Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Kiana Khansmith
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ojovivo
Discoholic 🪩
Cosimo Galluzzi
Keni
JVL
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
tannertan36
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
One Nice Bug Per Day
Game of Thrones Daily
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Three Goblin Art
roma★
we're not kids anymore.
if i look back, i am lost
Jules of Nature
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@fauxdeiu
██ ﹙ 𝕯. ﹚ INDIE MATT "𝔻AREDEVIL" MURDOCK. [ ﹙canon - divergent ﹠. comic based﹚ ] ▃▃ ‘‘ GOD LOVES YOU ... BUT NOT ENOUGH TO SAVE YOU. ’’
written by cec[e]ilia . this is a 21+ only space . links to be dated . ⋆ jason todd [ ﹙main blog﹚ ].
﹙ 𝕯. ﹚ continued. [ @loveologie ] ▃▃ ‘‘ FROM HERE. ’’
what's content to the little lady is an overwhelming splurge of city pollution to the devil. early evening traffic exploded, the working - class of manhattan took to the roads as a labor intense day concludes. matt purposefully left the curtains astray in his office, feeling the warmth hit the back of his neck, leveling him when the case, of which sat upon his desk, had a brutal headache pulsing between the ears. his fingertips bruise alongside raised ink, making out each letter in a slow, lazy process of gaining information. truth be told, he'd rather be doing anything but this. the day had gone on a bit longer than he'd like and he knew he'd be behind his desk later than usual. and so, when the secretary announced the blonde looking for unexpected respite, he welcomed her without worry.
( her scent is familiar, i could recognize her by perfume alone. it lingered nicely in the hallway, didn't have to hear her voice to know who came to visit after hours. her footsteps are gentle and poised against the oak floors of my office. we sat in silence for a beat longer than expected, i can't help but assume it may had something to do with the spider plastered across city newspapers. i take in the anxious pattering of her heart and it was obvious something heavy was weighing on her ).
there was guilt to be felt the longer she spoke. there was as much secrecy in sainthood as there was hope. it was hard to reconcile with that fact on his own, let alone with a civilian on the opposite spectrum of things. the hypocrisy rose steadily in his chest. ❛ well, gwen, i have half a brain to assume this is about a loved one. i take it there's been some... light fighting. maybe arguments is a better word to use. ❜ does god forgive lies that are told for the better good ? is there punishment to be had when those you care about a wounded by the deployment of deceit ? ❛ tell me what these people have been lying about. ❜
James Spader as Michael Boll BAD INFLUENCE (1990) dir. Curtis Hanson
secretary (2002)
@fauxdeiu to nathan drake : i'm so sorry, but that would be confidential information.
he didn’t belong where mosaic stretched from floor to ceiling, multicolor arrays danced along lengthy aisles. despite having been raised under faith, he was far from it, proven by the mouth and actions. the same sort of tribulation his new buddy with a knack for knowing things seemed to wrestle with, he’d observed. the air kept a salty tinge, accompanied by miscellaneous pollution; seawater carried it over creaking docks. drake made half desperate strides to catch up, not blaming the guy for wanting to get the hell home after everything. the opposite was he, heart rapid with adrenaline left over, the urgent need to know more. not even stumped by matthew’s polite dismissal.
" right, right. i mean why wouldn’t it be? " words flew from his mouth with a scoff, a mix of begrudging acknowledgment and sarcastic annoyance. heels swiveled against pavement, his body conveniently in the way of straightforward path. " you’re only everywhere i’ve ever been the past month. i gotta hand it to you, pal. your timing is incredible. " tone lightened, a halfhearted attempt to ease into the barrage of questions that begged to be freed from his throat. solidifying breath, the sort one would decide to take before a grand leap. " you can’t tell me anything? anything at all? … would it help if i shared a secret of my own too? y’know, the kind you tell someone after oh, i dunno. almost dying together. "
( his inquiry is overly eager, he wants to find out something deeper about me. i can't tell if he already knows and wants to pry it out through force, or if he's itching to reveal secrets to each other like little kids on the playground ). the colors are lost on matt, an ancient pastiche rainbow casting light against his person. he can feel the warmth drowning from the windows, traveling off the walls & onto the both of them directly. there's heat pooling from nathan's exposed skin, his body near enough to detect the beating of his heart, exactly how many steps he takes, and where within the church he resides. a quarter ways from the glass, likely center - stage with god & his lambs. matt can vaguely remember the hues & silhouettes from when he was a kid, before the truck & the toxins changed his perception of life forever. he reaches his hand out to it, drinks in the familiar fondness of faith.
