#defenders

nativenews:

More than half of activists killed in 2021 were land, environment defenders

“An analysis by Front Line Defenders and the Human Rights Defenders Memorial recorded at least 358 murders of human rights activists globally in 2021.

Of that total, nearly 60% were land, environment or Indigenous rights defenders.

The countries with the highest death tolls were Colombia, Mexico and Brazil.

Advocates say the figure is likely far higher, as attacks on land and environment defenders in Africa often go unreported.”

Comic Con is fantastic and I went to the Defenders panel and got to watch the first episode and watched a Clip from Punisher and IM SO EXCITED FOR IT

Summary:  He’s going to have a lot of conflicting feelings about this later, but for now, Matt will take what you’re willing to give him.

Rating/Warnings/Tags:T (sexual references; former nun!reader; reader knows Daredevil’s secret identity; inaccurate Catholicism)

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Fic Trade Prompt: "Sometimes the ‘Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’ just needed a shoulder to lean on.“

Notes: I only ever saw the first season of Daredevil. Also, I mostly chose to write this particular fic trade response because I wanted an excuse to write something that, for me, was a shoutout to His Dark Materials, a book series I’m enormously fond of. 

I don’t actually know anything about Catholicism, however, and as a Christian myself, I realize His Dark Materials is not exactly a reliable source for learning about the topic of religion. If you are Catholic and something in here is incorrect, I implore you to inform me so that I can fix the problem. If it’s so horrendously awful that a mere edit won’t work, I’m even willing to rewrite it. 

In more specific-to-the-fic information, this is one of my few fic trade responses where I tried my hardest to stay within the word count restrictions. Alas, I still went over…and trying so hard means that this really isn’t near as sensory-overload-descriptive as I would want something from Matt’s perspective to be.

A Matter of Sanity

Matt woke up that morning to a barrage of sensory assault: warm sunlight splayed across his skin; humidity from the bathroom down the hall dampened the short hairs on his face; the smell of strange perfume sticking to the semi-cooled sheets beside him and his familiar shampoo drifting through the air. Toast had been made–and nearly burned–in the kitchen sometime that morning. He could hear the medicine cabinet closing, then bare feet padding toward him. Through all these floating, fuzzy feelings sliced his injuries from the night before: cuts, bruises, blisters, maybe a sprained wrist.

“Morning, Mattie.” 

Andthere was the reason he had not meditated after the fight, the reason his wounds felt as fresh as though he’d got them minutes before. 

Said reason lighted on the edge of his bed and slipped soft fingers into his sleep-mussed hair. “Did you sleep well last night?”

In answer, Matt let out an incomprehensible moan. As far as he could remember, not much sleeping had taken place in the apartment the night before. Still, he wasn’t one to quibble over what he’d been doing instead. Seconds later, he sat up, forcing you to stop playing with his hair so that he could wrap his arms around your waist and put his cheek against your moist, bare shoulder. 

“Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” he mumbled. 

You laughed, a sound that always caused a pleasant unfurling sensation to spread through Matt’s stomach. “Sorry. A girl has to have some secrets, even from her all-knowing, all-seeing blind lawyer friend.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?” Matt chuckled himself and tightened his grip as he pressed a kiss to your skin. “You are the worst nun I have ever met.”

Another laugh, then you gently patted his cheek with your shower-warmed hand. “Well, maybe that’s why I decided not to be one anymore. What do you want for lunch?”

The weight on his mattress vanished at the same time your body did. 

“Lunch? What time is it?” 

Frowning, Matt turned in the direction he heard you moving–toward where you had left the majority of your clothes the night before. Whether he had pulled them off or you had, he couldn’t quite remember. Then a more important question popped out of his mouth:

“Did you say you quit being a nun?”

You only bothered to answer his first two questions: “It’s nearly eleven o’ clock. Figured if you wanted to go somewhere, we’d better head that way, and frankly, Matt, there’s nothing in this apartment but beer.”

“Eleven? It’s Thursday. I can’t go to lunch. I’m already late for work–what was that about stopping nun-ing?”

“I called in for you. Foggy whined about you skipping over a woman as usual, but–”

“[Name],” said Matt. “The thing about your job?”

