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Just my fleeting thoughts 23, she/her, fandom and DILF enthusiast Occasional writer + insomniac

[icallshtgun]

why is his body so tea hello

[the-ghost-bird]

The way you can see the psychotic grin under the mask is very special to me

[icallshtgun]

bitches with mental illness have the best pussy😁😁

[icallshtgun]

dex sounds like million dollar man by lana del rey

[lillymjcx]

the good fight - pt2 (Ben poindexter x reader)

staying at a distant relatives apartment, you attempt to fix yourself up after the massacre at the diner. soon you realise you can’t escape a certain blood shadow.

part one here!

warnings : mentions of physical wounds/scars

guys this is gonna be a very slow burn i’m just warning y’all 😓 probably 6 parts im thinking. lmk if y’all want to be tagged in the next part!

⋆۶ৎ .₊ 🦢 .˖ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

your aunts warm hug engulfs you warmly as you step over the threshold of her cramped apartment. you awkwardly reciprocate the gesture, just grateful to have somewhere to stay- briefly. she’d given you space mostly, which you needed.

you couldn’t come here before, how would you explain the boxing bag your face had imitated? how would you explain why you couldn’t go home? the incident at the diner had been helpful in that sense: everyone had heard about it, which gave you ample reason to pay an overdue visit to the your only relative in the city.

the bathroom mirror was speckled with toothpaste and your reflection was disjoined thanks to the scuffs and cracks yet you could still make out the bruises had somewhat faded, blues dimming into faint yellows as your tenderly pried them with your fingers.

it had only been 2 days so your physical recovery was impressive, mentally though you were still there.

in that sad, grey apartment where you’d split rent with 3 strangers out of necessity- their names didn’t matter to you. Before what happened, all you cared about was staying where the action was: hell’s kitchen. you’d seen the claws of evil grasp the city and instead of leaving you’d vowed to fight back albeit not as violently as others had.

who better to reveal the evil undergrowth of the city than a freelance journalist desperate for a big break?

is what you used to think. you hadn’t even published yet, just field research before someone broke into your apartment and beat you within an inch of your life, and you’d gotten the hint. you wouldn’t abandon your passion, but you refuse to pay with your life.

warmth twisting around your ankle pulled you out of your trance. your aunt had a cat? you hadn’t noticed it last night, but now as the morning sky spat stretching sun rays along the tiles- there it was: generic looking, but somewhat charming.

it’s nice to interact with something alive. your aunt was kind and generous as she’d offered you a place to live. you tried to act warmly in return, but your life had been plagued with sinkholes in the last week. you’d lost your home, you nearly died twice in the span of 2 days. who could you trust now?

you watch the cat as it meanders out of the bathroom and you begin to instinctively follow it, like a child led by a ribbon. the cat stretches itself through the cat-flap and out into the fading walls of the hallway.

before you can return to the bathroom, you could hear a quiet murmur of meows from the other side of the door. it piqued your interest somehow- you didn’t even know the cats name but you felt a deep maternal affection towards them, you wouldn’t leave it alone in the hallway.

you begin pacing back to front door, hoisting up to the spy hole on your tip-toes.

a man crouched down, stroking your cat rhythmically. what the? who did this guy think he was? retrospectively- your reaction had been extreme. but who wouldn’t be on edge after the week you’d been having.

the man slowly rose, his black jacket unfolding itself as he grew to his full stature. blonde thorns of hair perfectly pruned into a familiar, neat order.

as he turned, revealing his face, the realisation hit you. you stumble back, barely catching yourself before you’d made a scene. you couldn’t forget the face of a man once your life had rested in their mercy. it was him.

the massacre at bel aire diner had been quick to sweep headlines at the new york bulletin. they’d called him bullseye, a violent prison escapee, previously fbi swat- he’d been sure to orchestrate his skills in the diner 2 nights ago.

though, reminiscing on the night, you realised you hadn’t feared for your life. and though you wouldn’t say it out loud, you thought bullseye was doing something everyone else couldn’t. he was smoking the AVTF out of this city, which was commendable.

you’d pondered over him frequently. he had an allure of danger and mystery. did he have nothing to lose? no one who would disapprove of his extremist behaviour? was he really fighting the good fight?

why had he let you live?

it was in this very moment that you realised he really was right there: a few feet infront of you, divided by the cracking plywood of the door. should you say something? thank him for your life?

for once your logic overcame your intrusive thoughts. you knew he was dangerous, so you slowly retreat into the living room.

your aunt hadn’t noticed you at first, floating awkwardly in the entryway. you felt weird asking questions in general; you feared that if you pried too hard, your presence would break some kind of trance and she’d get rid of you. then you’d really have no one.

but this was a matter of life of death, surely she’d want to know if her neighbour was a masked vigilante with a lethal aim.

