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daredevilkink2015-06-22 07:24 pm
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Prompt Post #4
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Requiem Æternam [Part 1.1]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-07 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)This is a two part story: one while Foggy’s still alive and one after he and Matt return to Hell. I suspect that the tone of the story will change a fair bit once that commute takes place, hence the split; ironically, it’ll be lighter after everyone is successfully dead. :P It utilizes the scenes from the snippets upthread, so if you enjoyed those, hopefully you will continue to enjoy this!
Part one is complete. Once both parts are complete, it will go up onto AO3.
Thanks for reading!
The thing was, Foggy didn’t really expect it to work. Who would? For all the lore that went around in popular culture or hobbyist circles regarding the many varied forms of magic people believed in, demon-summoning was not one of the ones commonly taken seriously these days.
The thing was, it should have been.
**
“Uh.”
Foggy’s eyes flickered down to the pentagram, then back up. They went sideways to the candles that were still flickering, but with dancing shadows now rather than flames and light.
They went back up.
(They maybe went down again, because holy god the demon-thing in front of him didn’t have a hooked tail or pitchfork, but he did have thick, rough, blood-red skin covering most of his body and strangely ridiculous horns protruding from his head. He also didn’t have eyes. The most embarrassingly distracting aspect, though, was that the dude was built. But Foggy prided himself on being fairly polite and tried not to objectify women, men, those elsewhere on the spectrum, or infernal beings, so he dragged his gaze back up.)
The demon-thing smirked, as if he could read Foggy’s thoughts. Heck, maybe he could; what did Foggy know about demons? “You rang? What can I do for you, Franklin?”
Foggy winced. “Not call me Franklin, for starters,” he muttered automatically before widening his eyes. “Wait, shit, is there a price for that? I take it back!”
The demon-thing’s brow furrowed, but his expression smoothed out again a moment later. “I’ll give you that one as a freebie. What would you like to be called instead?”
Was it okay to give him his name? It would technically be a nickname, so that didn’t give him any power over him, right? Heck, the demon-thing already had his actual name, so a nickname couldn’t be worse, could it? Unless the name one identified by gave supernatural entities more power over him...
And now Foggy was definitely overthinking it.
“Foggy’s fine,” Foggy replied. “What, uh. Do I. Should I. Do you.”
“Yes, I have a name, and yes, you may know it,” the demon-thing drawled, smirk widening in his amusement. “It’s—”
He then proceeded to let out a noise that had Foggy jerking back and covering his ears.
“Wow,” Foggy breathed when the name ended. “That’s. That sure is something. I think I caught something like Matthiataios interspersed with whistles and hisses and the sizzle before getting zapped by electricity. Is that offensive?” he suddenly asked, worried. “It was a very interesting name. Lovely, surreal, kind of terrifying. It just, uh. Hurt a little. Ow.”
“Your ear is bleeding,” Matthiwhistlehissizzle offered unhelpfully. More helpfully, he reached out—Foggy did not flinch back, thank you—and waved his hand by the injured ear.
The aching stopped, and the sensation of slowly slipping fluid vanished.
“Give a lot of freebies, do you?” Foggy asked in a smaller voice than he was entirely comfortable with.
The demon shrugged. It was a confusingly human gesture. “That one was my fault, and I like to consider myself a reasonable being. The Old Language isn’t meant for human hearing; my apologies. So what can I do for you, Foggy?”
Foggy flushed. “Uh. Would… would you be very angry if I said I wasn’t ready to answer the question?”
The demon stared at him. At least, he appeared to stare at him; it was a little difficult to tell when he, oh, didn’t have eyes. He didn’t seem to have any trouble knowing where Foggy was, though. Somehow.
“I didn’t think it would work!” Foggy added defensively. “I mean—I was desperate, yeah, but I didn’t really believe anything would happen!”
After a moment, the demon nodded slowly. “You’re not lying,” he mused, sounding surprised. “That’s not the sort of summoning spell that people ordinarily trip over on accident, much less pronounce correctly. You’ve done quite some research.”
Foggy shrugged. “I… yeah, I guess. It’s not like I had anything better to do, though,” he replied, voice growing quiet.
“You’re young, clever, and whole,” the demon commented thoughtfully. “Kind, too; your soul is very bright, though burdened. May I ask what troubles you?”
The question pulled at something in Foggy’s chest. He’d been doing good the last few days, throwing himself into the occult aggressively in an effort to find some direction, but six words undid it all.
His expression crumpled. His eyes teared up, but he refused to let them spill over. His hands shook as he balled them up into fists against his thighs. He bit his lip hard enough to bleed.
The demon patiently waited for him to get his shit together.
“Sorry,” Foggy mumbled once he could breathe without gasping. “It’s just, no one’s asked me that in a long time. I don’t… you’re not here to listen to me whine.”
Cocking his head, the demon hummed. “Technically, I’m here for whatever you want,” he reminded. He gestured down at the pentagram. “May I?”
Foggy stared at him blankly, pink-cheeked and blurry-eyed. “Uh. Okay?”
To his shock, the demon stepped out of the pentagram. Not having known that was even possible, Foggy scrambled away frantically, but the demon merely graced him with an unimpressed look before dropping down to settle comfortably on the floor. Between one blink and the next, the red scales disappeared, replaced by very human, Caucasian-looking skin under a sleek business suit. The horns vanished as well in favour of neatly groomed, dark hair. The missing eyes were hidden behind round, blood-red glasses.
Foggy was fascinated.
The demon patted the ground in front of him. “Sit down. Talk to me.”
“What?”
The demon smirked at his confusion before shifting the expression into an encouraging smile. “You’re not a corrupt soul, Foggy. I’ve got no interest in hurting you. But I am here to make a deal, so let’s discuss what’s going on in your life and see what I have to offer.”
Foggy thought that it was probably a bad idea. No, check that; it was definitely a bad idea.
But what did he have left to lose?
He sat.
“Two… two months ago…” Choking up again, Foggy paused to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Two months ago, my dad died. A hit and run. The driver… they got away. He’s—he was—the only family I had.” His voice caught on the past tense. “My mom left when I was little. I had a step-mom and half-sister for a few years, b-but they left, too. Didn’t… they didn’t even come to the funeral.
“I missed a lot of school dealing with it. Most of my professors were—they were great. Understanding and patient. But one of them, York—he’s always hated me. And I don’t know why. And he wouldn’t…” Foggy trailed off.
Rubbing at his eyes, he cleared his throat. “He wouldn’t cut me any slack. Said the program had no place for needy children, and I could man up or leave. I tried—I tried to stick it through, and I was almost done with the semester, but then...”
“But then?” the demon prompted when he stayed silent too long.
Foggy let out a slow breath. “Sorry. I’m still trying to make sense of it. He accused me of plagiarism. I don’t even—I didn’t do it, I swear, but he’s tenured, respectable, well-connected. I got thrown out. Lost my scholarship, lost my student standing, my dorm room, the few friends I’d made—everything. I just...”
“You want vengeance?” the demon asked sharply.
Even amidst his distress, Foggy felt horrified by the suggestion. “No! No—I don’t know why York hated me so much, but I… he wouldn’t have deliberately placed evidence, right? That’s crazy. It must’ve just been a misunderstanding.”
The demon relaxed a little. “You want your father back?”
“I—more than anything,” Foggy admitted. “But… but I wouldn’t. No. I’m not going to make a deal for that. It’d be a crime against nature. He’s… he’s gone. I can’t even imagine what undoing that would do to the last two months.”
“It would bend or break more rules than I’m really comfortable with,” the demon agreed. “Manipulating time is very complicated, and while it’s easy to destroy a life, it’s difficult to create one. I can, however, give you a fresh start. Admission into another university. Some money to get started again.”
Foggy wavered before shaking his head. “In exchange for my soul, right?” he asked miserably. “I can’t. It’s too superficial. I couldn’t live with cheating my way through like that, and I’d still be miserable.”
“Many humans are willing to throw away their souls for less.”
“That’s not really the reassurance you think it is,” Foggy huffed.
The demon laughed, then cut himself off, looking just as surprised as Foggy. “Well. That was interesting,” he murmured, although it seemed directed at himself. Raising his voice again, he addressed Foggy. “You said you didn’t do it, and I can tell you were telling the truth. So it wouldn’t be cheating, really. It would be setting things right.”
“I can’t,” Foggy repeated, beginning to feel wrung out. “I want… I need to do the right thing. That’s why I was in school in the first place—to learn how to navigate the system to help people. I can’t cut corners for my own benefit.”
The demon’s brows furrowed. “What were you studying again?”
“Uh.” Foggy hesitated, then offered a shaky smile. “Law?”
The demon’s dark eyebrows arched up sharply. “You were going to be a lawyer, and you don’t want to lie and cheat and cut corners?”
