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#society just ended up the same. all of the problems we had now carried on & we were eaten by the sun. except the sun was an eldritch being?

silent-raven13 · 8 months

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Miles wants attention!

Like every couple, the one that get showered with love carves for attention. It's fine, it's normal to want undesirable love and cuddles to their significant other. It's how love languages are build, and a special bond is form.

However, there's a specific couple that often spoils their lover a bit too much. Hobie Brown, Spider-Punk from Earth 138b showers his Sunflower with love, cuddles, and snuggles wherever they are at and whenever. It's his only love language he ever shown to his darling Miles Morales, Spider-man from Earth 1610.

Anyone from Spider Society will tell you that Hobie will do whatever to give his Sunflower everything and anything, no matter what! If his Miles wants hot chocolate, he's there to give it to him. If his Sunflower needs blanket when he's cold, he is there with a jacket for his luv. If Miles ever so much carves for sweets or sodas, Hobie is there with a basket of candy.

Yes, the tall Spider-punk loves to give his all to show his dedication to their love, and he only ever does it with Miles. Gwen always say they are meant to be, since she never saw Hobie so caring. The punker loves to carry around his darling just because. It's one of those things when people do when their in love.

For Miles absolutely loves Hobie's affections, the way his boyfriend would appeared out of no where to be with him gets his heart fluttered. In the beginning of their relationship, he was too shy of all of Hobie's love languages, the gifts, the cuddles even the kisses! Miles felt due to his lack of experiences he didn't deserve it, but over time he comes to love it. He loves the way Hobie spoils him, not by material items! That's only a bit part of it.

He loves how Hobie is always there for him. To listen and have deep conversations about anything that pop in their minds. They rant together, share similar bonds, and yet be so different. They share their differences trying to understand each other point of views, never disregarding or hurting each other's feelings. It's like they were the perfect pair.

Now, they do have their ups and downs at times. All couples tends to, it's normal for relationships to talk about their problems and build on it. That's how it can better. The same goes for Miles and Hobie, they fought for small things like Hobie leaving a muddy mess in Miles room floor and through the window. Miles told him many times to always clean up afterwards or have his boots clean. Or the time Hobie didn't like Miles' organizing his vinyl records in order, because he prefers his chaotic style. He has it in a way where it's based on the feel or rhythm of the music. Small things that ends in calmly talks.

When it's large problems, that's where things get a little rocky. Hobie's jealousy use to be a small thing until recently his outburst about Miles and Miguel. It's a terrible issue that Miles always tried to calm him down for. The two had a very deep long discussion like always Hobie showers Miles with gifts and apologize.

Same with Miles being a people pleaser, Hobie hates to see his baby getting taken advantage off. He always had to remind him to say no. One time Miles ended up saying yes to a lot of missions because he didn't want to disappoint his friends, and colleagues, which causes him to overwork himself, almost injuring himself in the process. That really ticked off Hobie, they had a heated argument. Luckily, they were able to talk it out, and Miles promised to speak up.

In the end, they are the cutest couple around. They hold hands, snuggle and kiss whenever they can to show it. The two are what inspired other Spider-heroes to find love even through the worst of times. They show how they made it happen, and been going on strong. There's nothing wrong with them! We should try to be more like them! 💖

"Nothing wrong with them? We should try to be more like them?" Miles read the blog from his tablet that is from Spider Society's technology, "What the hell is Pav writing us on his Spydr So-city blog!"

Recently Miguel had a group of Spider-heroes create an app with the help of Lyla, of course, to share blogs, videos, or anything social media related. Its a way to keep Spider-heroes make new friends, or date. A lot of lonely spider-heroes started to get more active in talking through online chats or share similar bonds. It's an amazing app, for sure. Miles ended up finding out there's more variants of him, which got him super pumped.

"Heh, you know the lad, he's our number one fan." Hobie chuckles being next to his lover while playing his guitar.

The two were in Hobie's boat house tailored into his punk aesthetics spending some quality time together. By together, they ended up doing the nasty. Miles in on his boyfriend's bed being naked with parts of their sheets covering his lower part of his body. Hobie is laying on Miles' left side with his naked bared chest out showing off his two pierced nipples, being move covered from his mid-west to his feet. His hands diddling his guitar strings having to play a certain tune in his head for his next song.

"It's just weird... how did he know about me being a people pleaser! Pav is being very creepy, man!" Miles sat up to show Hobie the blog, "Literally, this dude started making a fan page... we're called Punkflower?"

"Mm, makes sense, luv. You're my Sunflower and I'm a punk, thought I don't agree with the label," Hobie nodded with agreement, "It's a perfect name for us. You don't like it?"

"I think it's kinda weird for him to write about us knowing he's our closest friends." Miles said, "Now, I gotta make sure he's not watching us so intensely with his fangirling."

"Oh darling, you'll get use to the spotlight. The attention is great." Hobie didn't mind it, he knew Pav means no harm. "Besides, Pav is just making that blog because a Spider-man said something about us not lasting."

"I'm not good being on the spotlight, but I'm fine with your attention, bae. Also, that's crazy! Are there Spider-people praying for our down fall." Miles snickers in amusement as he went to read the comments. "Look, 'cute couple need to know if Hobie is top or vice versa!' From an anon! Why they want to know that?"

Hobie saw how shy his boyfriend gets about their private sex life, they rarely talk about for it. It's only them that share this special moment together. No one else need to know. "Luv, it's fine. As long no one actually knows."

"But it obvious! Your a top!"

"but your a power bottom." He pointed out making his boyfriend flustered, "Sunflower, come here. Come me, it's fine." He pulls Miles close to kiss him on the lips.

"I just like your attention, which you should be giving me, now." He pouts, seeing how his Hobie is busy playing with his guitar. "You been on that guitar all day!"

"Not all day, luv. We did have some fun a couple moments ago." Hobie grins widely, "I just need to finish this bloody tune, it's not working when I do this." He plays a bit to see if it would work with the lyrics he's making up in his head.

Miles merely pouted, "Take a break, bae. This week I rarely got to see you and the only time I get the chance, your busy with your guitar."

"Just a second, Sunflower. I'm almost there. Read more of Pav's blog." Hobie said while having his focus on his guitar still trying to play his song.

Miles sighs feeling a bit upset about it, but he couldn't force him to pay attention. Or can he? "I'm not that sexy with flirting... at least I don't think. Fuck it, let's try it." He went back to snuggle against his boyfriend, letting his hand rub his chest.

"What is it, luv?" Hobie asked thinking this is weird. Miles was never confident with his flirting or being sexy- well not on purpose. Naturally he can be sexy without to overthink or flirt casually. Sometimes his Sunflower view himself not as attractive or handsome, which is bonkers, Miles is a cute guy!

"Nothing I just want to feel you, baby." His voice soft almost whisper like, his plump lips gently graze against Hobie's ear.

Oh.

Is Hobie attracted to this method? Hmmm.

"Luv, as much as I would love to hold you right now! I really like to-" Miles hands on his right shoulder, then he blew in Hobie's ear giving him tingles. The shudder felt delightful it made him turned pink. "But baby," Miles's whispers then in Spanish, "Te deseo tanto ahora mismo, mi amor."

Ohhh, when Miles' speak Spanish like that, Hobie likey.

"Sunflower, you know what Spanish does to me," He turns his head to make out with his partner then pulled away, "I need to work on this song. My concert is coming up."

Miles kisses him again, then licks Hobie's ear lobe with another blow to the ear. "Okay, recordaré eso, mi vida." Before going back to his tablet.

The punker bites his bottom lip thinking about this. His band are waiting for him to finish this stupid song, but his Sunflower needs me, now. But the song! But his Sunflower! "Ah, fuck it! They can wait on this bloody crap." Hobie finally said, a small grin spread on Miles' face as he hear him.

The nineteen year old placed his guitar to his side of the bed, then quickly turned to Miles. He tackles his boyfriend to tongue kissed, causing him to squeal out loud.

"Hobie! That tickles." Miles giggles, loving the attention his punker is giving him.

"You wanted this, darling." Hobie purrs.

"I know! I love you, baby!"

"I love you, too Sunflower!"

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #spider verse #spiderverse #spider man across the spiderverse #spiderman #across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #flowerpunk

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youcantdateosmosisjones · 5 months

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"You were a wonderful experience"

"You were... everything"

except I'm a complete liar and that's not even remotely them, but listen anyways

Spreaver, except it's Sparrow who's in the mindset of "it physically pains me to admit how much I'm intrigued and tempted by the idea of chasing desire, but considering how I've devoted my entire life to saving Albion- and now that I've got 2 kids and a kingdom to carry the responsibility of- I could never disregard the sacrifices I've made in the name of the greater good. Especially to someone like you. As Theresa has said to me countless times, my destiny is to become something for the people. That is my burden to carry, and something that I will live by indefinitely. Me and you both understand that weight, despite how we refuse to acknowledge that. We are both heros, after all- And we are the only ones left of our little quartet. I do take such comfort in the knowledge that I am human, and that I can't always be my image- That even you, as deplorable as you are, can, too, be human (as imperfect and needlessly complicated as they come). It is something that's become unfamiliar to me as of late. I never regretted whatever it was we had, despite how little it actually meant in the moment. Typically as just another way to deal with your presence without just killing you right then and there- but nonetheless gave me the same level of emotional release. We were both equals, and knew the others limits, I suppose. How far to push- what spots were sore- and just which buttons to press. We both knew the game, and we played- and it was the most mindless, yet instinctive thing I did for quite a few years. It was one of the few things that still made me feel as though I was living a life I could've had... But that will never happen. The only way I know how to make up for the countless lives lost since that fateful day, is to repay them with my own. I still can't shake the feeling of selfishness in my actions in acknowledging you. A Hero- and especially a Monarch- should not be one to indulge, after all. For that, I could never choose a life like yours- nor you. You were never meant to be apart of this; not for long."

And Reaver, who's currently like "You have been quite possibly one of the only conquests of mine that has made me feel alive in the past 200 or so years. There was always the knowledge with us that either one could end the other, which was a feeling I had not known from any other noticeable person (except Lucien, maybe). However, you still wouldn't actively turn your back on me whenever you had the chance. Why ever you did that, I found it of the utmost excitement. Whether it was your power; status; place in society; reputation; or some other grandiose factor that made you so alluring (as many other countless material items have been to me over my life), I still feel as though you were perhaps an equal to me. I'll admit how much potential I saw in utilizing that- I am an opportunist, after all- and yet I still didn't... why I let you become such an obstacle to me, I'll never know. I upped my typical antics in the hopes you'd take an issue with them- I did love our petty banter- but your refusal to respond beyond small petty gestures just made it more of a challenge. And even despite how you so unkindly usurped me, I still made an effort to prove that it meant nothing to me; that'd I was still as glorious as ever. I was Reaver; and no matter how much of a problem it posed to your kingdom, I'd still be right here; unscathed. You were an irritating- unpredictable- and such an unlikely source of such inconvenience to my plans. Perhaps that is why I was so prepared to see you fail... Perhaps that's why I still think of you from time to time, knowing that didn't happen. Not that I'll ever admit such a fact, knowing what you know about me. Still, in the wake of your passing, I feel as though it was all for nothing. That reoccurring thought, that all my countless endeavors somehow didn't make my sacrifices worth the life I gave up so much to live for, resurfaced, just then. I mean- if I couldn't even get back at you for having such an impact on me (my reputation, my empire, my house!! Need I even go on?), why did I ever spend that much effort on you in the first place? Why on earth I let you become something in my mind, I'll never forgive myself for. No... I'd never do that. I'll never forgive you. And for that crime, you will never be a name I bring up again; Stripped of any illusion of significance. In order to completely forget such troubling revelations, I've decided to once again indulge in the short-lived highs of excitement and exploits. In fact, I'll take advantage of this new era and make a name for myself- A proper one. The only way to drive those dreadful thoughts away is to prove them wrong, after all. Meaning: I'll build a new empire for myself. A far grander one. Perhaps, reaching the status you once possessed will finally erase you from such universal importance."

They're so toxic, they've started to rot my brain

I'm a 'petty, stubborn, shallow (masking his deep intellectualism and the torment) bitch' reaver x 'unbothered, "fuck it we ball" (deeply traumatized and not coping as well as they thought they were), throws chairs indiana jones style; sparrow' preacher

#fable rambles #fable 2 #fable 3 #?#if you squint #fable reaver #fable sparrow #hero of bowerstone #Spreaver #no #theyre not in love #but i dont think #people who dont feel anything towards eachother #make such intense eye contact during consensual fun times #then again #they literally just feed off of mutual spite #who knows #maybe theyre trying to see who blinks first

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justatalkingface · 1 year

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Got another question for ya!

Do you think bnha forces conflict in some places?

Like say the war arc for example. Like how they had most of their Pros give up and retire so they could bring in the UA students to fight.

And it's just... why is UA the only hero school doing this? If this is supposed to be a big war that'll decide the fate of the world, why wasn't Shiketsu or Ketsubutsu brought into this? I know some of their students have quirks that could've been useful in the war, why was it just UA?

If you could think of any other examples of this series forcing conflict, I would love to hear them!

Oh yeah.

This gets to the heart of something that's bothered me for awhile now, and for the longest time it's been a UA only thing (though of course War Arc/Post War just dumped that everywhere as well): UA, and hero schools as a whole, are narratively trying to be too many things at once.

You see, on one end, UA is a high school. A fancy high school, at that, one where there's a high academic bar to admission (one I doubt Mina and Kaminari could actually pass, for the record, but OK, Hori, these classic normal teenagers that spend a lot of their time in and out of school training to fight, and seem to spend a lot of their free time being normal kids instead of intensely studying are in the top ten of the country academically or whatever that bullshit was in the beginning), with school festivals, and parental permission required.

On the other hand, students are all but thrown into dangerous shit all the time.

The school that goes, "Oh, hey there, first year interns! Whooo's ready to go raid a Yakuza den!" is the same school that has to bow down to Inko so Izuku can live there, because surprise! We did the whole, 'put the kids knowingly into a super dangerous confrontation as first years' bit before the War too!

Do you see the disconnect here? I've mentioned this before, but MHA suffers from being a 'modern' setting, with modern values, in what is apparently just normal ass Japan, despite all the technological advances that probably should have radically changed society. It makes it fun and exciting, sure, but... the thing is, in modern time society as a whole cares about kids, and isn't exactly ready to throw them into the meat grinder. Shonen school settings like this, though, are about that meat grinder, about throwing the kids into ever more dangerous situations to see if they live or die against all odds.

Everywhere else, though, gets away with it by being detached from modern society, like Jujitsu, or just in a different world altogether, like Naruto. In a military dystopian hellscape, after all, things like modern values are irrelevant, so we can watch Naruto go into dangerous missions where people die with no logical dissonance!

To some extent, the League allows Hori to get away with this, since they're outside of UA's control, but relying on just them to carry the plot gets stale, so other problems are needed to be, again, confronted by first year high school students.

So to allow that, they either need to just... not really explain why kids are allowed part of it beyond 'reasons', like Izuku raiding Overhaul, or try and give an explanation, like Kaminari is apparently the only decent electromancer on the hero's side in the entire country, so they needed him to hard counter the other only decent electromancer in Japan, only to raise more questions than I think Hori really wants to answer, or just make it really obvious how that their participation is being forced.

It reason for all of this goes back to, on a simple Doylist perspective, the fact 1A, or at the very least Izuku, needs to be involved with major events. In a shonen setting like this, they need to fight, need to be put in danger. But, again, modern setting: that isn't OK, to put actual minors in harm's way, deliberately, all the time. So 1A and/or Izuku are just... shoehorned into these dangerous situations, are forced into them as you said, but it's only 1A. Where are literally every other school?

*shrug* That's an excellent question!

No, seriously. You can ask that at almost every given moment in the manga given how nonexistent the other schools are. Shiketsu literally only exists to be UA's rival as needed, and that's still more than what Ketsubetsu gets (or hell, almost any other class in UA). Compare this to like, Harry Potter, and you'll see a similar problem that world building often seems to exist only to service the plot, rather than making a world that makes sense and making a story that fits within that world. HP is so mono focused into the (utterly nonsensical) school of Hogwarts means they can avoid those problems better than MHA, which keeps trying to shove us into the greater scope of the setting, only to look away and whistle innocently when we ask questions about it.

When you look at it, after the initial setup you can see how Hori is trying to alternate where the dangers come from, to keep the story fresh: League attacks, then students go on an internship and are attacked. League attacks again, so they need to internship again so someone else can try and kill them. Ugh. And yes, I know Shigaraki is lurking in the background during the internships, but the League isn't the focus at those points, the heroes vs internship villains are; all he's doing there is showing how he's developing as a mirror to Izuku's development.

Beyond that.... you know, when you actually think about, when the staff knows that, A, a mole exists, and B, there's a group of people who seem interested in ambushing portions of the school when they separate from everyone else and become vulnerable, maybe, just maybe, someone should have brought up that taking a field trip into the wilderness was perhaps a questionable choice. You know, between how isolated they are, full of vulnerable kids they need to protect, how there's no way to call reinforcements, and how the mole could tell the people who want to, among other things, kill said children, and have access to a warper wasn't exactly a genius choice. Doubly so for Nezu since he knows Izuku has OFA, and that with the context that AFO has he probably knew about it by that point, and just in general since 1A was already attacked and that unstable individuals might have a grudge against them.

Of course, this is forgetting the conflict in school. And to a degree, I think I'm getting off topic, since a lot of that forced conflict in school is about Izuku feeling stressed and in danger rather than him being in physical danger, but... you know, Bakugou literally tries to kill Izuku, and there was nothing stopping him other than his own inability to land the hit. Izuku randomly gets a quirk, and then some murder tentacles almost off someone before he can get it under control.

They put these kids, kids with dangerous superpowers, teenage impulse control and minimal apparent training on how not to hurt someone when using them, into fights and then do basiclly nothing to keep them from going out of control. Why? Because, well, it makes it more dramatic for the readers. Thinking about it for five seconds makes it clear how messed up that set up is, compared to Final Exams, for example, which for all its problems are against teachers, well trained teachers with years of experience deliberately holding back (seriously. The idea of those weights doing anything to slow All Might is laughable. Really, the idea of any amount of them beating him is hilarious, but that's more because how wildly OOC his power level is more than anything).

I mean, hell, the Zero Pointer exists. I know people think its programmed to stop before it hurts anyone, and that it wouldn't have stomped on Uraraka, but.... that's putting a lot of faith into UA's safety policies. Even if it was, the fact it's so big means it destroys everything around it, which could easily kill someone on accident if a building collapsed on them. The sheer spectacle of it aside, the fact that someone in charge thought to unleash that in a city filled with kids (or really, anyeone) is nuts.

So yeah, there's definitely some forced conflict in MHA, as part of how so much of the setting itself is enslaved to the almighty weekly cliffhanger.

#mha critical #bnha critical #UA is messed up #why the hell is everything just modern when support tech level technology exists?#where are the other hero schools?

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suratan-zir · 1 year

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15 questions for 15 mutuals

I was tagged by @vimpse. Thank you! <3

1. are you named after anyone?

Yes, after my great-grandmother, who died when I was a baby. When I turned 16, I also took my great-grandmothers last name, simply because I didn't want to carry my father's last name, and she had the most beautiful last name from my entire family.

2. when was the last time you cried?

Three days ago.

3. do you have kids?

No. I follow the philosophy of antinatalism. While I would love to have children, I believe it would be cruel, especially with my genetics. If I had a choice, I wouldn't want to be born, what if my child grows up and feels the same as I do now?

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

Probably.

5. what sports do you play/have you played?

Never played any sports in my life. I have some breathing problems so physical activity is harder for me than for a healthy person, although I do fitness consistently (lifting and calisthenics) for the first time in my very unfit life. Funny enough, I have the war to thank for that. This winter, when we had blackouts, I was looking for something to do in the evenings, when it's dark, cold and dreary. I tried to do yoga for relaxation, but soon discovered just how weak I was. So I started to include more and more strength building exercises, HIIT workouts, until finally switching to lifting weights. It's amazing how much easier it is not to quit if your goal isn't to lose weight / get bigger butt or flatter stomach, but to get stronger and have fun. Modern society (yes, we're getting into the "society" talk) is trying to convince you, especially if you're a woman, that you should do fitness for looks. I'm sick of seeing all the female-oriented videos on youtube captioned like "get tOnEd muscles for the summer" or "burn belly fat in SEVEN DAYS" (it's impossible btw). Because god forbid you want to actually grow your muscles, not get them "toned", whatever that means. God forbid you want to become stronger or more flexible, not skinnier with a bigger butt. I've never been able to stick to a routine because I hate boring repetitive cardio, and it can be very disheartening to see no change on the scale when your only goal is to lose weight. So I thought I was just not a fitness kind of person. But when you feel your body getting stronger, when you realize that your progress depends only on your efforts, it becomes so exciting and fun.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Voice and smell. I'm autistic, so I almost never look in the face, but even when I do I usually don't register person's appearance very well. For example, I pass by my neighbors every day, but I have no idea what they look like, so I will never recognize them if we ran into each other somewhere else.

7. scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movies, preferably with happy endings.

8. any special talents?

I'm very good at remembering song lyrics. And I can immediately think of a song for any situation, any prompt.

9. where were you born?

The most depressing town in Donetsk oblast, Ukraine.

10. what are your hobbies?

Maybe these are not really hobbies but - rats and video games. Also, walking around taking pictures of trees, sky and turtles. lol

11. do you have any pets?

I have two cats, a dog and six rats.

12. how tall are you?

173 cm (5.6)

13. fave subject in school?

Ukrainian and Biology

14. dream job?

None. Well, I would love to have a greenhouse and a small business of growing and selling houseplants.

15. eye colour?

Greyish-bluish-greenish something. Always green when I cry, for some reason.

Seems like everyone I know has already done this? :( Let's see...