“so.. do you have any neighbours here?”

jesus- you could be any less awkward?

“oh hi honey, i didn’t even see you there!”

her kindness made you feel vulnerable, you didn’t want people to feel fondly towards you, or rely on you; because you were guaranteed to let them down.

you smiled lightly and waited for her to answer the question you’d asked. you really needed answers, there was no time for pleasantries. she’s promptly gotten the hint.

“well um, yes just one. i think his name is Tony, he’s a very kind man, feeds the cat and whatnot. why do you ask?”

so she did know him. they’d probably exchanged pleasantries over morning newspapers, or whatever neighbours did. was is your place to tell her? that she’d been living a few feet away from an assassin?

no- you couldn’t tell her. it wasn’t your place to disrupt her peaceful lifestyle anymore than you already had. what if she wanted to get rid of you for it? you wouldn’t risk it.

so you slowly pace down the hall, past the threshold and out of the apartment towards the only other door on this level.

your tight fist had a weight of reluctancy and you reached up to knock the pristinely pained door. you had no idea what you were doing, a rebel without a clue, a lamb leading herself to the slaughter.

2 brief, successive knocks later and the door promptly opened. your suspicion had been proven true. it really was him.

you try to soak this moment in before it ended, upturn as much dirt as you could see- though there was none. he had arguably the neatest apartment you’d ever seen. it was like looking at a showroom, or a methodically cleaned crime-scene. no aspect of the apartment dared do disobey his strict regime of cleanliness.

you’d didn’t know what you’d expected but you were still surprised nevertheless. he just stood there: a plain white vest wrapping itself around his broad frame, veins cascading down this thick arms.

you could see his face in more detail now. a deep red ravine clawing across the side of his cheek, fine lines of age echoing across his face.

“hi! i- im your new neighbour”

you’d realise you’d most definitely been staring for way too long and had literally no idea what to do. so you outstretched your shaking hand to introduce yourself.

he didn’t react, as if you weren’t even there, your words meant nothing as he methodically looked you over.

“what happened to your face?”

his voice reverberated through your entire body, shaking your bones as you desperately tried to focus your brain on the question- though it wouldn’t comply.

“huh?”

he’d stopped leaning on the doorframe now, and outstretched his calloused fingers towards your face. you didn’t flinch, or run, for some illogical reason you embraced the moment.

“what happened ”

he echoed, an empty smirk pulling at his lips. this had been a bad idea. his fingers traced the bruise on your forehead, falling towards the one on your cheek, before trailing across the gash on your cheek. his hand fell of your chin and back to the frame of door.

the wind had been knocked from between your ribs, taken aback by his forwardness. an embarrassing warm grew in your face, so hot you could feel it, no doubt he could feel it too.

“i could ask you the same thing”

it was all you could think of saying, it made enough sense but you obviously already knew what happened. your whole job was digging up stuff like that, despite his mystery, he couldn’t hide everything from you.

he cleared his throat and leaned in closer, his stoic expression now eroded, replaced by a playful grin you couldn’t read as he spoke.

“um, have we met?”

your initial fear suddenly washed over you, replaced by a strange clarity. he was completely unarmed, you knew where he lived. you could sell him out to the AVTF right now. it was morally objectionable, and completely against your entire ethos; but it did make you aware that you held some power over the situation which rejuvenated a confidence that had been dimmed in recent days.

“i think we have actually, at bel aire diner?”

you gestured forward with a warm smile. his greying eyes widened by a fraction, so small maybe he didn’t even realise, nevertheless he’d gotten the message, he surrenders his guard of the doorway, allowing you to cross into his apartment.

⋆۶ৎ .₊ 🦢 .˖ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[shannonxg]

Start Over

“I know every light on your street, I could find my way over with my eyes closed”

It started out like something from a movie, which you should have realised early on. Nobody could have been there at the right time and location, yet there he was. You had just moved to New York a few weeks ago and were still getting used to the rush and excitement of the city, but it was exactly what you wanted - what you needed. A breath of fresh air and new scenery to bring back the spirit you had always missed inside you.