Requiem Æternam [Part 1.2]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-07 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)“Hmmm.” The demon seemed briefly entertained by this, but after a moment, he sobered. “Well, I’m sorry to hear what you’ve been through. Adversity makes the spirit stronger, but it sounds like you’ve been through more than your fair share of trials and tribulations in a very short period of time. What would make you happy?” he asked. “What variable would have made the last two months bearable, enough to withstand your world falling apart, enough that you wouldn’t have turned to black magic? If you don’t want vengeance, resurrection, or a guaranteed slot in another law program...”
As it was a serious question, Foggy gave it serious thought. A few things came to mind, ranging from the ridiculous (“a Time Turner”) to the pathetic (“a really soft teddy bear”) to the self-pitying (“extraction of my emotions”), but in the end, the answer was simple.
“Someone,” he replied quietly, eyes stinging again. “Anyone. Someone who didn’t care about me for my GPA, who would promise at the end of every awful day that things were going to be okay.”
“Nobody can promise things will be okay, Foggy,” the demon reminded gently.
“I know,” Foggy sighed. “But someone willing to tell those white lies would still be nice.” One corner of his mouth lifted up in an attempt at positivity before sinking down. “But I don’t want anyone to be forced to like me, or forced to exist for me. That’s wrong, too.”
The demon observed him quietly for long enough that Foggy began fidgeting. After a time, he gave a slow smile. “I’m pretty good at lying.”
Foggy’s fidgeting stilled, and he peered at his companion, not quite comprehending. Or rather, he had a suspicion, but it was even crazier than the idea that York had deliberately falsified charges of academic dishonesty against him. “Uh…”
“You want a friend, yes?” the demon asked. “That’s what it boils down to. You want someone to give you hope and look out for your emotional well-being. It just so happens that I’ve got some work to do in Hell’s Kitchen over the next few years, and a friendly companion—not to mention connections to the judicial system—would help quite nicely. I could give you somewhere to stay until you get back on your feet, nudge the charges away so your acceptance into another program is based on your own merit, and even work with you while you’re out there helping the little people. When I’m ready to return Below and you’ve saved enough innocents to feel better, the contract will be complete.”
“What? No,” Foggy blurted, wide-eyed. “You don’t need to pretend to be my friend, either!”
The demon’s smile faded. “Foggy. Do you realize how long it’s been since someone made me laugh?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, so Foggy didn’t answer. “You seem sweet, and you’re already more interesting than most of the demons down Below.” His mouth twisted into a self-deprecating look. “We’re not exactly known for our senses of humour. It wouldn’t be a hardship—more like a working holiday, really.”
It was the demon’s expression that did it for Foggy more than his words. Despite his own troubles, his heart still ached at the unhappiness of others. There hadn’t been much laughter in his life for the last few months, but he had the feeling that absence could be counted in years—decades, maybe centuries?—for the man-demon-thing before him.
Foggy swallowed. “How long would I have?”
The demon’s smile returned. He was polite enough not to make it too smug. “Ten years is standard for most deals,” he explained. “I might prefer to wiggle it forward or back a couple of years depending on how long it takes me to take care of things in town, and I’ll need to pop away for business from time to time, but I can promise you at least seven years.”
“Will I remember making this deal?”
“If you’d like. I can take away the memory, if that would make you feel better.”
Foggy frowned. “But you would still remember?” The demon nodded. “Then no, I don’t want to forget.”
“Are you sure?” the demon pressed. “It might make things easier for you. I have a hunch you’ll feel guilty about this for a while.”
Foggy nodded resolutely. “I can deal with guilt. I’d rather… I don’t want you to be alone with the truth.”
The demon hesitated before reaching up and taking off his glasses. Foggy tensed, not sure what to expect beneath the opaque lenses, but he was pleasantly surprised to find a set of rather pretty and definitely human eyes. They were too dark in the disorienting candle light to tell if they were responsive, but there was something unfocused and off about his gaze that made Foggy think they weren’t.
Why was he blind? He could reverse time if he wanted to deal with the way it was “complicated,” he could transform his body effortlessly to match that of a human, but he couldn’t see?
“Foggy, you don’t have to do this,” the demon stated intently.
Foggy sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”
“You don’t have to do this,” the demon repeated. “You have a gorgeous soul and so much promise. Your immediate future will be difficult, and yes, living always runs the risk of things remaining stale or getting worse, but it could also get better. You don’t need to shackle yourself to me this way. The things I’ll need to do in Hell’s Kitchen… they won’t often been pleasant. You could get hurt associating with me. Kidnapped, tortured. Even I can’t be in two places at once.”
What.
Foggy considered. “You’ll be doing these… things… whether I’m there or not, right?” The demon nodded. “And I could always get hit by a bus next week anyway.” The demon snorted, smiling briefly. Foggy counted it as a win. “You already said it’d help you to have a cover, and that you don’t hurt non-corrupt souls, and you’re… you’ve been nice company so far. Plus, if I got kidnapped or hurt… you’d come for me, right?” He smiled uncertainly. “I mean, at least until the seven years are up?”
“Of course,” the demon answered, seeming a little offended at the thought of doing otherwise. The candles flared up for a moment as if responding to his reaction, then settled back down. “You’re my charge, and you’re an innocent while your soul is intact and as bright as it is now. Nobody messes with what’s mine and gets away with it.”
“That… sounds a little ominous, but the thought is sweet,” Foggy admitted. “You’re kind of territorial, aren’t you?”
“Very.” The demon smiled. It was definitely smug this time. “So, Foggy, do we have a deal?”
Taking a deep breath, Foggy ran through the deal in mind one more time before nodding. “Do I—what do I do? Sign a contract in blood?”
“Certainly not. Blood is much more useful for other things,” the demon informed him. He smiled reassuringly, but it was a little off and a little too late to be effective. “I do things a different way. Move closer, please.”
Foggy spent two thoughts second-guessing all of his life decisions, then did as told.
The demon raised his hands to Foggy’s neck—which, what?—and leaned in.
Foggy had just enough time to register that the demon was about to kiss him, what the fuck, when a sharp pain burst in his chest. It burned up his throat, torn out, fast and furious until it was spilling out of his mouth.
As the demon pulled away, Foggy was dimly aware of a hazy string of glimmering light suspended between them, pulsing rapidly even as it faded.
Badump-badump-badump!
Badump-badump-badump.
Badump. Badump. Badump.
Oh. The pulsing matched his heartbeat. That was kind of creepy. At least the pain was already gone, leaving behind only a tingle and an endorphin rush. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the light.
“It’s not your soul,” the demon piped up right before Foggy could ask, right before it faded into nothing. “I won’t touch that until it’s time. It’s just a bond forming. From now until we go Below, I’ll always be able to hear where you are.”
“But that’s it?” Foggy asked. His voice was shaky, but given that he’d just made a contract with a demon, he decided that it was allowed. “No—no telepathy, no mind control?”
“No,” the demon confirmed, amused again. “I’m very good at guessing people’s intentions, and most of my senses are indeed much stronger than yours, but I’m not a mind reader and I prefer not to Charm people if I don’t have to. I have limits, too.”
Foggy believed him.
The demon stood. “I’ve got a few things to arrange down Below, but once I’m through, I’ll come find you. Do you need anything for the next day or two? Are you staying somewhere?”
Foggy shook his head. “I’m—I’ve got a little money left over from… I mean, so far my dad’s apartment’s still. Uh. I’ve got until the end of the month.”
“Good. I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Wait!” Foggy called out as the demon stepped back into the pentagram. Scrambling to his feet, Foggy nervously wiped his hands on his trousers. “Sorry, but, uh—your name’s a little—what are you going to go by?”
The demon looked thoughtful. “Good question. I’ll have to think on that. Unless you have any suggestions?”
“Me?” Taken aback by that offer, Foggy paused to think about it. “Uh. A lot of it wasn’t really something a human tongue could say, much less something that’d translate to a believable name. The beginning of it kind of sounded like Matthias, though. Matthew, maybe?”
The demon snorted. “Gift of Yahweh. Ironic,” he drawled. “I like it. May as well run with the imagery. Matthew Michaels?”
“Pffft. Too Biblical,” Foggy scoffed.
“I’m a literal demon.”
“Yeah, but that’s why you need some departure from the holy imagery,” Foggy argued. “Michael would be a good middle name, though. Like an inside joke. But now we’ve got a theme going, so your last name needs to be alliterative. You’ll sound like a superhero!”
“A superhero,” the demon echoed. Dipping his head, he let out a soft huff of laughter. “Well, we’ve got time to think about it. At least the next decade sounds like it’s going to be very interesting.”
Pleased by getting another laugh out of the demon, Foggy beamed. He wasn’t entirely sure if the words were a compliment or not, but he decided to take it as one anyway.
He watched as the demon—Matthew now?—placed himself at the center of the pentagram and turned around. The candles flared up again, and larger flames began to rise from the chalk lines, surrounding the figure standing inside. “Foggy?”
“Yeah?”