@eulaliasims, @userdata, @ho3sferatu

#tagged #tag game #text post #nonsims

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sobasluuurp · 1 year

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Spinner story continue down the tragedy hill and doesn't seem he be able to climb back up.

God, I wish I could disagree with you. I wish I could think of realistic way for Spinner to get out of all this ok. And yet Horikoshi has written Spinner's apparent tragedy with such a bittersweet beauty that I can't help but gaze at it with a bit of awe.

Because Spinner is just a guy. An average person who is rightfully angry at the world around him for belittling him. He sees the evils of his culture and his country and wants desperately to change them. Knows how he would change them if he had the power to.

But he recognizes that the situation is way to large and out of control for his tiny, insignificant hands to handle. And so he despairs in his dirty, dark room for years trying to hide from it instead because he knows that no matter how passionate he is, his feeling and actions will never be enough to change anything. So he might as well lock the door and turn his back.

Until one day he is proven wrong. That day he sees Stain -- another small, seemingly insignificant person -- take a stand for a better world. Sees that the righteous rage he feels has made an impact on a national scale. And he rejoices! Perhaps he can come out of the shadows after all!

That emotional high carries him towards a group of comrades. Companions unlike any he has had before. And so he supports them as they take on the world. Make headlines. Turn heads. Make sure everyone knows who they are and what they stand for. And despite the fact that he only ever wanted to support the people he believed in, he even gains some followers of his own. He's a symbol now. Just as All Might was once a symbol for the society which kept him down, he can be one to lift those like him up.

Except, there's a problem.

Because unlike the media or his growing number of admirers, he is keenly aware that he is still the same small individual who used to spend all day playing League of Legends. The same one who has self-worth problems and really only ever did any of this to follow others who he felt were better and more impactful than himself. People he had deified.

But it's too late.

Because now he is the deified one. Heteromorphs around the country are imitating his costume, despite the fact that his costume is nothing more than an imitation of Stain's.

He immediately understands that despite his rise to prominence --despite the fact that his actions now have large scale consequences -- he has lost what little agency and personhood he had. It doesn't matter what he truly wants. Because now his existence has become nothing more than a stage for others to talk on. He is a symbol, yes, but symbols can't speak.

Symbols gain power the more people believe in them. It's why All Might's presence alone was enough to decrease the national crime rate. And now that Spinner is a symbol, he also gains power. Literally.

His new quirks propel him forward unlike anything in his life before. They are proof that people believe in him and require action of him. Action that he doesn't fully comprehend or consent to. He has become the will of the masses, unable to deviate from what is expected of him.

And so he barrels into the hospital and leaves his followers behind. Believing all the while that they have his back. He finds himself in a dark, broken-down hallway with the single thing he coveted out of sight. That single thing is still in the front lobby, looking on in horror at something we as the audience has yet to witness.

Spinner is naked now, as the chapter title suggests. Having gained soo much, in the end he has gained nothing at all, besides a means to his demise. The extra quirks in his body will kill him if the battle ahead of him does not. He has been pulled here by invisible forces, having increasingly realized along the way that the utopia he found under AFO wasn't was he was expecting, and that the fantasy he had hoped to obtain from it did not align with what his organization's end goal was. But the more he gained awareness of this bleak reality, the further past the point of no return he became.

So now he stands peerless in a dark tunnel with nothing but a bright light ahead of him, and he is still the same hopeful follower that he was at the start. Simply a guy who wants to be somebody and leave a mark on the world that hurt him. His thoughts and dreams have not seen the light of day. Not really, even though he had an army of 15,000 who has hung on every word he said.

From the looks of it, his story will end the way it began. With a normal guy with no voice and no means to resolve the problems he faces. In a dark enclosed space with no allies. Will his flame flicker out as insignificantly as it would have if he had stayed in his bedroom this whole time, or will he prevail against the void and leave a veritable mark on history? I hope it's the later.

#bnha manga spoilers #shuichi iguchi #bnha 373 #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #all for one #shigaraki tomura #hero killer

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blueburningcup · 1 year

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Coconut Pineapple

And the Valentine’s day one shot that y’all voted for! Gonna try to work on the Ruby/Regina one.

Summary: Seicho takes Azula to the beach to do some chocolate tasting. Azula tries to shake away doubts that Ozai and Fire Nation high class society have instilled within her.

The sun is still high. It casts vivid rays through the windows of Seicho’s bedroom. It is a small dwelling, but it is very cozy. As fate would have it, she owns the same seashell bedspread that Lo and Li do.

She also owns a lot of clutter. Ships in bottles and bottled sand are scattered throughout the room amid piles of seashells and dried starfish. The ceiling is home to many replica sea animals that hang on strings. Seicho had mentioned that she is terribly uncomfortable with people drying out real sea critters for decoration and Azula supposes that she can see how the other woman would find the practice unsettling. Her floor is covered in mis-matching and colorful rugs that would make Mai hurl. And her wall is covered in paintings and wooden masks that just don’t go together.

Admittedly, the first time that she’d set foot in this room it had made her head ache trying put the disjointed pieces together.

She has long since given that up. Seicho seems to acquire new treasures at a rate much faster than she could ever hope to organize things.

As much as she hates to admit it, she has grown used to the clutter. Frankly, she thinks that she would be more uncomfortable if she stepped into this room to find it suddenly spotless. Not that she isn’t uncomfortable right now.

“You know that it’s not like it was a few years ago. Honestly, Ember Island was never really shy about this kind of thing. And you shouldn’t be either.”

“I’m not shy. I just…I know what’s expected of me.” She pauses. “And what isn’t.” She takes another glance in the mirror. Her hair falls over her shoulders in waves. She had let Seicho fix small seashells into the stands. Really, the swimsuit isn’t all that showy. More so than the one she had worn on her last trip to Ember Island but nothing as brave as what Ty-Lee had worn.

But then, father hadn’t approved of her first swimsuit either.

“What are you trying to do?” He had asked. “Do you want people to think that we’re a nation full of harlots?”

“Mai and TyLee…”

She remembers the look on his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“TyLee, that girl was always floozy, her parents should have raised her better. She’s going to end up pregnant and disgrace her family like Chan’s sister. Is that what you want to do?”

“We were on the beach…”

It was a logical enough thing to say but father had made it seem senseless and stupid. Like she was a lost cause for doing what? Chancing a quick swim? But spirits it was effective because she feels so very exposed.

“You look great.” Seicho promises.

And that’s exactly the problem. She will draw looks, the kind that father has always warned her about. The kind that he would get angry with her for even if she had done everything she could to avoid getting those looks. The ones that make her feel queasy.

“I’d like to put my armor back on.”

Seicho quirks a brow. “You want to wear armor to a chocolate tasting?” She pauses. “On the beach?”

Azula bites the inside of her lip.

“I thought that you were a fan of being practical.”

“I am.”

“Well then, let’s be practical. Beach, sunny. Sun, hot. Armor? Sweltering. I don’t want to have to carry you home because you passed out. I especially don’t want to have to carry you if you’re wearing like fifty pounds of armor.”

“It’s not that heavy.” She mumbles.

“My point is, no one wears armor to the beach and you know it.”

Azula shrugs.

“This is perfect.” She insists. “You do like it don’t you?”

Azula nods. The fabric feels very comfortable. The skirt is quite long but so is the v slit. Long enough to show off her whole leg. She likes the gold belt that sits on her hips with its seashell charms and its gold coins. The top suits her nicely, it is sleeveless–held up by a zipper in the back and a chain to match the one at her hips. Embroidered along the bottom of the bikini top are golden flames and one small dragon. There is another chain fixed to the bottom of that bikini top is one more chain. One that dangles down to her belly with a collection of rubies and sunstones.

It is flashy.

Eye catching.

She doesn’t want eyes to be caught.

She adores how it looks but she doesn’t love the idea of wearing it in public. She is perfectly content having captured only one pair of eyes.

“You’re dad was wrong, you know that don’t you?” She pauses.

“He’s not the only one who thinks like that.”

“He’s not the only person with wrong opinions. The Fire Nation always talks about being so brave and amazing. And yet they’re all so scared of a little skin.”

“They’re afraid of change.” Azula mumbles. “Which is strange. I’ve read about Fire Nation fashion as part of cultural and historical research, of course.”

“Of course.” Seicho rolls her eyes.

Azula opts to ignore the doubt in her voice. “Fire Nation culture has roots in Sun Warrior culture and their clothing style much more closely resembles modern Ember Island fashion trends.” She pauses. “The shift happened during the war.”

“Yeah, because they want to stifle creativity…or something. Come on.” Seicho hooks Azula by the elbow and begins leading her to the door. “You’re putting so much thought into this, all we’re going to do is go down to the beach and have some chocolate. And a good time, we are going to have a good time.”

Azula certainly hopes so.

She is, afterall, the princess. Now that father isn’t here to demean her she supposes that there isn’t much anyone can do to stop her from having a nice time, from feeling comfortable.

She can stop herself though.

She is very good at that.

.oOo.

“Well, which do you prefer?”

Azula hums, “I’m not sure, they both taste good enough.”

Seicho pops another piece of chocolate into her mouth and then a second sample of chocolate type four.

Both truly are amazing. Type three is a touch bitter, it is rich in the same way that dark silks and woodsy colognes are. Type three is rich like warm blankets, cream, and the glow of a beach bonfire.

“The caramel one.” Azula decides.

“Yeah, I think that I prefer that one too.” Seicho agrees. “It kind of just melts on your tongue.”

Seicho links their hands and leads her along to the next stall. The beach is so lively and crowded. For once, Azula is comforted by the massive gathering. Everyone just breezes by her, each person–individual or couple–is invested in their own doings. Their own romances or personal delights.

Whether that thing is the chocolate sampling breaking away from the crowd to watch the twinkle of lantern lights reflecting in the water. The fireworks will begin soon.

“Oh! Try this one!” Seicho offers her another chocolate. This one of the white variety. It has been carefully molded and dyed to bare likeness to a firelily. It certainly looks appetizing.

She plucks it from Seicho’s hand. “It’s got a touch of…peach?”

“I think that it might be mango, or orange?”

“Those are two completely different flavors!” She exclaims. “And they’re both incorrect guesses. It is definitely a hint of peach.”

“No way, taste it again!” She insists.

“Seicho, I don’t know how much more chocolate I can handle.” Regardless she lets Seicho give her another piece. “Last one and then I’d like to walk by the water.”

Seicho exhales through her nose. “Fine, I guess. But I would like to taste Mikahara’s chocolate first. I heard that she’s got some kind of coconut-pineapple chocolate that sounds tasty.”

“Alright, Mikahara’s chocolate and then some quiet time.” Away from people, away from the occasional glances. The ones that linger too long for her comfort.

She lets Seicho lead her along. They weave through a lively crowd. Everyone looks so comfortable and at ease with hibiscus in their hair and drinks in their hands. No one seems troubled in the slightest. Azula inhales and drinks in the smell of chocolate and fruity drinks.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Sheicho squeezes her hand. “You’re doing great. We can pass on the Mikahara’s…”

She shakes her head. “No! We can go get it.” She has to get herself comfortable. Has to take back what father and years of ridiculous expectations have taken from her. “I’m fine, I always finish things that I start.”

“Technically I started it.”

“I want to enjoy tonight, all of tonight.” Every list scent, taste, and sight. Every emotion that she had, in the past, tried to keep herself from. She wants to be alive. Truly alive.

And tonight is the perfect night to do that.

To reclaim parts of herself.

To make new parts of herself.

Parts that she can cherish the way Seicho cherishes her. The way she cherishes Seicho.

“Hello!” Greets a woman with shaved hair and a pearl in one ear.

“You must be Mikahara.” Azula guesses.

“I am.” She confirms.

“From the sound of it, you’ve made quite an impression tonight.”

Mikahara smiles. “See for yourself, princess.” She hands Azula a box of chocolates. “I heard that you might be here so I saved a little something special for the both of you.”

Seicho’s eyes twinkle. “Oh this is a treasure trove of chocolate!” The woman’s mouth is practically watering.

“Thank you.” Azula replies.

“Of course, princess. I wouldn’t have had this opportunity if not for tonight’s festivities. And we would be having them if not for you.”

Azula nods and slips her a gold coin or two. “We can share this by the water.”

“That sounds great, Azula.” Seicho smiles.

.oOo.

It is quiet here at the shoreline. She has led Seicho a good distance from the jubilant energy of the chocolate tasting stalls and the couples straggling on the sand that is still relatively close to the festivities.

This portion of the beach is, until the sunrises, desolate. Charmingly so. The music and chatter are close enough to be heard but distant enough to be little more than pleasant white noise.

“Tell me the truth, how was it?”

“It was…it was really wonderful, Seicho.” It was nerve-wracking but sublime in its own right. There is a certain charm, a sense of exhilaration and freedom in stepping out of her comfort zone and into something new. Something that is probably better.

Something liberating.

All in all, father had been completely off.

Most people hadn’t even noticed her at all.

And if they had, they opted to give her, her space.

She certainly doesn’t feel like a harlot. Neither does she feel like she has had herself a scandalous evening. She had simply had an evening. Had put on an outfit sewn, very lovingly, by her girlfriend’s mother, and went to a party.

“It is going to be nice to go back to the palace and not get a lecture about carelessness and wasting time.”

“Would he really tell you that today?”

Azula nods. “He would.” She looks out at the open ocean, at those rolling, twinkling waves and clears her throat. “Can we talk about something else or eat some of that chocolate.”

Seicho quirks a brow. “I thought that you said you were full.”

“Mikahara did make that special for me though, it would be a shame to not try it.”

Seicho chuckles.

“It would also make father really unhappy if I were to go visit him in prison and tell him that I spent a whole night eating chocolate and wearing sleeveless outfits…”

“Chocolates and no sleeves? On the beach!? Oh we’re getting really wild and daring now!”

Azula gives a humored sniff and holds a piece of chocolate out to Seicho.

“Very good.” The woman gives a thumbs up. “Try it for yourself.”

Azula cups the woman’s face and brings their lips together. She can indeed taste the lingering chocolate on them. And indeed there is a hint of coconut and pineapple. She holds her face a few inches from Seicho’s, their lips still nearly touch.

“Oh this is an adventurous night.”

“It ought to be.” Azula replies quietly. She needs that so badly. She has needed it for a long time. And she promises herself that this will be only the beginning. That her life is going to be hers from now on. Starting with the way she views herself and her body.

Ending with discovering and following her own hopes and dreams.

“Happy birthday, by the way.” Seicho nudges her.

“I suppose it is.” Azula smiles.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Seicho #Azula/Seicho #Azula/Cupholder Girl #Fanfiction #One Shot

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rainbowsky · 1 year

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so today my mom was over at my place and my desktop background is a picture of xiao zhan from his winter solstice shoot, and when she saw it she asked who the hottie was and i had to restrain myself bc it was not the time place or the right person to info dump to! luckily or maybe unfortunately as an autistic person "conceal don't reveal" is a thing at which i excel alkjhslkdjf

but that got me wondering if i could perhaps ask for your perspective and experience with this, since i know you are also autistic. i find it very difficult to determine how much of my hyperfixations and special interests are safe to reveal to others and i've had some not so great reactions before so now i tend to keep up the mask and hold it all in, even with people close to me. as a result i know i probably come across as a very boring and negative person who is never interested in anything. i don't think i'm like that, but honestly i'm not sure anymore. i've pretended for so long i don't really know who i am.

do you share a lot with the people around you about your special interests? how do you know when where and to whom it's safe? does it all come down to surrounding yourself with good and understanding people that you're comfortable around and that accept you completely? writing it out now it looks so simple, like yes of course that's what i'm supposed to do! but how?? i don't know how to read people and on the occasions i have decided to trust someone and it turned out to be a huge mistake it feels really bad to be proven wrong, and being wrong lowers the chances that i'll open up again.

i can't help but fear that i will never be able to truly be myself around other people. in online spaces it's possible to stay anonymous and it's easy to just block and ignore the assholes, but it seems much harder irl. do you perhaps have any tips? since we have some of the same interests and your blog exudes a calm and accepting energy i feel like you would be a good person to ask. i hope it doesn't put you out.

thanks so much and take care! 💜

Hi Anon! 💖

It's not your job to protect people from your personality. I'm sad whenever I see this being taught to people, it's so wrong.

There is an affirmation that's been making the rounds for years that is so true: "You deserve to be loved without having to hide the parts of yourself that you think are unlovable."

A lot of neurodivergent people seem to carry the baggage of neurotypical people's disdain toward, impatience with and disrespect for the differences of others, and to that I say: BS. Their bigotry, ignorance and entitlement are not your problem.

A lot of the standards and expectations around how people 'should' be are a product of dominance culture (aka white supremacy culture). The belief that there is 'one right way' to be - and that the only way to be worthy and acceptable in society is to conform to that 'one right way' - is a core feature of dominance culture. That culture is one of the most destructive forces on the planet, and I urge everyone to root it out and dismantle it wherever they find it.

In fact there are many wonderful ways to be and live, and in a conformist world our choice to love ourselves, be ourselves and pursue self-actualization is a revolutionary act.

Of course we can and should work with others to build bridges across our differences and find ways to ensure that both people's needs get met in our relationships. But it's important that it is a two-way street, and not just a situation where we're doing all the adapting and accommodating and they're reaping all the benefits of being catered to*.

When that happens we end up having our value and self-esteem undermined while theirs is boosted, validated and affirmed. That only exacerbates the power imbalances and further erodes the relationship and our ability to build healthy, trusting connections.

*Contrary to popular belief, neurodivergent people spend their lives and a great deal of energy accommodating neurotypical people - not the other way around. The fairly recent, mostly tokenistic attempts to make spaces and cultures more 'ND-friendly' can't even hold a faint candle to the insane pretzels ND people have had to twist ourselves into for decades trying to 'fit in' and be accepted into a world which still caters almost exclusively to able-bodied, white, straight, cisgender, affluent, educated, neurotypical people.

So, to answer your question - be yourself, and in this way you will find your people.

Authenticity is the only way to build authentic relationships and connections.

If there are people in our lives who don't understand us and who treat our interests and our personalities as 'a problem', that's a problem that both sides need to address. We need to self-examine and make sure we are making space for the other person to express themselves, but they also need to do the same for us.

Balance is found by working together toward a common goal - a genuine connection between two people. Make sure that you both share that goal. Communicate your needs and ask them to share what their needs are as well.

Our needs matter.

Don't let them go unnoticed, unacknowledged and unmet. Not by you or anyone else.

We're all in fandom, we're all familiar with the concept of 'the confession'. This is actually an important concept in all relationships, not just romantic ones. Because in ALL relationships, being yourself is the ultimate act of love.

Just like a love confession, it requires vulnerability, trust and a desire to connect. When we reach out to someone to share some part of who we are inside, we are initiating a connection with that person and giving them the gift of our authentic self.

If they are unable or unwilling to accept that and meet us where we are, then they are probably not the right person for us to connect with, or else they aren't yet ready to connect.

That can be painful and can feel like a form of rejection, but I try to take those things as useful information, and treat my personality as a friend filter. Those who are put off by me aren't the right people for me to try to be close to. I want to surround myself with people who are able to be real with me and accept me and celebrate me for who I am (and vice versa).

Special interests are a big part of that, because they become so central in our lives. If we have people close to us who can't make space for us and our special interests in some way, then we will end up feeling lonely and invisible. That becomes even worse when we are shamed and ridiculed for our interests.

I go back to what I said before - our needs matter. If we work toward having truly reciprocal, equitable relationships where both people's needs are being met, we will be happier overall.

Marshall Rosenberg's Nonviolent Communication is a great place to start on that project.

Trust is hard. I am naive and trusting to a fault, and I have to lean heavily at times on others who have my best interests in mind, or else I end up being bullied or taken advantage of.

If you're struggling with that, I urge you to find someone you can truly trust (preferably multiple people) - such as a close friend or family member who has proved to truly have your best interests at heart, or if you can't find that, a therapist who understands your needs and vulnerabilities and can be a support and a sounding board - and get their help and advice in situations you're uncertain about.

If you can't find a therapist and you have no close people you trust, there are many online communities and groups where you can find like-minded people to bounce these things off of.

Most importantly, always remember that everything we say, do and think can only ever be a reflection of ourselves, our values, and what's in our hearts and minds. It can never be about anyone else.

If people treat you badly it's not because you're bad, it's because they are.

(or rather, because they're unexamined, unevolved, mean-spirited, in a dark place, self-focused to a fault, etc. etc. but that doesn't make as memorable a sound bite)

Don't let unexamined, unevolved, mean-spirited people, etc., etc. teach you to think or feel badly about yourself. Understand that hurtful criticism is about the other person and their expectations, values and attitudes, not about you.

Exercise healthy boundaries. Understand where the other person ends and where you begin, and refuse to take on things that aren't part of who you are. Ask yourself, "Do I truly agree with what this person is saying?"

Is what the other person claims true, fair, honest, and said in the spirit of compassion and connection, or was it said in a judgmental, self-absorbed (focusing on their needs at the exclusion of your own), punitive way? Are they trying to connect with you or are they trying to control or change you?

We can often have a tendency to hear criticism - particularly from those who we look up to or want to have a connection with - as truth being served to us by someone who sees something in us, when in most cases other people's criticism truly has nothing to do with us. It's about the other person and what they want.

This tendency to gobble up negative messages from others ties in with the nearly universal experience of imposter feelings - the idea that deep down inside we are unworthy, a fraud and an imposter, and it's only a matter of time before others will find us out and condemn us. This is another feature of dominance culture.

People are much more attuned to negative messages than to positive ones because of the deep, secret fear that we are bad. Which is so tragic, because the people who know us best and have our best interests in mind are the loving voices we tend to dismiss, while the mean-spirited messages from hurtful people are taken to heart.

But as I said before, their criticism has less to do with us and much, much more to do with who they are and what they want.

