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daredevilkink2015-07-13 09:00 am
ddk_mod) wrote in daredevilkink2015-07-13 09:00 am
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Prompt Post #5
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Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) 2015-07-31 05:48 am (UTC)(link)Re: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) 2015-07-31 05:52 am (UTC)(link)Re: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) 2015-07-31 06:43 am (UTC)(link)Revenge scarves. They may only have to wear it once- but he can taste their embarrassment.
Re: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) 2015-07-31 06:52 am (UTC)(link)Re: Matt knows how to knit
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(Anonymous) - 2015-07-31 07:11 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) - 2015-07-31 07:13 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) - 2015-07-31 07:20 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) - 2015-07-31 08:10 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) - 2015-07-31 23:47 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) - 2015-08-01 08:38 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) 2015-08-01 03:02 am (UTC)(link)Re: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) 2015-08-01 06:15 am (UTC)(link)Re: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) 2015-08-03 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Matt knows how to knit
(Anonymous) 2015-08-01 12:20 pm (UTC)(link)FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-03 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)Everything is too loud, and too big, and Matt can’t keep his hands still: they dart and grope and worry at the edges of his sheet, and nothing he tries keeps them quiet, like all the panic he’s pushing out of his head is squeezing through his fingertips. He picks at his cuticles until they bleed; rubs the cuff of his shirt until it’s satin-smooth; pulls two IV lines out in his sleep, because even unconscious, even through the haze of drugs they’ve had him on while he’s in and out of surgery as they try over and over to fix his eyes, his fingers keep working, reaching for something he can’t quite grasp.
2.
His occupational therapist is named Amy, and when Matt tells her she smells like plants, she laughs and tells him that she grows tomatoes on her windowsill.
“When we can see, we prioritize visual information,” Amy tells Matt. “We stop paying attention to what our other senses tell us.” She’s here to teach him how to notice things, she says: how to hear and feel the world he’s used to seeing.
“It’s too much,” Matt tells her. “I can’t tell what’s--I can hear everything.” As if on cue, someone slams a door, and he can’t stop himself from wincing. He wonders if this is what it’s like for everyone who goes blind, the horrible cacophony of sensation.
Everyone else tells him that he’s scared or confused, that it’s the pain from his eyes--which hurt, yeah, but Matt’s not stupid, he knows the difference--or he’s disoriented from the hospital and the drugs and not being able to see. Amy is different. Amy asks him what he notices, talks about ways to pick out the useful information. Amy teaches him to feel his way around the room, how to count steps and pay attention to the space around him; and it helps, even when it’s embarrassing and frustrating because he’s too old to be fumbling buttons and knotting shoelaces like a kindergartener. He listens to her talk to his dad, using words like “sensory integration” and “adaptation,” and tears a nail halfway off picking at the edge of the bed frame.
3.
“I don’t get why I have to do this,” Matt tells Amy. “It’s not like I could knit before.”
“Lucky you,” says Amy. “You get to learn something new today.”
He listens while she casts the yarn on, to the steady, rhythmic click and slide as she knits a row. “Knitting is like meditation,” she tells him. “Rhythmic. Soothing. It’s like watching the water or listening to white noise, but for your hands--something to focus on without taking too much of your attention.”
She knits the next row with him, her hands over his. Matt wonders if they teach occupational therapists how to do that in school, how to guide someone’s hands without pushing or locking them in. Maybe there’s a class where they take turns.
“Okay,” she says, voice bright. “Your turn.”
It’s not easy, no matter what she says. It’s awful--too much to keep track of, and he pulls the yarn too tight, and loses stitches, and everything is tangled; and Matt finally drops the needles in frustration and balls up his hands in his pajama pockets so he won’t snap the bamboo needle in half.
“It’s okay,” says Amy. “It’s a steep learning curve. Let’s try another row together.” She waits for his hands to come out of his pockets--fingers flexing and reaching like they have a life of their own--and covers them with hers again, steering, correcting, but lets him take the lead. Matt bites his lip, focuses, feels the yarn and the needles under his fingers. He drops three stitches, but he knits that row, and the next by himself.
Amy says something, and Matt doesn’t notice until she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Want to do a few minutes of navigation?” she asks. Matt shakes his head, concentrates on getting the yarn through the loop. “You want to keep knitting?” Matt nods. By the end of their hour, he’s got almost a full square, and he’s starting to figure out how to hold the yarn so he can pick it up with the needle instead of having to wrap it around.