Matthew smiled. “Things will be okay. I promise.”
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.2]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 03:38 am (UTC)(link)OH MY GODS
As it was a serious question, Foggy gave it serious thought. A few things came to mind, ranging from the ridiculous (“a Time Turner”) to the pathetic (“a really soft teddy bear”) to the self-pitying (“extraction of my emotions”), but in the end, the answer was simple.
“Someone,” he replied quietly, eyes stinging again. “Anyone. Someone who didn’t care about me for my GPA, who would promise at the end of every awful day that things were going to be okay.”
*heart breaking into a million pieces*
I love this. Like, the prompt is admittedly a little weird, someone who’s so lonely and depressed they end up asking Satan to be their best friend for a while. There’s a lot of ways that could have gone wrong in a fic and you are avoiding all of them. I completely believe that Foggy, in this situation, would act like this, and I completely believe that Matt the Devil would be charmed by him.
The demon observed him quietly for long enough that Foggy began fidgeting. After a time, he gave a slow smile. “I’m pretty good at lying.”
*melts*
Ooooooooooooooooh.
“That’s what it boils down to. You want someone to give you hope and look out for your emotional well-being. It just so happens that I’ve got some work to do in Hell’s Kitchen over the next few years, and a friendly companion—not to mention connections to the judicial system—would help quite nicely. I could give you somewhere to stay until you get back on your feet, nudge the charges away so your acceptance into another program is based on your own merit, and even work with you while you’re out there helping the little people. When I’m ready to return Below and you’ve saved enough innocents to feel better, the contract will be complete.”
Yeah, Matt, you TOTALLY had plans already in Hell’s Kitchen. Like, you were totally going this way anyways, just HAPPENED to pick up Foggy for the ride, YEAH RIGHT.
Matt the Devil: actual housecat.
It was the demon’s expression that did it for Foggy more than his words. Despite his own troubles, his heart still ached at the unhappiness of others. There hadn’t been much laughter in his life for the last few months, but he had the feeling that absence could be counted in years—decades, maybe centuries?—for the man-demon-thing before him.
I really hope Matt is being sincere here and not manipulating Foggy by exploiting his need to help others. That would be so not ok.
“Will I remember making this deal?”
“If you’d like. I can take away the memory, if that would make you feel better.”
Foggy frowned. “But you would still remember?” The demon nodded. “Then no, I don’t want to forget.”
I was so nervous and then I relaxed. Foggy living with the knowledge of his impending doom is a part of what I wanted from this. Because sometimes I am a sick puppy.
“Foggy, you don’t have to do this,” the demon stated intently.
Foggy sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”
“You don’t have to do this,” the demon repeated. “You have a gorgeous soul and so much promise. Your immediate future will be difficult, and yes, living always runs the risk of things remaining stale or getting worse, but it could also get better. You don’t need to shackle yourself to me this way. The things I’ll need to do in Hell’s Kitchen… they won’t often been pleasant. You could get hurt associating with me. Kidnapped, tortured. Even I can’t be in two places at once.”
What.
AUUUUUWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
Matt. Thank the gods. Matt giving Foggy every opportunity to back out before it’s too late and Foggy just … won’t. YESSSSSSSSSSSS.
“I mean, at least until the seven years are up?”
“Of course,” the demon answered, seeming a little offended at the thought of doing otherwise. The candles flared up for a moment as if responding to his reaction, then settled back down. “You’re my charge, and you’re an innocent while your soul is intact and as bright as it is now. Nobody messes with what’s mine and gets away with it.”
“That… sounds a little ominous, but the thought is sweet,” Foggy admitted. “You’re kind of territorial, aren’t you?”
“Very.” The demon smiled. It was definitely smug this time.
Mmmmmm. Yes yes less.
The demon raised his hands to Foggy’s neck—which, what?—and leaned in.
Foggy had just enough time to register that the demon was about to kiss him, what the fuck, when a sharp pain burst in his chest. It burned up his throat, torn out, fast and furious until it was spilling out of his mouth.
*cheers wildly*
The demon looked thoughtful. “Good question. I’ll have to think on that. Unless you have any suggestions?”
“Me?” Taken aback by that offer, Foggy paused to think about it. “Uh. A lot of it wasn’t really something a human tongue could say, much less something that’d translate to a believable name. The beginning of it kind of sounded like Matthias, though. Matthew, maybe?”
Oh. Oh that’s significant. I mean, giving someone a name, that’s … um, do they understand what’s going on there? Foggy is giving Satan a NAME.
I mean it’s cool if you’re not going that deep into world-building with this but … huh, that could have impacts if this were a book.
“Pffft. Too Biblical,” Foggy scoffed.
“I’m a literal demon.”
*sporfles* These two.
But now we’ve got a theme going, so your last name needs to be alliterative. You’ll sound like a superhero!”
“A superhero,” the demon echoed. Dipping his head, he let out a soft huff of laughter.
This is so adorable and it was so angsty too HOW.
“Foggy?”
“Yeah?”
Matthew smiled. “Things will be okay. I promise.”
*SHRIEKS INTO HANDS*
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.2]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 05:02 am (UTC)(link)There’s a lot of ways that could have gone wrong in a fic and you are avoiding all of them. I completely believe that Foggy, in this situation, would act like this, and I completely believe that Matt the Devil would be charmed by him.
--- :DDD HURRAY, I'm so happy it's believable! I love me some ridiculous Dave the Minion antics and silly fluffy Consort/Regent of Hell Foggy, but the build-up to the contract had to be angst. It just had to be. ;_; Mild enough to be believable, but intense enough at one time to blow Foggy's mind and make him make rash decisions. XD
Yeah, Matt, you TOTALLY had plans already in Hell’s Kitchen. Like, you were totally going this way anyways, just HAPPENED to pick up Foggy for the ride, YEAH RIGHT.
Matt the Devil: actual housecat.
--- *cackles* He really did, actually, because with Fisk and Union Allied and all that jazz, Matt had some serious ass-kicking he wanted to do and deals he wanted to make. But no, he definitely didn't need to be living on Earth for years to do any of it. :P
I really hope Matt is being sincere here and not manipulating Foggy by exploiting his need to help others. That would be so not ok.
--- Nope, he meant it when he said Foggy's soul was good and he didn't intend to hurt him. I just can't write Matt evil, even if he's the Devil. ;_; He's vengeance and wrath, not "LET'S POISON EVERYTHING IN SIGHT." XD Also, Charlie Cox has the best "My life is the worst I am a sad puppy" face. XD
Foggy living with the knowledge of his impending doom is a part of what I wanted from this. Because sometimes I am a sick puppy.
--- *cackles* I wrote it, so obviously, I'm just as sick as you. :P He can avoid thinking about the reality of his future all he wants, but it's always somewhere in the back of his mind. XD
Matt. Thank the gods. Matt giving Foggy every opportunity to back out before it’s too late and Foggy just … won’t. YESSSSSSSSSSSS.
--- :DDD He LIKES Foggy's soul. Pretty, shiny soul. He wants it, but he also wants Foggy to make the choice for himself and not regret it and lose that brightness.
um, do they understand what’s going on there? Foggy is giving Satan a NAME.
I mean it’s cool if you’re not going that deep into world-building with this but … huh, that could have impacts if this were a book.
--- I wish I could go into it more, but I don't think it'll fit the rest of the story very well without spinning it into something a lot more epic! But Naming will continue to be a theme to some extent, yes. :D
*SHRIEKS WITH YOU I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS YOU ARE AMAZING*
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.2]
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(Anonymous) 2015-07-07 09:25 pm (UTC)(link)True to Matthew’s word, things did, in fact, go okay. Better than okay.
Matthew Michaels became Matthew Michael Murdock, or Matt for short. Foggy put Harvard Law behind him and entered Columbia University. Once he got past remembering every five minutes that Matt was a demon, they got used to each other surprisingly quickly, and rooming together was a blast. Matt began smiling more and more, and by the end of their first year, he was laughing freely when they were alone. It wasn’t hard to start thinking of Matt as his friend not because he had to be, but because he wanted to be.
They graduated—Matt at the top of their class, the cheater—and went to work for Landman and Zack. It was mostly because Matt had some investigating to do within their ranks (and, Foggy suspected, some deals to make). Once he got the information he needed, they left the skin-crawling environment to open their own little firm, mixing local pro bono cases with the bigger ones needed to put them on the map.
They also got separate apartments for the first time since meeting, and that was honestly the hardest thing for Foggy to adjust to. He missed Matt, missed his company and his humour, but Matt insisted that it was the best thing to do. His real ‘business’ in Hell’s Kitchen had started picking up, so it would be safer for Foggy to keep a little bit of distance.