in truth he had prior knowledge on his new - found friend. a word passed along until it dropped into the hands of the devil. he's quite the talking point, very similar to the spider or the man cast in iron. he's a thief in broad daylight, a certified tomb - raider, and a potential kingpin prospect if he doesn't play his cards correctly. matt took a dishonest two weeks off to follow him around aged catacombs & begrimed caves clothes in vigilante leathers. ❛ that's a minor coincidence, nathan. it seems our itineraries have lined up. ❜ ( his body's in front of me now. his scent dances around and hits my senses dead on. i stop, careful to momentarily stumble as a typical blind man would, using my cane for leverage. he doesn't know, or i assume as much, that i can sense his annoyance. the small exhales of breath from his nose indicating an irritation at my lack of giving information. i play dumb & average ). ❛ can you blame a guy for wanting to get close to someone he nearly saw god with .ᐣ that's a custom around here. i know we're both from the states but ──── this is bonding. please have a seat, you're making me nervous. ❜
rome doesn't typically call matt unless something has gone catastrophically wrong. texts, yes. missed calls followed by ignore that. the occasional photo of a legal document with what the fuck is this underneath it. actual phone calls are reserved for disasters. but right now his apartment is a fucking state. laptop open. half drunk coffee gone cold. his inbox is lit up with a dozen emails from different addresses, all ending the same way. 𝗐𝖾'𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒.
( @fauxdeiu ) the line clicks. rome goes, ' there's some fucker doin' it again. ' he stops pacing just long enough to stare at the newest unread email. he deletes it, and another pops up in its place. this bastard's persistent.
' melrose. james mel - fuckin whatever. conspiracy documentarian. parasite. he's making this three-part series for netflix. he keeps emailing me through different addresses because i blocked the first six. can i sue him? '
a sharp exhale. matt's heard this a million times. rome goes on the way he always does. ' i don't care what for. defamation. harassment. emotional damages. intentional infliction of being an absolute cunt. you tell me what sticks because if the answer is no, i'm gonna need you to explain why before i have to defend how throwing his editing software into the atlantic counts as free speech. '
general unease is sensed on opposite line. the phone vibrates more than once in his office. he waits, & waits ( mr. murdock are you there .ᐣ you have a call on line one. ──── it's his secretary. not karen... late darling karen. but a new model, younger, hasn't caught his interest any so she simply does her job around here ). he decides to pick up on the last ring, rome's voice, quite familiar, echos deep within his ear drum ( must have me on speed dial by now. he's not anywhere near so i don't pick up his heartbeat, but if i had to guess by the paranoia lingering in his tone, it's racing ). matt supports a headache so early in the morning from being badly banged up the night prior. hell's kitchen got him bad; some random street - rats had it out thinkin' they could get one up on him. blind & seemingly well off. no way he's able to fight back in a way that matters. it's easy money they assume. get him on his back & ruffle through his pockets, scram before night patrol could cuff 'em. matt left that alley bruised & bloodied, though his iron still in vein.
faux god places elbows on his desk, atop scattered papers & open books, his fingers dancing alongside his temples, digging in deep. because he doesn't want to talk at all, but especially now, he let's rome speak, not once interrupting his spiel of suspicious inquiries & cynical annoyance. when he finishes matt straightens, decides against that position, and leans until his back is flush against desk chair. ( secretary is leaving her post now. i can hear her footsteps leave down the hall & the elevator beep in arrival. too many people are shuffling in & out of the building downstairs. foggy's been interviewing most of them since we opened. i don't want to talk. i really don't feel like taking in clientele either ). ❛ you sound like you're in distress, rome. don't worry i can assure you we'll look over the case & file everything appropriately, so long you give me the required details. ❜ typical lawyer advocacy; he comes across disinterested yet capable, nearly like the sleazebags in other offices doing a half - assed job at representing their clients. matt, overly aware, straightens again. ❛ please slow down. after several failed attempts of communication, specifically by phone, one can file a lawsuit for harassment. perhaps emotional damages. do you have therapy receipts, rome .ᐣ ❜
Cameron Awkward-Rich, from "The Child Formerly Known As _________"
matt, who plays up the "being a blind man" thing a little more as a civilian so that pretty women who smell good will get close to him and cling onto him.
