them murdock boys ;; got the devil in 'em

Matt Murdock. 29. Daredevil. 〝Maybe that's my problem... 〝I've always been running after something;; when I should have had the good sense to run away. 〝Ah well. 〝No use crying over spilled toxic waste.〞 please keep in mind that a) Matt basically constantly wears sunglasses so please imagine sunglasses unless otherwise specified, & b) that where applicable and due to the nature of his supersenses, i will likely be messaging you about secret identities & such

[ramshacklerebel]

||OPEN|| Faster than a Bullet

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

Jessica watched him out of the corner of her eye as his shoulders eased just a little more. Their conversation had been casual, but there had been an underlying tension that had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t certain if the thought of coffee, her conversation with him, or simple time had been the alleviating factor, but she noticed it all the same. There was a story there, but she didn’t bother asking. 

As he gathered himself to leave, she wondered at her reasons for accepting the offer of coffee. She’d surprised herself, honestly. It wasn’t that long ago that she had herself convinced that other people were just distractions and that she was better off alone than risking anyone else. Now here she was, asking for business cards and going out for coffee. 

His self-deprecating laughter made her wandering mind focus on him again and she hesitated there in the alley. A cursory glance behind her before she was shifting towards him. She came to stand quietly at his side and he would feel her leather-encased elbow nudged into his side in an offer to lead him. She seemed uncomfortable with her gesture but not because she felt that it was a kindness. Jessica didn’t see his blindness as a disability; it was just part of him, like the color of his hair. 

She held her breath as she waited. “Come on, Murdock.” 

What Matt was expecting: an elaborate game of Marco Polo with the goal of making sure he didn’t walk into her, in which he would occasionally call out ‘Marco’, and she would respond with ‘Polo’, in an attempt to gauge their respective locations.

What Matt got: an elbow nudged against his side, a clear offer for him to take her elbow, a far more practical and yet somehow more surprising manner of ensuring spacial awareness.

As such, he couldn’t hide the upward quirk of his eyebrows, but he did nod. “-- Thank you. Jones,” he added as an afterthought, taking her elbow.

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

Despite the lapse in judgement that led to her injury, Jessica managed to hold her own fairly well for someone unused to frequent bouts of combat. Her half-gloved fist struck another one of the hoodlums and he sank to the floor like a dead weight, out cold. Another found himself sailing through the air past Daredevil as she tossed him bodily away as if he were little more than a ragdoll. He scrambled to his feet and attempted to flee, but the Devil probably took him out with a quick club against the back of his head. 

When the danger had passed, she found herself with idle hands and time enough for her dark eyes to quietly take in the masked hero grinding bone against boot-heel. The noise was wet against the pavement and his fury was palpable. The wound from his upper lip had opened again and another sluggish trail of blood seeped down his strong jawline. Suddenly, his focus was on her again and he tilted his head in her direction. His violence against those men was somewhat at odds with his concern for her. Another twist in her guts that she studiously ignored. 

Her eyes dropped down to the oozing laceration on her thigh and she’d press a palm against it. The lack of anxiety in her shrug conflicted with the amount of blood present. “These were my favorite damn pair of jeans. I’ll send the bill to you,” she insisted. As if he had a post office box she could drop a line to at whim. “Nah, it’s cool. I heal pretty fast and I know a nurse stupid enough to help out gifted assholes if I really needed it.” 

There probably wasn’t more than one soft-hearted nurse that stupid. 

Still, the chance of her actually seeking out Claire, despite her insistence, was almost zero. Leather shifted and she pulled out a flask to chug down a little painkiller. 

Daredevil continued to frown beneath the cowl, because of course he did. Frowning beneath the cowl was what he did. He was a walking under-cowl frown.

Wait, seriously? Was she talking about Claire? He didn’t let his surprise show on his face as the familiar ache in his chest for the people he’d lost twinged.

“-- If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, I’m about eighty percent sure she’s not around right now. I wouldn’t recommend putting all your faith in one person that probably isn’t there; she’s good but she can’t teleport. You need stitches.”