They didn’t need money, of course. Matt could create cash with a thought anytime he wanted to, and he certainly took advantage of the ability: tailored suits and silk sheets were a luxury he was happy to indulge in. Foggy insisted on living on honest wages, but given that he didn’t want Matt to use his powers to Charm customers their way, there were times he was certainly stretched thin. He wouldn’t accept Matt’s fabricated money (“You’ll throw off the economy, buddy”), but he couldn’t make himself say no to the food that would magically appear in his refrigerator or the waivers he got on late penalties for his bills.
That said, Matt didn’t always abuse his powers. He regularly forgot to eat, he didn’t always remember to heal his body, his real job seemed to involve a lot less deal-making and a lot more face-breaking, and it turned out that he really, actually was completely blind.
(“I told you my other senses were stronger than yours,” he reminded the first time Foggy tried getting them to watch a movie. “My vision is not one of them. A movie reads as a flat surface to me.” “Huh. Okay. Well, we’ll stay in and I’ll narrate for you. It’s Star Wars, man—you can’t live on Earth and not experience George Lucas!”)
When superheroes started popping up, Matt didn’t seem surprised, but the limitations to his awareness of the bigger picture were made clear when the Chitauri attacked New York and he was genuinely shocked. The workings of Heaven and Hell and the meaning of life weren’t things he discussed ever, and he’d known that other worlds with their own systems of existence were around, but he wasn’t omniscient; he’d had no idea they would attack until they did.
Matt became the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and they’d snicker when they saw the headlines. The snickering would vanish, however, every time Foggy got kidnapped—and he definitely got kidnapped. He was hurt a number of times, and hurt quite badly once in a blue moon. But Matt was a man of his word: he always showed up to save him, and he always took care of him afterward. With each new attack, there were more and more apologies, more remorse that he couldn’t just heal him instantly without blowing their cover, more gifts, more time spent together.
After Matt graduated to being called Daredevil—after rumours started going around about Nelson & Murdock being connected to the infamous vigilante—after figures like the Punisher and Elektra joined the local crime-fighting scene, they gave up on the protection of distance and moved back in together.
Seven years went by. Eight. Ten.
Foggy was happy.
**
One night, Foggy woke up to Matt looming in the doorway to his bedroom. For the first time in a long time, his friend looked like the demon he really was.
Fear began to crawl up his throat. “Is it time?” he rasped.
Matt nodded. “Let’s go.”
**
Foggy thought he’d been ready.
In truth, he’d probably just been in denial.
“Are you sure we d-don’t need to give a move-out notice?” he asked nervously. “I mean. I don’t want to screw our landlord over. I like our landlord. She’s not seedy. And K-Karen, we should call Karen one last time—”
“Apartment paperwork’s done,” Matt interrupted. “I nudged the landlord’s memory so she thinks we submitted it a month ago.” He paused before adding, “and there’s a reason Karen decided to move to L.A.”
“That was your influence?” Foggy asked, aghast. “You don’t like to Charm innocents!”
Matt’s shoulders drooped. “She’s really not that innocent. Hasn’t been for a few years. And no, it was not my fault.”
“I wasn’t going to ask if it was,” Foggy muttered. He totally was.
“And this was safer for her than staying in Hell’s Kitchen,” Matt continued. “Believe me, things will get worse here before they get better, but—there’s more balance now. More heroes to skew all of the trash climbing out of every corner. More humans taking initiative.”
“Dissenting from the indifference,” Foggy murmured, wringing his hands.
Finally smiling again, even if it was fleeting, Matt nodded. “And the apathy. And the fear, the hatred, and the mistrust.”
Foggy nodded back, more a mimicry of Matt’s actions than a conscious gesture. He took a deep breath and was alarmed when a terrified squeak came out against his intentions. “Oh, god. Is it going to hurt?”
“Only the moment I detach your soul. It’ll be like the prick of a needle,” Matt soothed. “Only about twenty times stronger.”
“I hate needles,” Foggy groaned.
Matt looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. It could be worse. You’re not trying to run from your contract, so the Hellhounds aren’t involved.”
“The… you actually have Hellhounds? You sic Hellhounds on people?”
Matt froze. “Uh. Nope. Of course not.”
Foggy glared at him judgingly. “I’m glaring at you judgingly.”
Matt cringed a little. “Not… generally?” he offered carefully. “Only for the really evil souls?”
“Trying to run from a terrifying promise of death doesn’t automatically make someone really evil!”
“It’s usually the really evil people who think they can escape it,” Matt clarified. “I swear I don’t send Hellhounds after the average contract.”
Foggy squinted at him. “You don’t. Other demons do.”
“Of course not.” Matt smiled too brightly.
Bullshit. “You are such a bad liar!”
Matt deflated. “Only around you,” he mourned. “We’ve spent too much time around each other. You put my guard down. I’m going to be a laughingstock when we Descend.”
Descend. With a capital D. Oh, god. Foggy was actually about to go to Hell.
His knees gave out, but Matt caught him before he could hit the floor. He didn’t show off his inhuman strength often—in part because he’d been convincingly playing the role of a squishy human pincushion for a decade now, and in part because he thought it was funny to watch Foggy trip or drop things or fall off ledges—but it seemed like the entire façade really was ready to blow.
They sank to the floor together. Foggy wished it was carpeted so he could have something to cling to for just a minute. “What’s—can you tell me what happens next?” he asked. “Can—what’s—is my soul going to be absorbed?”
Matt started. “What?”
“Or is the eternity of torture thing literal?”
“It is, but Foggy—”
“Am I—I’m not going to see my dad, am I?”
A look of panic crossed Matt’s face, and he reached over to wipe at the tears that had worked free. Warring with himself for a moment, he gave up and wrapped Foggy in a hug. “Nothing bad will happen to you,” he asserted firmly, squeezing. “I won’t let it. Don’t worry. I told you, I take care of what’s mine. Nobody and nothing will hurt you.”
Foggy clung to him, knowing it would be the last time he’d ever feel the obnoxiously, adorably pretentious silk of Matt’s shirt. Giving up on trying to pretend to be brave, he tucked his eyes against Matt’s shoulder and cried.
And cried.
And cried.
When he was all cried out, he drifted back into awareness to feel Matt rocking him back and forth. “Am I dead yet?”
Matt snorted, the puff of air brushing over the top of his ear. “I wasn’t going to extract your soul while you were crying on me,” he drawled, although his expression was still one of concern. “Are you okay now?”
Foggy swallowed. “As okay as I’m going to be.”
“Foggy. You’re going to be fine,” Matt repeated. “I promised, right?”
Yeah, he’d promised. That was the most Foggy ever got out of him the few times the topic of the end of the contract had come up. But he also hadn’t forgotten that the contract was based on false promises of a good future.
“Foggy,” Matt called again, softer this time. “Don’t be scared. I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ll take care of you. You trust me, right?”
With a choked laugh, Foggy nodded. Matt was a demon, a being whose real name could make his ears bleed from the unearthly sounds, a being whose existence was to convince suckers to sign over their souls to him.
It didn’t change a thing.
“God help me, but I do. You—you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Foggy whispered.
Matt smiled. “Then let’s go.”
**
It ended like it began: with a kiss and a sharp burst of pain and a pulling sensation—
**
Cold.
Hot?
Cold. Icy cold, shivers, shards, tearing apart his skin—
Flames licking at him from the inside out, coals burning in his gut, blistering
Silk.
Wind or water or wind and water slicking all around him. He was being battered, but it didn’t hurt—he was aware of the sensations, but he was numb to them—he was—
Whispers.
Nonsense noises. Whistles. Hisses.
The sizzle before a zap of electricity.
Oppressive blackness.
Coals.
(No—sulfur—)
“—gy?”
Sleep.
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-07 10:37 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 04:47 am (UTC)(link):DDD Thank you, thank you so much!! I will definitely be writing more - I'm so excited for Foggy to be dead. :D
...
I mean.
*cough* To help Matt rule in Hell. >D
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 03:51 am (UTC)(link)OH GODS. *refreshes page all night*
THIS IS SO GOOD. ALSO I'M GONNA CRY.
They also got separate apartments for the first time since meeting, and that was honestly the hardest thing for Foggy to adjust to. He missed Matt, missed his company and his humour, but Matt insisted that it was the best thing to do. His real ‘business’ in Hell’s Kitchen had started picking up, so it would be safer for Foggy to keep a little bit of distance.
Yeah good luck trying to convince yourself you’re not falling in the demon equivalent of love with Foggy, dude.
but he couldn’t make himself say no to the food that would magically appear in his refrigerator or the waivers he got on late penalties for his bills.
Not even in the underworld and you’re eating his food. NICE GOING FOGGY.
That said, Matt didn’t always abuse his powers. He regularly forgot to eat, he didn’t always remember to heal his body, his real job seemed to involve a lot less deal-making and a lot more face-breaking, and it turned out that he really, actually was completely blind.
Gods this is such a great story you’re conveying here. Seriously.