i feel like this may be cheating in a sense but, there's multiple instances in the comics where matt knows if someone's lying, or if they have feelings for him (or someone else), or if they're embarrassed, etc. his senses give him a lot of information. he knows when someone is approaching him, he knows when bullets are about to fly in his direction, he knows when someone's about to do something negative to him or others. it's not always accurate and he can mess up but his accuracy is... near perfect. so if there's ever a moment in a thread where i should know what your muse's intentions are so matt can asses them accurately and respond to them appropriately please let me know ahead of time. i would just hate to god - mod and make y'all mad because of matt just knowing things... even though that's very close to canon
why did they make him a whore
“I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”
﹙ 𝕯. ﹚ prompt. [ @midvales ] ▃▃ ‘‘ FIRST MEETING SENTENCE STARTERS. ’’
( at some point past noon, come rush hour, corporate shrills out of office feigning for overpriced lunch & a shot of mid - day espresso ) vociferate the city hummed, sun buzzing against stained new york concrete, the heat helped none ( sense too much heat, hate being out in the sun like this ). ninety - two degrees, traffic crawled through the streets as veins carrying blood through the body of the busy borough, trucks carrying heavy weight & toxic waste, sirens wailing desperate hoping that dying bodies find peace in one of the many hospitals gathered around here ( can hear their heartbeats as they start to fail, exiting out of my vicinity, but they're all goners, every last one ). there was help from the devil & the sun's incarnate; not meant to work together, but it happened to end up that way. matt stood near the edge of the building, his hands resting lightly on the twin batons hanging from his belt. the leather mask concealed his eyes, though that had always been the least important thing about it. he could hear her long before she dropped down beside him, could smell the hint of sweat coating her skin. there was the rush of air, the whisper of fabric in the wind; despite being unfamiliar with her personally, he knew exactly who she was. ❛ that's usually a bad sign. if you've heard mostly good things then you've got the wrong guy. ❜
When the levee breaks | Nicola Samori
WILL HE FORGIVE ME .ᐣ FOR EVERYTHING ﹠ NOTHING .ᐣ ──── he already has. red hood ( reknight ) , daredevil ( fauxdeiu ).
┕ Matt Murdock in Daredevil #95 (2007).
oh so the loss is holy? and it feels like this forever?
“I have a feeling we’re about to become acquainted whether we like it or not.”
﹙ 𝕯. ﹚ prompt. [ @ioracle ] ▃▃ ‘‘ FIRST MEETING SENTENCE STARTERS. ’’
( something's not right about what i'm doing ──── what i've done ) heartbeats rhythm unsteady like she's grown a pair of sharp teeth in the time it took for him to arrive ( it's too loud, this place, louder than manhattan ... ); thumping raw flesh trying to gnaw her way out the cavern of his chest, she's to rest 'till death does her part amongst the smog - covered sidewalks of gotham. she is a city like the place in which he came, hell's kitchen her unholy twin, god's favorite test subjects for unwavering devotion & one's personal response to sin. ( i can smell burning popped tires. too many conversations happening at once. static nearby, white noise, strong, thick perfume ) he carries the weight of his guilt on leather - clad shoulders, having sweat linger under the mask that shields ghost - hued pupils from others unknowing eyes. he's heard about this place a time too many, rumors that echoed through train - lines & telephone booths, & it was only his bitter, soot - covered arrival that had him understand fully the reason why many here stop looking for god & instead find their faith through inciting bullet wounds & thrown fists.
❛ I have a feeling we’re about to become acquainted whether we like it or not. ❜
voice is familiar, the way a woman's pre - recorded voice on a call line is. yet it is still an unwelcomed addition to the throbbing headache forming between his ears. he's heard her amidst the ruins & chaos, beyond the screams of young children & women desperate to find shelter within darkness. there was malevolent laughter, electricity ignited in nearby puddles, & yet her voice, despite it all. he hadn't known her name, hadn't asked for it between then and now, & didn't care for a second too many. he faces her when the words trail off & all that lingers is smoke and bile. ❛ although correct, this is not something i necessarily care for at the moment, miss. ❜ he senses a shift in her own heart; he hadn't meant anything by it, no malice or ill - will. foggy could attest to this, had he been here. ❛ make me as familiar with your name as your voice .ᐣ ❜
