#slep now

i am now comatose mid petting my cat bc moving my hand is too much work and she’s fine with me just resting my hand on top of her

nyquil

@steverogershield / Matt Murdock

*horrified whisper* what have you done... encouraging me to ship a thing...... I just let it consume me for the past hour............ can you please stop being so shippable yOU ARE GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME YOU KNOW!! X’D Just kiddin, enjoy chipmunk, I had great fun making this but I must confess I’ve only seen like half of the first season of Daredevil so this is just me bullshitting my way through something yet again and hoping I don’t mess up, story of my life. :))) HOPE IT’S OKAY!! <3

Matt Murdock didn’t mind quiet and you loved him for it. Other people, they might have tried to fill your peaceful silence with meaningless chatter, but he didn't... well, not that silence was ever really silent for him. It was a little disconcerting when he heard your heart rate pick up and asked you what you were excited about, with that small smile of his that made your heart flip. But you were getting used to this. Used to living with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

You knew from very early who he really was. It didn’t take you long to figure it out. For a lawyer, he really was a terrible liar. Matt, the gentleman who accepted your apologies with grace after you bumped into him and almost spilled your coffee on his fancy suit the second time you met. Matt, also the vigilante who made a habit of meddling in things he shouldn’t and coming out alive and righteous. Matt, who saved you from a mugger the first time you met. Matt, who was shocked when you told him to be careful running around the streets while your back was turned. You were even smarter than he gave you credit for, and he helped you best he could with assignments, so he knew exactly how much credit you deserved. 

Life together was... simple, slow, patient, every moment full of love, quiet and faint as it was. Days off were spent together in his apartment, sweatpants and hoodies, Matt resting his head in the crook of your shoulder on the couch, his stubble scratching, staying there even as you two talked, his voice muffled with his lips pressed to your neck. You stayed the night on the weekends, abandoning your place for his, studying his face in the black-red mix of light and shadows from the neon, until he smiled from the feeling of your gaze on him and leaned across to kiss you, soft and so sweet. You fall asleep with your legs tangled together, your scent and the feel of you in his arms and your pulse in his ears lulling him to sleep. Moments like that made him believe everything would be okay. Moments like that brought him the sense of peace that previously only rows of pews and an alter could instill in him - maybe the feeling was even purer here, undiluted by the weight of his sins.

The first night you slept over, he woke to find you wearing one of his sweatshirts. He felt the fabric as you climbed into bed again to kiss him, your hair tickling his cheek, and his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly he just couldn’t seem to stop smiling, and he pulled you gently down into a deeper kiss, his hands cupping your face.

Nelson & Murdock was another kind of home. Late nights spent there, your papers spread across a desk of your own (it was probably about to fall down, but you felt touched that he’d bought one just for you.) Foggy, you found, was not quite as comfortable with silence as Matt was, but that was okay; you liked him, and Karen, who you bonded almost instantly. And even when they were distracted, Matt was always there, wandering over and leaving a kiss on the top of your head, checking up on you, getting you a glass of water when you got too drawn in and forgot.

Eventually you had practically moved into his apartment, though it wasn’t official yet. In the mornings you ate breakfast together at the bench, then took it in turns showering. You teased him lightly about missing a spot when he combed his hair and ‘fixed’ it for him, stealing a kiss while you were at it. When you got home, you kicked off your shoes and changed into more comfortable clothes, more often than not stealing one of his shirts. Sometimes you fell asleep together; you convinced him to stay by gripping his hand tight, pleading without words. Sometimes he would leave before night had even properly fallen.

If you woke up during the night, the space beside you would be empty. But in the morning, you would help tend to his wounds or call Claire if they were too extreme for your - sadly - growing medical skills.

It was a few days after a particularly bad night that you and Matt stumbled across heaven on earth: Matt’s ribs had been throbbing and it was raining, so you took shelter in a cafe that also happened to be connected to a bookstore. The whole place was small and lit by hanging lights, casting deep shadows but gilding everything in gold. The smell of coffee and sugar and books all mingling, the warmth after the cold rain, the friendly smile the barista gave you two; she saw two strangers clearly in love, soaked to the skin but holding hands and pressed close together, your eyes widening as you saw the books through the doorway, Matt's head turned slightly toward you as he heard your breathing quicken. You led him into the bookshop and that's when he lost you and the pain in his ribs. Listening to you flit from aisle to aisle, your fingers trailing over book spines, pulling them out and then after a moment putting them back in. He couldn't handle your palpable regret when returning one book, however. "Pick out the ones that you want. I'll buy them for you."

You protested at first, but quickly gave in when presented with the idea of books. You ended up letting him buy two for you, and you bought the coffee, and you ended up in a booth, your back to the window and your feet in his lap. You had never felt more peaceful and content in your entire life, Matt's hand resting on your leg, the weight of your new books in your lap, sipping coffee and drying off, talking quietly and listening to the rain falling outside.

As for Matt, that was the moment it dawned on him that this was it. He couldn’t let you go, couldn’t bear that idea. Whatever the future held, he could face it, so long as he had your steady light by his side.

Thank you for the crash course on Decade. (Despite the Fourze reunion in BLEACH being the whole reason I rediscovered Kamen Rider in the first place, I don’t have any intention of watching their series. Meteor is trying his best to convince me otherwise. He’ll have to get in line.)

I’m suddenly watching a battle between two flying castles. What the heck did I just miss? <- KIVA

Hey, no problem. Everyone should be warned of Decade before they even think about his season, really.

(Namely: Any knowledge of any prior season covered during the show will only make you very mad at it, save perhaps Den-O and Hibiki and I have a soft spot for the 555 AR; it contains major spoilers for at least 555, Kabuto, and Kiva as I can recall off the top of my head; and, finally, the plot makes no goddamn sense. Also it ends on a cliffhanger that isn’t properly resolved.) (No, really.) (Decade was a trainwreck.)

As for Fourze, oh goodness I recommend it so highly though? It’s space and friendship and honestly probably the goddamn purest season of all. It’s just a real good time. And occasionally a punch to the gut but it’ll be okay and c’mon it’s kamen rider what else would you expect. ... But, y’know. Space and friendship and utmost enthusiasm for both are like, my main biases, so.

half of it is the old guard posts