(“I told you my other senses were stronger than yours,” he reminded the first time Foggy tried getting them to watch a movie. “My vision is not one of them. A movie reads as a flat surface to me.” “Huh. Okay. Well, we’ll stay in and I’ll narrate for you. It’s Star Wars, man—you can’t live on Earth and not experience George Lucas!”)
Awwwwwww.
Seven years went by. Eight. Ten.
Foggy was happy.
Which means it’s TIME TO DIE.
*rubs hands together with glee*
… I’m sorry, I’m just … yeah.
Foggy thought he’d been ready.
In truth, he’d probably just been in denial.
Yep. : D I’m probably a sadist but I’m enjoying this WAY TOO MUCH.
He took a deep breath and was alarmed when a terrified squeak came out against his intentions. “Oh, god. Is it going to hurt?”
*tugs at collar* Hnnngghhh.
I mean, um, how … horrible …
“The… you actually have Hellhounds? You sic Hellhounds on people?”
Matt froze. “Uh. Nope. Of course not.”
Foggy glared at him judgingly. “I’m glaring at you judgingly.”
I’m laughing but also really invested in this tense scene.
“You are such a bad liar!”
Matt deflated. “Only around you,” he mourned. “We’ve spent too much time around each other. You put my guard down. I’m going to be a laughingstock when we Descend.”
*sporfles* Oh boys.
Hang on … Matt is the Devil here, right? Not just some random demon? He’s actually Satan, right?
His knees gave out, but Matt caught him before he could hit the floor. He didn’t show off his inhuman strength often—in part because he’d been convincingly playing the role of a squishy human pincushion for a decade now, and in part because he thought it was funny to watch Foggy trip or drop things or fall off ledges—but it seemed like the entire façade really was ready to blow.
Oooooo, I love that. That Matt’s human suit is slipping.
“Can—what’s—is my soul going to be absorbed?”
Matt started. “What?”
“Or is the eternity of torture thing literal?”
“It is, but Foggy—”
“Am I—I’m not going to see my dad, am I?”
Ok, 1) my heart is breaking 2) I’m really getting off on this and 3) Matt you asshole did you FORGET to tell Foggy you’re not just dumping him in a lava pit when this is over?
Foggy clung to him, knowing it would be the last time he’d ever feel the obnoxiously, adorably pretentious silk of Matt’s shirt. Giving up on trying to pretend to be brave, he tucked his eyes against Matt’s shoulder and cried.
And cried.
And cried.
When he was all cried out, he drifted back into awareness to feel Matt rocking him back and forth. “Am I dead yet?”
Matt snorted, the puff of air brushing over the top of his ear. “I wasn’t going to extract your soul while you were crying on me,” he drawled, although his expression was still one of concern.
Auuuuuuuuuwwwwww! I wanna hug Foggy, and cry and I’m also still really, really into this.
“Foggy,” Matt called again, softer this time. “Don’t be scared. I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ll take care of you. You trust me, right?”
With a choked laugh, Foggy nodded. Matt was a demon, a being whose real name could make his ears bleed from the unearthly sounds, a being whose existence was to convince suckers to sign over their souls to him.
It didn’t change a thing.
“God help me, but I do. You—you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Foggy whispered.
Matt smiled. “Then let’s go.”
I’m gonna CRY. OH GODS.
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 04:45 am (UTC)(link)Hahahahaa, I wish I could write all night. XD I'm so so hooked on this prompt like you don't even KNOW. Unfortunately, I've got a day of meetings tomorrow at work and an engagement after, so I don't think I'll have much time to work on part 2 until Thursday. :(
Yeah good luck trying to convince yourself you’re not falling in the demon equivalent of love with Foggy, dude.
--- Oh, Matt. You never stood a chance. XD
Not even in the underworld and you’re eating his food. NICE GOING FOGGY.
--- OMG I DIDN'T EVEN MAKE THAT PARTICULAR CONNECTION. DAMMIT. THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO PERFECT. I am so adding pomegranates to Foggy's fridge for the cleaned up AO3 version. XD
Gods this is such a great story you’re conveying here. Seriously.
--- ;___; Thank you thank you! I would have delved more into their time alive, except, well. I really wanted to get to Foggy dying. XD Because I'm awful. *nod* BUT DAVE THE MINION AWAITS.
Your comments during Foggy's pre-death meltdown GAVE ME LIFE, SERIOUSLY, I am laughing so freaking hard. XD
Hang on … Matt is the Devil here, right? Not just some random demon? He’s actually Satan, right?
--- Yes, he is totally Satan. XD He just didn't want to TELL Foggy that because they were all cozy and familiar with each other, and it was nice for someone to just treat him like an equal rather than a terrifying overlord of infernal justice and wrath. :D Also, Matt is bad with words when it comes to navigating the social mindfield of friendship. XD Foggy will find out soon enough.
Oooooo, I love that. That Matt’s human suit is slipping.
--- *cackles* Yup! XD He figures it doesn't matter anymore, all the cards (well, almost all the cards) will be on the table shortly. XD
Ok, 1) my heart is breaking 2) I’m really getting off on this and 3) Matt you asshole did you FORGET to tell Foggy you’re not just dumping him in a lava pit when this is over?
--- See above re: Matt + words + friendship = WHATTHEEVERLOVINGFUCKMURDOCK. XD But really, it was more like, the first few years Matt himself didn't quite have a plan in mind for Foggy's soul yet, and by the time he did he'd been stringing him along with pretty platitudes of "Don't worry" and "It'll be fine" for SO LONG that he doesn't know how to backtrack. :P GOOD JOB, MATTHIWHISTLEHISSIZZLE.
I’m gonna CRY. OH GODS.
--- *cackles* Every admission of near-tears is like sweet, sweet wine to me. ;D
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
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(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 07:35 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-09 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-09 08:04 pm (UTC)(link);____; Thank you, thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!! :D ♥
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
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(Anonymous) 2015-08-24 12:01 pm (UTC)(link)"That said, Matt didn’t always abuse his powers. He regularly forgot to eat, he didn’t always remember to heal his body, his real job seemed to involve a lot less deal-making and a lot more face-breaking, and it turned out that he really, actually was completely blind."
Does Matt really forget to eat, or is it just a form of self-flagellation? And did he decide on the face-breaking thing for similar reasons, as an excuse to get beat up?
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) 2015-09-10 09:35 pm (UTC)(link)I like the self-flagellation idea, but in this case, he really just forgets to eat because he doesn't need human food. :) And he's into face-breaking (as in punching bad guys in the face) because that'd be the vindictive, vengeful Satan part of him who likes seeing evil people suffer. ;D
Thanks for reading! ♥
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.3]
(Anonymous) - 2015-09-10 21:51 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.1]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 03:26 am (UTC)(link)(Prompter here)
*rolls around on the floor with delight*
OH MY GODS OH MY GODS OH MY GODS
THIS IS SO GOOD I’M GONNA CRY
Comments split into three because my comments are huge.
(They maybe went down again, because holy god the demon-thing in front of him didn’t have a hooked tail or pitchfork, but he did have thick, rough, blood-red skin covering most of his body and strangely ridiculous horns protruding from his head. He also didn’t have eyes. The most embarrassingly distracting aspect, though, was that the dude was built. But Foggy prided himself on being fairly polite and tried not to objectify women, men, those elsewhere on the spectrum, or infernal beings, so he dragged his gaze back up.)
Now that’s clever. I love that. : DDDDDDD
Foggy winced. “Not call me Franklin, for starters,” he muttered automatically before widening his eyes. “Wait, shit, is there a price for that? I take it back!”
The demon-thing’s brow furrowed, but his expression smoothed out again a moment later. “I’ll give you that one as a freebie. What would you like to be called instead?”
Was it okay to give him his name? It would technically be a nickname, so that didn’t give him any power over him, right? Heck, the demon-thing already had his actual name, so a nickname couldn’t be worse, could it? Unless the name one identified by gave supernatural entities more power over him…
Thank you for addressing the name thing, names do have power after all.
Foggy backpedaling early on was great.
“It was a very interesting name. Lovely, surreal, kind of terrifying. It just, uh. Hurt a little. Ow.”
“Your ear is bleeding,” Matthiwhistlehissizzle offered unhelpfully. More helpfully, he reached out—Foggy did not flinch back, thank you—and waved his hand by the injured ear.
The aching stopped, and the sensation of slowly slipping fluid vanished.
“Give a lot of freebies, do you?” Foggy asked in a smaller voice than he was entirely comfortable with.
The demon shrugged. It was a confusingly human gesture.
Oh boys. Oh BOYS. *sporfles*
“You’re young, clever, and whole,” the demon commented thoughtfully. “Kind, too; your soul is very bright, though burdened. May I ask what troubles you?”
The question pulled at something in Foggy’s chest. He’d been doing good the last few days, throwing himself into the occult aggressively in an effort to find some direction, but six words undid it all.
His expression crumpled. His eyes teared up, but he refused to let them spill over. His hands shook as he balled them up into fists against his thighs. He bit his lip hard enough to bleed.
