— bernie murdock —

     the boy exhales, his chest puffing in his attempt to adjust the strap of  his  book      bag that had been dangling precariously on the cusp of those square shoulders.      gallant boy, shy boy. he attempts to smother  that smile of his into an offhanded       glance around the hall,  not  wanting  his  counterpart  to  think  of  him  as  any       stranger than he believes she already thinks.

     soft  girl,   sweet  girl.  electric  dark  eyes   trace  the  outline   of   her  blushing       countenance, her  lips,  and  her  moving  fingers, even though his  hearing was      more than perfect.

           – “better now that we’re both here.”

      there’s an unmistakable change to his demeanour as he lightens. 

          – “where are you headed to?”

her expression settles into a calm smile ( the opposite of the butterflies and the critters fluttering in the hollow of her stomach ) and she hopes the pink subsides. it only grows deeper at his words. she holds her own book strap, looking for something to do with her hands instead of letting them hand idly at her sides. suddenly he was very aware of what her hands did, where she placed them, how they moved. letting them hang seemed stupid. useless.

bernie had been one of the people who had really been there for them when rals had first been adopted, there for the days when raliegh had been unsure of just how everything worked or how she fit into the strange picture that was their family, they had even had sleepovers and days just to themselves. bernie was thus incredibly important to them, and would always remain such. raliegh had just been overjoyed to discover that would be around permanently.

“mmm cookies and creme maybe?” rals spoke. “oh or caramel,” they reply excitedly, they had always been like this when they got excited.

❝ you can always get both, ❞ bernadette suggested with a mischievous grin, as if she were about to pull a great prank, as if the two were being bad ( as if bernie had a single trickster bone in her body ). ❝ half of one flavor, and half of the other. best of both worlds. ❞ with a satisfied smile, she swung the door open and stood in line. it gave her so much joy to do this. it was such a simple thing, but so fulfilling. ❝ i think i’m gonna get vanilla. and maybe some caramel, too. mix it up ❞

if there was something that made bernie feel like herself, it was helping people. it was feeling useful. it made her feel complete. it was why she had been so reluctant to move out of hell’s kitchen, feeling like she had found her place there. ultimately, she realized she could do more good at paragon. she could be more, for other people. one of them was raliegh, for who she could be like an older sister. [ @notvisiblc ]

“I’m doing alright. Same as usual.” Samara hadn’t believed in much. Certainly not that most people could be kind. But the softness in Bernie was abundant, even towards Samara. “Nothing really. What about you?”

there were very few soft things in the life of ajax, and at this point he accepted and embraced it. the moments when softness showed through, or specifically the people the brought softness into his life, were few and far between. one that he always clung to, the memories that made jax take care of certain people, was the memories he shared with bernie. as a young boy, the small baby was surely a sudden and admittedly infuriating change, but the more that baby grew into the walking, talking, small and fragile girl he called his little sister, the more devoted he became. 

he remembers when the fragmented voices in his head got so bad. he remembered her helping him just as much as he’d help her. he’d stayed with matt two years after he’d been brought home from the psych ward– his own personal hell– just for bernie. so the hurt that shows? he feels it, not only with his mind but for the first time in years, he feels her hurt once again in his own chest, “oh,” he replies, eyebrows coming together and looking away in confusion for a moment. truly, he’d been sure this was matt’s doing, but then… well, looking back up at her from his spot in the grass, she’s her own woman now. she was fully capable of making decisions for herself, unlike the last time they spoke.

“sorry,” his expression softened, but his guard was still up. it wasn’t a choice at this point, more his reality. he nods at the grass next to him, though he doesn’t take his eyes from her, “want to sit?”

his response isn’t entirely surprising. it’s been so long since the last time they saw each other, even more since the last time they spoke. for all she knows, he’s a completely different person, but she can’t divorce his eyes from her memory of him. from that softness, those scattered memories of her youth that had made her into the woman she was today. every word she says is a knock on his door to see if her big brother was still here. she hopes he is. in her heart, she knows he is.

the white lie slipped through her lips so easily. she didn’t want to go into detail. how she wasn’t here solely for her studies, how they had a sister that she was trying to protect, and lead onto a more righteous path. how she hoped she could do the same for him, but for now, she would settle for this. how she could never be completely detached from their father; they were family, after all. you can never run away from family.

she offers a small smile, knowing he won’t return it, but it’s a start. she’d take that. ❝ i’d like that. ❞

@somethingsvfter

“Bernie. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Samara acted like she didn’t need help more often than not. Bernie was one rare exception. The other girl had carved out a strange place in Samara’s life. And in doing so, nearly always got a smile from Samara when she saw her. 