[ramshacklerebel]

||OPEN|| Faster than a Bullet

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

Her shoulders lifted helplessly. “Who, me? Nope, I’m just passing through,” she retorted, in rapid response to his comment about being alone. It seemed prudent to warn him that she didn’t have his back, should he need it. At least.. not without some real coaxing.  Maybe a contract, just to be safe.

Jessica got involved when she had to, but she still clung to her old self-imposed ideals of things not getting complicated. And they always did when she stuck her neck out for other people. Not that she was complaining, mind you. Just liked to avoid it whenever possible.

At the end of her long, thoughtful silence and her twitchy fingers against the stiff fabric of her jeans, he searched for his card. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet restlessly as she watched him dig around in his pockets. Her lips twitched in amusement as he held out the card in what he assumed was her general direction. She would accept the little rectangle of fancy cardstock and peer at the name and contact information; the information held too-close to her nose. Her gaze flicked up at him and her thumb ran over the braille abruptly. An index finger flicked against the paper before she tucked it away into her inner jacket pocket. It slid in securely next to her flask.

When he offered coffee, she hesitated. Finally, sounding surprised at her own reply, she nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see it. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I guess. Coffee.” She turned to head towards the mouth of the alley, grateful that the crowd had trickled down to nearly nothing. 

Matt wasn’t not expecting that kind of response, which was to say that that was exactly the kind of response he was expecting in response to having asserted that she was there, as opposed to him being alone in a shady alleyway. Yes. He was a lawyer. Just a reminder.

The corner of his lip turned upward as she agreed to coffee, and he nodded, because coffee. Well, tea. Still, though. Heated beverages. He exhaled, the world starting to even out. Well, in so much as it ever did. There was still pain. It was kind of everywhere, and he wasn’t happy about it. Just...no. But at least...tea. He could do tea.

“-- Great,” he exhaled, not even a tiny hint of sarcasm evident in his voice, seriously, no sarcasm. He pushed himself from the wall with a world-weary exhaustion, and schooled his posture into something a little more New York, a little more lawyer, a little more living. Then he kinda laughed a bit, just a quiet little chuckle to himself. “-- I’m sorry, I uh...I don’t know where you are. Let me know if I’m gonna walk into you?”

[offearlessness]

laeppaxeh:

“I don’t know I feel like there’s a lot of grandparents who could ‘just eat you up’ and want to like, introduce you to their grandchildren because, ‘really, you’re so much better than that boy she met a few years back, are you sure you won’t come over for cookies?’ Even though everyone knows cookies is actually a euphemism for their grandchild’s hand in marriage. I’m not talking from experience though. Not at all. Ever.”

“-- Are you sure? ‘Cause it kinda sounds like you are. How many grandparents have tried to get you to marry their grandchildren?”

[offearlessness]

laeppaxeh:

Zatanna could have used magic to help him out of the dumpster, could have saved herself the trouble of reaching into a literal trash receptical, but honestly? Abs? And shoulders? And biceps? And you’d think she’d be used to that sort of thing from the amount of vigilantes she knows but. Nope, some things just don’t lose their appeal. So of course, she shrugs, “No problem.”

She took the necessary steps forward with a small pleased smile and reached toward him, hands trying, despite what she’d want, to remain professional. She plants a hand on his shoulder, and one beneath his arm, hand flat against his ribs and hopes she’s not hurting more than helping. “Though, may I point out, that maybe if you need a little bit of help removing yourself from the cozy trash pile that you might not be fighting fit for uh. Taking down bad guys?”

“-- Thanks,” quoth Daredevil, as she helped him out of the trash. Oh yeah, that was hurting way more than helping, but hey, he always had been a glutton for punishment. “-- Who says I don’t just want an excuse to be close to you? It’s not every night you meet a beautiful lady in a shady alley.” He put his feet on the ground. Okay, that was solid. He put his hand to the dumpster to steady himself, unabashed.

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

“You sure? I bet you get punched in the face a whole lot. That stupid costume pretty much guarantees it.” She was clearly irritated by her own physical response to him and she was lashing out, her mood soured by her own betrayal. He didn’t get a chance to respond as his enemies cleared the corner to face against the Devil and …Emo-Barbie? 