*heart breaks* YESSSSSSSS. Foggy desperate and depressed enough to summon Satan. YESSSSSSSSSS.
He gestured down at the pentagram. “May I?”
Foggy stared at him blankly, pink-cheeked and blurry-eyed. “Uh. Okay?”
OH GODS NO.
FOGGY DO YOU WANNA DIE.
NO WAIT DON’T ANSWER THAT.
Sorry, my inner urban fantasy fangirl is freaking out right now. YOU DON’T LET THINGS OUT OF MAGIC CIRCLES.
Between one blink and the next, the red scales disappeared, replaced by very human, Caucasian-looking skin under a sleek business suit. The horns vanished as well in favour of neatly groomed, dark hair. The missing eyes were hidden behind round, blood-red glasses.
Love Matt turning into A Form You Are Comfortable With as the trope goes.
The demon smirked at his confusion before shifting the expression into an encouraging smile. “You’re not a corrupt soul, Foggy. I’ve got no interest in hurting you. But I am here to make a deal, so let’s discuss what’s going on in your life and see what I have to offer.”
Foggy thought that it was probably a bad idea. No, check that; it was definitely a bad idea.
But what did he have left to lose?
He sat.
Oh Foggy. Oh, oh. *hugs self*
Foggy let out a slow breath. “Sorry. I’m still trying to make sense of it. He accused me of plagiarism. I don’t even—I didn’t do it, I swear, but he’s tenured, respectable, well-connected. I got thrown out. Lost my scholarship, lost my student standing, my dorm room, the few friends I’d made—everything. I just...”
“You want vengeance?” the demon asked sharply.
Even amidst his distress, Foggy felt horrified by the suggestion. “No! No—I don’t know why York hated me so much, but I… he wouldn’t have deliberately placed evidence, right? That’s crazy. It must’ve just been a misunderstanding.”
*sporfles* Foggy being like “no, no vengeance, that’s bad!” about the man who RUINED HIS GODDAMN LIFE. OH MY GODS. Foggy. Beautiful Cinnamon Roll. Matt doesn’t have an avocado’s chance in hell against him.
“Many humans are willing to throw away their souls for less.”
“That’s not really the reassurance you think it is,” Foggy huffed.
The demon laughed, then cut himself off, looking just as surprised as Foggy. “Well. That was interesting,” he murmured, although it seemed directed at himself.
Oho, Matt the Lord of the Underworld, feeling EMOTIONS because of the squishy human. AHAHAHAHA YES.
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.1]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 04:29 am (UTC)(link).... ;____; I want to print out your comments and frame them on my wall. 8D YOU MADE ME GET ALL CHOKED UP. I'M SO, SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT. Given that I am all fluff all the time and cannot write drama and strong emotions and pretty purple prose, I was so apprehensive that I wouldn't be able to put a comprehensible piece together. XD GOD, YOUR COMMENTS, THEY KILLED ME.
Thank you for addressing the name thing, names do have power after all
--- There will be a little tiny bit about the power of names and the significance of Foggy naming Matt/other minions, but I'm unfortunately not going to delve deeply into it in this fic - mostly because then I would start getting into what kind of power, and what else has power, and angel/demon history and politics, and all that is right up my alley, but oh my god it would blow up the fic SO FAR OUT OF MY CONTROL and I just have too many simultaneous commits right now to take on a project that massive. ;____; So there will be glimpses into the bigger picture, but they won't really tackle it plot-wise. MAYBE ONE DAY, after I finish this fic, if I ever TONE DOWN THE OTHER PROJECTS ENOUGH that I can write a sequel? Mayyyybe possibly idk?
Sorry, my inner urban fantasy fangirl is freaking out right now. YOU DON’T LET THINGS OUT OF MAGIC CIRCLES.
--- I KNOW, RIGHT? HE IS SO DAMN LUCKY that Matt is too civil to just destroy him then and there. ;_; To be fair, Foggy is a bit on shock. :P
Love Matt turning into A Form You Are Comfortable With as the trope goes.
--- Yeah, he was just like, "The squishy mortal is upset and I do not like this awkward situation. Maybe I should be less of an obvious symbol of eternal damnation and judgment." XD
;D Foggy will totally take down a corrupt lawyer a peg or two and not care about ripping a malicious dickwad's reputation apart, but he tries to see the best in people and maintain a strong sense of integrity. Because Foggy. *pom-poms*
MATT DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THE EMOTIONS. But at least he is curious about them rather than running screaming? :D?
Re: Requiem Æternam [Part 1.1]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-08 07:54 am (UTC)(link).... ;____; I want to print out your comments and frame them on my wall. 8D YOU MADE ME GET ALL CHOKED UP. I'M SO, SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT. Given that I am all fluff all the time and cannot write drama and strong emotions and pretty purple prose, I was so apprehensive that I wouldn't be able to put a comprehensible piece together. XD GOD, YOUR COMMENTS, THEY KILLED ME.
I just ... that's how I leave comments. Nobody ever taught me how to comment so in the early days of my fandom life I'd copy/paste my favorite bits and say my reactions, and people seemed to like that so I just kept doing that.
I'm just so happy you're filling it! It's so good! Glad to make you laugh with my comments.
You're all fluff all the time? Coulda fooled me! You're doing a great job here with this angsty swirling terror.
--- There will be a little tiny bit about the power of names and the significance of Foggy naming Matt/other minions, but I'm unfortunately not going to delve deeply into it in this fic - mostly because then I would start getting into what kind of power, and what else has power, and angel/demon history and politics, and all that is right up my alley, but oh my god it would blow up the fic SO FAR OUT OF MY CONTROL and I just have too many simultaneous commits right now to take on a project that massive. ;____; So there will be glimpses into the bigger picture, but they won't really tackle it plot-wise. MAYBE ONE DAY, after I finish this fic, if I ever TONE DOWN THE OTHER PROJECTS ENOUGH that I can write a sequel? Mayyyybe possibly idk?
Well, if you ever wanna write more of this I will happily read it. I know that feeling though, of being in too many projects at once. I'm currently in like, six different fandoms to one degree or another and I really should cut back. So like, I get it, don't worry.
I was just getting Dresden Files thoughts, what with Naming important powerful figures.
--- I KNOW, RIGHT? HE IS SO DAMN LUCKY that Matt is too civil to just destroy him then and there. ;_; To be fair, Foggy is a bit on shock. :P
I freaked out at that moment. I imagine Matt was like "... whoa, he just let me out? What a trusting mortal ..." and was too shocked to like, set him on fire at first. And then Foggy charmed him and that idea went out the window.
--- Yeah, he was just like, "The squishy mortal is upset and I do not like this awkward situation. Maybe I should be less of an obvious symbol of eternal damnation and judgment." XD
I just love that he CARES enough to do that, unprompted. He just like "slips into something more casual."
;D Foggy will totally take down a corrupt lawyer a peg or two and not care about ripping a malicious dickwad's reputation apart, but he tries to see the best in people and maintain a strong sense of integrity. Because Foggy. *pom-poms*
I know, I just ... WOW.
It's goo though, because I can believe someone as nice as Foggy could charm the Devil Himself. That has to be believable and I think you nailed that.
MATT DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THE EMOTIONS. But at least he is curious about them rather than running screaming? :D?
Yeah, I ... I really love that. Big powerful character suddenly feeling EMOTIONS like "what are these? Huh, I wish to keep experiencing them."
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(Anonymous) 2015-07-13 07:02 am (UTC)(link)A/N: Cue face touching TO THE MAX. Also, I’m not sure if this requires a body horror warning, given that there isn’t technically a body involved and I don’t think it’s really very horrific, but maybe better safe than sorry?
Foggy came to with his head cushioned on someone’s lap, a hand stroking through his hair, and the most surreal sense of being removed from his body. “Please say I’m actually dead this time,” he mumbled blearily. The syllables blurred together from exhaustion enough that it came out sounding more like “Bleashay’m acshy dettime.”
If that was just a precursor, he wasn’t sure if he would survive—well—dying.
A familiar laugh rumbled overhead. “You’re actually dead this time,” Matt confirmed fondly. “Congratulations. That was the most excruciating thing you’ll ever feel.”
Thank god. “Tha’shing lingeedle, lynger.” (Read: “That was nothing like a needle, you lying liar.”)
“Would you rather I said it was like being peeled out of your body, smashed through several glass walls, and drowned?” Matt asked drily. “It seemed like an appropriate occasion for a white lie.”
Foggy didn’t respond, although it wasn’t because he didn’t agree. He was just having a little bit of trouble figuring out where his parts ended and where the rest of the world began. His legs felt weird. His face felt weird. His everything felt weird.
The hand resumed stroking through his hair. “Don’t force the transition too hard. You’re going to be out of sorts for a while,” Matt warned him. “It took you the Earthly equivalent of three weeks to wake up.”