“Time to go,” Amy says. Matt finishes the row and runs his fingers along the stitches, feels how they get more and more even along the length of the almost-a-square. Rolls it up as carefully as he can, and squeezes, reluctant to let go. Amy must notice, because she asks, “Do you want to keep that?” Matt bites his lip, nods incrementally. “Okay,” says Amy, and he can feel her surprise, hear her heartbeat pick up when he hugs her.
When he gets back to his room, something feels different, off; and it’s not until he’s falling asleep that Matt realizes that his hands are finally still.
4.
“What’s this?” Dad asks, fingering the ragged potholder on the nightstand--Matt’s first finished square.
Matt feels his face get hot. He’d meant to put it away, didn’t want his dad to know. “It’s, um. O.T.? Amy says it’s good for--sensory? Um. Integration? And tactile, um--whatever? And learning to do things I haven’t done before, even if I can’t--” He breaks off. It’s still hard to say it out loud, what he can’t do anymore.
“You made this, Matty?” Dad sounds--surprised, maybe. Proud.
Matt nods. “She said I could keep--” he fumbles with the drawer and pulls out the scarf he’s halfway through. “If it’s okay.”
The scars and calluses of Dad’s fingers rasp over the scarf. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Matt shrugs. “I don’t know. Knitting. It’s weird. Girly.”
Jack snorts. “You a girl?”
“No, sir,” says Matt.
“Well, then,” says Jack. “Don’t see a damn thing girly about it.” He fingers the edge of the scarf. “You did all of this?”
“Yeah,” says Matt. He spreads the scarf across his lap, points: “I dropped a lot at first, but I’m getting better. It looks messy because it’s all different, like the rolled up part is stockinette, and this one is all knit-one-purl-one, and this one’s popcorn. You have to count, but it’s not too hard.” He’s getting faster--at everything, now--and when they’ve got a few extra minutes at the end of a session, Amy teaches him new stitches. Matt can walk his fingers along the length of the scarf and feel a catalogue of everything he’s learned.
“That’s pretty fancy,” says Jack, and Matt can hear the smile in his voice.
5.
Matt’s never met Mrs. W., but he can hear the soft clack of her needles from down the hall, so one day after school, he finally, hesitantly, knocks on her door.
He can hear her heartbeat race, then settle as she looks through the peephole and sees that it’s just the blind kid from down the hall. The door opens. “Can I help you?”
“Um,” says Matt. “I’m, um--”
She cuts him off. “Jack’s boy. I seen you on the news.”
“Um, yeah,” he says. He hates getting recognized. It seems so unfair--that people think they know him. “Matt. I, um, someone said you knit?”
“Mmhm,” she says, waiting.
Matt’s knuckles tighten--one hand around the handle of his cane, the other balled in his pocket. He hates this--asking for help--but he’s tried figuring it out himself, and all he has to show for it is tangles. “Can you--I can do scarves and hats, and I know a bunch of stitches, but I can’t work out--I mean, I know it’s basically like hats, right? In a circle? But I can’t figure out the thumb, and--”
“Get to the point before you hurt yourself.” He can hear the laugh in her voice.
“Oh,” says Matt. “Yeah. Sorry. Um. I was wondering if you, um, know mittens? If you could teach me?”
“Mittens.” Mrs. W.’s voice is dry. “Your dad know about this?”
Matt tightens the fist in his pocket. “Not, um. Not specifically. I wanted it to be, um--for Christmas. His hands get--he can’t wear gloves, really. A lot of the time. And I thought--for when it gets cold, you know--” He trails off.
He can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re a good kid. Yeah, I teach you.”
She helps him pick out yarn, too; something heavy and soft. “Your dad got a favorite color?”
Red, Matt thinks. So they can’t see the blood. He pictures his dad’s knuckles, swollen and battered and scabbed. “Maybe blue,” he tells Mrs. W. “Dark blue.”
6.
Matt’s listening back over a lecture, halfway through a hat, when Foggy walks in.
“Matt!” Foggy’s voice startles him out of torts, and Matt pulls off his headphones. “Oh, shit, you were studying. Sorry! I--”
And then Foggy catches a glimpse of Matt’s hands. “Oh, my god. Matt. You knit?!” The glee in Foggy’s voice tells Matt that he’s in for a lifetime of teasing, until he hears the next words out of his roommate’s mouth. “You gotta teach me!”
“To--knit?” Matt asks, baffled.