As she’d suspected, Daredevil took out the most dangerous opponent with the gun. She stared down at the empty weapon he’d kicked towards her, knocking against the leather of her boot. She stooped to scoop it up before throwing it with her considerable strength. It managed to catch one of them in the head and he crumpled in a heap. Stepping over his prone frame, she caught the arm of the next, the blade very nearly catching her on the wrist as she closed quarters. Grabbing a fistful of his jacket, she’d flip him to land on his back against the pavement. 

Luck wasn’t on her side as his knife sliced a gouge through her thigh on the way down and, more upsetting, her favorite pair of jeans. So much for not getting stabbed. Her boot caught the goon’s temple in reproach and he lapsed into unconsciousness. 

Copper tinged the air and Daredevil cursed under his breath. Fuck. He’d fucking known this was a bad idea; there was a fucking reason he worked alone. It didn’t matter how well-trained or how Gifted the people he was working with were; they’d always get hurt.

        They’d always die.

Daredevil threw a club, fighting harder even as his ribs and aches complained, scowling as he pushed through the void in his soul that was echoed in the creaking of his bones. C’mon, Matty. C’mon, don’t sink, don’t spiral. The mind controls the body. The body was the mind’s greatest weapon. He fucked these fuckers up in a fire-fuelled, precise, brutally efficient series of grunts and thumps, and, panting, spat out some blood onto the back of the final groaning hooligan. “-- Stay down,” he growled, grinding his boot against their shoulder before he raised his head. “-- That’s gonna need stitches.”

[ramshacklerebel]

||OPEN|| Faster than a Bullet

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

“Fair point, but how would you know if your entourage was nearby, Godfather?,” she questioned, plainly.  The given title was stretched out into her typical amused drawl. Brick scraped against leather, pavement against heel as she leaned her shoulders back against the wall of the alley and peered out towards its narrow mouth. Her eyes drifted across the people hurrying home from their workdays. The length of time spent stationary in one place was making her antsy. 

There was a brief moment of hesitation again as he glossed over the magnitude of her name without batting an eye. The tension in her shoulders melted. She neglected to give him the same courtesy when he gave her his own name. Instead, a sharp bark of laughter sounded. “No shit?,” she asked, the pleasant surprise in her voice warming her expression. “Fisk, huh? Fucking badass. And fucking stupid,” she added seamlessly as an aside. Though she sounded more impressed than she was admonishing him. “Even more reason not to stand in abandoned allies alone.” Of course, he wasn’t alone. 

Matt may learn that there was a particular sound when Jessica was thinking. She tossed an idea around in her skull with an unexpected amount of noise that not many people would notice. Her stand shifted, her fingertips tapped against her thigh, and her lips pressed together. Eventually, her voice lifted with perhaps more uncertainty than he would have expected.

“I know a lot of people who might need a really stupid, bleeding heart lawyer. You have a card or something?”

He nodded in response to her recognition of the Fisk shebang, and huffed out a little laugh. Stupid. Yeah, some would say so. Foggy had. Hell, he had too for brief minutes here and there. But he could handle Fisk, wasn’t afraid of Fisk, and it showed in the lines of his shoulders and the swoop of his hair. And strangely enough, he voiced something, mild as a lightly salted potato chip, that he didn’t know she was also thinking, “-- But I’m not alone. You’re right there.”

Oh, yeah, he noticed. Thinking was happening, probably. He couldn’t say for sure, but it sure as shit sounded like it. He had to say, though, he wasn’t expecting that. “-- Uh...yeah. Yeah, I got a card...” He put his cane to one hand as he delved his other into a pocket, seeking the little rectangle with Nelson and Murdock’s information written on it in both printed English and in braille. Upon locating it, he extracted it and held it out a little in front of him, maintaining the ‘oh no I don’t know where this person is’ facade. “-- Here. Sorry, uh...you may have a point about the alleyway. And feel free to decline, obviously, but I’m thinking of grabbing a coffee. You’re welcome to join me.”