“Three—” Foggy wheezed, sitting up sharply.
He tried to sit up, at any rate. Part of him did indeed rise, but part of him… did not.
“Don’t look down,” Matt warned quickly.
Like that ever worked.
“H’oh shit!” Foggy slurred when he saw his body. His very glowy, very translucent, and very, very shapeless body.
Matt swore quietly. At least Foggy thought he was swearing; the sound was more like a distant clap of thunder under a layer of swarming insects. “Foggy. Foggy, it’s okay. You’ll start firming up over the next few hours,” he explained urgently as Foggy buzzed with panic. When Foggy opened his mouth, Matt clapped a hand over it so his protest was muffled by warm skin. “Most souls are a little rough around the edges when they first wake up. Don’t freak out.”
“I’m a ghost! I’m a puddle of a ghost!” Foggy freaked out against Matt’s palm, grabbing for his friend in a panic as he oozed about. He half expected to go right through him despite the way Matt was obviously proving any notions of incorporeality false, but his hands connected. Trembled, even, as he gripped the demon’s arm.
At least this explained why his everything felt weird. Come to think of it, it probably had something to do with why his words had been coming out so messed up; he probably hadn’t had lips. On the plus side, he was speaking normally now.
“You’re not a ghost,” Matt stated firmly, covering Foggy’s hands with one of his. “Ghosts are damaged, vengeful souls trapped on Earth, unable to Ascend or Descend. You’re an intact soul; you’re just not used to the way things work down here yet. Once both your conscious and subconscious minds get used to this version of reality, your body will solidify on its own.”
“Couldn’t you have given me a little warning?!”
Matt shook his head. “Each Descent is different. When a soul first enters the Rivers, it’s just dispersed spirit particles. They come together quickly enough, reforming into the way the people saw themselves in life, but bits and pieces tend to follow the currents into the other four Rivers. What a soul will or won’t remember and which emotions and memories will be strongest just depend. Whether or not you would have been willing to leave the River was debatable.”
He paused to take a shuddered breath. “But you were. You did. It took two days to make sure I had all of you, but you came with me,” he continued quietly. “All of you came with me. I made sure not a single piece was lost.”
Foggy swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he was swallowing, since he no longer seemed to contain water or need air, but the gesture was reflexive. “Lost? Lost where?”
“You were particularly keen on the River Lethe,” Matt replied. Foggy finally noticed how tense his voice sounded. “Forgetfulness.”
Foggy felt weak at the knees. Given that he didn’t really have knees at the moment, it was quite an accomplishment. “Oh my god. Hades really is a thing?”
Matt shrugged. “Hades, Hell, Naraka, sheol, the afterlife, even purgatory—they’re all variations on the same: an existence after mortal death that isn’t Above. Parts of them are all around here somewhere. I’ll give you the grand tour whenever you’re ready.”
Shaking, Foggy sank against Matt. “Give me a moment,” he pleaded. “I—I swear I’ll want to know more, but I need a second. Just to process this.”
Matt hugged him carefully. Foggy bit back an alarmed cry as he felt more of his body solidify where they touched. “Take all the time you need,” Matt murmured against Foggy’s hair—which, weirdly, felt completely whole. Then again, he had woken up to Matt stroking it. If there was something about contact with a demon that made his body rematerialize faster, it made sense.
“A second, a minute, a year, another ten years,” Matt soothed, arms tightening around him. “It doesn’t matter. Time doesn’t mean anything anymore. We’re home.”
**
It didn’t take ten years, or even one year. It did, however, take more than a few minutes for Foggy to calm down and get his thoughts back into working order.
Once he did, he drew away and struggled to sit up on his own. His midsection was still pretty floppy and his lower body was useless, but under Matt’s sympathetic back stroking, his spine seemed to be fairly functional again. Or… whatever spirit matter was forming what his brain was convinced was a spine, anyway. Souls didn’t have bones, did they? How did this whole thing even work? Was there a Hell Physics 101? Aphysics? Death for Dummies?
Matt’s hands clenched and occasionally jerked as if he was holding himself back from manhandling Foggy upright himself, probably out of some respectful bullshit about giving him space or letting him do it on his own. Foggy appreciated the thought, but it wasn’t really helping at the moment.
“This is incredibly annoying,” he blurted out. “And I have a thousand things I’m going to want to ask you, and every answer is probably going to exponentially increase the number of questions, and I’m a little ticked that you didn’t give me a little warning even if you weren’t sure I’d remember, but—can I be really inappropriate right now and ask you to just fucking touch me already?”
Matt’s eyebrows arched high above his round, red lenses. After a moment, he gave a watery smile. “You made that connection quickly.”
“Yeah, well, it was sort of hard to miss my ectoplasm hardening into skin,” Foggy muttered uncomfortably. “I mean, you’re free to say no if it makes you uncomfortable, but if demons have some sort of transmutative ability, it’d be really useful right now.”
“Not… all demons,” Matt said slowly in the sort of tone that told Foggy he was hiding something. Given that everything about being dead was one big question mark at the moment, though, Foggy wasn’t terribly arsed about it. “It’s sort of a specialty of mine. And it’s soul matter, not ectoplasm. I wouldn’t be uncomfortable at all, but are you sure? It’s not too invasive?”
“You pulled my soul out of the Styx, Matt. I really don’t care if you get a little handsy at the moment. I just want to be able to sit up,” Foggy grumbled. “It’s not like I’m not asking you to stick your face in my liver and kiss it better so I can go drink my sorrows away.”
Matt went very still.
Foggy stared at him. “You… want to stick your face in my liver? Wait, do I still have a liver? Can I still get drunk?”
Wincing, Matt shook his head. “Sorry, I was just… nevermind. You’ll have a liver if you see yourself as having a liver. Inebriation is possible, but our substances of choice are largely different from what you ate and drank as a human.”
“And you want to stick your face in my liver,” Foggy repeated.
Matt sighed. “No, I don’t want to stick my face in your liver,” he assured. “If you’re really okay with it, though, I wouldn’t mind helping you solidify.”
Foggy silently cheered. “Great! Best news I’ve heard so far this unlifetime. Have at, buddy.”
Smiling, Matt raised his hands. “This is going to be weird,” he warned as he pressed them to Foggy’s hairline and began to move.
“Whoa,” was the only response Foggy could give.
[FILL] Requiem Æternam [Part 2.2]
(Anonymous) 2015-07-13 07:04 am (UTC)(link)They eased down his throat, and rather than feeling choked or threatened, Foggy felt like he could breathe again. They spread across his shoulders and down his arms, and even the parts that were already solid sparked with improved feeling. They rolled over his chest, and if Foggy weren’t dead, he’d swear his heart was pounding. They slid down his stomach and up his sides, and it was beginning to feel less like transmutation and more like sculpture. Matt was sculpting him, like something precious—something beautiful.
Matt moved away then, shuffling over to be able to reach Foggy’s lower body. He waved a hand up the soul puddle, and it neatly parted like the Red Sea. He crouched down between the puddles and placed his hands on Foggy’s hips—and hot damn, Foggy was not going to get that image out of his head anytime this century—and dragged them down to coax the spirit matter into thighs. Knees. Calves.
Oh, god, Matt was rubbing his ankles. He was forming his toes. And now, he was sliding back up.
Foggy seriously considered hyperventilating.
At least the feeling of his body coming together was strange and surreal enough that he couldn’t quite develop an incriminatingly embarrassing reaction. Then again, he didn’t exactly have blood anymore. (Or did he?) Plus, there was the very polite fact that Matt had put off making his dick for last. What a sweetheart, sparing him the possibility of an awkward post-mortem boner.
Matt hovered over him, and Foggy desperately ignored his own nudity in favour of a tight laugh. “Wow. Huh. That was—”
“Shhh,” Matt hushed, pulling off his glasses and tossing them aside. There was no clatter indicative of a fall; they simply disappeared into the air. This wasn’t surprising—it wasn’t the first time Foggy’d seen him conjure up or vanish objects—but what was surprising was the way Matt leaned down until he held himself just over Foggy’s heart.
He pressed his open mouth to Foggy’s chest and exhaled.
The sheer intensity of the sensations that slammed into Foggy chased all embarrassment or arousal away. Whatever he thought he’d been feeling before—whatever he thought he’d ever felt on Earth—was laughable compared to the overwhelming bombardment of stimuli now. He could feel the cold stone and dirt beneath his back, but he could also feel heat rocking beneath them. He could feel the flutter of Matt’s suit jacket, not because it touched his skin, but because the air bounced back at him in small, swaying arches. He could feel the individual cells at the very center of his body still coming together, finishing up making him whole.
He could also feel bodies all around them. They kept their distance but moved around in a way that said they were definitely paying attention. They were tense, worked up, excited, but he couldn’t tell if it was a good excitement or a bad one.
