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Contact Matt or his mun here
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May 31st, 12:42
"how's my driving?" |
Character-related Quality of writing Not chump enough? Anything, anything, anything! |
[otc] don't worry, be happy
April 27th, 18:51
Hours ago, happiness was a distant memory for Matt.
If someone had told Matt then that he was still going to have it without Daphne he would've probably swung a few punches, gone for blood. Faced with this child, though, he was vastly reconsidering. He almost felt guilty for how quickly he felt better, but what would Daphne want? He chuckled as Little Matt turned his car stereo through the stations until it reached Disney Radio, then giggled in knowing the torture that the Jonas Brothers wrought on his father's ears.
He looked to the passenger seat, and there she sat, smiling at him almost smugly if it weren't for how happy she looked.
"Stop looking at me like that, you know what this is," she scolded him, the smiling not falling from her lips. "Might want to watch the road, seeing as you have two lives in your hands now."
Matt's head snapped back to the street, but he glanced toward her again.
"I miss you," he said a little lamely.
"That would be why I'm here. You know it's not healthy; it can't continue," she rolled her eyes and turned back to look at Little Matt. "He looks just like you."
"Daph, I'm sor-"
"You don't have to apologize, Matt. You can't be miserable forever just because I went and got myself killed. You need to move on, and this is the only way you'd do it anyway. You know that."
"Obviously I do, since I'm making you say it to me," he sighed. "I don't really feel comfortable doing this."
"Neither do I. Any other man would dress me in something a little more punchy."
"Punchy?"
"Yep. Not you, though. Jeans and a t-shirt, huh? Classic Parkman," she teased. Off his nostalgic and weakening happiness she reached out to his cheek. "It's okay, Tortoise. I'm just fast at everything. You though, you have to take your time. And if the little guy helps you cope with me easier, you can't feel guilty about it. Move on," she said before leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek.
Matt closed his eyes briefly and when he reopened them the only people in the car were him and his new reason for life, giggling in the backseat like the happiest kid in the world. He let himself chuckle as well, glancing back at the passenger seat again and thanking his own weird brain for the help.
Prompt: OTC - 43.3. "It's not about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and still keep moving forward." Rocky from Rocky 6
If someone had told Matt then that he was still going to have it without Daphne he would've probably swung a few punches, gone for blood. Faced with this child, though, he was vastly reconsidering. He almost felt guilty for how quickly he felt better, but what would Daphne want? He chuckled as Little Matt turned his car stereo through the stations until it reached Disney Radio, then giggled in knowing the torture that the Jonas Brothers wrought on his father's ears.
He looked to the passenger seat, and there she sat, smiling at him almost smugly if it weren't for how happy she looked.
"Stop looking at me like that, you know what this is," she scolded him, the smiling not falling from her lips. "Might want to watch the road, seeing as you have two lives in your hands now."
Matt's head snapped back to the street, but he glanced toward her again.
"I miss you," he said a little lamely.
"That would be why I'm here. You know it's not healthy; it can't continue," she rolled her eyes and turned back to look at Little Matt. "He looks just like you."
"Daph, I'm sor-"
"You don't have to apologize, Matt. You can't be miserable forever just because I went and got myself killed. You need to move on, and this is the only way you'd do it anyway. You know that."
"Obviously I do, since I'm making you say it to me," he sighed. "I don't really feel comfortable doing this."
"Neither do I. Any other man would dress me in something a little more punchy."
"Punchy?"
"Yep. Not you, though. Jeans and a t-shirt, huh? Classic Parkman," she teased. Off his nostalgic and weakening happiness she reached out to his cheek. "It's okay, Tortoise. I'm just fast at everything. You though, you have to take your time. And if the little guy helps you cope with me easier, you can't feel guilty about it. Move on," she said before leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek.
Matt closed his eyes briefly and when he reopened them the only people in the car were him and his new reason for life, giggling in the backseat like the happiest kid in the world. He let himself chuckle as well, glancing back at the passenger seat again and thanking his own weird brain for the help.
Prompt: OTC - 43.3. "It's not about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and still keep moving forward." Rocky from Rocky 6
[otc] close your eyes, the world dies, open them and it's born again
March 4th, 2:38
Motel beds suck, like, really a lot. It would be better if Daphne was here, instead of Mohinder and Peter trying to be quiet and failing miserably. The ceiling is stained, too - how the hell does that happen? No, scratch that I don't want to know.
Then I remember that she's dead. It's not surprising; I control others' minds, make them see what I want them to see. Why shouldn't it work on my own brain? I keep thinking that we're just running, and she's safe back at the apartment, waiting for me to come back.