[goodbecamegreat-blog]

Not Rude | Open

[offearlessness]

goodbecamegreat:

Steve was momentarily surprised, though he suppose he didn’t really have much to go on as to lawyers. He didn’t really enjoy talking to them. The experience with them when he was adjusting to the modern world was…unpleasant. “Ah. I guess that would make sense,” he said after a moment. “Yeah well, I could’ve dealt with that better. I’m just a little on edge today.” Honestly, he was always a little on edge. There were days where that was better, but there was typically some level of discomfort or tension with him while he made his way through the city.

Matt was very much used to getting that kind of reaction when he told people he was a lawyer. Still, he wasn’t going to hold it against him, considering how it made sense, and also this was Steve Rogers. “-- I know the feeling,” nodded Matt sagely, as if he actually knew what he was talking about. “-- Have you considered screaming into the void?”

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

Jessica’s dark eyes, twin coals under sharp eyebrows, shot over sidelong towards him as he muttered his own expletive. That seemed a good sign that at least he seemed to be accepting her help. His gloved hand rose as he stood shoulder to shoulder with her. He wiped impatiently at the blood at the corner of his mouth and Jessica averted her eyes quickly and ignored the way that made her heart beat a little faster. She might think that dressing up in a shiny red outfit complete with ears and leaping around on rooftops was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard, but there was something biological about that tight, protective outfit that got a girl’s motor running. She blamed it on the adrenaline and let out a slow breath through her pursed lips while fighting the urge to fidget. She would have been mortified to know that he could actually tell. 

Don’t get distracted, Jessica. 

She listened earnestly as he gave her a brief rundown on the approaching enemies and her hair shifted with the sharp nod of acceptance. The gunman was the biggest problem, so she figured that the devil would take him out first. She was startled from her inward musings by his warning that seemed far too stern and order-like than she appreciated. 

She was half tempted to get stabbed just to spite him. Might be worth the pain. Fuck you, pal, I do what I want. He could probably hear the clack of her teeth and twitch of muscles in her jaw in response. “I’ll try not to accidentally punch you in the face for that bullshit fucking advice,  Beelzebub,” she admitted, her voice filled with harsh angles and a frustrated huff leaving her nostrils. 

Oh, yeah. He noticed.

“-- My face appreciates the sentiment,” was Daredevil’s nonchalant response, giving no shits as to how the ‘try not to get stabbed’ had been taken. The important thing was that it’d been said, and that she’d consider taking it on-board.

Just in time, too, because here a fucker, there a fucker, everywhere a fucker, and Daredevil threw his billy club without preamble, smacking his wrist just in the right place to force the gun from his hand, whereupon he removed the ammo and kicked the empty gun in Jess’s direction, just on the off chance that she might be able to do something with a completely empty gun (if she wanted to destroy it or use it against the asshats, that was up to her, he wasn’t gonna tell her how to live her life), and after bodily throwing the ex-gunman to the side, he moved on to the knives.

[ramshacklerebel]

||OPEN|| Faster than a Bullet

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

The laugh was sudden and genuine and she couldn’t help the answering curl of her own lips in response. Though, her features schooled into something far more passive as he continued their little jest, only the creases at the corners of her eyes revealing her quiet amusement. Their conversation was far too easy for two strangers, she thought. Maybe it was just more simple than their real lives. Her eyes ghosted across his form and she wondered who he might be out there, on the other side of the alley; wondered who he was in the light of day. She dared not ask.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Probably better if I keep my mouth shut. Literally. Then you bastards can’t find me.” She couldn’t help the snark that seeped into her low voice.  “I mean, I wouldn’t want the Blind Mafia coming after me,” she drawled. “Are you their fearless leader? You look like the Godfather type.” She avoided remarking that he looked at wrecked as she had when she’d first seen him there in the dank alley. 

Her heart rate was slow and even. The weight of her gaze was heavy as if she were memorizing every detail of his mannerisms and his features. “Name’s Jessica.” There was no rustle of fabric in an attempt to shake his hand. Instead, she waited with the heavy weight of expectation of a name in return. Her mane of hair whispered as she tilted her head at him. If that was all she offered, there was no way he could have heard of her. No complications.