The rain began to pour down like someone who couldn’t stop weeping and you struggled trying to escape it, your socks drenched and shoes already starting to squelch. As you ran, holding your hands over your eyes trying every little bit to see in front of you, a brute force sent you back letting out a little yelp in reply but you never hit the ground. A gentle hand grabbed your forearm, stopping your fall and helping you regain your balance on the busy path.

You look up to be met with a tall (and from what you could see, very attractive) man, worry in his face and out of breath. At first you wanted to follow your instincts, give him a cold look and tell him to watch where he was going, but there was something there that you just couldn’t put your finger on that made you smile and wave it off. It was a terrible day, and maybe this stranger didn’t need someone yelling at him.

“I’m so terribly sorry miss, I couldn’t see where I was going with the rain, are you okay?”

“It’s fine, it can happen to anyone. At least you caught me!” You let out a chuckle following your last remark, making him copy your actions in return.

God, he was cute.

He was wearing a dark blue gym zip up, and a pair of joggers with shoes that made you assume he had been out on a run, and was now on his way home having been caught in a terrible rainfall. Unusual, you would always check the weather reports before heading out for the day but these things can happen. So late in the evening too, but there were lots of people who preferred exercising at late.

“Still, I don’t feel right almost knocking a women down. Is there anything I can do?” The genuine concern in his honey voice made something flutter inside you, and you found yourself feeling so comfortable standing in front of this gentleman that you had forgotten about your soaked shoes and hair stuck to your face.

“Please, don’t worry about it I was just trying to get home after a long day.”

“Well I was just planning on heading this way myself, I actually live just down the street. Could I walk you home?”

Something uneasy settled in you then. Although he was extremely polite, and clearly very handsome, it was late and someone offering to walk you home late in the evening in the pouring rain just to be nice didn’t seem to add up. You had just moved here and you hadn’t exactly met many do-gooders along the way. Most people here didn’t even have to say anything, they’re face did all the talking. Exactly how your face must have shown your concern to him.

“Oh no, I don’t have any ulterior motive here. I just don’t think a woman should be walking home by herself. Let me introduce myself, I’m Dex.” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you took it with ease, feeling slightly better but still keeping at bay.

Soon, the rain began to hold, and you walked back towards your apartment with Dex (whose actual name was Benjamin, but he told you everyone had just referred to him by his nickname), and fell into light conversation. It was mostly about you, what you done for work, why you moved, how were you liking the city. He told you that he worked for the FBI, and previously had been in the army, and that he enjoyed the routine of it all. The routine gave him structure, and he felt structure helped him.

You didn’t feel the time go by, and when you got to your apartment you were almost wishing that you could spend more time chatting and getting to know him. There was a chilled breeze in the air and you knew by tomorrow that a possible cold could be coming on. But somehow it didn’t bother you all that much, and it seemed it didn’t bother Dex either. The street lamps had turned on to their full brightness and the noise and bustle of the city seemed to settle.

You stopped outside your building, a small but not too shabby red brick apartment building that definitely wasn’t a new build but had become home. You looked up at Dex and gave him a small smile, gesturing to the building with a nod of your head.

“This is me, thank you for walking me home. I hope we run into each other again sometime, just don’t take me down.” You let out a laugh, and he smiled back at you, running his hand through his now damp hair that stuck slightly to his forehead.

Your bright smile that reached your eyes tugged at Dex’s heart, he knew already that he wanted to keep you around and safe. Of course he had, he had seen you before. He didn’t tell you just yet but he had been to the small café where you worked before and decided to keep getting his coffee there in the mornings, in hope that you’d recognise his face. That, and he lived in the apartment building right across from you, always looking out his window to see the perfect view of you.

Getting ready in the morning, lazily throwing on an outfit in the morning which he always adored, but knew you could do with being more of a morning person. Coming home from your different shifts - he had them memorised. Today was Thursday, so he knew you’d be closing up, and you stayed behind an extra 45 minutes to make sure everything was cleaned up properly.

“I’d like that, I just live in the building across so if you never need anything you can just give me a call.”

You blushed hard, and you hoped he couldn’t see even with the luminescence of the streetlights, but he did. He always did. Tucking your hair behind your ears, the thoughts of dampness and an oncoming cold long gone, you gave Dex your phone number and thanked him again, before walking into the building. Something like out of a movie, but it was never like that with Dex, it was all pure planning and precision.

Now he had it, his North Star.