@somethingsvfter

      all said and done, the young  prince only needed a good night’s rest       for the crimson valleys and  purple splotches to disappear, as gently       as  the  graces  of  his  gods,   and as quietly as he is. it hadn’t been        a week after he’s fought  off that so called x-man in the quad before        he finds himself walking shoulder first into the girl who took the time       to clean him up after the duel. 

      he’s got her  number  saved in his phone. there’s no question about        her interest —- - afterall,  his  shirt  did  come off when she pressed       gauze to his wounds. but he does also recall the way his chest tried       to  betray  him into a panic attack once the adrenaline wore off, and       that loud, frenzied part  of him has done nothing but shame him out        of sending a text back. she must think he’s so fucking rude.

            – ‘i’m sorry’, he signs, fist flying to his chest. 

           – ‘hi. are you okay?’

she wished she could say she hadn’t been thinking about it. that sometimes, mostly at night, when her mind drifted, she thought of the boy and his beautiful bruises. his graceful punches, and swift blows. he made it look so splendid, the blood almost poetic. it wasn’t like her to stare, it was so rude and unbecoming, but his bare arms demanded admiration, and she wasn’t quick enough to look away. soft pink hues rose to her cheeks and she hasn’t been able to forget how hot her face felt when she pressed the gauze against his skin.

* — TASK 03 // bend with me. there are bones in our throats. if we choke it is only on songs

a very specific fact about ajax was that, if you were stupid enough to use his given surname, which he had not gone by for over 20 years now, he would let you know. not directly, but usually by reaching just a little into your head, causing the offender the briefest moment of pain, all while staring as if nothing was happening inside his ruthlessly powerful mind.

ajax was not a murdock, and had not been for over 20 years. so, to see his sister bernie murdock in the flesh? it made jax’s blood run cold, mind racing with questions.

    why is she here?    [ @somethingsvfter ]               did he send her?                          is she here to watch me?                                   what does she want?                                          why is she coming this way?                                                 does she even really remember me?

all these and more sped through his mind as she approached him from across the lawn. it was clear how his tone and expression was guarded as he spoke, “what’re you doing here?” his eyes narrow, planning to get the truth immediately, “what does he want?”

coming into paragon, bernie was painfully aware that she would be running into her brother. for years after he ran away, she looked for him. she waited for him. she always held out hope that he would come back. she wanted to see him, she needed to see him. it had been so long, that ajax was little more than a childhood memory, one of those that could be forgotten and dismissed as a dream. but despite the years, and the distance, in her heart, the memory of him was crystal clear.

the memory of his face was more recent. she recognized him from the sentencing. he was far from the older brother she used to have, but they told her that was him. she would be lying if she said that one of the reasons why she didn’t protest when matt asked her to follow moira to paragon was because she knew ajax would be here too.

she still remembered him as that tall boy with buggy eyes who held her hand when daredevil was cleaning up the city. the one who tucked her in then outside it seemed like the sky was gonna fall. the one who kept her safe whenever she got scared. she knew that little boy ( tall, in her memory though. giant ) was still in there.

❝ 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆 // 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒄𝒉 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒆 // 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 // 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 ❞

❀ ASTRID BERGES-FRISBEY ? NO, THAT’S JUST BERNADETTE MURDOCK ! THEY’RE THE TWENTY-FIVE YEAR OLD DAUGHTER OF MATT MURDOCK / BIOLOGICALLY FRANK CASTLE'S. THEY ARE ALSO A GRADUATE STUDENT AT PARAGON. I HEAR THEY’RE DUTIFUL & FORGIVING BUT TEND TO BE UNASSERTIVE & RIGID. [ pinterest: xx ] [ playlist: xx ]

☁️ your mouth is a sign of how sacred your life truly is ❝ ––– in character ☁️ come aching hearts come soldiers of joy ❝ ––– muse ☁️ there are birds beating their wings beneath your breastplate ❝ ––– aesthetic ☁️ there is joy in how your mouth dances with your teeth ❝ ––– face ☁️ doormen of truth come true of heart come into this ❝ ––– inbox