“Yeah!” says Foggy, plunking down next to Matt on the bed. “Ladies love dudes who knit. Everyone loves dudes who knit, because warm things are awesome.”
Matt laughs. “I don’t know if I’d be--I mean, I learned by touch, and I don’t really--I can’t follow patterns or anything.” He works them out by feel--by now, he can run his fingers along a sweater and figure out the number of rows, the stitch patterns--but he’s not going to tell Foggy that. “There’s, um, I think they do classes at the yarn shop by campus?”
“Bummer,” says Foggy. He sounds genuinely crestfallen, and Matt feels like a jerk.
“I guess I could--I mean, I can try to teach you the basics?”
He tries to remember how Amy did it--holding her hands over his, firm but relaxed--but he can’t figure out how to slow the motions down, make them make sense to someone who can see, and after an hour of trying, even Foggy is forced to admit that Matt’s not much of a teacher.
Matt’s expecting him to give it up, but Foggy spends the next week at his computer with the headphones on, looking up tutorials on YouTube, and a week later, he informs Matt that they’re both signed up for the knit-a-thon someone’s put together for a local shelter.
7.
“This one, or this one?” Foggy’s picking out yarn for something-a shawl for his mom, maybe, Matt’s forgotten--and Matt’s trailing around after him, touching everything and demanding to know which Foggy’s favorites are so he can double back and pick them up for the scarf he’s pretty sure Foggy’s already guessed he’s getting for Christmas.
Matt laughs. “I think you’re on your own on this one, buddy.”
“No!” says Foggy. “The texture, man! They’re both gorgeous, trust me.” Matt holds out a hand, and Foggy shoves two skeins in it. They’re both really soft--one’s alpaca, Matt can tell from the smell, and the other one feels like a wool/silk blend, fine and even, perfectly soft without rasping under his fingertips.
“This one,” says Matt, handing back the blend. “Definitely this one.”
“Sweet,” says Foggy, and buys three skeins.
8.
Matt drags Marci along to get the yarn for Foggy’s scarf--she thinks it’s hilarious that they knit for each other--and with her help, he settles on what Marci describes as a “respectably drab” green.
“You guys are so married,” she tells him, as he’s agonizing over the right color for the stripes.
“Jealous?” Matt shoots back. He’s never been entirely sure why she hangs out with them outside of whatever no-strings thing she and Foggy have going--the ice queen of Columbia and a couple dorks who knit each other scarves--but he genuinely likes her: she’s whip smart and brutally funny, and she never pulls punches.
“Of your domestic bliss? Gag me with a knitting needle.” She pushes a skein of yarn at him. “Here. Maroon.”
“Isn’t that going to look Christmasy? Red and green?”
“Maroon and olive, dork. Trust the girl who actually knows what colors look like.”
Matt shrugs and clenches his teeth, because of the things he can’t work around, color has always been the worst. He’s pretty certain he still has red, and a decent idea of blue, but there’s no way to tell how far off the rest have slid by now. Marci must realize she’s crossed a line, because she squeezes his elbow and says, “Sorry.”
Matt shrugs again. “It’s fine. Just frustrating.”
“Well,” says Marci. “Good thing my taste would be better even if you could see. Get the maroon.”
8.
“Holy shit!” says Foggy, when he opens the scarf. It’s only the 20th, but they’ve decided to do Christmas early, before Foggy has to head home. “This is gorgeous. It’s like--Dude! There are stripes! How did you do stripes? And a hat, what the hell, Murdock? Now I’m gonna feel all”
“It’s just keeping track of which strand is where,” says Matt. “There’s, um. A hat, too. I had extra, so. Are the colors okay? Marci picked them.”
“Dude!” says Foggy. Matt can hear him putting them on over his pajamas. “The colors are the best. They’re all--warm? I dunno. I fucking love them, man.”
“I wish I could see them on you,” Matt says, and then, because he didn’t mean for it to be the moodkiller it was, “I mean, I assume my handiwork is spectacular.”
Foggy laughs. “Flawless. I still don’t know how the hell you do that, buddy.” He hands Matt a package. “Fair warning: this is pretty messy.”
Matt tears the paper away, and ends up with a handful of impossibly soft wool-silk. “The yarn! I thought that was for your mom. Foggy, I--”
“It’s, um, dark blue,” says Foggy. “I know you’re usually all about the greyscale, but I figure this’ll go with any of that, right?”