And what they want might not be right for us, so we should be cautious and considered in how we handle it. We need to unpack and examine it, and only take in what feels fair and helpful and can enrich our lives and lead to growth.

I know I say this a lot, but we should never let anyone else tell us who we are. We are the only experts on ourselves. If we are self-examined, honest and personally accountable, and if we are doing our best and acting in good faith, that is all anyone can ask of us.

So as I see it, you are dealing with two separate issues:

The internalized belief that you are 'too much' for neurotypical people to want to be around.

Issues around trust in relationships.

Recognizing these as two separate issues and reflecting on them as such might help a lot.

The first is an issue of self-acceptance. Only by looking at yourself as worthy and valuable and interesting can you go out into the world and take your place in relationships as an equal who has something appropriate to contribute rather than approaching it as though you are a burden.

Only by championing your own needs, traits and beautiful qualities as every bit as valid and important as the needs, traits and qualities of those around you will you find a balance and build relationships where you are appreciated and valued.

The second issue is something that takes time, but building trust means taking risks - there's no way around it.

Don't take other people's disappointing behavior personally. When we test the waters to see if someone is worthy of our trust and they show us they aren't - that's useful information about our incompatibilities with that person. It doesn't say anything about our selves, or about our worth as humans. All it tells us is that we are going to have to look elsewhere to find the right connection.

Long-winded and meandery, but I have a lot of thoughts on these topics because they're issues I've grappled with a lot in my life. I hope any of it is helpful, Anon. And I hope you find ways to be comfortable sharing more of yourself with others who can accept you and celebrate you for who you are.

I talked in more detail about conformity, acceptance and dealing with people who ridicule our interests/fandom here.

I talked more about dealing with issues around autism here.

EDIT: A couple of follow-up posts

About the limitations and barriers some people face with building in-person connections

Further tips and reading on self-esteem

#personal #autism is my botox #ask

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darkspace7 · 4 months

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[That Which Protects The Falling Rain] Pt.1

[A Sort of Synopsis, if you will]: Okay so the other day I was just faffing about and watching some videos discussing some of the Bleach Brave Soul character design choices as you do and then I got to thinking about how there were so few decently good fics featuring our good man Ishida and then that somehow led into wondering why there weren’t hardly any detailing the situations of how one would even come about to wear those alternate costumes in the first place and then that somehow devolved into contemplating time/dimension travel and fusion (as in literal fusion –not crossovers- although those are nice too…) fics and what-ifs involving rather creative semi-roll swaps and we all know that canon is basically just a suggestion at this point so anyway-

Here’s my-

“Through An Exceedingly Convoluted Series Of Events Spanning The Course Of About Roughly Two Weeks Uryū Ishida Gets Yeeted To An Alternate Timeline/Dimension Thing With An Imprint Of Ichigo Camping In His Soul As A Sort-Of Bastardized Zanpakutō And Now He Must Wage In Shadow Espionage Bullshit Because At This Point Aizen Is Still A Problem And Tipping Off The Quincy While Everyone’s Even Weaker Than The Timeline They Left Would Be Bad. (Also Having Two Instances Of The Almighty + Antithesis In The Same General Vicinity Is Apparently Bad For The Continued Existence Of Reality) And Somehow Not Potentially Fuck Everything Else Up Even Worse Than Last Time As Well As Try Not To Have A Complete Nervous Breakdown In The Mean Time.”

-AU…

But that’s kind of a mouthful so imma just call it [That Which Protects The Falling Rain] AU

So yeah…

As you can obviously tell from the prior blurb this is more or less canon divergent starting from the point that Ichigo got his powers back after the timeskip (which –in my completely honest opinion- was a bullshit arc anyway for a number of reasons that I refuse to go into at the moment) with the main kicker of it all being the things that happened with the whole Quincy ordeal went significantly worse off than in canon and basically a bad time was had by everyone.

[Unwind the World and Your Nightmare’s Gone]

Turns out that if you have a crumbling pillar that props up what is an already heavily destabilized world murked on top of everything else tends to accelerate the wholesale destruction of everything in existence. The first of this was quickly realized when Hueco Mundo, the Wandenreich, and the Soul Society all crashed and began to bleed into one another. This mockery of a union only served to further tip the scales to such an extreme that Hell itself –which at this point was still puttering along as the sole remaining pillar of reality- began to develop cracks in the framework before eventually just giving way entirely. And thus things started to bleed indiscriminately into the World of the Living.

Which, I don’t need to tell you, was bad news bears.

In the chaos and calamity people were dying in droves and –because the reincarnation cycle was wholly and utterly fucked- they were staying dead. The very few individuals that had been smart enough to dip when the water hit the wall or were (un)fortunate enough to dodge the first fires of the literal apocalypse managed to bunker down, sustaining themselves on the heavily overly-saturated reishi of the atmosphere as they waited for the inevitable end tailmarked on the hands of the three souls that still carried on. These three –the False King tainted with the spark of divinity, his Heir who sought to put an end to his reign, and the Hybrid who felled God Himself- who fought on even though everything and everyone they had once stood for having fallen ages before them; their hands grasping for that last pyrrhic victory because what else is there at this point?

But –much like the moon for which his blades were named- even the powers of god-slayers must wane and on the field of battle enemies will use any fault to their advantage. And so, with a decisive slice of the blade, the False King went Off With His Head and the prodigal son made his way back home like the rest of his children. But it was here that Yhwach, made a Mistake™.

For all that Ichigo Kurosaki was a hybrid of both Quincy and Soul Reaper, he was also part Hollow as well.

And Hollows are poisonous to Quincy.

But the imprudent ruler was past caring at this point -was confident he could weather the poisoning of his soul- that he just had to stop for a moment to allow the restless stubborn child to settle down and from there he could then adapt and adjust. But to do such a thing on a battlefield where there was still one other active combatant left (no matter how you have dismissed the other boy as being a non-threat at this point) was pure hubris in of itself.

Enter: Uryū Ishida.

Armed with a silver arrow crafted from the bodies of his kinsmen that he lifted from the corpse of his estranged father and the sheer and utter spite of someone who has seen every single last one of their friends and family be killed and subsequently has no more fucks to give decides in his exhausted state to pull an Ichigo and lets the fly.

It hits.

At long last, the Old King was dead.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because the being named Yhwach was a great number of things, however, unprepared was not one of them. Being able to see possibility after possibility was indeed a great boon when it came time to sketch out an action plan for such eventualities. Case in point, when faced with the surefire destruction of your own physical and spiritual being it is perhaps okay to latch on to and borrow another. And what better source than your treasonous Heir not a stone’s throw from where you currently were?

Long live the king.

Or so you thought bitch.

Turns out neither did the Quincy child nor the rebellious echo of the hybrid boy much care for his attempt at bodyjacking. So unanimously they decided to say –fuck that- and pull off their own sort of deus ex machina using Uryū’s Shrift in conjunction with Ichigo’s kind of admittedly bullshit hybridity powers to throw a wrench in things and swap the Fate of not only himself the other late teen’s echo as well so that in the end it was Ywhach who would be the one subsumed.

And by some fucking miracle, it worked.

They successfully managed to topple the Quincy King from his position to allow for Uryū to then supplant himself on the vacant throne as the King as the remainder of Ichigo’s unique spiritual signature securely subsumed the rest of Yhwach’s essence and then somehow used it to stabilize the burgeoning fuckery that was now his (and apparently Ishida’s???) soul.

Long live the King (and his new and only somewhat unwilling headmate) indeed.

Just in time for reality to start falling apart.

With the weight of the final battle having finally given way to bone-deep exhaustion he –(or, rather, was it they now? Truth be told, neither boy was entirely sure what to make of their current situation and the sheer number of existential issues that simply arose from their paradoxical state of being. But then again that sort of thing wasn’t exactly a new thing when it came to his whole impossible existence now was it? Hell, he’d had so many ‘impossibles’ tossed at him that at this point the very word was starting to lose all meaning, honestly. And this current bit of what-the-fuckery was just another layer to the botched clusterfuck of a cake now wasn’t it? ‘…Good god Kurosaki do you think you could save your little existential crisis for later? Neither of us have the energy for it and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m pretty sure that at least one of us currently has a fucking concussion.’ No, fuck you man, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the world’s fucking ending. This is a good as time as any, man. ‘I just want somewhere we can get a chance to rest.’)- leveraged their worn body up on unstable legs in search of an unbroken spot where they could do just that.

Sometime along the way he had noted the larger of the orange-haired hybrid’s blades among the debris and stopped to examine it. (Or rather, having sensed the echo of their wielder contained within, it had lowered itself to allow him a chance to look upon its glory. At least, that was the impression that it seemed to be giving off anyway. Yeah, like a pair of stray cats you rescued from out behind the dumpster on trash day, his Zangetsu was. But even to the end they tried to help in their own way… ‘‘Slaying Moon’ huh? What an apt name for such a blade.’ Blades. There’s two of them. Ah, that was right. But if so then where…?)

Even now, their wicked sharp edge gleamed obsidian in the light as he subconsciously let the blade rest behind in the crook of his back. Feeling the small clasp as sword seemed to latch onto his presence as if magnetic. Readjusting his glasses he glanced around and let out a soft noise when their eyes alit upon their prize.

(He did not look at the body sprawled out upon the ground as they knelt down and gently pried the shorter blade from stiff fingers. He did not look at the severed head with too blank eyes as he slid the other half of his blade carefully into the waistband of his belt.He did not look at his own corpse resting at his feet-)

He stood.

Continuing on, he trudged along aimlessly, stumbling from wreck to wreck in an attempt to avoid the ever encroaching void that slowly but surely ate at what was left of their worlds. (They decidedly ignored the shadows that lapped at their feet. The way they danced inexplicably without a clear source of light. Twisting and writhing along the rolling dark as if they were but a thousand –familiar- eyes held back behind closed lids –theirshisoursmine- as they waited there. Dreaming.)

He stumbled.

They walked on until eventually they happened upon a surprisingly stable section of what appeared the Royal Realm and what was even more astonishing was the fact that out of everyone who could’ve somehow managed to dodge the apocalypse they had the misfortune to run into Aizen of all people. And it seemed that the ex-captain was just as enthused to see them.

(Wow, yeah, no. Not surprised that you survived because you’re pretty much a damned cockroach at this point. But I am genuinely kind of surprised that you decided to stick around instead of –I don’t know- having the good sense to bail when everything started going to shit? You’d think he would. Like, scurry away to lick the wounds and that sort of shit, right? ‘Right, absolutely riveting commentary Kurosaki. Such a shame that I’m the only one who’s forced to listen to it.’ Grimace. Urgh what god did I piss off to get stuck with you assholes? ‘Probably the two we just killed.’…Ah. Right.)

“Hm, that’s certainly a pleasant expression.”

(…I wanna kick his fucking ass. ‘What? No!’ Just a single boot shoved right in his smug bondage-wrapped face. ‘No.’)

Thoroughly exasperated and just utterly done with everything and everyone at this point Uryū decided this was as good as they were going to get and sort of collapsed at the foot of the broken throne with an undignified grunt, shifting the massive knife from his back to a more comfortable spot upon his lap as to allow himself to prop their body up against a slab of rubble. The youth let out a groaning-sigh.

Aizen –having meandered over to join him- watched with a keen interest.

(The subtle shade of black bleeding into the much younger man’s sclera, the downright monstrous inferno of tainted Quincy-Reaper-Hollow reiatsu coupled with the unnatural way that the writhing shadows almost seemed to linger protectively around the bloodied child before him, and while truthfully he was rather near-sighted ((destroying his last pair of glasses in a spur of dramatic theatricality had genuinely been one of his sole regrets, especially considering later when it became wholly apparent that the hōgokyu refused to let itself be used for something as banal as correcting one’s eyesight)) he’d have to have been blinder than Kaname to miss the ease at which the other had hefted that particular blade around. Also, the singular horn was kind of conspicuous and worthy enough for him to lift a brow.)

“Your feats never cease to push the realm of possibility, why I’m honestly starting to think you don’t know the meaning of the word Kurosaki.” He watched with sharp eyes, observing how even the shadows surrounding the youth seemed to freeze. Fascinating. “Or perhaps you would prefer some other form of address more suited to the body you’re currently occupying?” A dark eye crinkled with wry amusement, “Maybe even something more befitting to that of royalty?”

(He’s not going to let this go is he? ‘Ugh, no.’ …Fuck it.)

And so the one-who-was-once-many resigned themself to a litany of awkward conversation as they waited for the world to end.

And what a back and forth it was. Some of the more notable highlights included: In depth discussions on one’s particular choice of eyewear – {“So, wait, hold on. You’re saying you actually needed those glasses and that the whole debacle with the Winter War you were essentially fighting half-blind the whole time?!”

“In the barest sense of the term, yes. Why do you seem so surprised? Did you perhaps forget that one of my compatriots was blind? It is a perfectly reasonable method to use one’s spiritual sense as a sort of complement to innate abilities during combat, as I am sure that one of your newer parts is undoubtedly already aware.”

“…Newer parts?”

“The misguided Quincy child that you once called your comrade and presumably the original owner of the patchwork monstrosity that you now call a form.”

(‘…Okay, yes, while losing your glasses during a fight does fucking suck I’m far-sighted and also mainly focused on archery so it’s not so bad but “patchwork monstrosity?” Rude, much?’)

“My, what a frightening expression.”

They flipped him off.}

–To the eventual reluctant admittance of what had occurred during their final battle versus the late Quincy King-

{it was in general agreement that the whole thing was a collective load of bullshit, however Aizen did find some note of ironic humour in the new fusion’s predicament much to said being’s annoyance.}

–To why the traitorous ex-captain was even there in the first place-

{“And where exactly would you have intended me to have gone, hm?” The man gestured broadly at the wanton destruction that surrounded them.

“Should I have squirrelled myself away like the scarce few remaining beings that tried to do so before everything fell to ruin? Don’t make me laugh. Why, I would even dare to say those poor unfortunate souls have been all but eliminated when the world pillars sang their swan song and even if they managed to survive that don’t you think the void would have consumed them much like everything else at this point?” Sōsuke leveled a dry look, letting his head fall back against the remains of a broken pillar wearily.

“So I figured this was as good as a time as any to try my hand at usurping the throne, you know, seeing as the current Soul King was indisposed.” A flicker of genuine consternation flashed across the man’s face. “But, it seems that crossing into the realm of transcendence is still not enough just so long as you’re still missing a fundamental piece of the equation.”

“Wow. So even after going through all of that you still weren’t –what- Quincy enough to take the crown? Heh, sucks to be you I guess. Wh-hey! We already have a concussion you didn’t have to throw a rock at me you ass.” With a huff, they rubbed at the new welt on their head. “Geez…”

“But seriously, I can’t believe with all that bullshit you pulled trying to get the magic death marble to make you god it couldn’t even manage it in the end.” As the hand dropped to the blade in their lap, they gave a faint scowl and then turned to face the other. “And really, what’d it even matter at this point? Figure we could use it to prop up reality –or at least what’s left of it anyway- and keep it from imploding or something?”

Aizen let out a somewhat undignified snort, “The Quincy have finally brought around your inclinations of royalty, I see. You’ve even started using the royal we. But yeah, sure, why not. Go ahead and take a stab at being the Soul King for a bit, I mean I’d say you can’t possibly be worse that what’s going on right now but somehow I think you would manage it just to spite me.”

The young being let out a snort of his own as they rolled with the bit, “No, we’d totally be an awesome Soul King. Way better than the last one and Not Unstable At All. Heck, we wouldn’t even abuse whatever the bullshit powers we had on top of everything else so we could –I don’t know- turn back time and fucking unmurder everyone. Oh! While we’re at it why don’t we try taking a crack completely unknotting that clusterfuck you guys call a politics around here. Because, honestly? Responding to every new thing that shows up on your doorstep with ‘treat it like shit’ and/or ‘try to kill it with extreme prejudice’ tends to piss people off and is probably why y’all had so many enemies.”

They nodded, sarcasm just oozing from their tone. “Yeah, all of that would be just so fun. Don’t you think?”}

Who could have foreseen that such a benignly one-off comment could have could spurred such further chaos?

(Well they probably could have. But –in their defence- they weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders at the time; what with the existential fuckery that they were still coming to terms with alongside the previously mentioned concussion that made it so when Aizen ((who had went suspiciously quiet after his little haha-funny-but-not-really joke)) proceeded to pitch the Idea™ to them it didn’t really seem to tack on as being anything worse than what the apocalypse that they were already were going through was.

But as now they found themselves trying not to squirm with a hand splayed awkwardly over the violet gem embedded in the other man’s bare chest as the other looked on with what seemed to be deep-set amusement they could not help but think to themselves: they really should’ve known better.)

(‘This is so stupid.’ There’s no way this would ever work-) Astonishingly, the gem beneath their hand began to glow.

(…Are you kidding me?)

“Huh, it seems like the hōgokyu was actually able to grant my wish after all.” The other murmured, ripping the fusion’s attention away from the entrancing glow only for them to watch as the man before them slowly began to crumble to dust before their very eyes. “Rather roundabout way of doing it though, if you ask me.” Sōsuke snorted, dark eye flicking up to meet the other’s disbelief. “Listen well Ichigo Kurosaki and Uryū Ishida, this will be the last time we meet one another as things are. Don’t squander the opportunity you’ve been given as it’s highly unlikely you will get another one.”

“…Understood.”

“Good.” The other seemed…actually kind of relieved? That was all they had time to think before his body was gone and it was their fingers clutched around the hōgokyu as it then took their wish (to fix this oh god don’t you dare drop something like this on us and then leave us aloneyou utter bastardplease I don’t want to be the last one left after everything I don’t want to be aloneand just like that there went another person that he failed to protect just like everyone elseplease I just want to fix this make it like it never happened!) and moulded it and then unwound the world from its crumbling spool, unwound them, unmade him and now he-

-Was-

but only for an instant before world reformed around himself and he was forcefully slammed into (his/their/whose?) body.

He blacked out.

#DS7's Log #[That Which Protects The Falling Rain]#Bleach Fanfiction #-carefully adds to the archive-#Ichigo Kurosaki #Uryu Ishida #Sosuke Aizen #In which the author continuously makes poor life choices and is even worse at knowing how to tag and work shit so this is your only warning #Wait so Tumblr can make strikethroughs but not underline stuff? Ugh that sucks.#Fuck it y'all are getting colours then I guess.#How the fuck did this turn into a story halfway through?#It was only supposed to be a meme drabble idea jfc... OTL #Also like lowkey Yhwach with those shadow eye-things deadass looks like a older and scruffier version of Pride from the FMA manga fr...

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farfromstrange · 2 years

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Foreigner's God: Chapter 1

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: Thanks to Matt Murdock, Eliza Bennett isn’t going to jail – but who exactly is daredevil and why did this infuriating person in a kid's costume have to get involved in her business in the first place? To her, learning that daredevil is truly a pain in the ass isn't all that surprising, yet the self-acclaimed vigilante always knows how to add one on top and she's really not having it. Teaming up with an Avenger, why would he ever do such a thing?

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of mental illness, therapy, canon typical violence, Tony Stark being an asshole

Word Count: 20k

Read Chapter 1: I Did Something Bad here on AO3.

We make our decisions based on personal judgment. Sometimes we hit the nail right on the end, sometimes we involuntarily drive off the road and make the worst decisions there could be. The whole process of making bad decisions is what makes us human. We wouldn’t be functioning members of society if our judgment wasn’t off every once in a while. No human is ever without flaws.

The whole point of life is to learn from your mistakes and never make the same ones again.

Though there are times you come face to face with yourself, perhaps in the slightly runny reflection of the one-way mirror in a police station, and find yourself asking ‘Where the fuck did I go wrong?’

Eliza Bennett was many things. She was smart, sophisticated, and at times incredibly reckless, but she drew the line at admitting mistakes where she saw none. She believed she did the right thing and if someone had asked her if she regretted what she’d done to lead her into this compromising position, she would’ve said no; she knew, for a fact, that she would’ve made the same decision all over again.

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

Her voice sounded like a needle on the ground of an empty and silent room with high walls and linoleum floors. Drop, ping, echo. Her leg bounced in the same rhythm, chasing at least some form of control over the way the world spun around her. Nails dug into the fabric of her jeans, pulling at the scratches and the holes. Her fingers found anything and everything she could touch or hold onto, keep her mind occupied beyond compare. With enough to do, there was hardly any time to think about anything else.

“I used to like who I was,” Eliza said. “It’s not every day you’re given a second chance. You gotta honor it, right?”

The echo grew so loud, that she felt it vibrating in the darkest depths of her chest. It ran a marathon against the beating of her heart, a steady thudding against the bones of her ribs.

The world was so loud. It screamed at her for no apparent reason. Her own body conspired against her. Cold sweat down her spine, itching in her bones, her skin on fire although she was seemingly freezing – it was the middle of summer. Not only did the world collapse but so did her sanity, slowly but steadily, and she sensed a pattern that kept her on edge.

“I thought I had it all figured. I lost myself, but I put myself together again. I had the choice to make my life the way I wanted it to be, and I thought I made the right choice in getting where I am now. I thought…”

She thought - that was the problem.

It was always just a thought. Her mind could carry loads of information at once, like a supercomputer at high speed, but she never truly knew anything. Strains of words in her mind built into made-up stories to make her keep going. She wasn’t sure if the world lied to her or if she was constantly lying to the world to hide the truth from herself. The lines blurred into the void of missing knowledge.

“There’s this emptiness inside me, Mrs. Darcy,” her breath circled and retreated into her lungs. “It’s like there’s a hole in my soul and no matter how hard I try, I can’t fill it,” she said. “Whatever connection to reality I had is just… it’s gone. You know, I like knowledge. I like knowing a lot of things, it keeps me on top of my game, but this- I know nothing about myself and it’s scaring me shitless.”

The woman before her tapped her pen steadily against the notebook. Tap, tap, tap. It was almost as loud as the sound of her voice. Her head tilted a curious way.