If I had it my way, I wouldn't remember that she's dead. I'd just slip into a world I create for myself with her and a baby. I can forget for awhile, but I can't fool myself forever. Maybe if the other two were quieter, I could concentrate better.
When I reach over to turn off my light, I notice Mohinder looking at me out of the corner of his eye. No, buddy, I'm not reading your minds. They don't get that it is tiring - just because it's a mental power doesn't mean I don't exert energy to use it. I don't even want to read their minds. I just want her beside me, I want to go back to my crappy security job and climb ladders the old fashioned way and not use my powers anymore. These get us into more trouble than out.
Sleep will bring dreams I can retreat into. I won't have to worry about fixing anything, I can just drift for a few minutes. Because that's as long as fantasies last, really. Even sleeping for hours, you wake up and it's a memory that spans a few seconds. If only I could change that.
Prompt: Abandon the search for truth. Settle for a good fantasy. - Anonymous
Then I remember that she's dead. It's not surprising; I control others' minds, make them see what I want them to see. Why shouldn't it work on my own brain? I keep thinking that we're just running, and she's safe back at the apartment, waiting for me to come back.
If I had it my way, I wouldn't remember that she's dead. I'd just slip into a world I create for myself with her and a baby. I can forget for awhile, but I can't fool myself forever. Maybe if the other two were quieter, I could concentrate better.
When I reach over to turn off my light, I notice Mohinder looking at me out of the corner of his eye. No, buddy, I'm not reading your minds. They don't get that it is tiring - just because it's a mental power doesn't mean I don't exert energy to use it. I don't even want to read their minds. I just want her beside me, I want to go back to my crappy security job and climb ladders the old fashioned way and not use my powers anymore. These get us into more trouble than out.
Sleep will bring dreams I can retreat into. I won't have to worry about fixing anything, I can just drift for a few minutes. Because that's as long as fantasies last, really. Even sleeping for hours, you wake up and it's a memory that spans a few seconds. If only I could change that.
Prompt: Abandon the search for truth. Settle for a good fantasy. - Anonymous
the beginning of an end of a beginning
February 8th, 2:51
Prompt: "A competitor will find a way to win. Competitors take bad breaks and use them to drive themselves just that much harder. Quitters take bad breaks and use them as reasons to give up. It's all a matter of pride." - Nancy Lopez
The apartment's small - filled with boxes and furniture wrapped in plastic still from the moving company's job. I'd had to tie up some loose ends in New York before leaving in the afternoon to make a 10 hour drive that didn't help making this decision any easier. My duffel bag thumps on the hardwood where I throw it. I start to work on putting together my bed.
My thoughts wander through the path that brought me here. My father, my job - the people around me. The decision to quit wasn't an easy one but I can't help but be afraid of what it did to my dad. I've been feeling my power growing, and when I was told I was going to be a profit? No thanks, I pass.
The word 'quitter' floats into my head, but I don't care. So maybe I am a quitter. I'm running away and there's nothing that will change my mind. I found a nice, normal job in a small, normal town with good, normal people. Here I won't be tempted to have to use my abilities - I can just live like a person without them.
Only, it's hard to turn it off now. Like a habit, I picked up things on the way here. I'm even getting it through the walls of my apartment building. The old lady next door put the popcorn in, but forgot to turn the microwave on before walking away. There's a little girl a few floors down that doesn't know if her mom was going to be home late again tonight or not.
I can feel something else here, too. Like a faint memory as if I've been here before. I hope it doesn't screw my plans up too badly. I can't convince myself that it won't.
The apartment's small - filled with boxes and furniture wrapped in plastic still from the moving company's job. I'd had to tie up some loose ends in New York before leaving in the afternoon to make a 10 hour drive that didn't help making this decision any easier. My duffel bag thumps on the hardwood where I throw it. I start to work on putting together my bed.
My thoughts wander through the path that brought me here. My father, my job - the people around me. The decision to quit wasn't an easy one but I can't help but be afraid of what it did to my dad. I've been feeling my power growing, and when I was told I was going to be a profit? No thanks, I pass.
The word 'quitter' floats into my head, but I don't care. So maybe I am a quitter. I'm running away and there's nothing that will change my mind. I found a nice, normal job in a small, normal town with good, normal people. Here I won't be tempted to have to use my abilities - I can just live like a person without them.
Only, it's hard to turn it off now. Like a habit, I picked up things on the way here. I'm even getting it through the walls of my apartment building. The old lady next door put the popcorn in, but forgot to turn the microwave on before walking away. There's a little girl a few floors down that doesn't know if her mom was going to be home late again tonight or not.
I can feel something else here, too. Like a faint memory as if I've been here before. I hope it doesn't screw my plans up too badly. I can't convince myself that it won't.