Fuck it. 

“Jessica Jones,” she amended with a note of determined challenge in the lilt of her voice. She didn’t know if he would have heard of her, but she wanted to see his reaction in case he had. 

“-- If I was the leader of a hypothetical blind mafia, why would I tell you without my entourage nearby to pick up the pieces?” He swept up the snark that she’d delivered, and mailed it right back to her, first class, same-day delivery, each and every ounce checked, marked, sent through customs, and sealed within the words he’d spoken regarding the blind mafia leadership issue.

On another note, however, he very much indeed did know who Jessica Jones was, being as he was both a lawyer and also Daredevil. The bullshit with Kilgrave had been everywhere. Everywhere. But still, he wasn’t going to treat her any differently just because she was a PI who happened to have killed a shitty excuse for a human being. He’d felt the hesitation in the air, though, before she announced her surname. It had been a prolific shitstorm, so it made sense.

“-- Matthew Murdock,” was his response, unfazed, and with a follow-up, “-- Most people call me Matt.” If it was any consolation to her challenge, his name was notable for a grand total of two things; being blinded and putting Wilson Fisk behind bars. This was by no means equivalent to manslaughter, but it certainly had a marked impact on how people interacted with him after finding out.

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

The tilt of his head almost made him appear as if he were listening to something, but Jessica assumed that he was just coming to conclusions about how quickly the combatants would follow him. Her expression changed to something more sarcastically incredulous. “Really? But it was such a well-conceived shortcut,” she drawled. So apparently, she was a jerk to just about everyone she met and not just blind men in alleys. She wouldn’t even think to suspect them as the same person.

His gloved hand was firm against her own and she fought the urge to tear her own away at the tide of real human emotion that swelled in her gut upon realizing just how bad off this stranger was. She didn’t even seem to notice the additional weight he placed on her. Most of her own strength was used to haul him out of the dumpster and settle him on his feet again. She was far too strong for a normal woman, especially given her slight frame. He released her once his feet were on the ground. Her hand came out to offer a steady presence at his elbow, hovering an inch away, just in case he needed it. It might be amusing in later reflection, given that he oft took the elbow of others when he was playing blind and helpless. 

It quickly became clear that he wasn’t going to run from those pursuing him and a frown marred her features in response. There was something about the beaten, bloodied man’s stubborn refusal to back down from this conflict when given the opportunity that made something in her warm. Just the right amount of stupid. Trish would love that hero complex of his, she thought. Hurried footsteps approached in the distance and he stood to square with them despite the weary set to his shoulders. 

“Fuck you.” The terse reply, as if insulted he would even suggest she abandon him, was paired with a rude snort. Her fists clenched, her stance widened, and her jaw set as the reluctant hero stood squarely beside him to face his enemies.

Daredevil’s eyebrows raised at the ‘fuck you’. Now that he hadn’t been expecting. Okay, no, he’d been expecting the expletive, but not the action that went with it. From the impression he’d got of the woman, of Jessica, she’d never wanted this -- he was a lawyer, it was his job to read people. She didn’t seem like it was her thing to step up to the plate and fight for what was right, just for the sake of doing the right thing. He’d been wrong before. Not in his gut, though. Never in his gut.

“-- Fuck it,” grumbled Daredevil, and gave in. He’d said it before; sometimes he just couldn’t do this alone. More to the point, what did he have to lose here? So he stood shoulder to shoulder with her ( any height difference notwithstanding ) as the footsteps neared, drawing his billy clubs and swiping a smear of blood away from his lip with the back of his hand. “-- Six; one gun, one length of chain, and the rest knives. Gunman just had hip surgery, the slowest knife’s been awake too long to be effective. Try not to get stabbed.”