Most people listen without listening. It’s a natural phenomenon. They hear the words thrown at them and they pretend to understand, but they don’t. They only listen to make themselves feel less bad. Oh, this person has it worse than me, maybe I’m not such a failure after all. It's the mentality most people go through life with and it’s harmful, but like bad decision-making, it’s just human nature.

Mrs. Darcy shifted in the armchair. “If I may say something,” she said. “I can’t tell you who you are or who you’re supposed to be. I can only show you who you are to everyone else. Your name is Eliza Bennett. You’re the girl who has devoted her life to saving and protecting people to seek penance for what she’s done in the past.”

“What, so that makes me the hero?” She scoffed pathetically, thumbnail between her front teeth. She detested the taste of the wasted bone, but once again the sensation offered a welcomed distraction.

Eliza sat with her legs crossed on the leather sofa. Her heart kept beating. Thud, thud, thud, and the sound kept getting louder, thud, thud, thud. Infuriating. Enough to throw an already agitated person into the pit of insanity.

“You are who you want to be,” Mrs. Darcy corrected her. “But there’s a lot more to you than you let yourself believe. I think you have to differentiate between the facts that you’re missing and the real person you are inside. It’s important to know what you’re truly looking for. Facts can be found if you give it some more time and thought,” she said. “You, however, that is something you can’t find solely with knowledge. You don’t need the facts at all. The person you’re looking for is merely words on paper. I know it matters to you, but that’s not what’s going to fill the hole inside of you. Not at all.”

She hated to admit it, but the woman had a point. She had been in the business of receiving therapy for quite some time now; Eliza never once considered it a pleasure to talk to Mrs. Darcy about her deepest darkest secrets, though the woman was always onto something. After all this time, she knew what words she could trust.

“You have to find your inner self by working with yourself. Do you understand what I mean?”

”I-“ she huffed. Her chest closed around the oxygen, holding it hostage. Even her throat swelled up, dry and burning like wildfire. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe, but I don’t know.”

She knew. Somehow, she always knew. The realization was the hardest part. Applying the words to reality – that’s where things got tricky. So perhaps, Eliza didn’t understand the weight of her words after all.

She picked at her chapped nails. Eye contact is hard, especially when your throat feels like it’s blocked by tons of cement and you can see your emotion reflect in the other person’s eyes.

If only she could manipulate her state of mind, the whirlwind of feelings inside, the ones that made breathing so much harder than it should be, she was sure she would’ve been somewhere in the Bahamas by then, sipping juice straight from the coconut while the world around her laid in shambles, but she wouldn’t care because she’d know everything. She’d be aware of herself and learn not to care so much. For once in her miserable life, she wanted to deserve happiness. She wanted to go to the Bahamas and drink coconut water even though she hated coconuts. She wanted to be one of those happy people in the commercials. Just for once, she wanted to win.

“It feels like there’s this little girl inside of me and that girl – she’s never heard of Eliza Bennett,” she said then, head in the clouds, voice so far away. “Total stranger. That little girl looks so much like me; I even dream about her sometimes.”

All the time.

”It’s humiliating, haunting even. She’s like those children in the horror movies Thor always wanted to watch. I feel unsettled. My inner child is terrifying as shit. Is that- do you think that’s normal?"

“I see,” - Mrs. Darcy adjusted her glasses - “Since your friends left, the hole where the girl lives has had the chance to grow. She’s had enough people to nurture and care for her,” of course, she gave the scientific answer. “They protected her, protected you. The girl didn’t have to grow up or understand much because you weren’t alone,” she said. “Now everyone’s gone and the girl is faced with what it means to lead an independent life. It scares her. Why wouldn’t it? She’s never had the chance to grow up - she doesn’t know who she is. In your case, it’s even more severe because you’ve been ripped out of the life you knew, tossed into a new one and now you’ve also been evicted from that life. The girl inside of you is a stranger to consistency.”

”Well, the last part’s true,” Eliza murmured under her very relieved breath when her lungs opened up again, finally.

“The girl inside of you feels lonely, that’s why you can’t stop thinking about her. She wants to find something that makes her life worthy again. She seeks a purpose. It’s what’s been bothering you.”

She pressed her palms into her red, swollen eye sockets. “There’s so much I don’t know,” she almost cried. Only almost. “I’ve tried to ignore that something is missing, but I can’t do that anymore. I don’t know who this little girl is and part of me doesn’t even want to explore the options, but I know I’m more than the name I was given at SHIELD. I have to be more than that, you know? Because… if I’m not more than the person I’ve grown to be up to this point, I don’t know what to do. If I’m not more then chances are that I am nothing at all.”

And if she was nothing, she had to be something in between, dark grey matter floating around the universe.

The only way to prevent losing herself completely was to figure out who she was. She had to be someone. She had to be a person.

Who was Eliza Bennett, really?

✧

“Question of the day!”

She turned with a frown on her face, “What?”

“Crossword puzzle.” Happy Hogan lifted the newspaper in his hands. “You alright?” he asked, more serious this time. “What’d you think I was gonna ask?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s nothing. I’m fine,” she said. Lies, blatant lies. She sat on top of a tower of lies. Only a question of time until everyone would come crashing down and take her with them.

“Hit me with it.” She tried her best to smile.

Happy eyed her suspiciously, but he chose to believe it. Crisis averted.

“What is an eight-letter word meaning ‘one who works with or controls some machine or scientific apparatus’?” he asked.

Eliza answered without missing a beat, “Tony Stark.”

He counted in his head. “That’s nine letters.”

She kept cutting the fruit in front of her. “Iron Man.”

“Seriously, you forget how to count?”

”I was never good at math.”

“Well, you write systems.”

”That statement is wrong on so many levels,” she said. “It’s called programming. I write code. Not like Tony, I admit, but I write code and that code isn’t all too bad. Sure, it’s math but c’mon! You think I stand here and count letters while my fruit is melting?”

He exhaled loudly. “You’re right,” he hummed. “It’s just eight letters. I’ll get it.”

Eliza smiled. She dropped the last pieces into the blender. “That’s my man!”

“But just to clarify, you don’t have any constructive suggestions to spare, or-“

A grin crept to her lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but the loud whirring of the blender cut him off.

Eliza poured the smoothie into two separate glasses, whistling to the tune of a song stuck in her head. Happy’s head hung low like that of a kicked puppy.

She chose to have mercy on him. “Operator,” she stated.

“What?” he asked.

“Eight letter word. Operator.”

Happy counted the boxes in the newspaper. He bumped his fist. “Yes!”

“You’re welcome.” She slid one of the glasses over at him.

“Thanks.”

“Operator,” she repeated with a smoothie in hand. “Operator. How did you not know Operator?”

“Sometimes the easiest answers are the hardest to find.”

She snorted at his desperate attempt to redeem himself. “Yeah, right.”

The compound was lifeless. She wasn’t used to the silence, the emptiness of the huge space. The rooms were all unoccupied - no more pictures in the living room or labeled groceries in the fridge. It all landed in the trash, shipped away to be composted because no one was going to eat it. Life as she knew it had passed away, a boat on a stormy sea; life was never going to be the same as it was.

After work, Eliza walked home. She insisted on transporting herself from one end of the city to the other. She took whatever subway halted closest to her apartment in Hell’s Kitchen - she insisted on moving to the less privileged part of the city, even though Tony wasn’t happy about it - and the rest she simply traveled by foot. She cherished the small moments of silence, the wind in her hair, a reminder that she was still alive and breathing the fresh (polluted) air.

No souls on the streets that night. Something was lurking in the atmosphere. She smelled the danger from miles away. She was about to round a particularly dark corner of town when she caught some voices in the dark.

“Are you sure she’s the right person?” the man spoke clear Russian.

“Boss wants her father,” the other said. He knows we have her, he’s gonna come around.”

“What’s with that guy anyway?”

“I don’t know, I don’t care. As long as I’m getting paid. That guy wants something, he gets it. He gets what he wants, I get paid. Simple. No questions asked.”

Eliza dared to peek around the corner. Two men parked in front of an abandoned store.

“Don’t do it,” she told herself. “Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.”

The door to the store opened. The men carried a large wooden crate. One of them opened the back of the white van. Small whimpers sounded from the vehicle, no longer muffled by the doors.

She clenched her teeth. “I’m gonna do it.”

Eliza saw every person enclosed in different colors. She called it the emotional color wheel, although the colors mixed most of the time and it barely made sense to describe them. Colors only provided symbols - what mattered was the way it felt. Reality existed of mixed shades toppling over each other in a fiery battle to dominate – shades of whatever emotional category a human being fell in on the wheel; it was excruciating, let alone painful to the eyes. Whenever she closed her eyes, she stood in the same red wasteland with sand at her feet, hot and merciless burning the way in the right direction. With enough concentration, she could track the hues like she tracked emotions. Every person felt different. Their realities looked different. She didn’t want to look into the realities of other people, the truth behind the color wheel, and she tried to swallow it most of the time, but her powers were always there, itching in her fingers.

The van dragged green wind through the desert. Eliza had to follow the string to the point where it stopped moving. Her heart rutted against her ribcage with uneasiness. The fear lingering in the air caused sweat to run from her forehead in cold drizzles. The woman was burning green, so green, and with the red from her anger she appeared almost yellow.

A Series of pictures danced in the scarlet smoke like snow in a snow globe. The van on its way through Hell’s Kitchen determined to head in one direction and one direction only. She saw it clearly before her eyes. Her body followed where her mind led her to.

Somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen, the van slowed down. The smoke evaporated as Eliza watched it pull up in the back alley of an old butcher shop. She knelt at the ledge, just watching, assessing the situation. Subconsciously, she reached for her ear. Her attempt to activate the earpiece failed miserably since she wasn’t wearing one. There was no one there but herself. She didn’t have a team to back her up. She had to do this alone.

“Get her inside,” one of the men ordered. "If anyone shows up, kill without hesitation.”

The woman was sobbing by the time they retrieved her from the confinement, out into the cold night air only to pull her back inside the building.

Eliza inhaled the polluted summer air breeze. She closed her eyes, easing herself into the weight of the situation. She tried to see clearly, and focus on what was important instead of what wasn’t. Her lids blew open way too soon, pupils wide, almost swallowing the entirety of her iris in its blackness. The hairs on the back of her neck flew up to full attention. A shiver went down her spine.

She slipped the knife from her mom-jeans. Before she could turn though, an experienced arm went around her shoulders, the other quickly under her armpit, and he twisted her arm to the side. She was trapped.

“Don’t move,” the low voice said into her ear. “Put the knife down.”

Something told her he expected her to be scared of him. A strange man in the dark of the night, seizing her like an evil spawn.

Eliza relaxed. Her fingers eased around the handle.

He breathed hotly against her cold skin. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Eliza relaxed her muscles as if giving in. His gloved hands on her body slacked, sure she wouldn't make another attempt. Her breath was dangerously calm. He fell right into the trap.

She brought her head back with full force. Something plastic dug into the back of her skull. She was smaller than him, yet her head carried more force than a normal human was capable of possessing, and after feeling the sting of the plastic, she was sure she broke whatever he was wearing on his head.

The man took a moment to stabilize. Eliza turned around, another knife in hand, but he had it slip out of her fingers before she could act on her silent threat to impale him. She threw a balled fist at him, though he managed to dodge the attempt once again.

With a dissatisfied grunt, she searched for the third knife in her boot. When he tried to knock it off her hands, she flipped it up into the air. One hand extended to grab her, but he wasn’t prepared for the next move. She caught the knife with the other hand and launched it at him.

The blade slid dangerously close to his stubbled throat. She only missed by millimeters, at best. The cold metal grazed his skin, not enough to draw blood but enough for him to feel it.

Her wrists burned before she felt the impact. Hard, red metal hit the bone of the wrist that was holding the knife. She cried out. Her hand contracted and she had to drop the knife to shake it off.

If she’d worn a mask, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. The metal rod hit her across the cheek. She slowed down, lucky to have ditched most of the impact - it wouldn’t have left a black eye, although the skin almost tore.

“Motherf-” she kicked him in the chest.

He hit the wall behind them.

Eliza pressed her elbow to his throat. She almost managed to look him up and down if he hadn't figured out how to use their height difference. With one easy move, he had her arm twisted around and pushed her into the hard brick wall instead.

“Listen to me!” he said. She fought hard against his grip. “Listen!" he shook her. "I’m not trying to hurt you, but if you keep throwing knives at me so help me God! I'm gonna make you regret ever crawling out of bed this morning. Understood?"

She huffed.

“Are we clear?”

Eliza shot her leg up, “Fuck you!” She kicked him so hard, that she finally drew a pained sound from him.

“What is wrong with you?” he tried desperately. “Whoever you think I am, you’re wrong. I’m not one of them! Those guys kidnapped an innocent woman. They’re most likely going to kill her. I’m not with them.”

“Go to hell!” she kicked him further into the moonlight.

“Stop!” his voice roared.

Eliza balled her fists. The moonlight fell on his face. It reflected off the pair of red eyes, the plastic of the mask that covered only half his face. Two horns – they looked like ears – stood at full attention. The rest of his body was tightly wrapped in a leather suit.

“We’re on the same side. C’mon.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

He was still crouched from the hard blow she’d given him. Upon her pulling back, he rose back into an upright position. His lip twitched in a hiss of pain. “Thank you,” he said.

Eliza stood across from the vigilante in her mom jeans, Dr. Martens, and a hoodie, looking all like she didn’t have any business being there. Judging by looks, she did not fit the picture.

“Daredevil,” she stated. “Huge fan.”

He scoffed, hand pressed to his bruised ribs. “Yeah, you definitely showed your gratitude.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for being a little wary of strange men attacking me in the middle of the night.”

“Alright.” He straightened up. “It's not my fault you decided to come here the same time I did. I don't care. I have better things to do than pick fights with curious girls on rooftops."

“So it’s my fault? At least I don’t look like I raided the Halloween section at Walmart.”

“What?”

Daredevil sighed. “If you’re done,” he said, “there’s a woman in danger down there. She needs help. I’m not gonna let some kid stop me from doing what I came here to do.”

“Kid?” Eliza screeched. “That’s the most offensive thing I’ve ever heard. Honestly, you’re an asshole!”

“You act pretty immature.”

“Fuck you!”

“Case in point.”

Her hand tensed around the knife hidden in the back of her pants, knuckles white.

Daredevil sighed wearily. “Don’t,” he said.

“What?” she challenged.

“Drop the knife before I tie your hands together. And believe me, I will. I’m not letting you kill that woman.”

“I’m not the one trying to kill her!”

“By wasting my time you might as well be. Look, this is dangerous. You could get yourself hurt or worse, you could get killed. Go home.”

She pulled the knife anyway. Her face reflected off the clean metal, sharp and glistening in the moonlight. “No,” she answered plainly.

“Put the knife down,” he said.

“No. Like you, I’ve got a job to do. Except I actually know what I’m doing. I don’t give some stupid hero speech, I usually just do it. You’re not special, Daredevil. You’re an amateur. You make mistakes.”

He laughed. It was dark, not genuine. Burning red. “You don’t take this seriously, do you? Wannabe hero, looking for a story, huh? Is that it?” The sour tone in his voice poisoned her eardrums. “Telling me to fuck myself while you’ve done nothing but try to kill me in the five minutes we’ve been up here. That’s not what heroes do. You’re too young to understand any of this. You shouldn’t be here, I’m not going to argue with you on this.”

“I’m old enough to cut out your heart and serve it on a silver platter,” she said.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, his words dripped with sweet, bittersweet venom. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Eliza pointed the knife at him.

“Do you ever just shut up?”

“I do when the other person deserves my attention.”

“It’s dangerous out here. You should be at home, lock your doors and make sure you’re not getting yourself in danger. If it hadn’t been me up here in the middle of the night, some other man might’ve been and he wouldn’t have been so kind. There’s a lot of bad guys out there who would lick their fingers if they ever saw a girl like you walking the streets alone at night.”

Eliza snorted. “You act like you have some kind of control over me,” she said.

“I just want to protect you, that’s all. Although you seem to have enough knives up your sleeve to protect yourself, I doubt that would prevent a rapist from getting what he wants.”

“I know about the monsters lurking in the dark. I’ve seen them, I’ve fought them. I’ve seen the worst of the worst and I am still standing here. So no, I’m not going home. I’m not scared of you, Daredevil. To get rid of me, you’d have to throw me off this roof until my fucking neck snaps.”

Unlike the criminals he beat up in the darkest corners of the Kitchen, his fists had nothing on her. She wasn’t scared of the red eyes staring at her through the mask. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was just an ordinary man in a mask. He wore the name and the horns of the devil; he embodied the fallen angel from the bible. He strove to serve the justice the police failed to enforce. Daredevil thirsted for blood.

“Don’t tempt me,” - he shifted his stance so his shoulders seemed broader in the soft moonlight shining down on him, looming above her as if it changed anything - “Wouldn’t be the first time I put a man in a coma.”

“Fortunately, I’m not a man,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t break as easily as the supposed superior sex.”

He lowered his head, chuckling. “You think you’re that good, huh?” he said.

“You wouldn’t treat me like that if I were a man,” Eliza stated plainly, voice flat. “It might come as a surprise to you but not everyone in Hell’s Kitchen is afraid of you.”

Daredevil was only human. Blood ran through his veins. Even as the moonlight reflected off his dead, red eyes, the pink flush of his squished cheeks gave him away. Colors danced around him like wildfire. His soul was caged. Perhaps this was the reason why all she could see was black, and upon further inspection, she felt nothing but angry emptiness tearing apart his chest.

“The devil is a strange symbol for the service of justice.”

He tilted his head.

“Lucifer, the fallen angel banished by god because of his pride. He wanted the world, instead, he drove to hell in a Cadillac,” she said.

He scoffed eventually, the heat of his breath condensing the cold air. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to pick fights with strangers?” he asked.

Eliza stared blankly. “My parents are dead.”

The words died on his tongue.

“Now, are you gonna continue to stand in my way? Because I’ve got a job to do.”

“It’s not your job,” he found his voice again. “It’s mine.”

“I found her first,” she retorted.

“This isn’t a competition! I don’t want to hurt you, but if throwing you off this roof will solve my problem, I’ll do it.”

“I’m not a child who needs condescending. I’m a grown woman with a purpose and you’re screwing it up! You don’t know shit about me, okay? You’re just another guy in spandex wanting to save the world. You go home, we already have Spider-Man.”

She figured he raised his eyebrows. “Where is he then?” Daredevil asked. “Where is Spider-Man?”

Eliza didn’t expect him to ask. “He’s out saving Brooklyn or whatever. It’s- it's complicated. Doesn’t matter. My point is,” she said, “we don’t need hundreds of vigilantes running around claiming parts of New York City only to lash out because someone can’t control his anger issues.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Oh, I am. I’m pretty fond of the sound of my voice, actually.”

“God,” his voice roared, drenched in the pure essence of frustration. “I’m the only one who cares about what’s happening in this city! People are getting hurt every night and no one cares. No one, not even the police. The people who’ve sworn to protect us fail the people of Hell’s Kitchen every damn night and no one seems to care about it. No one cares that people die, people disappear and children get taken away. No one cares but me! I’m the only one in this god-forsaken city who doesn’t sit back and lets rich people and criminals ruin everything and everyone in their wake. I took an oath,” he said. “I took an oath to do whatever it takes to keep this city safe. And I will stand by it, no matter what happens.”

She scoffed. “Touching. You rehearse that speech, or does it just come naturally?”

It wasn’t the fact that he was a vigilante dressed in spandex that angered her, not even the fact that he was trying to ruin her plan, but rather that he was right. The reasoning didn’t make sense, not even to her, why she seemed so agitated and rude at something she genuinely believed in too, but there was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way.

His heart was set right. He was genuine and he threw fists with a purpose. Some time ago, she had joked with Natasha about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. She had taken him for a man seeking attention, waiting for the public to build a statue for him. She had found him ridiculous. The truth behind Daredevil suddenly appeared so much bigger than the jokes Eliza had built her opinion around.

You shouldn’t judge people on a whim. If you don’t know them, don’t blame them. Being an Avenger had given her some sort of god complex - anyone else trying to be a hero had instantly gone to her naughty list when in fact, she was the one who should’ve been put on there. Who was she to judge if someone was a hero or not? She failed, as did everyone else in her close vicinity. At least vigilantes got the job done without killing hundreds of people in the process.

Her shoulders slacked. She shouldn’t have yelled at him. She really shouldn’t have been rude. He was just a person. An annoying person, that she stood by, but a person nonetheless, and he was trying to do the right thing.

Though looking at him again reignited the fire inside her chest and whatever she had just made her mind up about landed back in the trash.

“Screw him,” she thought. “Screw Daredevil.”

She would rather scratch her eyes out than work with him.

“Has anyone ever told you that your anger is disproportional to your size?” he asked.

Eliza licked her lips. Dangerous territory. “No one’s been stupid enough to say it to my face,” she said. “Until now.”

What had she said about him being genuine? The anger suffocated every last bit of gratitude underneath a pile of rocks.

“Of course. Look, it’s my job to protect this city. I’m not leaving. If you know what’s good for you, you stop pushing your luck.”

The lower part of his face was infuriating. He smirked like the cocky bastard he was; she wanted to scratch the skin off his face and feed it to the dogs.

“You think so highly of yourself, it’s ridiculous.” It was her turn to smirk and she did it broad enough for him to see. She hoped it burned into his brain like hot iron. “I’m not letting you ruin this for me.“

“What?”

Eliza raised her hands. The smoke came back to dance choreography around her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” - she let the smoke rise - “but this one’s mine!”

The sensation was different than a punch. Energy surged through him, pushing him back in one fast wave, almost like he was floating. The ball hit him in the chest, hard, and it carried him into the door set in the middle of the rooftop, leading into a stairway down the building. Heavy as he was, his figure disappeared down the stairs. Thuds followed until he was too far down to care.

