah, why? You don’t?”

“I don’t think that’s something normal people do.”

“I’m not normal,” she stated plainly. “In this line of work, you better come prepared. I have a lot more where this comes from. I could fake my death and no one would know if I wanted to.” Eliza got up. She asked, “Where’s your bathroom?”

Matt pointed in the direction he memorized.

“Thanks.”

Her footsteps disappeared. The door fell shut. She turned the lock twice, making sure it was secure, only then did he hear the shuffling of clothes on the floor. He chose not to invade her privacy. Instead, he made his way into the bedroom. He took the suit draped over the sofa and changed into it with precision. The door stayed open, just in case Eliza came around. He didn’t care if she saw him undressed – hell, he was as open as one could be. Some part of him wanted her to, some perverted part he didn’t want to listen to. Not that he expected an attempt on her life in his apartment, considering no one knew she was there, but he could never be too careful.

His stitches pulled hard. The leather didn’t do much to protect his wounds. He groaned, some sounded louder than he planned to. He was in so much pain, every inch of his body sore, and all he craved was a good night’s sleep. But he couldn’t think about that. There was no time to rest, he told himself. Not until the worst was over.

“You okay?” Eliza stood in the doorway.

Matt struggled with the belt. “Yeah, fine,” he said curtly. His shoulder burned - the one part that wasn’t injured was giving him the most trouble.

“Need any help with that?”

He sighed in relief, nodding. She helped him get the rest of his body tucked into the suit. The leather sat securely around his waist and everywhere else where it needed to; he couldn’t have done it better.

She peaked up at him and he tried his best to reciprocate the action. Judging by her smile, he missed her eyes by miles once again. He chuckled. “Guess I’m getting old,” he said.

“How so?” she questioned.

“My back is killing me.”

“You are, indeed, an old man,” she swatted some dust off his shoulders, “but that’s okay.”

He pinched her side. “Careful. This old man can still kick your ass.”

“Oh. Do I need to have the nursery home on the line?” She spread her thumb and middle finger to the sides, mimicking a phone. “Shall I tell them to book you a single or double room, grandpa?”

The baton flew in her direction. Right before it could hit her in the face, her hand shot up to catch the piece of metal. She switched between him and his weapon, not sure whether to be impressed or annoyed.

“Fuck off!” he said.

She smirked. “I’m getting you back for that.”

Though once the baton was back in the air, his arm was already extended to catch it mid-air, his height offering an opportunity he didn’t miss.

Eliza remembered their first meeting. The way he flipped the sticks of metal expertly, almost like what he was doing right there, in front of her, smug and knowing damn well what he was doing. “Show off,” she said.

Like on the first day, he forced one of the batons into her hand. “Try not to kill anyone,” he retorted.

She saw an opportunity too and she surely didn’t want to miss it. “No promises.”

23 notes · View notes