[offearlessness]

laeppaxeh:

offearlessness:

        {{ categorisation xoxo

Daredevil slowly dragged himself out of the dumpster in which he’d landed, having been bodily thrown in its direction. He was not in very good shape. Still, he’d had worse, and while still draped half-over the edge of the dumpster, he spat out a little blood, directing his words (only marginally slurred, to his credit) to the nearest person;

“– I’d say it’s not what it looks like, but it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Zatanna raised her eyebrows, not too worried, the other seemed to be in too good of humor to have broken bones or major injuries from his fall. “Oh, babydoll. I do love a vigilante who doesn’t have to be vague and mysterious. I appreciate that in a man.” Zatanna chewed her lip and looked around, arms crossed, “want some help? Or do you got this, just, like, grunt, or use your words. See if you can break all the molds. Promise I won’t even break a nail on these guys.”

Ah, sleep lady who’d called him delicious. Many Z. Something like that. Zantana? No, Zatanna. Of course. Strangely enough, he was used to being flirted with in the mask. Daredevil rolled his neck to the side as he considered the offer and also like, where the assholes had gone. “-- I got this,” concluded he, as he leaned on the side of the dumpster. He had them spooked. Freedom from criminal elements, if only a temporary reprieve. “-- Could probably use a little help getting out of this thing, though.” He’d be able to manage on his own, but he had to admit that his ribs were definitely complaining, which, combined with the fact that she sounded pleasant, culminated in the acquiescence.

[offearlessness]

laeppaxeh:

“I mean, in my last line of work it was sort of the opposite of what I was going for, I was rocking more of a titillating amazed sort of vibe. Or trying to. Now? I mean I guess that works, I’m a bartender and alcohol can definitely do that….I still like yours better.”

“-- Well, I don’t know about that. I’m a lawyer, and typically speaking, if I make the jury sound like they want to eat me, I’m not doing my job. The irony behind our names is career notwithstanding.”

[offearlessness]

johnny-conjob:

Constantine took a moment to parse the question.

Why did he ask?

It was probably shitty. He was probably in the middle of thinking something asininely chivalrous to the tune of I could walk him home  or Maybe I should make sure he doesn’t trip his way into traffic  or Gee the blind guy has got a fuckin’ gorgeous face maybe I should charm him into my apartment under the guise of being a nice fuckin’ person instead of just being a nice. fucking. person.

He took a breath, free hand up and poised to gesture with before he let it drop, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in something like embarrassment. He felt personally attacked by the man’s face, eyebrows raised and expectant.

“I think I was going to try to be nice,” he muttered, voice low and almost airy as if it shocked him. In all fairness, it did a little. “Now I think I was just going to be an asshole. Do you have … Have I … met you before?”

Matt smiled placidly, raising his eyebrows. Time to exhibit the mild patience he so desperately cultivated. What a fucking paradox. “-- I’m not gonna stop you from niceness or assholeness, don’t you worry. I’m not sure how I’m meant to answer that question, though. There are only so many voices I can memorise, after all. It’s very possible. Matt Murdock, attorney.” He would have held his hand out to shake but one hand had tea and the other hand had cane.

[ramshacklerebel]

||OPEN|| Faster than a Bullet

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

Honestly, she was just as surprised that he engaged with her. He was down in this alley for a reason, whether he wanted to admit it or not. There was an inherent danger, though perhaps minor at this time of day, down every alley in New York and that went double for someone with his limited visual capabilities. She assumed the only reason he’d said anything at all was to warn that he was sharing the same space with her. Or he thought she’d tail to avoid him.

There they were, two people who weren’t likely to interact with one another for a variety of reasons, having a conversation. Wonders never ceased.

Her lip curled up at his reply in genuine amusement, mostly because he couldn’t see to appreciate the rare gesture for what it was. At least he handed her shit right back to her and did it without skipping a beat. Most strangers were at least a little deferential when his disability became clear, but Jessica pulled punches for no one.

Strangely, she seemed just as relieved with the distraction as he was. He alleviated his anger in her company; she soothed the panic climbing her throat in his verbal sparring. “I knew there was something decidedly unsettling about the blind. Finally. Proof. Wait until I tell all the other sighted people who hang out in alleys.” She didn’t go out of her way to eke an emotional response that would sell her jest as something close to the truth. She preferred a deadpanned, unflappable tone that was closer to boredom. Too much effort otherwise.

“Thought about it,” she added with a sharp nod, about the mugging. "But you’ve seen my face.” The stupid joke earned another rare smile under eyes hooded with amusement.