He could feel Matt’s heart pounding, faster than he liked but not to the level of the beings watching them. It was steady and sure and strong. It sped up when Foggy’s spiked in alarm, but slowed in relief as Foggy’s settled down.
He could feel the general shape and size of the cavern they were in. He could feel the air currents, and he could taste the messages they carried of skin and blood and clammy, wet warmth, metal, rock, fire.
So, so much fire.
The feelings quieted. They didn’t quite return to the pale mockery of sensation that had been Foggy’s only frame of reference before, but they were no longer as suffocating.
After his head stopped spinning, Foggy pushed himself upright. He stared down at himself as he tried to sort what to ask first. He wiggled his toes for good measure. He let out a sigh. “Awesome. What the fuck, but awesome. You wouldn’t happen to have—”
A moment later, Foggy was wearing clothes. They weren’t his clothes—black slacks, black t-shirt—but then again, it wasn’t like the blind guy could conjure up a reasonable facsimile of someone else’s Aerosmith tee. And hey, at least he wasn’t in a toga or something. Not that he really had any right to complain either way; at least he wasn’t locked in an iron maiden or positioned in a guillotine.
Yet.
Matt interrupted his spike of fear with a nudge. “Stop worrying. You’re going to be fine,” he promised again.
“Uh-huh.”
“Foggy.”
This time, there was a clear note of command in Matt’s voice, and Foggy found himself jerking to attention without meaning to. He was dimly aware of the figures around them scrambling, but he stopped paying attention when Matt leaned forward and cupped his face. “Listen to me. When I say you’re going to be fine, I mean you’re going to be fine. You’re not going to be disemboweled by Hellhounds. You’re not going to burn for all eternity. You’re not going to be drowned, or lacerated, or lashed. Your heart’s not going to be devoured. At no point is anyone going to touch you unless you want them to. You are safe here, and if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, you come straight to me. Understood?”
Foggy nodded as well as he could while Matt held onto him. It was all he could do when his grasp of speech wasn’t entirely there.
Midway through his rant, Matt’s voice had changed. It got louder, firmer, sharper, shifting the way Matt’s body language did when he became Daredevil into a simmering threat of violence. It wasn’t just his tone, though; the very syllables rolled off in an entirely different, and entirely inhuman, fashion.
His voiceless fricatives hissed a warning, with “Hellhounds” bringing to mind the smoke of a dying bonfire. His nasals were hot and moist and almost toxic. Half of his velar consonants were a growl from deep in his throat, and his vowels were like knives slicing through the air. “Devoured” sent shivers down his entire body, and he wasn’t sure if they were the good or bad kind or a blend of both; “disemboweled” was a particularly vicious-sounding word.
Silence hung heavily in the air. Foggy realized that he was gaping. “Okay. Uh. Yes. First, yes, got it, understood. Second, what was that you just did? And third, what was the thing before that?”
Matt relaxed.
Switching his grip from Foggy’s face to his arm, Matt stood and pulled Foggy up with him. “The second and third things are related. I’ll explain everything. Let’s walk while I do, though. There’s so much I’ve been waiting to show you.”
Foggy was confused, a little overwhelmed, more than a little alarmed, and just a tad annoyed at all of the secrecy. Even so, he couldn’t help but smile. Sure, he was dead, and he was in Hell, and that sucked. But this was Matt’s home. Matt was still with him. Matt had come for him. Matt was an age-old demon bartering souls on the daily, but he was also the guy Foggy’d spent the last ten years living out his life with, and Matt was still looking out for him.
Foggy knew he’d follow Matt anywhere.
“Okay,” he agreed simply, bumping Matt playfully. “Show me your world. I’m dying to see it.”
(A/N: This was another one of those scenes that ran away with me. SIGH. The way that still-alive Foggy was supposed to be around 1500 words and wound up being 5000, this was supposed to be like a three-paragraph blurb of Foggy waking up. Whoops...)
Re: [FILL] Requiem Æternam [Part 2.2]
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(Anonymous) 2015-07-13 06:34 pm (UTC)(link)this is...I keep struggling to find the proper word for it. sensual? (my initial reaction was: FILTHY, OH MY GOD, I CAN'T BREATHE, IT'S NOT EVEN EXPLICITLY SEXUAL and yet i need a minute to compose myself?) but it's so physical and full of emotion and good lord, the tension!
and Matt, dangerous and crazy protective and loving foggy - oh, I could read that forever. ugh. UGH. this is SO GOOD.
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(Anonymous) 2015-07-15 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Update is great!
Foggy came to with his head cushioned on someone’s lap, a hand stroking through his hair, and the most surreal sense of being removed from his body. “Please say I’m actually dead this time,” he mumbled blearily.
*shrieks into hands* This is a good start. : DDDDD
“H’oh shit!” Foggy slurred when he saw his body. His very glowy, very translucent, and very, very shapeless body.
OH GODS *hides under bed*
“You were particularly keen on the River Lethe,” Matt replied. Foggy finally noticed how tense his voice sounded. “Forgetfulness.”
*weeps*
Matt hugged him carefully. Foggy bit back an alarmed cry as he felt more of his body solidify where they touched. “Take all the time you need,” Matt murmured against Foggy’s hair—which, weirdly, felt completely whole. Then again, he had woken up to Matt stroking it. If there was something about contact with a demon that made his body rematerialize faster, it made sense.
That is creepy and also super cool. I love this.
“A second, a minute, a year, another ten years,” Matt soothed, arms tightening around him. “It doesn’t matter. Time doesn’t mean anything anymore. We’re home.”
Whoa there, Matt, dial it back a bit.
Matt’s hands clenched and occasionally jerked as if he was holding himself back from manhandling Foggy upright himself, probably out of some respectful bullshit about giving him space or letting him do it on his own. Foggy appreciated the thought, but it wasn’t really helping at the moment.
Oh Matt. Holding back on touching Foggy and REALLY wanting to touch Foggy awwwwwww.
“Not… all demons,” Matt said slowly in the sort of tone that told Foggy he was hiding something.
Ahahahahaha. Prince of Lies, my ass.
“You pulled my soul out of the Styx, Matt. I really don’t care if you get a little handsy at the moment. I just want to be able to sit up,” Foggy grumbled. “It’s not like I’m not asking you to stick your face in my liver and kiss it better so I can go drink my sorrows away.”
Matt went very still.
Foggy stared at him. “You… want to stick your face in my liver?
Matt that’s a bit much.
Smiling, Matt raised his hands. “This is going to be weird,” he warned as he pressed them to Foggy’s hairline and began to move.
What about this isn’t?
They eased down his throat, and rather than feeling choked or threatened, Foggy felt like he could breathe again.
This is beautiful.
I love how Foggy’s in Hell and the first thing Matt HAS to do is rub his hands all over Foggy’s body.
Plus, there was the very polite fact that Matt had put off making his dick for last. What a sweetheart, sparing him the possibility of an awkward post-mortem boner.
Fun fact those are called “angel lust.” FUN FACT.
“Shhh,” Matt hushed, pulling off his glasses and tossing them aside. There was no clatter indicative of a fall; they simply disappeared into the air.
NICE.
He could also feel bodies all around them. They kept their distance but moved around in a way that said they were definitely paying attention. They were tense, worked up, excited, but he couldn’t tell if it was a good excitement or a bad one.
WAR BOY DEMONS! YAAAAAAAYYYYY!
And hey, at least he wasn’t in a toga or something. Not that he really had any right to complain either way; at least he wasn’t locked in an iron maiden or positioned in a guillotine.
Yet.
Matt interrupted his spike of fear with a nudge. “Stop worrying. You’re going to be fine,” he promised again.
“Uh-huh.”
“Foggy.”
*incoherent noises of delight*
Midway through his rant, Matt’s voice had changed. It got louder, firmer, sharper, shifting the way Matt’s body language did when he became Daredevil into a simmering threat of violence. It wasn’t just his tone, though; the very syllables rolled off in an entirely different, and entirely inhuman, fashion.
His voiceless fricatives hissed a warning, with “Hellhounds” bringing to mind the smoke of a dying bonfire. His nasals were hot and moist and almost toxic. Half of his velar consonants were a growl from deep in his throat, and his vowels were like knives slicing through the air. “Devoured” sent shivers down his entire body, and he wasn’t sure if they were the good or bad kind or a blend of both; “disemboweled” was a particularly vicious-sounding word.
Oh hell yeah, Devil speak that you can FEEL. YESSSSSSS.
Foggy knew he’d follow Matt anywhere.
To hell and b… oh.
“Okay,” he agreed simply, bumping Matt playfully. “Show me your world. I’m dying to see it.”
Oh gods Foggy, the PUNS. I love you. So does Matt.
(A/N: This was another one of those scenes that ran away with me. SIGH. The way that still-alive Foggy was supposed to be around 1500 words and wound up being 5000, this was supposed to be like a three-paragraph blurb of Foggy waking up. Whoops…)
No complaints from me! Take as much time as you like with this!
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