#altarbov

      her  mind  went  to  that  night  where  she  had  asked  frank  to  aid  him,  to  get  him  out  of  his  brooklyn  apartment  safely,  and  that when she stepped out of the car to bring them to their hideout, she  noticed  the  way  he  watched  them  when  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  she  wondered  if,  in  that  moment,  he  realized  he  had  lost  her  completely.  and  now  they  were  here,  and  he  was  getting  closer  to  her,  and  while  she  let  him,  as  the  solace  of  running  away  was  a  burden  to  an  aching  heart,  she  was  still  left  with  so  many  questions  unanswered,  so  much  left  to  say.

      an  almost  imperceptible  sigh  left  her  lips  before  she  asked  a  question  that  she  needed  to  be  answered.  ❝  why?  ❞  the  single  worded  question  was  exhaled,  and  that  was  all  she  could  let  out  before  she  felt  her  throat  close,  and  those  blue  eyes  watered  as  she  glanced  at  the  male  who  was  causing  all  her  heartaches. 

[  matt  ]:   are you busy? [  matt  ]:   i need legal advice.       ⁺ ‧͙ ⊹ ˚˖· •̩̩͙ * ⋆   @altarbov  gets  a  text  ━━   𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑

@altarbov

"This a team-up?" Frank's quick to say after watching Red beat several low-level thugs on the train, keeping them off him.

@altarbov liked for a hurting starter

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He was still coughing, every few breaths there was a sudden seizing in his chest and Peter let the coughs wrack his shoulders and he huddled in on himself tighter. Wanting to make himself small but wanting the open air too much to keep himself that way for long, settling for hugging his knees to his chest and his chin resting on them. Tight and cramped and clustered, but there was nothing but open air on the rooftop and the sounds of the city at night around him instead. Honking horns and people talking loudly down below. Someone laughed, there was excited yelling up the block, and Peter just coughed again, wheezed out another shaky breath and told himself to keep breathing.

Told himself he didn't hear the rumbling of the construction site coming down around him and the workers, his senses buzzing as the place started to destabilize. He didn't know why, it didn't matter why, what did was people were yelling for others to get back and out of the way and it didn't look like they were going to get out fast enough. It didn't matter that things started coming down and his chest tightened with panic, it didn't matter that he thought he couldn't breathe at one point, it didn't matter that the rubble hit his back and Peter pressed against it and braced as it was still coming down. Trying to hold it all, yelling for the workers to move and run before he could let it drop and hope and fight and even pray that he actually scrambled out of the way fast enough to be crushed under it all.

Again.

He thought he just had an issue with parking garages, all concrete and metal. Apparently when something was crumbling and falling down around his head, it didn't matter what it was made of.

The workers thanked him, Peter felt his legs shake so hard he didn't know how he was standing, and if he could have sprinted on webs to get out of there he would have. He didn't care where he was just away from the still lingering cloud of dust from the dirt kicking up, away from the fractured beams and the broken walls, away and somewhere more open. Less crowded and cramped and crushing and that didn't make his vision tunnel or his breathing catch. Where the only reason he couldn't take a full breath was because his knees were pressed against himself so tightly and he was scraped and bruised and he was pretty sure one of his wrists might be broken, but but was out in the open and it was helping. Maybe. It felt like it was helping.

Some of the dumb dumbs start to pack up and are almost to the door when their professor comes rushing in! It's weird the way he seems to turn his head and frown at her, like he can tell she's the reason part of his class is leaving and like he knows where she is sitting.

Weirdo.

He barely stays long enough after class for her to say anything, rude or not.

Five lectures in and Darcy is Mcfucking Done with Professor Matthew Murdock.

If he's not late then he's not there at all or he's distracted and always seemingly running late for something else. His office hours are a JOKE and she's about to give up the ghost when she receives a text that puts Darcy back in determined mode.

She's a journalist, she's ran after harder things than THIS!!!

"Oh no you don't," she murmurs as she sees him packing up while also trying to finish his lecture. Right as he turns, mentioning something about a quiz over his shoulder, she leaps up and books it like a maniac.

If there were olympic metals for knocking over people in your way she would be going for gold here!

"Excuse me, excuse- sorry, just can you- god damnit, HEY, MURDICK," this is HIGHLY unprofessional but then so are all of his shenanigans!

Darcy busts through the door he's going through, leaving in her wake two guys cussing about dropping their laptops and a girl whining about her scraped, fallen Stanley tumbler.

"Jesus fucking christ on a cracker, like what, have you been holding your piss this whole time and gotta book it to the bathroom or what??"

The clinic was always busy, whether with their usual patients of anyone who couldn't afford to go to the doctor or a hospital, or with their new crowd of vigilantes and the few civilians who had fallen foul of the Fisks or the task force. Claire loved it though, being useful and using her skills and experience to help as many people as she could - including Matt a few times. Working with patients, just being a nurse was something that felt normal for her. She also appreciated having people to talk to about her pregnancy; sure, as a nurse she knew all the medical opinions and information, but there was a big difference between looking at it as a nurse, and as the mother to be.

It was almost the end of her shift, and she was looking forward to getting back to the hideout to steal a few minutes with Matt, and then sitting down - a lot; she was only seven weeks along but the fatigue was already no joke.

They burst in without warning, guns drawn and firing at anyone and everyone; the screams and sounds of bodies falling was deafening, and for a moment Claire was frozen to the spot. One of the doctors who'd been standing closest to her grabbed at her arm and all but shoved her down behind an overturned exam table. The next moment, she saw him crumple to the ground, his white coat stained red. The task force was yelling about them being vigilante enablers, and the clinic being illegal.

Claire crawled across the floor, trying to help anyone she could reach but it was useless - one by one her friends and colleagues were gunned down, until the sound stopped.

PROMPTS FROM CYBERPUNK 2077 (PART 1)

" boo-hoo. did someone get his feelings hurt? " jessica's voice situates itself in it's trademark, caustic drawl. the bite's softened ; she doesn't chomp at the bit as readily anymore even though the candle burn of her wit is still smolder-simmering beneath the surface.

it's been a long time since they stood shoulder to shoulder, since her scarf played the part of his mask. he's changed, too, shoulders lower, broader, teeth pressing thin on the brittle edge. the years are heavy.

" you know, for someone who wears his pants that tight, you should really get thicker skin. "