A/N I wrote this on the notes app on my iPad so it looked better there anyways I hope you enjoyed. I’m just getting back into writing so I’m hells rusty. But lol anything for my fav good guy

[ifawnn]

i need to scratch his back until it bleeds

[maplesuckerr-deactivated2026052]

okay sooo i have a fic request for Dex x Matt’s sister 👀 ( if you are taking requests ofc)

I’m imagining Matt’s sister as someone who’s constantly stuck between what’s “right” and what she feels is right. She knows what Dex has done, she knows all the reasons she should stay away from him, and yet she can’t fully abandon him the way everyone else does.

I imagine that constant push and pull between them Matt warning her that Dex is dangerous, Karen not understanding why she keeps defending him but despite Karen and Matt she slowly becomes the only person who genuinely stands beside him even when she probably shouldn’t.

Maybe she and Dex where in the fbi together so she doesn't see him just as Bullseye but she sees what he could be.

VIRTUE OR VICE?

a/n : i feel like i was heavily influenced by my Macbeth studies writing this

word count : 1406

Matt had only ever taught you to be good, despite what he himself was. Matt ran a thin line between good and evil, he thrived in the grey area where violence might be justified because of who he inflicted it upon, but ultimately he still repented every day for the pain he caused, because it was not the just way to carry out punishment. That was the law’s job. So Matt Murdock, the criminal lawyer, was good, but Daredevil was debatable. And still, they were one and the same. The dark ebbs into the light.

You wished to argue that Dex was the same. But you knew, truly, that his shade of grey was a lot deeper than Matt’s. Matt might have been a pale, rather cloudy grey, but Dex was the foreboding gloom before evil fully takes over. Dark and despondent, where light struggles to even breathe.

But there was light. Dying though it may be, there was light.

You saw it in the fbi, when Dex saved lives, and he disdained upon the scum and criminals of the world. You saw it in the nervous way he carried himself- obsessive in nature, no doubt, but pure at heart. You saw it in the way that even now, though driven mad with a desire for pain, he craved a sort of balance, a remedy to the guilt he inevitably harboured.

Used, and abused, the Fisks had treated him like a scapegoat in their crimes, and had preyed on his flaws. It was the fatal seducing of a broken man, who was hopeless to stop them. Or so you reasoned with yourself. Dex laid his trust in them, even if it was a foolish mistake, he’d known no other form of family to differentiate between manipulation and pure, honest care.

“That might have been true, once, but I don’t think it’s the case anymore,” Matt sighed once you’d finished your confession-like speech, standing at the edge of the sofa he sat on as though you were afraid to approach him. Matt was a temperate man, but Dex was a sore subject- you and Dex were even worse for an older brother’s heart. “Dex shows little remorse for the things he does now.”

“It’s because he thinks it’s the right thing- see, Dex is misled-”

“God,” he huffed out a laugh. “Don’t play the misunderstood card with him.”

“No- no! Not misunderstood! Misled. Dex he… has spent his whole life being told what to do, how to behave, what he can be and can’t be- he lost everyone who ever gave him an ounce of honestly or took all of him for what he is.”

“This feels like a conversation I should not be having with you.” Matt hates the words out of your mouth. He hates that you’d be so willing to accept. To forgive. In many ways, perhaps it makes you the better one of them both, to show such charity on the least deserving- but for once, Matt wished you’d see sense, even if it was brutal. Dex is unredeemable. “I don’t want to hear about how you love him, how you care for him, how you’d love all of him. Even the ugly bits- and it’s all ugly.”

“Not always…” you murmured, sinking onto the seat beside him. You know your brother doesn’t want to hear about all the good you knew in Dex. It’d sicken him to hear about it, so you keep quiet and stare down at your hands until Matt reaches out. “I can only tell you that he’s unstable. That being with him could endanger your life… and I don’t want to have to save you. I will, but I’d rather you were just safe.”

Naturally, after many a moral dilemma keeps you up at night, you find yourself sitting in the pews of your church, head bowed and considerate. Submerged in thought, you finished your prayers a while ago, and now wait absently for some sign- some immediate answer to your turmoil.

“I watch the priest here open the doors every day for morning mass,” Dex said as he slipped into the seat beside you. He had little respect for the distance he knew you might have wanted, choosing instead to fill his own desire to be forever near to you. “I’ve never really come in, but you always do.” You’ve always known Dex to be the observant type, even if it bordered creepy. In his head, it was natural. “What do you pray for?”

“Answers.”

“What are the questions?” He inquired, turning his face to fix on your profile, which stared up at the hanging cross with a certain faded desperation.