You heaved a dramatic sigh. “I quit, okay? I was going to tell you when I came over last night, but after all that, I kind of figured I didn’t have to anymore.”

“Some clarification might have been nice.” Matt hadn’t felt an overabundance of guilt at sleeping with you. It took two to tango, after all, and you’d been just as willing as he had. Now some dread began to creep in. “Why’d you quit?”

A huff sounded from behind the fabric of the shirt over your face. “I met a tall, dark, handsome stranger beating the tar out of a Russian slave trader in an alley, and he made me rethink my life choices.”

“That’s a cliché.”

“So’s a blind ninja fighting slave traders in New York.”

“Not exactly.” Pressing his lips together, Matt slid out of his silk sheets. He knew his shirt was not far away, but he hadn’t started pulling it on yet when he went on, “I didn’t mean to have you quit.”

“Matt!” you groaned.

“You can’t come with me. I didn’t mean to make you to feel useless.”

“I’m a grown woman, and I make my own choices. Youdidn’tmake me feel or do anything–and I know I can’t go with you to punch Russians. I just wanted to do a little good for Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Youwere doing good for Hell’s Kitchen. With the Church.”

“Have to disagree with you there. And I’m not going back. You can’t make me. I want to experience the world. I want to helpyou.”

“I already said, you are not–“

“Iknow,” you interrupted. “There’s more to do than break people’s bodies, you know.”

Matt stared at you, or stared roughly in the direction he knew you continued to pull on various articles of clothing. Another sigh issued from there.

“When I got here last night to give you the news, you were bleeding and shaking from head to foot. There’s nothing to eat here but booze and bread. You can take care of yourself, but you’re not very good at looking afteryourself.”

He had never really thought about it that way. His work as Daredevil was vital; eating, less so. Matt already healed faster than most when he wasn’t busy deflowering ex-nuns, and what didn’t heal after that, he could plow through just fine. On the other hand…

“Are you inviting yourself to move in?” he asked.

There was an obvious smile in your voice when you answered, “Well, you are the reason I’m presently homeless and unemployed. If you hadn’t seduced me away from a life of worship and piety, I’d still be doing my holy work, Matt Murdock.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re done with being a nun.”

“I think what we did last night pretty much sealed the deal.”

“And there’d be more of that.”

“I’m leaning toward yes.”

“And you really want to live here. With me. With the giant blazing billboard right outside the window.”

He got a pillow to the face for his trouble, or would have, had he not caught it before it smacked him in the nose. 

“Does it sound like I can afford to be picky about where I’m staying? I’m sure  about all of the above. I can always move out once I find something else, if you decide you hate having me here.”

Your tone turned just a little uncertain at the end of that sentence. Matt stood and stepped carefully (in case of more pillows) over the smooth floor toward you. 

“I won’t hate having you here,” he said. “Now that you mention it, it might be nice having someone here when I get home bleeding at two in the morning. To fuss over me and put me in place. When can you start?”

“Immediately.” You shoved something soft-ish into his chest. Pants, he realized as felt the hard button. “Now get dressed. It’s getting toward noon now and all that sex makes a girl hungry.”

“Right,” Matt said, and quickly started to pull on the pants.

Definitely the putting him in his place part, then. But maybe you were right. Maybe sometimes, the “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” just needed a shoulder to lean on. He’d have to see, but he was leaning toward yes, too.

During the Avengers Arena series which kind of a Marvel’s Hunger Games. They killed off Nico Minoru from Runaway’s, I was so angry that I hate tweeted the writer. I’m not proud of it but I did.

Well, I say hate tweeted I literally just said “I’m not reading another thing by you again.” Looking back it was pretty cringe.

Dennis Hopeless literally responded “read what you want to read” or something along those lines. Haha.

Punisher or Grinch? You decide!

RED 18/50: Elektra

I’m creating a new project entitled “Red” the idea is simple, to draw characters from all across media that relate to this particular color. This is just a fan project and all characters belong to their respective companies.

You can see more at my INSTAGRAM account:

@ ultimatejulio_art

Or my FACEBOOK page:

Ultimatejulio

Made a Hellcat custom to assemble the Defenders.

The original non-team DEFENDERS!

I’ve had these figures forever displayed in different spots and it never occurred to me to bring them all together. I love this display!