Eliza stretched her fingers. The red in her eyes persisted.

“Nothing personal.”

She jumped over the ledge of the rooftop to the neighboring building. The door to the butcher shop was locked with a deadbolt - without thinking twice about it, she kicked it in.

Two guards stood in the hallway below. Their loud breathing gave them away. With a big leap, she jumped down the stairway. The floor made a loud thud as she landed, one knee bent, the other stretched to the side, weight carried by the hand.

“Does anyone know where the exit is?” she asked.

They exchanged looks.

“What, you don’t know? Bummer.”

The guns were easily loaded with the flick of a finger. Eliza buried her knife in one of the men’s shoulders. She proceeded to kick the other with the hard top of her boots. His arms flew forward and she caught the gun. The second kick landed in his chest, flying further into the dark hallway.

The man on the ground screamed when she removed the knife. Blood between the skin flaps made the metal slip out easier, the sound reminding her of slurping an almost empty milkshake in the booth at a 24/7 diner.

Neon light broke from the ceiling. Blue mixed with red to make purple inside her irises. She followed the hallway down to a set of metal doors set into the wall to her right. The second set of doors lay behind her, the supply closet. She considered stealing a few of the slaughter supplies, but then again she wasn’t here to kill anyone.

The space before her turned a lot colder. She flinched back at the sudden change of temperature. The door led to the cooler room. Low voices murmured on the other side. Two men guarding the door, colors distorted from the artificial light. The whimpers of the tied woman echoed off the cold tiles. Now and then, metal creaked. It was a heavy sound.

As Clint Barton once said, vents are the greatest invention known to men. Perhaps he had an unhealthy relationship with the empty spots in the ceiling, but he wasn’t entirely wrong. Vents proved to be useful on many occasions.

Eliza climbed onto the stairway's handrail. The metal was narrow and she already saw herself breaking her neck if she dared to step one inch too far to the side. She wobbled, but the soles of her shoes kept her stable, holding tight onto the rounded metal beneath her feet. The thick stench of death arose from the vents.

She removed the metal lid quietly. It creaked. The sound was so loud, that it jumped off the walls in a loud echo. She halted, stiff as a board, refusing to breathe in fear someone might come out and check where the excruciatingly high sound came from. Nothing happened. Even after supposedly five minutes of just standing on the handrail, holding the lid incredibly still in her steady hands, nothing happened.

Eliza exhaled. She searched for something to hold onto, but other than the small metal edge leading inside there was nothing for her fingers to dig in.

She had a death wish, sure, and dying while fighting was an excellent way to go, but there were a million other ways she’d rather die than in a butcher shop in the middle of the night, right for the police to realize she’d broken in and then her death would’ve been far from heroic.

As she pushed herself up, Eliza prayed to the vent god Clint Barton that her hands would stick to the metal just long enough to make it into the vent. She flexed her biceps, attached to the metal with all the force she could muster. She stopped breathing. Her knee pressed upwards until her foot replaced her hand, which gave her an advantage. She used her free hand to hoist herself up into the straight tunnel.

She was about fifteen steps from the door. Quietly, she peaked through the holes in the metal lid underneath her thighs. She came face to face with a dead pig hanging ass down from the ceiling. Her eyes widened. At least six of the dead animals could cover her jump. They’d blame it on the air, on the metal moving in a natural rhythm.

She removed the lid quietly, trying not to make it squeak this time. Breaking her fall by once again sliding one foot to the right and putting all the weight on one knee, she landed almost silently. The pig she came face to face with shook a little more, but other than a small creak from the hook the room stayed quiet.

“Ugh,” she muttered. “That was disgusting.”

The guards were talking distinctively. Only psychopaths talk about their dinner plans while there was a woman trapped almost right next to them, surrounded by dead animals and heavily armed up to the chin.

Eliza grabbed one hook and a piece of metal chain.

“What was that?” someone asked.

She swung it around.

A gun cocked. “Who’s there?”

Once the chain was fast enough, she swung it over the ground. It wrapped around the American guy’s ankles, pulling him down.

Eliza tossed the hook next. It penetrated the Russian’s eyeball. He screamed. Blood squirted from his flesh against the skinned pig across from him. He dropped his gun.

She slid through. He tried to reach for his gun, but she sat down on his leg, tossing the weapon from his hands. She fisted a handful of his hair and pulled him between her thighs where she locked them around his throat, choking him.

The man kept scratching at her thigh. Eventually, he slouched. His breaths came strangled. Only then did she let go of him.

His partner (she didn't want to call him a friend) recovered quickly from the shock. He tried to get out of the chain around his feet. Eliza met his eyes. “Do me a favor,” she said. “Don’t do that.”

His scream echoed off the walls. The red - still purple-looking - smoke carried him up, chains attached to the ceiling. They wrapped around one of the empty hooks. His bloodshot to his head as he hung there, upside down.

“Mikhail!” a voice shouted from the other side of the room. His steps came closer. “Mikhail, what’s going on? ”

“Mikhail just lost an eye,” Eliza answered casually.

Another set of steps seemed to follow. She used the hanging body as a carousel. She grabbed him by the legs and spun around. The pig she hit landed right into someone’s chest.

She was on her knees then, turning on them, using the slippery floor as leverage. He looked around, searching for her. She punched him in the balls. He crumbled. She took his gun. It was easy.

Moving into a handstand, she flicked around. The move was risky, but she managed to get her thighs around his lowered head and claw herself onto him. His face was against her stomach now. She knocked her elbows against his scalp. Once, twice, three times. The bone cracked.

The man she knocked over with the pig was suddenly on his knees again. She saw him when it was already too late. He had a knife pulled from his pants and slid it across her thigh.

The back of her head smashed into the cold tiles. She tried to keep her thighs around his head, but he punched her stomach - reflexes made her pull back, and curl in on herself. The skin on her forehead ripped, she felt it in every nerve of her body. Hot blood shot through the cut. Head wounds always bleed more than they should. It made her dizzy, and unfocused. Even with excessive blinking, it was almost too late when she regained self-control.

The knife hovered above her again. Whoever was wielding it worked with precision, determined to land the blade where he wanted it. He brought it down. Eliza rolled over in the last second, dodging the knife only by mere inches, and jumped back on her feet. She punched the man straight across the face. Another one to the side, foot to the stomach, and then his knife landed in his collarbone. The bone parted loud, cracking. She swore the blade bend right through.

Her victim’s partner screamed. Surprised, he stood with his head to the side for a second too long. She placed both hands on either side of his head. The veins in his body glowed red. He couldn’t scream, the pain paralyzed him. His mouth stayed open. She squeezed harder and harder – the power surged through her veins like sweet candy. She needed more, wanted more.

Angry red vanished into fearful green, his aura blinking like an alarm, red electricity guiding his emotions into the areas of his brain where she needed him. His amygdala reacted instantly. The fear paralyzed him. Stop, a voice inside her called. This is not you.

The sound of echo inside the cooler room was immaculate. Still, it didn’t save her from missing one crucial detail. These guys had Soviet-issued rifles and she had only taken out a handful. The fight made too much sound to go unnoticed. She should’ve focused, but she didn’t.

The shot rang out. She visualized the bullet. In slow motion, it flew its course towards her. Invisible sound waves and smoke surrounded the long projectile as it passed through the hanging meat.

Her eyelids fluttered close.

Almost dying does a lot of things to a person. For some, a near-death experience is eye-opening. For others, almost dying spurs them on to make risky decisions with the explanation that you only live once. And you do, you only have one life to live. When you almost lose that life, it makes you think - it makes you reevaluate your priorities.

The blow of the pistol knocked some sense back into her.

It seemed a bit cliché, the pair of strong arms finding their way around her body. He jumped into her and for a second, they became one. Two planets collided, exploding into galaxies of stars, anger and pain, despair and desperation, the need for redemption, and broken faith.

Her lungs burst open. She exhaled loudly, pathetically.

“Jesus Christ!” Her eyes squeezed in pain, the metaphorical knife cutting through her ribs. She felt his elbow right in her side and it made the pain only worse.

Eliza frowned. “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked.

“Saving your life,” he stated.

“I thought I knocked you out.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he smirked, “can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“APPARENTLY!”

She rolled them over until she was on top of him. Without a second thought, she reached for the baton in his thigh holster and threw it at the armed man’s head.

Daredevil grunted. “That was mine!”

“You’re welcome.”

Eliza scrambled to her feet. She offered her hand, and he cocked his head. He contemplated. Then, he took her up on her offer.

"Those things hurt, by the way," she said. "I want one."

“Watch out!” he said. He took the second baton on the other side of his suit and hit their next attacker over the head. He landed a punch in his ribs. With the barrel of the gun, he knocked him out for good.

Daredevil casually danced the baton through his gloved fingers.

Eliza rolled her eyes. “Show off.”

Against her expectations, he handed her his second baton. “Try not to kill anyone,” he added then.

She smirked. “No promises.”

”I’m getting that back after.”

”Probably not.”

He bit his cheek. “Great. She’s a thief now, too.”

”What did you expect?” she asked and twisted the baton.

Through the light hint of a smirk, she heard him say, “Go. We’ve got work to do.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Maybe not so bad after all,” she told herself.

The fight happened almost like a choreographed dance routine. Batons were flying around. Shots rang out, but both of them cartwheeled their way through it. They danced to the same rhythm.

“Get her alive!” one man shouted. “And kill him! ”

Eliza allowed the energy to sizzle between her fingers. It shaped into a tight, hot ball, vibrating with the air in the room.

The man didn’t see it coming. In this case, literally speaking. She opened her hands gently, the smoke traveling the distance towards the armed guard. She stood in the middle of the room, carrying the power of worlds in her hands. The energy flames reached through his eye sockets into his brain - he didn’t feel it. She grabbed a hold of his perception, twisting it with the reality she wanted him to see.

He walked straight ahead, right through her as the smoke engulfed her and turned her into nothing but a whisk of air.

“Dude!” the man the voice belonged to stared at the scene before him. He lifted his gun, pointing it at her. “She’s right there,” he said.

She winked. What was left of the ball shot towards him at twice the speed she used to hit his partner. Gravity tied his limbs to the ground. His veins turned bright red, the blood burning through his skin. The pain ate him whole. His soul started to waste away inside of him, memory after memory taking apart his brain.

The man had noticed the warning given his way, but she was still nothing but thin air to him. He only saw his partner on his knees, tied together by an invisible string that kept his soul in a chokehold. Pictures flashed in his pupils, a series of moments of the past.

“What’s wrong?” he caught up to him. “Where is she?”

Eliza brought her wrist up. The hold broke. Her presence became visible behind him. He felt her breathing down his neck and the goosebumps that followed went deeper than the chill of the cooler room. She stood behind him, chain in hand, and she tied it like a noose around his neck.

He gurgled. “Witch!” was all he managed to push out.

“Sure,” she said.

He fell to the ground, the chain still tied neatly around his neck. Her eyes switched between him and the other, both helpless and alone on the metal ground.

Was that pity she felt? A seriously misplaced emotion in the sight of events. She used all the anger left inside of her, channeled it, transformed it into energy, and sent it hurling at them. The pair flew against the wall, tearing a hole through it.

Daredevil was fist fighting to her right when it happened. “What happened?” he asked.

Even if she wanted to, there was no way to explain what she’d done.

“Nothing,” her voice sounded eerily calm.

He nodded. “I’ve got it under control here. Find the woman!”

“Yeah, right. The woman.”

These men didn’t deserve her pity.

Rounding the last row of slaughtered pigs, she stared right down the barrels of several guns. The woman was guarded by a circle of heavily armed men. One of them stood right next to her, hand on her battered head. He grinned, not even an ounce of fear in his soul.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “What do we have here?”

“I could ask the same question,” Eliza said. “Then again, I’m not the one with the big guns. They didn’t work, by the way. Nice try though.”

“You have quite the mouth on you.”

“So people keep telling me.”

She was supposed to be afraid, but the adrenaline pumped through her veins like breathing air. Her chest heaved and she tasted copper on her tongue.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d show up after we found out you gave up,” he said.

She tilted her head. “What?”

“The Avengers. Gone.“

“Yeah, shit happens,” Eliza shrugged. “I can’t exactly look away while you’re kidnapping a woman. For what? To get to her father?”

The woman cried out. She’d hit a nerve.

“What does he do? Sell weapons? Drugs? Who are you?”

He laughed. The men still kept their guns on her.

“Why don’t you kill me instead? I’m sure there’s a bounty on my head somewhere.”

“You’re worth much more to us alive,” he said. “I could get paid so much for your surrender, you know that?”

“Thanks?”

He flicked his fingers. “Seize her.”

“Please,” she snorted, “ We were having such a nice conversation. What happened?”

“We don’t have time for a good chat .”

“Oh, so you're on the clock? Interesting. Is your boss gonna join us anytime soon? I’d like to meet him. Maybe he’ll talk to me. I like to talk, you know. You just don’t seem competent enough to keep up with me. No offense. You know how to kidnap and shoot people. That takes a lot of practice. I wouldn’t lose my head over what I said; not everyone can live up to my potential.”

At this point, Eliza was reaching. She didn’t mean a word coming out of her mouth, and neither did she believe them, but the confidence she gave off put a shield around her. She was stalling for time.

The man laughed. “You’re special,” he said. “Impressive. I’m impressed. But like I said, I don’t have time to chat with you.”

Shots rang out. For a moment, she couldn’t hear anything behind her. What if Daredevil got hit? It would’ve been her fault.

“Your boss wants her father,” she said, trying hard not to let the worry show. “So you’re waiting for him to get her, is that it? And then you’re gonna blackmail him?”

He only chuckled.

“One question. Did you have to choose a butcher shop?”

The yellow of his teeth broke through his smile. “It’s the best way to hang corpses.”

Daredevil jumped through behind her. He tossed both of his batons at the surprised guards. They dropped to the ground like wet sacks of flour.

Both the man and Eliza followed the movements. “Damn,” he said. “Did you have to knock them out?”

“Give up,” Daredevil said. His voice was low, dangerous. She almost laughed at the way his voice changed.

The man sighed. He pressed a gun to the woman’s head.

“To be fair, I did not see that coming.”

Eliza glared at him. “Seriously?” she said. “I thought you needed her as leverage.”

“Did you really think she would survive this?” he scoffed. “You are stupid and soft.”

“Excuse me?”

Daredevil sighed. He wasn’t used to conversational exchanges. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “Let the woman go. Hand yourself over to the police. I can make sure you get good legal counseling. It doesn’t have to end like this. No one has died yet. There’s still hope, you just have to trust me.”

Eliza pursed her lips. The laugh of the man was predictable. It was a full belly laugh. He couldn’t believe the words passing his ears and to be honest, neither could she. “Your friend is funny,” he said to her.

“Don’t encourage him,” she warned. “This isn’t gonna end well.”

He sighed. “I want her.” He pointed his gun at Daredevil. “It’s truly nothing personal, she’s just worth so much more to us alive. Can’t even get a piece of chicken for your head.”

“You can’t put a price on life, any life. Not mine, not his, not even hers,” she pointed to the restrained, crying woman. “This isn’t about ethics anymore, this is about you being greedy scum – there’s plenty of things you could be doing that would make you crazy rich, but instead, you come here to kidnap a woman. That’s pathetic. And I’m not gonna let you get away with hurting her, let alone allow you to take me for whatever perverted purpose you want me for.”

Eliza’s hands began to glow. She cocked her head to the side, challenging him. He stared at the smoke around her fingers and the crimson in her eyes.

Until then she believed he wanted her because an Avenger could be easily sold for a lot of money on the right market, but the widening of his eyes wasn’t an act of fear – it was like he saw Jesus for the first time, a legend come true.

“Dear lord!” he whispered. “He didn’t lie.”

“What’d you say?” Daredevil asked.

“He didn’t lie,” she translated for him. “Who didn’t lie?” she directed the question back at the man.

He lowered his gun. “This changes things.”

“Changes them how?”

“Changes a lot of things. God! It’s true.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following.” She played with the electricity. “I’ve got the upper hand here, better tell me what I want to hear before I make you regret ever getting out of bed this morning.”

Daredevil opened his mouth. “Nice,” he said sourly.

“What?” Eliza smiled innocently. “It’s a good line.”

The man lifted his gun again. “On the edge, you mustn’t lie,” he sang. He actually sang.

She went completely stiff.

“Or the little red demon will come.”

“Stop,” she warned.

“And will nip you and will nip you on the tum, Tug you off into the wood, underneath the willow root.”

Pictures flashed in front of her mental eye. Pain shot through her chest and manifested in her head. The wheels began to turn, to burn, to tear her apart.

Daredevil carried a confused pout as he cocked his head to listen closely. The words made no sense to him.

“What is he doing?” he asked.

Eliza stared blankly at the man in front of her. She didn’t know what else to do.

“Where did you learn that song?” she asked him.

He grinned again. The gun in his hand moved. He set it to the soft tissue beneath his jaw.

He whispered, “Hail Hydra!”

“No!” She brought her hands up, but it was too late to stop the bullet. It shot out of the gun and into his head.

The projectile traveled through his skull, entering at the top, brain matter coloring the walls behind him dark red. Some of the blood ended on the face of the crying woman. She closed her eyes, sobbing harder than ever.

“Fuck!”

“He’s dead,” Daredevil stated and his voice was fragile as if he was devastated and scared. His heart was beating heavily up to his throat. He could feel himself pulsating, the scent of blood, flesh, and death mixed with the nonexistent heartbeat sent him into overdrive, and she didn’t even know it.

“You have to go,” Eliza told him. Her voice was steady, empty.

She didn’t know what to be - was she supposed to be angry, sad, scared? She knew she was supposed to show some kind of reaction other than a series of curses and swear words.

No one was prepared for the truth to come to light. She looked around and she saw nothing but a dead man in the corner, his last words being “Hail Hydra.” She was alone, entirely and frustratingly alone with the probably biggest discovery since Ultron destroyed Sokovia.

The woman flinched back at the masked vigilante undoing her ties, but she relaxed soon enough. He freed her wrists and ankles and removed the cloth from her mouth. She cried into his arms, mascara running down her cheeks. He patted her back.

“You’re safe now,” he said. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“My father-“ she cried. She couldn’t even form a coherent sentence without shaking.

Eliza licked her lips. The pain of her teeth gnawing at it was just about everything she felt. “I’m gonna make sure he’s taken care of,” she swore. “What’s his name?”

“Rob- Robert Pfeiffer.”

“German?”

“My father is, but we migrated here over a decade ago. My mom’s American.”

“What’s your name?” Daredevil asked.

“Laura.”

“Okay, Laura. Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Her knees wobbled. She saw the blood on the floor again, on her clothes, and once again sobs broke through her.

He nudged her aside. “Don’t look at him, look at me! You’re alright. I’ve got you. It’s over, you’re safe. You’re gonna go out of here and you’ll be safe. I promise you. I will look after you.”

Eliza’s nails still dug into her palms. She needed to feel something. Her mind was slipping and that was dangerous because she had something she had yet to understand the full extent of right there, yet unable to grasp it. But the song… the goddamn song stuck in her mind and it played on repeat.

He tilted his head. “The cops are here,” he stated.

“Let them,” she said. “Go ahead.”

“What? No, I’m not leaving.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No. They’re gonna arrest you if you don’t come with me. They need someone to take the fall - you’d just be handing yourself in. For what? For getting to play the hero one last time? I can’t let you do that. You can’t take the fall for this. I’m not leaving you to suffer the consequences for the both of us.”

“I was just trying to help,” she shrugged it off.

“You- whatever your name is, we both saved each other’s lives tonight. I owe you. I can find us a way out and we can bury this. No one has to find out.”

“Oh, but they do.” She smiled sourly. “And they will. They will trace this back to me, one way or another.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe whatever you want. Right now, you have the choice to save yourself. I suggest you take it. I will come back to you to pay off your debt some other time. Today’s not your night. Save yourself, let me fend for myself. I’m gonna be fine.”

Daredevil sighed. She was distant. Her voice sounded like the recording at the train station, automatic. In his mind, he desperately searched for a plan, but he came up with none. She’d made up her mind.

“Hey,” she called out for Laura. “Don’t tell them about him,” she said. “Whatever you do, it was me. Just me.”

She turned around, but Daredevil was gone. Laura’s steps retreated fast, silent agreement. Doors busted open. She heard the police scramble, guns in hand. Her eyes fluttered closed. She evened her heartbeat.

“NYPD, put your hands where we can see ‘em!”

Eliza raised her arms.

“Behind your head. Now,” the cop tore at her.

She did.

A pair of hands pulled her arms onto her back. The cuffs slapped against her wrists, cold and tight.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said.

“Eliza?” the officer poked his head over her shoulder.

She smiled. “Surprise?”

“Jesus Christ! What did you do?” Brett Mahoney stared in shock at the scene in front of him. He hadn’t seen so much death and destruction in quite a while, and he’d been on the force for quite some time.

She felt like a criminal as he led her outside, hands cuffed behind her back, through the crowd of law officials that came hauling in. She hung her head low. They knew who she was, yet she tried to hide her face.

“Are you gonna report this?” she asked him once they were outside, right next to the blinking cop car.

Brett turned her around. “You’re bleeding,” he observed.

“Are you gonna report this or not? Be honest.”

“Was there anyone else in there with you?” he ignored her question.

“Are you gonna report this, Brett?”

“Maybe a certain devil-horned vigilante in a red suit?” he asked. “Was he tearing the place apart with you?”

She scoffed.

“Come on, I’m just tryna help you.”

She turned, eyes cold when she looked into his. “No,” she stated. “I was on my own. I did this.”

“Eliza-”

“You want to coerce me into giving you the answer you want? That’s illegal.”

He opened the door of the police car, guiding her inside with his hand on her head. “I like you, Eliza, but if you haven’t learned from your mistakes by now,” he said and his eyes bore into her, “I can’t help you anymore.”