“Between me and God.”

“You, God and Dex.” He gave you a wink, even if it was ill-fitting for the situation- the solemness of your solitude was not quite the place for his jesting. “Maybe I can give you some help while you wait on the divine judgement.” You ignore the way he says divine, with such a mocking drawl, that it’s clear he doesn’t wholly believe in the concept. Contemplating to yourself, you decide: in many ways it is already between you, God and Dex. So he may as well be let in on the dark workings of your mind.

“I asked him… whether it is more a virtue or a vice that I talk to you so often. That I care for you. That i’ve even kissed you. In understanding your sin, in staying despire it, does that also make me a sinner?”

At that, Dex falls shockingly quiet. His shoulders slump a little and his head droops down, eyes landing on his polished shoes. “If He says yes-” Dex breathed, but he didn’t get to finish the pathetic will you leave me before you softly interjected.

“What do you think?” You wonder if it’s a coincidence or God’s timing, or Dex’s timing that he walked through those doors at your time of need. How could he have known you were arriving to watch and follow you? But why would God answer you like this? Was the answer, then, in your reaction? In how you nearly crumbled as he sat down beside you?

“I’m biased.”

“But you’re shamelessly honest,” you countered. “You don’t hide from what you are. Matt is sometimes ashamed of feeling so united with Daredevil, but to you… you are Bullseye, Bullseye is you, and that’s your choice.” You look at him. “Do you think… there is anything in you worth defending?”

“I want to be good,” Dex admitted. “For a time, I thought the hotline would do it, then the fbi… but they’re getting corrupted so easily, and Matt knows it, I know it- all vigilantes know the government run justice system is failing New York City.”

“But you don’t care about New York.” You shook your head, shoulders sagged forward. “You care about yourself. Killing brings you joy. Good deeds are for your sanity, and what fragment remains of your morals. You killed Vanessa because she hurt you.” You feel as though you are regurgitating everything Karen has ever ranted to you about, because deep down you’ve always known there was a truth to her words. Dex never did anything out of pure goodness, which is why he could never be forgiven like Matt could.

“I was aiming for Fisk,” he said, edged with a bitterness in it as he saw- this was not going as he wanted it to.

“But you don’t regret that you hit her.”

“She was evil. She didn’t need to be in this world, any more than I need to be in it.”

“And if you got taken out?” You loathe the vulnerability and slight worry. If Dex is so bad, as you think he is, why does it matter if he dies? You can’t justify it, but it just does. “It would be the wonderful balance.” He leaned back. “It would be fine. My punishment, if that aligns more with your views.”

“Hm…”

“Does that help your moral conflict?”

“Maybe…” you sunk your teeth into your lip, then released it, straightening again.

“And?” Dex raised an eyebrow, curious as ever. He was also curious to know what you were thinking, and why you thought that way. He was interested to see how different you were from Matt, how understanding you could be.

“I think it’s a vice. I think I’m going to Hell.”

[shannonxg]

I cannot get it out of my head how much “Start Over” by 5 Seconds of Summer remind me of Benjamin Poindexter

[shannonxg]

I’m cooking up here something bare with me

[shannonxg]

I cannot get it out of my head how much “Start Over” by 5 Seconds of Summer remind me of Benjamin Poindexter

[shannonxg]

Dirty Dancing AU with Rafe Cameron, someone do it now

[armandology]

i love being single except every few months when i want to be loved so bad that it eats me alive and makes me physically ill for two weeks but like the rest of the time im chill

[shannonxg]

Me because the guy that I was dating for 3 months broke up with me New Year’s Day 🤠🤠

[shannonxg]

I don’t care what anyone says I have not moved on from S2 curtain bangs Rafe, so much so that it’s changed my type in men.

[smokiedokie]

I opened my copy of The Tale of the Body Thief & immediately had to close it again because of this silly little annotation

[cryoverkiltmilk]

Accurate portrayal of this fucko

[wesandresons]

if i cant fuck that old man then whats the point

[faggottt]

Social experiment: if you know what this is don’t say anything just reblog

[stevenjgarza]

Wizard worm just emerged from a wizarding hole! Lucky you!!!✨🪱🪄🍀

[jack-the-lion]

Yes please, little worm friend

[vexwerewolf]

Why is the good luck phrased like a threat

[allegorymetaphory]

Because you'll be getting what you wished for

[capricornluna-deactivated201810]

this blog hates donald trump

[pearlmarley]

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