#crosswraith

           he finds himself in these situations more often then he probably realizes;  since that fateful day when he was twelve years old,  searching for his sister,  maybe there was something familiar in going places that he had never been.  back to a time when the only responsibility on his shoulders was to keep going,  keep searching,  keep hope.

           he eyes the other person in the diner,  trying to catch a feel of some of their emotions.  more difficult to read;  he wonders if it’s intentional,  or just a learned habit they didn’t realize.  

continued from (x)

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse. | ACCEPTING

sex + romance headcanons ; accepting!

💘 What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it?

Subtle hand holding. Forehead to forehead touches. Hugs that last longer than a breath. Picking up small and rare trinkets from planets she’s visited on her missions/journeys to bring it home to them. Admitting she trusts them. Leaving smol notes around the base/home/wherever just to show she’s thought of that person when she’s not around.

🎀 Who would my muse sleep with if nobody ever had to know?

.....I can’t believe you’re gonna make me say it SLDFJWEFJ i’m not saying hux i’m truly not but i sort of am under plot circumstances

💔 What was my muse’s first heartbreak?

“ ONE DAY THIS WILL all be over. I swear it is not so far away. ” 

crucial muse development questions. | accepting

(10. what would your character make a scene in public about?)

just… discounting any daredeviling as “making a scene in public”, as a whole he tries very hard to avoid losing his cool in front of others and will put up with a lot to avoid it. he’s much more the type to seemingly take things in stride in public and blow up in private.

spotify wrapped is HERE! send me a number 1-100 and I’ll tell you the song it corresponds with on my top 100 playlist | accepting

98. luna - harry christensen

Send my muse “👀 + a question” and they’ll have to answer with 100% honesty. | accepting

“—Yeah, I think about it.”

It was a long, long time before he found out that the burning to death hadn’t—stuck. A long time to remember, to consider and reconsider, to rewrite the scene in his head over and over again as if there’s a way it could have played out that he could really move on from. A long time to feel sick to his stomach every time he was downwind of a barbecue.

The smell had by far been the worst part.

“It was self defense by the most obvious definition. I was fighting for my life, and I took the only option I had to stop him with no intent to kill. It wasn’t murder.” He’s not an idiot; he knows the damage he’s done to people, he knows that not everyone he knocks down is going to walk away, and that even the ones that live might drop dead from internal bleeding days later or end up in a coma they never wake from. But there’s a difference between the risk he takes every time he leaves someone unconscious and—choosing to take someone’s life, knowingly and without direct provocation. A clear, definable difference in the penal code of the state of New York with a universal citation number.

He thinks a lot about why there’s such comfort in that, too—why he can cope with the idea of manslaughter in the first degree as an occupational hazard, why he can shield himself with mens rea and avoid the reality that his hands have never been clean and get bloodier every day. Sometimes, in darker moments, he thinks that the law and Daredevil have always been means to the same end—two different ways to always have an excuse.

“If I’d been stronger, smarter—listened to Claire about the damn body armor a bit sooner—it wouldn’t have come to that. I tell myself that, right? That I didn’t have a choice.

“But there’s always a choice. I know that. I know that I chose to kill Nobu to save myself, and I know that I was never sorry for it. And that scares me. It scares me that I’m capable of it and it scares me that it was that easy to live with it, even when I fully believed he was dead.”

Matt sighs; he hadn’t even realized his fists were clenched, but he can feel the pinpricks of pain of his nails digging into his palms and forces them to relax.