Matt barked out a short laugh that honestly slightly surprised him, at the quip about him having seen her face. The punching feeling was melting away, slowly but surely. Of course, it was still very much present, would always be very much present, but it wasn’t at the forefront. Not right now. Not with this degree of snark.

“-- You could tell them, you’re right,” quoth Matt ponderously as he pretended to consider it, an unironic, smooth smile slipping across his face. “-- But nobody would believe you. Why, sir, how should we know that we all happen to be in the same alley at the same time? We can’t see each other! Of course, we could speak, but how should we know that there was another there with whom we can converse?”

[offearlessness]

this-ismayalopez:

Maya laughed softly at the reply before having a sip of her own drink. “No problem,” she said, rolling her shoulders. Glancing at him, she noticed that she had missed him. Yes, she had kissed him goodbye and she wasn’t going to cry over him not being in her life anymore - and it wasn’t like it was what she wanted - but something about seeing him again… She sighed softly. She had promised herself not to get involved with anyone from her old life again before she had found her new purpose. But she was known for not always making the greatest choices. “How have you been?”

Well. That was a reaction. Her lungs stuttered. Matt wasn’t going to decipher it, though, wasn’t going to ruminate on it. Not when he knew damn well that he was also known for making poorly-conceived choices. Still, if she wanted to make small talk, he’d indulge. “-- I’ve been good,” comparatively speaking, anyway, “-- settled a few cases, earned the sign on the door, kept my head above water. How about you?”

[offearlessness]

ramshacklerebel:

offearlessness:

        {{ categorisation xoxo

Daredevil slowly dragged himself out of the dumpster in which he’d landed, having been bodily thrown in its direction. He was not in very good shape. Still, he’d had worse, and while still draped half-over the edge of the dumpster, he spat out a little blood, directing his words (only marginally slurred, to his credit) to the nearest person;

“– I’d say it’s not what it looks like, but it’s exactly what it looks like.”

It was late and despite her career choice, Jessica didn’t like to linger in this part of town. She might have powers to back her up in a fight, but no point in courting trouble. Trouble probably wouldn’t be interested anyway. She didn’t get asked out on a lot of dates. 

Most of the smaller gangs in Hell’s Kitchen knew her by reputation enough to stay away from her. They also knew that she’d stick her neck out to help someone innocent who needed it. Since the title of Hero made her itch, she tried to avoid putting herself in those circumstances. 

What sounded like a large, solid object came hurtling through the air and startled her on her way by, flying into a dumpster with a resounding thud of metal. She came to an abrupt stop and peered into the shadows for its source. Did she even want to know?  The infamous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen immediately made himself known by dragging himself out again, blood trailing down his chin. It matched his little costume, at least. Her brows lofted and she glanced down. Okay, so this is happening.

“You look like an asshole,” she informed him, apparently unconcerned with his sudden appearance. Despite her tone of voice, which bordered somewhere between annoyed, astound at his stupidity, and amused. “Are they coming back? Maybe you should just stay down this time.” 

She reached up in an attempt to help him clear of the dumpster while her eyes scouted the area for his attackers. The grip of her hands, if he accepted, was far stronger than her slim frame should have. And so effortless, he might wonder about her abilities. This wasn’t her fight, but she knew the guy was good for the neighbourhood and he looked like he needed the help.

Oh, it was alley lady. Daredevil smirked at her words, biting back the ‘I’ll take your word for it’ that threatened to spill out when she said he looked like an asshole, and ultimately, y’know, not saying it. Instead he cocked his head. “-- They’re not far out, trying to figure out how to get down here without taking the shortcut I did.”

Staying down? Not an option. Never an option. Groaning a little, he accepted her hand, a testament to the poor shape his ribs were in -- his entire body was a creaking ship, it felt like -- and let her help him out of the dumpster, more planning on not putting any weight on her at all, but shortly going ‘woah’ in his head and, while not exhibiting any shock, putting a little more weight on her as he found his feet on the ground. Then he let go.

“-- Thanks. Maybe you should clear out; they’re only looking for me.”