Eliza leaned back in the uncomfortable yet familiar leather seats. “Then I’m exercising my right to remain silent.”

“You’re a lost cause.”

“I know.”

Brett hesitated. Her eyes stayed laser-focused forward. She stared out of the windshield, boring holes into the glass. Her expression was blank, void of any emotions, any sign of remorse. She was as cold as ice and that terrified him a little, but also he was worried, concerned even, that the girl who he remembered to be the smartest Avenger on the team had relapsed, and returned to bad habits.

But she was lucid when she made the decisions that lead her there and the law states the punishment. Without a miracle, there was nothing other to be done than sitting it out and suffering the consequences.

Brett tapped the roof. The motor howled.

She caught glimpse of his grim expression through the side-view mirror.

I’m sorry, her throat swelled close.

For lack of a better word, Eliza was beyond screwed.

✧

3:42.

3:43.

3:45.

Every tick of the minute hand felt less like sixty seconds and more like sixty minutes.

Three hours. Three fucking hours.

They left Eliza hanging for three hours, alone in a cold and poorly lit interrogation room. Her hand was cuffed to the table and while she could’ve easily freed herself with one flick of the wrist, she knew that the action would only end her up in more trouble. She couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

The cold shiver of sudden awareness hit her around an hour after they hurled her in there. The words kept repeating in her mind. She tried to make sense of what the strange man in the shop had said, of what he’d meant. Hail Hydra had become a word she feared to hear. It bordered on surreal like she was in a bad horror movie coming to an end, right through the climax, where the main character wakes up from the nightmare.

They’d destroyed the tumor and the world went into remission only for the cancer to come back stronger, deadlier than ever.

The cut on her leg pulsated heavily. Brett gave her a bandage to wrap around after she insisted she was fine. The blood was already seeping through it and she was pretty sure she needed stitches, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t in pain.

Half an hour later, she finally heard footsteps outside of the interrogation room. The voices sounded male, young, early thirties at best.

“Thanks, Brett.” They were on a first-name basis, suggesting they knew each other. Not in the cops working together kind of way though.

Eliza didn’t have much more time to speculate. The door opened. Brett stepped aside to let the two men inside, almost glad he no longer had to deal with her himself. She couldn’t blame him - she pushed him away as if they’d never met. After everything he pulled her out of, it wasn’t fair on him, but she also couldn’t tell him the truth. She wasn’t a snitch and she certainly didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe, she’d fucked up.

She lowered the ice pack on her smashed-in forehead to get a closer look at the visitors.

The blonde stranger had this boyish smile about him. His hair was wide, cheeks flushed. His style consisted of colors, which she appreciated. The interrogation room was dark enough to set her up with enough depression for weeks to come. He was the touch of life the police station was lacking. His heart weighed heavy like gold and it shone just the same. She hardly saw good-hearted people anymore. This man was an angel through and through. Instantly likable, caring, pure.

The man next to him humbled the brightness in the room. Something about him felt oddly familiar. His soul was darkened from chronic pain and disappointment. The color wheel around him had all the colors she refused to see. They hurt. She didn’t have to touch him and feel to know he was broken. Broken with a heart of gold.

While his friend was the morning sun, he was the night sky littered with clouds. But there was more than met the eye.

“Miss Bennett,” Mister Tall-and-Broody said. “My name’s Matthew Murdock, this is my associate Foggy Nelson. We’re your attorneys.”

Eliza blinked. She looked at him, blinked, then at the Nelson half and blinked again. She tried to make sense of his words.

“Attorneys?” she asked.

“Forgive us for barging in like that. Officer Mahoney only just informed us about your case. We were around the precinct so we decided to take a look at it.” He pointed to the file before him. “I suppose you’ve been advised of your rights?”

“Yeah, I know how it goes.”

“Great. So you do know that you have the right to legal counsel. Yet you haven’t requested to see a lawyer. Why?”

Matthew played with his glasses a lot, she noted. He was nervous, another reason for his constant smirking. With his smile, he could easily charm anyone. He did it not to ease the people around him but to calm his conscience.

Eliza took a deep breath. Her chest heaved with the long-awaited oxygen. “I don’t see why I’d need a lawyer,” she said.

The Nelson half cocked an eyebrow, searching for his friend’s reaction. He only kept staring forward, eyes hidden, lip still quirked upwards. “It’s funny considering I do and I’m blind,” he countered.

She cocked her head. Interesting.

“Seems like we skipped a few chapters here. Who are you again?”

He chuckled. His chuckle was dark. His voice carried an attractive rasp, but it wasn’t necessarily dark. His chuckle on the other hand held certain pressure behind it.

“Point is, I don’t know you,” she said then. “I haven’t requested a lawyer because I was just planning to sit it out before you guys so rudely interrupted my sulking session.” She crossed her hands in her lap, satisfied.

Nelson was the first to sacrifice himself. He shuffled with the file. His better half had the same edition printed in Braille, probably because it took them so long to get there. While Matthew’s fingers played with the dots, the other skimmed his eyes over Times New Roman version.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, still the speck of color she saw when he first entered. “You were arrested on the suspicion of breaking and entering, vandalism, and physical assault,” he read aloud. “That’s, uh, quite the list. Also, we have your file right there. We usually just learn as we go.”

“Right,” she scoffed.

“I’m serious. We just want to get you out of here.”

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with!”

“Eliza Bennett, twenty-three years old, currently residing in Hell’s Kitchen, New York City,” Matthew blurted right out. He went straight in for the kill, determined to hit her down as hard as he could, to humble and destroy her defenses. “Your current place of employment is listed as Stark Industries. You used to be an Avenger, which is why you signed the Sokovia Accords. Before that, you worked for SHIELD. That was about seven years ago, everything else before that is blacked out, and most of the information around that time frame is also redacted. Now I suspect it has something to do with the court proceeding you went to right after you appeared at SHIELD,” he said, “who seemed to have given you your identity in the first place. Before that, you didn’t exist. I suppose you’re older than seven, your name just isn’t. Why? I don’t know. No one has the answers to that but you. To protect you, I suppose. Else the truth would already be out there. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

He dared to look innocent. He was picking her life apart and she just sat there, taking it. She wanted to scream, but there was no reason to. It would’ve been entirely emotional, not based on facts. He didn’t deserve that, and she didn’t want to waste her breath on him either.

“What I do know is that you’ve got a list of priors,” Matthew said.

Eliza laughed sourly. Now, this was something she could argue with. “Did Tony send you?” she asked.

“No.” He fixed his glasses again, still indulged in the breathless chuckle leaving his lips. “We, uh, we’re an independent law firm.”

“Right, so you have no right to pick me apart like that.”

“Possession and use of drug-related objects,” he said. No, he read it out and made it hang in there like a fact. “Every time you got arrested, Tony Stark bailed you out. You never faced serious jail time.”

“No,” Eliza shook her head wildly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He didn’t stop. “You’re an Avenger. Sorry, you were, past tense. That’s over now, or so I’ve been told. I don’t watch television, I don’t even read the newspaper. But I’ve been told there was a falling out,” he said. “It’s, uh, kinda hard to miss when the rumor mill is turning and every news station in the country is reporting on an incident at the Berlin airport after Captain America turned himself into an international fugitive.”

She muttered, “You don’t say.”

“I’m sorry if I missed the point. I just wanted to tell you that while there’s enough reason to, I won’t let the news influence my thinking about you. We- we won’t. Right, Foggy?”

“Oh, yeah,” Foggy said. “Definitely not. Whatever thought we might’ve had about the situation beforehand doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is you and getting you out of here.” He smiled. She found solace in his smile. It was bright, although tired, but the sincerity made up for it.

Eliza’s mouth twitched. “Thank you.”

She still wasn’t entirely convinced.

“People look up to you,” Matt continued. There was seemingly nothing that could throw him off. “You’re a hero in most people’s books. I’m not surprised you’re here right now. You wanted to help, so you took the calculated risk to put someone else’s needs before your own. You did it because you thought it was the right thing to do. I’m not blaming you. The only ones blaming you are the police and maybe yourself, but that’s it. What you did today was selfless.”

“Shut up!” she pushed her palms into her eye sockets. “Just, shut up. Please. I can’t do this tonight. I really can’t…” the whine was a painful sound echoing through the room. “I don’t need you,” she said.

“You kinda do,” Foggy cut in.

“I can’t even pay you!” her eyes were red when she finally looked up.

“You don’t have to. We work pro bono.”

“But Tony-”

“Oh, he won’t find out,” he said. “Attorney-client privilege and all that. It’s great. We can’t snitch on you, no matter what you tell us. And we do hope you tell us something so we can help you.”

She scoffed. “Convenient.”

“You need a lawyer. We’re your best shot to get out of here right now. You either take it or my partner and I have an early breakfast.”

Eliza ran a tired hand over her face. She kept it there, just holding it. Her heart was beating heavy in her chest. The dry air contracted her lungs. She didn’t realize she was bouncing her leg until it hit the table and she hissed at the pressure on the wound.

She fell back in her chair. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?” she said. “I went in because I thought that woman was in danger and I was right. I can’t… I won’t go to jail for doing the right thing.“

“You won’t go to jail,” Matthew said. His voice remained calm, steady.

“Why, because you’ll help me?”

“Yes.”

“We can get you out of here in no time, Miss Bennett,” Nelson told her then.

She dragged her nails over the bloodied bandage.

“It’s essentially not that hard. You were trying to help. The guys you took out won’t press charges. They, uh, refuse to talk. The only thing they can charge you with is breaking and entering.”

Eliza exhaled. “I can’t do this,” she said quietly. “Not again. I’m tired. I’m tired of being seen as the bad guy. It’s fucking exhausting. God!” She dropped her hands on the table. The cuffs clanked loudly.

“You’re angry,” Matthew observed.

“Yeah, no shit!”

“I know this must all be very hard for you.”

“You don’t understand! A year ago what I did today would’ve made me the hero. As you said, people looked up to me. But now… Now I’m the villain. Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Listen,” - he ran his fingers over the file - “Can I speak freely, Miss Bennett?”

“Eliza,” she corrected him, “And yeah, it’s not like you haven’t been doing it since you came in here. Knock yourself out!”

“Alright, Eliza. You were just a kid seven years ago. You got yourself into trouble like every other teenager. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You sound like a fucking youth pastor trying to convert me to believe that God will guide me through the dark valley of my past.”

His lip twitched. “You’re cocky, Miss Bennett. That could get you into a lot of trouble.”

“Oh, please! I’m not violating any of the agreements that were made seven years ago or those from three years ago. I did what I had to do. End of story. If you want to blame me for that, go ahead!”

The air sizzled statically. A thick cloud of tension rose between them. Eliza bore her eyes into the man across from her, but he didn’t budge. He kept his head cocked, completely turned towards her. She hoped she glared just hard enough for him to feel it burn into every crevice of his face.

“The world already knows and blames me for everything that happened.” Eliza pursed her lips. “Can’t tell me you don’t know that.”

“I don’t believe in public judgment,” Matthew told her.

She scoffed. “You’d be the first person ever. I’m an Avenger. Lately, that’s a fucking death sentence,” she said. “Public court of opinion is the only thing defining me. I’m what they say I am, or maybe I’m not. Who cares. Everyone thinks what they want to think. Nothing of that’s gonna get me out of here.”

Matthew fixed his glasses - he did that an awful lot. The plump outline of his lips moved methodically. “I’m gonna keep being straight with you,” he said, calm as ever. “Tony Stark paid you out of a lot of trouble you should’ve gotten sentenced for. Does that make you a good person? The public doesn’t get to judge that, but if you let yourself get defined by their standards or what they think, then yeah, congratulations Eliza! You’re the villain.”

She prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. His words penetrated parts of her she didn’t even know existed. Her heart bled. Knife through flesh. He was painfully right and she hated that he could read her like a five-page short story. She was anything but. She was an entire Novel, not quite finished. It wasn’t supposed to be that easy. She was the one with the gift, not him.

“But you’re not the villain,” he told her. “You may be an annoying and terrible pain in the ass, but you’re not the villain. I don’t care what everyone says, I see the person before me. Do I think you’re spoiled? Yes. Do I think what the Avenger did was right? No. But I’m a strict believer in the good, and that’s what you do. You do good, not evil. These petty crimes,” - he shoved the file like a wet towel - “They mean nothing. What matters is what’s in your heart. No one can tell you who you are but yourself, and I usually don’t judge, but just from listening to you talk, I know your heart is set right. No evil person would’ve done what you did tonight. It was heroic and selfless. You are selfless. No one should hold the power to convince you of anything else.”

Eliza desperately tried to collect the spit in her mouth to wet her dried throat. Everything was so tight, that the air became hard to swallow. She wanted to scream, cry, both. A heavy weight fell off her heart. The cork in her chest popped.

“Okay,” she sucked her bottom lip in. “Thank you.”

“But-”

The cork plopped back in place. She scoffed, sadly. “There’s always a but.”

“But, back then, you had the cover of SHIELD and the Avengers to back you up. What you did today was selfless but it was also stupid. Very stupid.”

“Very refreshing,” she said. “Thank you, Mister Murdock. I feel much better now.”

“I’m not saying you’re going to jail, I’m just saying you didn’t think, which was stupid. You were careless, it could’ve gotten you killed.”

“You basically just said I’m a lost cause.”

“Well, I am Catholic, so,” he chuckled again, “I have a thing for lost causes.”

Eliza stared blankly ahead. “Oh yeah, that explains a lot.”

Matthew grinned at her statement. “At least you kept your jokes about you,” he said.

“No, seriously, you have this whole Jesus attitude about you.” She formed her lips in a thin line. “I listen to you and instantly think Jesus,” she said. “Minus the looks, of course. Your hair is magnificent.”

She blinked at her own choice of words. The blood rushed to her cheeks. Maybe next time she would think before she talked.

“Uh, that’s not what I was planning to say. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Quieter, she added, “Definitely going to hell now.”

Matt’s lips curled again. He laughed quietly. It was soft, gentle even. “Okay, I think that was enough blasphemy for today,” though she knew he was joking. “Maybe we should go back to your case.”

“Is it still blasphemy when I talk about Jesus? I don’t think so.”

Only Eliza could take an awkward situation and make it a hundred times worse.

“You want to start this debate now?” he asked.

“You were the one who put Catholicism on the table,” she said.

Foggy cleared his throat. “Point is,” he said, finally the hint of a need to interject into the tensed conversation, “we’re here to help you. Now, so far no one has pressed charges yet, but it’s only been three hours and they can legally hold you for twenty-four, so there’s plenty of time for them to find something against you. You defended yourself against these men,” Foggy said. “That’s self-defense. There’s still the issue of breaking and entering though. Considering your history, we have to be careful with allegations like that.”

Eliza tore her eyes away from the man before her. “I tried to save Laura Pfeiffer’s life,” she stated. “I knew she was in danger, so I followed them inside. There has to be a law for that, right?”

“For cops, yeah.”

“I was an Avenger.”

“You were.”

She slowly realized. “Oh.” She might’ve pushed her luck a little too far this time.

If there was no grey zone to escape through, she was truly and thoroughly fucked.

“So you’re saying that this is serious?” she asked.

Matthew lowered his head as did his voice. “I’m afraid so, yes,” he said.

“I could go to jail?”

“It’s a possibility, but not one we’re gonna concern ourselves with. As long as we can help it, you’re not going to jail. Worst case scenario you have to go to a parole hearing or they charge you with a fine.”

Eliza whined. “That’s even worse! God, what did I do?”

In retrospect, she should’ve thought about her actions. She singlehandedly defeated herself. She trapped herself between two heavy cement blocks - to get out, she had to break all of her limbs and bend inhuman ways and she’d still end up with cement on her back.

“Eliza,” he called her name softly. The tone of his voice could reignite even the deadest flame of hope. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, not if I can help it. As I said, the world doesn’t get to judge you, and from where I’m standing, you’re more than just a decent human being. You’re good.”

You’re good. Hearing the adjective concerning herself had never felt better. She’d never cared much about good or evil. She grew up thinking of the world as black and white. You could either be one thing or the other, but then she came into the real world and her views adapted. She realized that the world was full of color and every corner had a grey zone. Nothing was ever fully anything and most things in life aren’t as they seem.

Being an Avenger made her a hero. Heroes are perceived as good, but Eliza grew sick of the word not so long after learning it. ‘You’re good’ had meant nothing to her up until this point where that one adjective suddenly became the source of hope. She was good, not evil. Her picture had been twisted by bad photoshop and she chose to believe the black-and-white ideology the world thrust upon her because she stopped believing in herself. The world was back to being either or, the colors fading into darkness, and the grey zones magically vanished.

‘You’re good’ has never felt so good to hear.

“Thank you,” she told him.

Matthew smiled. “You don’t have to thank me. That’s my job.”

“No, no it’s not. Any other lawyer would’ve run by now, worried about how this might look on their record. Not you.”

“We don’t exactly got a reputation to uphold,” Foggy said.

“And we strongly believe that you’re a good person,” he jabbed his partner.

“Yeah, that too.”

Eliza chuckled. The skin above her brow pinched. Her ears opened up without warning and in came the pain that had hidden behind the buckets of adrenaline her brain secreted. Grade two concussion, no doubt. The only thing separating her from a grade three was the fact she hadn't passed out. Though if the pain continued to persist, chances were high that that would happen too.

The two men leaned into each other.

“What do you think?” Foggy asked his partner.

“I think they’re not gonna press charges,” Matthew said.

“Why?”

“They have a list of offenses right there and still they haven’t even contacted a judge. I think they’re too scared to press charges because of Stark or maybe because she’s an Avenger and for some people, that might end up as bad publicity. You heard her," - he cocked his head in her direction - "Public court of opinion. There are enough supporters of the Avengers that would lick their fingers at the NYPD arresting one of them just because she tried to help someone," he said. "Either way, I think we can get her out of here without making any more noise.”

“What about the shop owner?” he asked.

“If he decides to press charges, it’s not against her. The guys she took out have a record longer than the Sunday paper. She saved a woman, Foggy. No one’s going to convict her.”

“Then why exactly are we here again?”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Eliza said.

Matthew, who was about to answer his friend, closed his mouth and turned back in her direction. “Right, sorry,” he said. “We were just talking about what to do next.”

“And you don’t think they’re going to charge me?” she questioned. “Like, at all?”

“No, in my opinion, I don’t think so.”

Foggy raised his hand. “We can’t be sure,” he clarified. “But- but my partner seems to believe that, so I don’t have a choice in the matter anymore.”

Eliza sensed the tension between them. The unsaid arguments, the knowing glances. “Are you guys alright?”

“Oh, we’re fine!”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Really. We couldn’t be better.” Whoever he was trying to fool, Foggy failed to convince her. “Let’s just go over your statement again and then we’ll see what Matthew and I can hash out for you.”

Judging by his reaction, Matt wasn’t used to being called his full name, at least not by his friend. Things weren’t alright between them.

“So, you entered the building because you thought you heard those guys kidnap a woman,” Foggy stated. “What then?”

“I entered the building because I heard them pulling Laura into the butcher shop,” she said. “The door to the roof was open. Technically, I didn’t break in.”

“T-technically, that’d still be trespassing.”

“And technically, I made a bad judgment call.“

“Technically,” Matthew interjected, “you just lost all your friends, the only family you’ve ever known, not including SHIELD. I mean, you lost your first place of employment too. That’s a lot of loss in such a short amount of time.”

That catholic smirk was going to be the death of her and send her straight to hell.

She blinked at him. “What kind of a lawyer are you again?”

“I’m a really good lawyer.” The confidence he exceeded was inhuman.

“Matt-“ Foggy urged.

“I’ve got it under control, Foggy,” he shot him down. “Miss Pfeiffer said the man that was holding her had the intent to hurt you. Did he say anything to you about why he wanted to hurt you?” he directed his question back to Eliza.

“Nope,” she replied. “He just pointed a gun at himself and then bang, bye-bye brain.”

“Any reason?”

“Mental issues.” She nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Whole collection of ‘em.”

The pair exchanged another look.

She watched Matt’s rather handsome face move, his fingers tracing the Braille on the documents. His glasses were a bit tilted and she caught glimpse of his eyes. Sensing it, he corrected them again. She bit her cheek. He was oddly interesting.

He unfolded his cane. “Give us a second.”

Eliza threw her head back. She counted the seconds as she did the stains on the ceiling. Her whole body was on fire. The adrenaline had long worn off, instead, pain filled her senses. Her leg was throbbing and the blow to the skull stung. Overall though, she felt the familiar pull of tiredness, asking her to finally give herself the benefit of sleep. Once again, she disappointed herself. Mostly because she wouldn’t sleep in an interrogation room, but also because she simply couldn’t.

Her eyes flew open in unison with the door. Matthew stood inside the frame, proud hand on his cane. “You’re free to go,” he said. But there was something in his voice she couldn’t quite place.

“Really?” she asked.

Foggy peaked his head through. “I think there’s something you should know before you-“ he prompted.

“Oh, god.”

The nightmare came true.

“You’re definitely going to hell,” the statement was clear as day, the voice a painful sound in her ear.

“Fuck me!” she dropped her head on the table.

“You,” Tony Stark stood behind the two lawyers. “out. Now !”

She searched for Matt’s eyes desperately. “Is it too late to plead guilty?”

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.

“There’s no reason for you to be sorry,” Tony told him. “She needs to be sorry. Honestly, part of me thinks you shouldn’t even have tried to get her out of this. Let her spend a night in jail. But I can’t say I’m not impressed she pulled this off.”

“Tony, I know what you’re gonna say,” Eliza began.

“No. You don’t know.”

She stepped out of the interrogation room hesitantly. As soon as she was in arm’s reach, Tony grabbed her. He pulled her aside.

“Apologize,” he demanded.

“What?” she asked.

“To these men. Apologize, now!”

“Apologize for what ?”

“For wasting their time.”

Matt tensed visibly while Foggy stood around looking awkward.

“They’re lawyers,” Eliza stated. “I might not have state-of-the-art education but I know for a fact that taking cases is kinda their job.”

“You’re wrong. You knew I’d come and bail you out. I always do.”

“I didn’t even want you to know!”

“That’s even worse.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Tony-”

“Don’t. Give me a second. If I'd known what you did, I would've meditated before I got here.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m such an inconvenience to you. Maybe we should just go.” She turned for the escape hatch - the elevator.

“No,” he said. “You’re gonna suffer the consequences for what you did. I don’t care if I have to stand here all night, you’re gonna apologize.”

“I was the one who suggested taking her case,” Matt spoke suddenly. All eyes turned on him. “She needed help and we gave that to her. The case is clear, she did the right thing. We can give you that in writing, if that’s what you want, Mister Stark.”

Eliza bit down on her bottom lip, hard. The laugh bubbled up in her throat. She was in enough trouble already, but seeing Tony so flabbergasted was the most victorious feeling she’d had in years.

Tony laughed out. “You’re not bad,” he said, almost as if he was in disbelief over the fact.

She glared at him. “What?”

“Don’t say it often, but I’m impressed. What’s your pay grade, Mister-”

“Murdock,” Matt introduced himself. “Matthew Murdock. This is my associate, Franklin Nelson.”

“Please,” Foggy said, “just Foggy.”

His eyes glowed like a child’s on Christmas Day.

“Tony Stark,” he offered them his hand.

Matt was hesitant at first, but after one particular swift kick from his friend, he shook the man’s hand with the fakest smile she’d ever seen anyone deliver so flawlessly. It didn’t take a genius to tell he detested the man from the second he met him. Matt was smiling like any other day, which made her heart beat out of her chest and fly to the moon where it suffocated due to the lack of oxygen. It seemed as if he recoiled from the man simply because he treated her like a misbehaving child, and because she looked like she was about to faint, but he knew how to play it off. She figured playing pretend came easy in his line of work. She knew it did in hers.

Foggy laughed awkwardly. “We know,” he said. “Big fan, Mister Stark. Big fan of your work. I appreciate all you’ve done for this country. For- for the world, I mean. The whole big earth thing. Um.” He was sweating. “Iron Man’s my favorite Avenger, if- if it’s even okay to pick favorites. I mean, you all did amazing work. Everyone’s a hero, I just- I appreciate your genius, sir.”

Tony slapped his hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he smiled the way he always did when meeting fans in front of whatever venue he pulled up to. The crowd of screaming fangirls and fanboys and the press in midst of it.

He had this charming smile that turned heads left and right and it usually got him what he wanted. He looked at Foggy the same way as if smiling at him would put him on the front page of the Bulletin as the hero of the story.

“Well, I can’t exactly see you off without rewarding you,” he stated.

Eliza watched in absolute shock as he pulled out his checkbook - his fucking checkbook. All his problems seemed to be solvable with money.

It made her blood boil, knowing he didn’t do any of this for her. Brett probably called him - an act to protect her from getting busted by Secretary Ross, no doubt - and knowing Tony, he probably saw a scandal in Eliza’s arrest and headed straight for the station to make the issue simply disappear.

“How much?” he asked them.

“What?” Foggy asked back.

“One, two? Maybe three?”

“Money?” he blinked. “You wanna give us money?” The disbelief stood like an obvious sign on his forehead.

“Yeah, I thought that was implied. You’re lawyers, right? You gotta have a pay grade. How about four? A cut for either of you. Can get a new suit and new glasses for the Murdock half there. Does that sound good?”

“Hundred?” Foggy questioned.

“No, thousand,” Tony said.

“Th-oh, god!” He almost passed out, holding onto Matt’s jacket for dear life. “Four thousand, Matt!” he squealed. “Four thousand Dollars!”

“Yeah, I know. I’m blind, not deaf,” he retorted.

Eliza snorted, for which she earned a harsh glare from Tony’s side.

“I take it you guys are happy with four. Here.” He handed them the check. “In exchange, I’d like to get your contact info. You know, in case Stark Industries ever needs legal counseling. I’d like to put you on our list.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she cursed to herself. She swore she saw Matthew’s lip twitch in an attempt not to laugh.

Foggy searched for their company card in the depths of his suit jacket. He almost dropped it two times before shakily handing it to Tony.

“You're the man,” he gushed on and on.

Tony raised his eyebrows. The familiar look of disgust soaked into his features.

“Okay,” he said. “That's it. No more touching the artwork.”

Eliza wanted to kick him, but the entire police station was already watching them like a bad pastime soap and she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself by assaulting the legendary Tony Stark.

That changed behind closed doors. Their dynamic changed the second they were out of the limelight. Neither of them was a legendary hero then, only two human beings with too many issues to count down on both hands (even a third couldn’t have possibly sufficed).

Instead, she retorted to the power of words. “Please don’t make a scene,” she begged him.

“Oh, you bet!” Tony glared at her through his sunglasses - it was the middle of the night. His signature look. As if the press was going to appear anytime soon, ready to take a million pictures.

Knowing the world, word had already gotten out. This wasn’t so much Tony’s fault than it was the press and their nosiness.

“This is gonna have consequences,” he said.

“I hate you,” she spat back at him, arms crossed to shield herself from the penetrating looks of the New York Police Department.

She felt like the messed-up teenager being dragged into the building, pale and shaking, all over again.

“You can hate me all you want, I’m still not gonna let you off easy. You brought this on yourself.”

He spoke her full name instead of using the many nicknames he made for her. She was in for a lot of trouble.

Eliza swallowed. She lifted her gaze to meet Matt’s glasses. The lower part of his face was motionless, features wiped clean. “Thank you,” she said. She lowered her head. Quieter, she added, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Tony cut in.

“I am!”

“She’s not,” he turned to the two men, standing helplessly in the middle of the room. “I doubt she even knows what that word means.”

“Shut up!” Her ears burned hot with the blood moving its way from her heart into her head, collecting it like rainwater. “God, what is wrong with you?”

He forced her into the elevator, finally out of earshot, hidden away from the curious stares. He pushed the button repeatedly for the doors to slide close.

She opened her mouth, but he shot her down the second her lips made that smacking sound.

“No,” he said.

She closed it again.

✧

The paycheck felt like a goldmine in Foggy’s hands. The first payment made to Nelson & Murdock after almost a year of working strictly pro-bono. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve taken the check and celebrated right then and there, but the money stood under a darker light. Receiving it seemed like less of an achievement than bribery.

Matt licked his lips. “Foggy,” he prompted.

The disappointment on his friend’s face was audible.

“Listen, Fog, I’m sorry,” he said.

He had his arm wrapped tightly around his friend’s arm - if he hadn’t, he would’ve lost him by the speed he was strutting the streets. He recognized the angry pep in his step all too well.

“For which part?” Foggy retorted. “The one where you woke me up in the middle of the night for a case or the part in which our case turned out to be a mistake you – the other you – made?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated. You only wanted us to take this case to make sure you didn’t screw this up. I would’ve been fine with that, really, but you just had to go ahead and put the cherry on top. She’s an Avenger, dude! You only wanted me to be there to make it less obvious who you are. Well, let me tell you, she doesn’t have a clue, but you probably knew that already too.”

“I was worried,” Matt said. “I was worried and I wanted to make sure she doesn’t go to jail for protecting me.”

Foggy scoffed. “How noble of you.”

“Can you blame me? You read what happened. I didn’t have a choice. Foggy,”- he pulled at his arm - “Please, slow down.”

He stopped suddenly. “That’s the problem! I don’t want to think about you ever having set foot in that place. You could’ve gotten killed, Matt! Killed. Dead. They could’ve killed you dead and her, too, probably.”

“Yeah, I know what ‘killed’ means.”

“This isn’t a game!” Foggy snapped. “You put me in a stupid position where everything I say could mean us stepping on a landmine,” he said. “I thought we were friends. Friends don’t do stuff like that to each other.”

Matt cocked his head slightly. The words in his mouth turned into breath. He put up with a lot, too much even, and still it wasn‘t often he saw Foggy completely upset. He was right though, he had put the cherry on top with this one. He still couldn’t believe it himself. The night felt surreal.

“Honestly, why does it always have to be women with questionable morals?” his friend said then. “Can’t you just be normal for once and find someone at Starbucks or the library?”

“I don’t go to the library, Foggy,” he said.

“That’s not my point! My point is, that woman is so infatuated with you, it’s insane! And she doesn’t even know who you are. Once again you’ve found a woman with questionable morals who’s hot as fuck and you made it my problem!”

“I’m not disagreeing with anything you’re saying,” Matt said, “but you’re my friend. All I ask of you is to back me up.”

“I did. It sucked, but at least we got paid. No thanks to you. If it weren’t for this money, I would hit you. I mean that.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

Satisfied with his answer, Foggy began to move on, stepping slower and steadier.

“You think she’s hot?” the question slipped him before Matt could think.

“God, you’re blind and stupid!” Foggy said. “You already know she’s hot.”

“I wouldn’t know, I can’t see her.”

“Yeah, but you know. You always know. It’s like you have a radar. It’s annoying.”

“I don’t have a radar.”

“Yeah, you do. You always attract danger, you get off on it. In the end, it’s me who has to deal with the consequences because you just don’t know when to stop. Think about Elek-”

Matt threw his head back. “We’re not doing this,” he cut him off. “Eliza is not Elektra.”

“Exactly. Elektra was a psychopath,” Foggy said. “So don’t screw it up.”

“I won’t. In fact, after tonight, I promise to never see her again.”

If only he had believed it, too.

✧

The black limousine outside the station still had its motor running when Tony and Eliza walked up to it. Tinted windows protected the insides from being seen by any passerby.

“Hey, kid,” Happy greeted her from the driver’s seat.

Eliza smiled weakly. “Hi, Happy.”

Tony slid into the seat next to her. She knew she was in for it.

Not even five minutes after Happy started the car and pulled onto the road again, the blaming began, as predicted.

“Are you high?”

She just didn’t think he would pull that card out of his repertoire.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“Are you on drugs?” Tony asked. His face was blank, not even hiding how serious he truly was.

Her heart was like badly glued glass. His words brought on the first crack.

She blinked, taking in his words. She tried to comprehend them, but all that came back was anger. “I’m not high!” she snapped.

“Thing is, I don’t believe you. No one in their right mind makes that decision.”

“I’ve been clean for almost three years now, Tony.” The familiar burn behind her eyes put pressure on her skull. “Do you think I’d start using again?” she asked. “I thought you said you trusted me.”

Happy turned his head around. “That’s not fair, Tony,” he told him.

God bless him for trying.

“ Can I trust you?” Tony cocked his eyebrow.

He patted his jacket down. The device was flat and made out of metal. it fits perfectly into the size of a pocket. The screen was holographic, on the other side was a trigger button.

Eliza stared at it - no, she glared. Without her permission, he grabbed her wrist and pushed her finger into the button. A small needle shot out, penetrating her skin. It stung. The blood formed a small bubble on the tip of her finger.

“OW! What the fuck?”

He viewed the screen. The bar grew in percentage. “Friday?” he asked.

The device sounded in agreement. “Blood work’s clean, sir,” the automatic voice said back to him.

“Thanks so much for that, Friday,” she said. “Seriously, do you have that little faith in me?”

Tony scoffed at her blank stare. “The way you’ve been acting since Rogers left, no I don’t. You’re self-destructive and seek out trouble every chance you get. Forgive me for assuming you’re taking whatever it is you used to take.”

“That’s rich! A lot has happened in the past months, things I’m not quite over yet. To accuse me of using drugs just because I’m going through a rough patch is beneath you, Tony! You used to have more faith in me.”

“Oh yeah? Who took you in after Loki’s attack? Who made you an Avenger? Who didn’t give up on you? Hm? Does that sound like someone who knows nothing about your stupid little life? Does that sound like someone who doesn’t care? Are you seriously blaming me for caring?”

Eliza crossed her arms. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty like I owe you. I paid my debt. I owe you nothing,” she said.

She realized they’d never actually fought. They never argued before, or at least not one that ended in both of them throwing accusations at each other. But times changed - they were both different people.

He shook his head. “What were you thinking, kid? You know better than that,” he said. “I taught you better than that. Especially after Berlin, you should’ve learned. God! Fucking lawyers- you know who needs lawyers? Criminals. Is that what you want to be? Do you want to flush the Accords down the drain?”

“These guys were kidnapping an innocent woman,” Eliza stated her case. “I followed them and then I just acted. They wanted to kill her, sooner or later. I don’t want to be a criminal, I just want to help people like we used to. I did what I had to do. Don’t turn this around to blame me, Tony. It’s not fair.”

For a second, he simply stared ahead. The many lights of the city passed them by. “And you just thought you could play the hero.” He turned to her. “Without back-up, without a plan. You didn’t even ask me first. The Accords exist for a reason, Eliza. If Brett hadn’t called me, you would’ve been in a hell lotta trouble. I hope for your sake Ross doesn’t find out. Look,” he said. “I’m trying here, but you overreact a lot sometimes. It’s what you do. You saw a mission in something that could’ve been easily solved with a 911 call. I taught you to be careful, not to get yourself into more trouble than you can handle. What did you do? You disobeyed my orders.”

“Like I just said, I acted. But I’m glad I did because of this… I found out something. This is so much bigger than I thought at first. It wasn’t just a kidnapping-”

“I don’t want to hear this.”

“Listen to me!” she cried.

“Now I have to hear it.”

“These guys are working for someone and that someone wants something.”

“Yeah, that’s how this works. Honestly, are you even listening to yourself?”

“Yeah, I am. Why can’t you just listen?” Eliza desperately grabbed his forearm. “They knew me, Tony. One of them said I was worth a lot of I don’t know, money maybe.” In the end, she did what he told her not to do - yell. She was angry, off the rails.

“You’re not making any sense!” Tony matched her tone. “You are an Avenger. Romanoff released your SHIELD files in 2014. After what happened, everyone knows your name. Everyone! And they know your story. When they said they knew you, it’s because you’re a public face. They realized you’re an Avenger, so boom, they saw an opportunity.”

Her eyes were wider than the fucking moon. “This makes even less sense!”

“Maybe in your book. In mine, nothing’s ever made more sense. You know why?” he asked. “Yeah, because I’m right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why do you always have to be right?”

“Because I usually am.”

“You’re not always right!”

“Maybe not, but I have a point here. Have you ever tried to sell an Avenger on the black market? I haven’t, but let’s face it; You’re young, you’re powerful and you’re a woman. These guys saw their chance and took it, nothing more! It’s just that. A coincidence, an attempt to make you go crazy.”

The world around her spun. The words dug forward in her mind, but she pushed them away. She tried not to let him plant ideas in her head. She didn’t want him to control her. He had the power to change her mind every time - she refused to let it happen again.

“See? This is what I’m talking about,” he said. “You’re pouting like a fucking child.”

“I’m not a child anymore!” Eliza retorted. “I’m an adult now. I make my own decisions. I know what I want, what I saw. I’m not crazy.”

“You sure? Ever since the whole Hydra debacle, you’ve been paranoid. At first, I didn’t blame you, but now it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Can’t you just listen to what I’m saying?”

“I am listening,” he stated.

“No,” she said. “He knew me! He knew who I was. He knew the lullaby they used to sing to me.” she choked on a dry sob. “He said ‘Hail Hydra’ to my face. You don’t imagine stuff like that.”

“Did he say it like that, word for word, in an English sentence that the victim can testify on?”

She gnawed on her bottom lip. “He said it in Russian. Since she’s German, I doubt she understood, but I heard it. He said those exact words, I know it!”

“No, you didn’t! When was the last time you spoke Russian, actively?”

“It’s been a while, but I grew up there. I know-”

“You could’ve misheard. Language gets confusing, especially when you speak more than one.”

“Don’t turn this around on me,” she warned. “I speak Russian, I’m fluent, I know what I heard.”

“You were there when we destroyed Hydra,” Tony said. He brushed her off, just like that. “They’re gone. We did what he could.”

“No, but-”

“Coincidence.”

Eliza hit her fist against the car window. “Can’t you understand?” she asked. Her voice went quiet. “If there’s a possibility that they’re back, we have to do something. I have to do something.”

“If Hydra magically managed to come back, the police will figure it out. If they need help, we’ll know,” Tony said. “But until that happens, there is nothing you should do. No, scratch that! There is nothing you can do. Nobody knows what’s behind what happened today and thanks to your heroics, the only person who knows something shot himself, so you brought this upon yourself.”

“I can’t just sit back and watch while shit goes down. Since when is that something we do?”

“Since the last time we did, people died!” he wasn’t actively yelling, but the tone of his voice was sharp and it cut right through the already jagged scars on her heart.

“This is different,” Eliza said. “If you’d just look into it-”

She should’ve known that trying to reason with him was a waste of time.

“No,” he replied sternly.

“You won’t even-”

“That’s right, I won’t even.” He took off his glasses. Brown eyes bore into hers, backing her into a corner. “I won’t waste resources on a hunch,” he said. “I won’t risk breaking the Accords or getting on Ross’s bad side just because you believe you’re onto something.”

“It’s not just a hunch. I know that something is going on.”

“Do you really? Or do you just have a bad feeling?”

“I-” anything other than admitting it was indeed just a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach would’ve been a lie. Though the bad feeling went deeper than any other; she felt it deep in her bones. She didn’t need evidence to prove her theory because she knew it was true. She simply knew.

Eliza never went out of her way to do anything she believed in if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain that what she believed in was real and not just misplaced suspicion.

Tony nodded, smugly satisfied. “I knew it,” he said.

“But Tony,” she tried again. She needed him to listen so she could explain it to him. She hoped that somehow he’d come around if she just tried to put those feelings into words.

The sharp look on his face shattered her hopes into tiny little pieces on the floor, on purpose and with inhuman force, she forgot how to breathe. He refused to listen. Like so many people before him, he turned his back. She was expected to follow him, to be undermined because that was all she was worth, to follow. Forced to listen, forced to submit, forced to be the person she was expected to be.

He cleaned his glasses with the sleeves of the sweater poking out underneath the leather jacket. He must have become aware of the life draining from her eyes for he let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re a kid,” he said. “Maybe I spoiled you too much. Maybe I should’ve prepared you for the real world. God knows I should’ve known that this thing with Rogers would happen eventually. I don’t want to fight, I don’t, but you just won’t listen .”

Eliza exhaled through her nose. She pushed the tears and the pain down. He wasn’t supposed to see the disappointment. His mission was to make her feel bad and she did, but he didn’t deserve the gratification of seeing her suffer.

Eliza fell back into the seat. “No,” she said. There wasn’t much fight left in her. “Hydra ruined my life.”

I just need you to see, to listen, to take me seriously. Her tone suggested not many things, only the raw through of what she was thinking, her last attempt to change his mind, to continue seeing him as her hero.

“They made me into a monster. If it hadn’t been for Natasha, I wouldn’t even be here. I can’t just drop it when there’s evidence. The guy killed himself because I was there. I can’t wash the blood off my hands. If I hadn’t gone in, this would’ve never happened. If I hadn’t gone in, we would’ve never known.”

Just like that though, her fight hit the brick wall in front of his heart. He wouldn’t even let them go through, only cherry-picked what he wanted to hear.

“Exactly, if you hadn’t gone it. That’s it,” he stated. “That’s it, period.”

“Tony…” her lips formed the word ‘please’ like a reflex, but she bit the desperate plea away.

Happy peaked through the rearview mirror again. “Tony, maybe you should listen to her,” he dared to interject.

Tony turned instantly. How dare he? his eyes screamed. “Unbelievable! Am I the only one with functioning brain cells here?”

“All I’m saying is, maybe the kid has a point. You gotta at least check it out, if not for you, do it for her sake. I mean, when has she ever been wrong about something?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started,” he retorted. “There’s a whole list.”

“Tony, please,” Happy uttered the words for her. “You have to. ”

“I don’t have to do shit!”

“Tony-”

“No. Happy, stay out of it! I’m not falling for this. If you want to play the rebel,” he turned to Eliza, “and see danger everywhere you go, maybe you should’ve gone with Rogers.”

Her jaw slacked.

“Shit like this doesn’t fly with me. Not anymore. We’re done, okay? Done. Finished. Nada. You are not an Avenger anymore, you’re simply just a kid, and you gotta figure your life out like a responsible adult. I am sick and tired of having to cover for you. You’re old enough to make your own decisions, too old to have someone control them for you. I’m not going to argue with you anymore.”

“This is not over,” she fired back, the stubborn crease between her eyebrows deepening to the point it became painful.

Happy pulled the car up to the curb.

“Yes, it is!” Tony said. He pushed her door open with his free hand. “This is done. You are done.”

“No!” she held onto his arm. “Don’t do this, Tony.”

“You’re done!” his shout echoed in the car, and even Happy flinched. “You’re done, alright? Now get out. I don’t want to see you again tonight.”

Eliza furiously wiped her cheeks. She spent the last couple of years looking up to him. He was the great Tony Stark, Iron Man. She wouldn’t go as far as to say she loved him like a father - she didn’t know what that was like - but he’d always been there. He was the closes thing to a father figure she had.

The door shut loudly behind her.

‘You’re done,’ the words repeated in her mind over and over again. With each dreaded step up the stairs to her small apartment, the words rang out louder.

She unlocked the door. The quiet of the apartment pushed against her. She wanted to stumble back, turn around and run. She stared into the darkness, getting adjusted to the soft moonlight.

4:35 am.

Eliza scoffed. She dropped the key on the hanger, flicking the light switch up. Soft yellow light filled the living room.

“Yeah.” She checked the clock again. 4:36 am.

The German beer in the fridge appeared lonely between the leftovers of her pasta from the day before and an Avocado that desperately needed to be eaten. The least she could do was relieve it of its misery.

4:37 am. Her fingers itched. The cold glass wet her hands in the wave of condensation. Disgusting, she thought, sipping the cheap alcohol. She drank it like water from the tap.

Eliza was born to chase every high she could find, even if just for a second, she could finally breathe again.

She stared at her reflection in the metal of the fridge. The watermelon magnet kept the picture of her, Natasha, and Steve stuck tightly to the material. She saw herself not only once but twice.

“Cheers,” she tipped her glass. “I did something bad today, but it felt good. It was worth it,” she said. “All of this was worth it.”

The necklace with the small hematite pendant weighed dozens of pounds in her delicate hands. Hands that have been through hell and back. A necklace that meant so much more than jewelry.

If not, she told herself, the end was nearer than she first expected it to be.

And then ‘fucked’ would be the understatement of the fucking year.

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wrestlingisfake · 11 months

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Double or Nothing preview

MJF vs. Sammy Guevara vs. Jack Perry vs. Darby Allin - MJF defends the AEW men's world title in a four-way, so the first man to score a pinfall or submission on any opponent will be the winner and champion.

On September 29, 2021, MJF characterized Guevara, Perry, Allin, and himself as "the four pillars" of AEW. (I assume it's an intentional reference to the Four Pillars of Heaven from 1990s All Japan.) The idea was that all four men were top recruits in AEW's first year, and all four were clearly being groomed for big pushes, so the company was being built on their work. Sooner or later they had to put all four into one program, which finally happened when the other three challenged Max on March 15.

My problem with this pillar bit is that all four guys are clearly still works in progress, while other homegrown talent (Britt Baker, Orange Cassidy, the Acclaimed, Wardlow, Ricky Starks) have begun to overtake them. If these guys were really carrying AEW, then any two of them would be able to headline this show on their own. Someday that will be true, I think. For now, though, the main draw of the match is that it's a four-way, simply because four is the number MJF pulled out of his ass in 2021.

This is being set up like every four-way main event you've ever seen. The heels (Sammy and Max) have teased that they'll be in cohoots, and then that they can't get along. The challengers (Sammy, Darby, and Jack) have discussed making sure one of them wins and MJF loses. The babyfaces (Darby and Jack) seemed to be on the same page, but seeds of doubt have been planted. Typically this intrigue is totally dropped once the bell rings, and they'll all brawl for 20 minutes until the heel champion steals a pin. Then the announcers will act like Max has discovered an obscure loophole in the rules, as we haven't seen this in literally every four-way ever.

Kenny Omega & Adam Page & Nick Jackson & Matt Jackson vs. Jon Moxley & Claudio Castagnoli & Bryan Danielson & Wheeler Yuta - This is billed as "anarchy in the arena," so it's basically a brawl all over the building, until someone scores a pin or submission inside the ring. Page and Moxley have been feuding since October. In March, Page brawled with Mox's entire team (the Blackpool Combat Club) all the way to the ring and ran into Omega and the Young Bucks. After that the BCC was fighting separate wars with Page and the Elite, until the babyfaces joined forces on May 17. It's the first time Page has been on good terms with the Elite since 2020.

When they did this type of match last year, Eddie Kingston poured "gasoline" all over Chris Jericho, so that's the kind of craziness this match has to live up to. I don't mean "they have to do a fire spot," more like "someone has a chainsaw, but never actually uses it." Note that last year's anarchy in the arena didn't settle a damn thing and they came back with a "blood & guts" match a month later, which also didn't end the feud. So don't count on the Elite finally getting revenge. If anything I expect the BCC to get even more heat with even more heinous brutality.

Chris Jericho vs. Adam Cole - This is billed as an unsanctioned match. Nominally that just means AEW isn't responsible for what the participants do to each other, but practically speaking it's just another street fight with no count-outs or disqualifications. There's nothing to prevent the Jericho Appreciation Society from interfering, so Cole is bringing in ECW legend Sabu for backup.

The story is that Jericho and his goons beat up Cole, then handcuffed him to the ring and forced him to watch as his girlfriend Britt Baker got beat up by Saraya. So technically Jericho didn't directly give Baker a black eye, but Jericho and Cole are both playing it as if that's what happened. That means Cole wants to super-mega-fucking-murder Jericho, and Jericho must stoop to the most despicable atrocities imaginable to avoid getting super-mega-fucking-murdered.

I'm pretty sure Cole has to win this, so that Sabu can do at least one big crazy spot that helps secure the victory. I have no idea what 58-year-old Sabu can actually do, but I'm certain he'll try to do it.

Jamie Hayter vs. Toni Storm - Hayter won the AEW women's world championship from Storm in November, and this is the rematch. Six months ago Hayter and Britt Baker were the top heels, feuding separately with Storm and Saraya. Hayter's title win triggered a double turn, with Storm and Saraya becoming sore losers and later aligning with Ruby Soho as the Outcasts. The heels need to maintain their heat on their way to some kind of multi-woman blowoff match, but I don't think any of them are going to win the title before that happens. Hayter retains.

Dax Harwood & Cash Wheeler vs. Jeff Jarrett & Jay Lethal - FTR (Harwood and Wheeler) are defending the AEW tag team title. Mark Briscoe is the special guest referee. The story is that Mark and FTR became close friends after their 2022 rivalry, but Lethal is an old friend/rival from even further back. Lethal's faction is clearly only pretending to be nice to Mark so he can give them tips on how to fight FTR. FTR don't want him to get taken in, but they can't help but be all passive-aggressive and FTR about it. So the story going into the match is that we don't know what Mark is going to do.

I am extremely bored with Lethal and Jarrett chasing every title in AEW, and this story in particular has been extra-boring. So I hope they just do the basic thing and have Mark call it down the middle so FTR can end the feud.

Wardlow vs. Christian Cage - This is a ladder match with Wardlow's TNT title on the line. The title belt will be suspended above the ring, and the first participant to pull it down wins. Ladders will be placed around the ring, although technically I suppose Christian could just stand on the shoulders of his heavy, Luchasaurus.

The gimmick here is that Christian is a veteran at winning ladder matches, but ladder matches are super-violent and Wardlow is great at violence. There's also a sense that Wardlow vs. Luchasaurus is going to happen at some point, so I'm pretty sure Wardlow will retain and that won't really settle anything.

Jade Cargill vs. Taya Valkyrie - Cargill already defeated Valkyrie last month to retain the TBS championship, but this time Taya is not prohibited from using her finishing move. The whole feud is that both women use a double chicken wing facebuster, and Jade acts like she has proprietary rights to the maneuver. Jade is 60-0 and someone has to end her win streak, but I don't think it's Taya. But it's probably about time for Jade to need more help putting opponents away, so I expect a lot of interference.

Blackjack Battle Royale - Orange Cassidy invited literally anyone to challenge him for the AEW international title, and when 20 guys stepped up he proposed a battle royale. I don't know if a blackjack battle royale is the same as a casino battle royale, or what the rules are going to be.

AEW has announced the following 21 participants: Ari Daivari, Bandido, Big Bill, Brian Cage, Chuck Taylor, Dustin Rhodes, Jay White, Juice Robinson, Keith Lee, Kip Sabian, Komander, Lee Moriarty, Orange Cassidy, Penta el Zero Miedo, Rey Fenix, Ricky Starks, Swerve Strickland, The Butcher, The Blade, Tony Nese, and Trent Beretta.

They're building up Orange for a very dramatic title loss, but that needs to be a singles match against one guy, not 20 people ganging up on him and one getting lucky. I guess you could move the belt to a cocky heel, with the idea that he couldn't beat Cassidy in a one-on-one situation. But defending the title in a battle royale was his idea! He has to retain here to not look like an idiot.

Malakai Black & Brody King & Buddy Matthews vs. TBD - Black's team, the House of Black, has issued an open challenge with their AEW trios title on the line. Under "house rules," you get a twenty-count outside the ring instead of ten, you can't escape a fall by getting to the ropes, and the challengers can name any additional stipulation except no-disqualification. It sounds like Max Caster, Anthony Bowens, and Billy Gunn intend to accept the open challenge, but I don't know why AEW wouldn't simply book that match and advertise it. So my best guess is they'll be interrupted by some heel team. Either way I think the House of Black retain.

Matt Hardy & Jeff Hardy & HOOK vs. Ethan Page & Austin Gunn & Colten Gunn - This is set for the pre-show. Matt and Private Party (Isiah Kassidy and Marq Quen, who are both sidelined right now) have been feuding with Ethan Page and the Firm since October. Of late Jeff and Hook have joined the fight, and it seems like they've successfully disbanded the Firm. Page wants payback, so he's recruited the Gunns (who were in the Firm for about two weeks but never mind that now). If Matt's team wins, he gains control of Ethan's contract, in revenge for the months when the Firm controlled Matt's contract. The stip is kind of pointless if Matt doesn't win, so I think he will.

#aew #double or nothing #mjf #jungle boy #jack perry #darby allin #sammy guevara

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frostyreturns · 2 years

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So there’s this trend of propaganda that I think is meant to temper peoples worries about the apocalypse. I’ve seen it now both in church and in the mainstream media so I think it bears talking about.

The narrative is that over the course of the world many civilizations and empires have come and gone. And that as each one is collapsing they all thought it was the end of the world but the world kept going and existing after them. The criticism is that if you look at the horrifying trends in the world and the impending destruction of your civilization and view it with existential horror, it’s wrong of you to feel that way because you and your way of life are not really that important. It doesn’t matter that the aztecs are gone, it doesn’t matter that rome is gone and it wont matter when America is gone.

The problem with this thinking is that first of all it always matters when peoples and cultures are wiped out, the fact that life goes on doesn’t make it any less tragic. The other problem with this thinking is that none of those cultures and societies have ever gone through all the same exact extinction events all together around the world at the same time. The end that we are racing toward is unprecedented because it’s not just happening in America, it’s happening all over the world in virtually every nation. The same people who are ruining America are ruining Europe, the same people who are ruining Europe are ruining Asia, and Africa and Australia. This is not just a societal collapse or the death throes of a single country. These people who are doing these things are seeking death and destruction on a scale never before seen because they now have technological means that no oppressive empire or evil king has ever had before. They seek a global extinction, they seek to sit atop a pile of ashes and declare themselves king of the cinder. They are evil, they are inhuman and they hate us, they want us extinct and they have more control now than they ever have and are gearing up to take more.

This is not something that you can ride out, not something you can say ah well if America disappears for no reason it doesn’t matter because something else and better will take it’s place. That’s what they want you to think. When Egypt fell they didn’t have the ability to spy on every person on the planet with sattelites, cameras microphones and tech that every person carries on them at all times. When rome fell they didn’t have the ability to design viruses specific to certain genetic structures. When the aztecs fell they didn’t have an aztec puppet installed in every other civilization around the world. When the greeks fell they didn’t even know that half the world existed yet. Globalism and the deep state has made the threat of societal collapse exponentially more deadly. Don’t let them lull you into complacency. To have a chance of survival they have to be fought.

Beware especially of any Christian prophet who attempts to convince you the end is not near or that there never will be a final end. They have to ingnore their own scriptures to make such claims. The Bible says there will be a final end and the fact that the end of the aztecs was not the final end does not mean there never will be a final end.

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dxmedstudent · 2 years

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dx- I know I'm young, I'm 23 but god god god I feel so lonely and tired of being single. all my friends feel the same way (which is the only source of comfort) but I am starting to get the ick for myself- I feel desperate. and I know my worth- I know I'm kind, and funny, and relatively pretty. I don't know if this feeling of desperation is as a result of end of exams/beginning my final year at medical school but it's getting really sad. a few days ago, to celebrate end of exams, we went out and (I was drunk) a guy who approached us to ask about directions to a bar talked to me briefly and I flirted with him, and then he disappeared. and I proceeded to look for him for the next hour because I was bored and thought he was cute. dragging my poor friend who only chased him with me because she knows I am down bad. I HATE MYSELF- why do I not recognise my worth, why am I chasing some guy who briefly talked to me and then decided to run away and not ask for my name/number/basically show the bare minimum interest. it's given me embarrassment and I hate that I'm this desperate that it's showing in my behaviour. it does NOT help that there is no one I really like. I dont even like dating guys casually- like I need to know them so it probably is my fault too. sighs.

It's OK. It's tough whatever age you are, because society puts a LOT of emphasis on being in a relationship and finds a lot fo ways to tell us that we aren't good enough if we're single. And that's on top of being human and feeling lonely, and wanting the kind of life that society tells us being in a relationship brings. I think the fact you're coming to the end of your studies is contributing. You're reaching a natural crossroads in your life. And you're at an age when many people you know have started to couple up. Interestingly, when we look back later in life, we realise that most people don't end up with whoever they dated at your age, but at the time the need to find love and get married can feel so all-consuming for a lot of people. It sounds like you assumed the guy was into you, because you fancied him - perhaps he was jsut having some polite conversation. He might not even be single, or into women! You're just being human and got carried away - it happens! I'm not a casual dater either, and TBH it can make things harder because your standards are a little different. It's OK that there aren't people you like right now - you're not always going to have someone in your life who is dateable! Unless you're someone with literally 0 standards, or the kind of person who only surrounds themselves with people they want to sleep with, and pretends to be friends with them. It's normal that there may not be anyone in your radar right now. I like to recommend online dating to everyone because why not? It's a chance to meet people you usually wouldn't. But it sounds like you might need to work on some things first. The problem with dating is that if you're coming from a bad place, you leave yourself open to attracting or accepting people who aren't healthy for you, or aren't treating you right, because you are feeling lonely or needy and because when you're low, any relationship can seem better than no relationship. I find making a conscious time and effort to engage with your friends and form a rich life full of hobbies can help with loneliness and feeling aimless. Have you considered joining some societies at university and getting to know new people there? This isn't something we need to assign blame for. Sometimes I look back and wonder if I should have made more of an effort to date. But who knows what that would have led to? I might have had a different life, or perhaps I'd just have had a string of short unhappy relationships, who knows. Ultimately, I accepted that there was always a chance I might end up alone, and worked towards building a future where even that was a happy possibility. When the idea of being single no longer fills you with fear, then you won't be making desperate decisions or decisions out of fear of being alone forever. Dating lots of people gives us experience, but ultimately it's not about quantity but quality. So don't beat yourself up about quantity, but focus on working on your life so that you get closer to having the kind of life that you want. And be aware that dating is only a very small part of that.

I hope your future brings you all the best!

#dx dates #ask dx

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punksrespectpronouns · 2 years

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“you defile beautiful things” and toxic masculinity

inspired by this post

still can’t stop thinking about the line “you defile beautiful things”, that Chauncey said to Stede in ep. 9

because Stede defiling beautiful things doesn’t sound like a reference to masculinity. but it is. to Chauncey that glorified and often toxic masculinity is what’s beautiful. that’s the epitome of his life serving for the crown, and killing pirates is his life work. but he can respect Blackbeard for that ideal of masculinity he represents, for the violence he is capable of

so killing his brother, and turning Blackbeard, a man renowned for his violence into someone in love and in touch with his emotions (even though Blackbeard is clearly so much more happy this way) , it’s a travesty

from Chauncey’s perspective that is how Stede has defiled beautiful things (toxic masculinity), and brought histories greatest pirate to ruin. you can see it in his indignation and shock when the British navy doesn’t back up the “righteous punishment” he seeks to bestow. their values have always aligned in terms of glorifying masculinity and divine punishment, that the idea of them turning on him doesn’t even register

so when chauncey says, “you defile beautiful things” and says Stede is an abomination not only for being soft but making other people soft like him. Or to quote Izzy

“This, this... is Blackbeard. Not some namby-pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend.”

this is the wrong Stede has done from Chauncey’s perspective. Turning “beautiful” things (masculine and violent) into soft things, like Stede himself. and Stede just believes him, how could he not with the sum of his life experiences

because Stede has always failed to live up to that ideal. he flinches at the sight of blood, has a weak stomach, and he’s kind. he loves beautiful things like his massive closet of clothes and silks he has, and loves picking flowers and admiring nature. and was so mercilessly bullied as a child for not being able to live up to that ideal of masculinity and that shame still sticks with him

Stede escaping to a life of sea was also him escaping from a world that expected him to perform masculinity in that way. but Chauncey gives him a rude awakening. and you can see the long lasting effects on Stede from all that childhood bullying, being told that he was the problem and the broken one. the scars carried with him into adulthood and for a long time he still believes they’re right

that it meant something defective about him. that Chauncey was right, and he’s a disease because he made other people walk in the same way he is. not once considering that he’s not the only one who doesn’t want to live up to that ideal. that there’s a multitude of reasons to live a life at sea, but safe to say none of them are that they were content living up to societies expectations

but Stede doesn’t see any of that, he just believes Chauncey. and he goes back, to try to go back his old life and be what society wants him to be. but he doesn’t fit there anymore and it ends up being miserable for everyone involved. until he finally drops the charade and has a heart to heart with mary, and fakes his own death. but by then the damage had already been done

like I fucking hope they renew for season 2 any fucking day now. so we can get the reunion and Stede can make up for his actions and kill the kraken (metaphorically). I just want soft Ed back, pls renew this show or i will lose my fucking mind

#ofmd meta #ofmd analysis #ofmd spoilers #banquo rambles #renew our flag means death #blackbeard x stede #our flag means death meta #edward teach ofmd #ofmd stede #tv: our flag means death

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ehzdesign · 2 months

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Weekends At the Winward

Are you like I was a card-carrying member of the Freedom Loving Society. Anything goes was our motto and we tested its limits daily for years in every imaginable way. We often came out looking and feeling like fools but that was just fine. The price for being free. And one benefit was no one was offended.

So, you enjoy going to the 2 AM show at the Winward Lounge because after the show the drag queens fight each other, whipping each other silly with wire-hangers because one of them always ruined the other's wig or scarf? No problem. The little faggots were amazing. Better than a prize fight at the Miami Jai Alai. No one was offended you enjoyed watching drag queens tear into each other and no was taken. You paid to get in and see the show as EL&P once sang.

You really went because it was a sure thing you'd get tail that night in more ways than you imagined and as many little Brazilian or French or little Southern Bell local Barbizon Agency High Fashion Model debutants as you could put on a queen size bed at the same time in a room at the Castaways or the Waikiki or the Shelbourne or the DiLido. They were all signed and expecting to be in Paris, France for Fashion Week by the end of the week (though most of them ended up somewhere else) and they had nothing better to do anyway and they too enjoyed the bloodlust. Yay! Freedom! But along the way freedom became bondage. And it turns our the old saying that you got to serve somebody is true. So you searched to find who was the better Master since you certainly were no Master at all… Enter Jesus.

In Jesus we have a real Master who understands our weaknesses and sympathizes with our flaws and wants to show us a better way that will not ultimately demand our demise but that will in fact lead to our aggrandizement and exaltation if we only come to terms with the fact that we are dust and humble ourselves before His mercy seat and ask Him to change us and forgive us we follow Him. If we allow ourselves this epiphany and metamorphosis out of love for a Benevolent Master such as Christ who does not judge us for our depraved and reprobate failures in life He will give us eternal life in immortal bliss as Heirs to His Kingdom of Love and Light where we will delight in the abundance of goodness and peace and not have to be concerned about those weekends at the Winward coming back to haunt us anymore. Now you might say, "Well surely there are other ways to achieve a life of abundant goodness and peace." The answer to that is not if you want it forever and as God intended when He created our kind. Look to Jesus. Only He can exalt you and fulfill you with exceeding riches you never even dreamed of or knew you wanted and could have.

Hard to believe? Give yourself a break and close your eyes, bow your head and ask Jesus to give you the faith to believe from the bottom of your heart. He likes that. He wants you to get real with Him. No one has to know you asked Him unless He gives you what you asked for.

#Hitting Bottom #Redemption #Salvation #JesusSaves #Forgiveness #Repentance #Changing

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evcryopeneye · 7 months

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@nebulaties asked: we won't survive another one of those. Lorca to feng wu

Honestly, she didn’t remember getting stabbed the first time, but the was pretty sure it hadn’t hurt this much. Yet, that stoic expression stayed put on her face. Weakness was not to be shown, no matter how much you trusted the person, just on the off chance it was going to end with someone seeing an opportunity to take you out. Maybe she had spent too long in the royal court than normal society, or too long training in the temple, who knew at this point…

Feng Wu knew one thing for sure, her convictions. Her master had raised her when her own parents couldn’t anymore, taught her everything she knew, and what it was for. To uphold justice. To do the right thing with, no matter what she was being pressured to do. Sometimes, she suspected her masters death had come around from the same kind of thinking. That what had happened on the western front had never been an accident or bad luck, but there was no evidence, and only her own gut instinct.

Maybe that was what she used to rationalise this act of violence, that they had created problems for the villagers, that they were after them, that these people were carrying out injustices. Though really it was much more simple than that. The options were to die or to be captured.

She didn’t want to die here.

There was no pause for thought after she made her choice, one step, two steps, three…and then a run. Hand reached for air as the sword formed, fingers wrapped around the hilt and with one swing…a head rolled. It was at that moment Feng Wu had purposely unleashed hell. Really, she didn’t remember much of the fight, yet despite the display of violence, it was elegant in its execution. Perfect arc of red and silver travelled through the air, bodies hit the floor…until there was one left.

Feng Wu found herself staring at the soldier. Definitely the youngest. Not all that much younger than the sisters and brothers she’d cared for in the temple. Instead she nodded her head up. “Go tell him, I’ll kill everyone he sends for me.” She meant it. “Heavens watching him.” The latter was a threat. Sure, maybe it wasn’t wise for her to send a messenger to threaten the crown prince, but it wasn’t like their marriage was going to survive this and it sure as shit the country wasn’t while he let his father act like a tyrant.

Really, she’d never seen someone run that fast, letting out a sigh of relief she shook her head, ignoring the pain in her side and the blood stained robes. Not that she really cared if it was her blood or not right now. “You really need to get the hell off this planet because we’re a few weeks away from either a rebellion or collapse.”

#&&char: feng wu #nebulaties #&&tw: blood #&&tw: violence

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