“Yeah,” says Matt. “Sure.” He feels along the fabric--a tiny, tight rib knit, and despite Foggy’s disclaimer, it’s almost as even as Matt’s would have been. He works his fingers along the length, and hears Foggy’s heart speed up as he gets close to an end.
“So, um, I wanted to--I’m not sure if it worked, but--” Foggy says, and the pattern changes under Matt’s fingers. It’s not popcorn stitch, exactly, just a series of nubs, and Matt isn’t expecting it, so it takes a few times across to recognize the grid.
“Oh, my god,” he says, and hears his voice crack. “Foggy. This is.” It’s his name, knitted out in braille, along the edge of the scarf. Matt means to say Thank you as he squeezes the soft wool against his chest, but instead he bursts into tears.
“Hey,” says Foggy. “Hey. Buddy. Are you okay? Is it--I didn’t mean--” He’s cut off by Matt’s hug.
“No, Foggy,” Matt says into his shoulder, “It’s perfect.”
(auth!anon note - Might continue this, if folks are interested? Let me know. A coda, at least, because I didn't get to work in the BEST SWEATER EVER...)
Re: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 12:02 am (UTC)(link)ARE THEY GONNA GET AVOCADO SWEATERS
I LOVE THIS
I mean, don't hate me, I'm more of a crochet kinda gal than knitting because holy fuck do I drop ALL the stitches, but THIS IS THE CUTEST SHIT EVER
Re: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 12:08 am (UTC)(link)No avocado sweaters--I'm thinking of a different one, from the comics--but did you recognize the hat and scarf they made each other? =D
(http://31.media.tumblr.com/0b59220a8864fe8099fad25c0bd9da5a/tumblr_ns2x88aZG31skq13ho3_500.gif)
Re: FILL: Idle Hands
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(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 12:13 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 06:16 am (UTC)(link)CODA to "Idle Hands": The Ghost of Stockinette Yet-to-Come; or; This One's for the Comics Fans
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 12:26 am (UTC)(link)“Aw, buddy, you shouldn’t have,” says Matt. He can’t help tearing up a little when he smells the wool through the wrapping paper and the cardboard box--after what he’s put Foggy through this year, he’s shocked that he’s still made the Foggy Nelson Christmas Knitting list. “What is it?”
“Plausible deniability,” says Foggy. There’s a catch to his voice, like he’s trying to suppress laughter.
Matt raises an eyebrow. “Should I open it?”
“Oh, absolutely,” says Foggy. “Open away.”
It’s a sweater--Fair Isle, and the yarns are close enough in texture that it takes Matt a moment to find the switches. He traces the edges of the letters, reading aloud as he goes: “I-M-N-O-T--” He burst out laughing when he hits the second line. “Franklin W. Nelson, you did not.”
“Merry Christmas, Daredevil,” says Foggy.
Re: CODA to "Idle Hands": The Ghost of Stockinette Yet-to-Come; or; This One's for the Comics Fans
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 12:32 am (UTC)(link)Re: CODA to "Idle Hands": The Ghost of Stockinette Yet-to-Come; or; This One's for the Comics Fans
(Anonymous) - 2015-08-04 01:11 (UTC) - ExpandRe: CODA to "Idle Hands": The Ghost of Stockinette Yet-to-Come; or; This One's for the Comics Fans
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 04:11 am (UTC)(link)And I liked the Braille touch on the scarf, too. Sweet!
Re: CODA to "Idle Hands": The Ghost of Stockinette Yet-to-Come; or; This One's for the Comics Fans
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 04:55 am (UTC)(link)i love the idea of knitting as occupational therapy -- it really does seem like something matt would find soothing, given his restless fingers. i love how awesome jack is about relieving matt's worries, and then matt going to their neighbor for advice on mitten patterns (and deciding on blue rather than red) was just the right mix of sweet and painful. i also loved foggy's immediate enthusiasm upon discovering matt's hobby, and then matt getting marci's advice on colors for foggy's gift.
the coda, of course, was hilarious, and i love how you found a perfectly logical way to slip that sweater into the very different context of the show. :D
Re: CODA to "Idle Hands": The Ghost of Stockinette Yet-to-Come; or; This One's for the Comics Fans
(Anonymous) - 2015-08-04 05:12 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 12:47 am (UTC)(link)I love that the hat and scarf from the show are things they knit for each other. <3 Also, the coda cracked me up. Best sweater, for sure.
Re: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 06:15 am (UTC)(link)Thank you, so much!
Confession: the main reason I used the knit stuff they're wearing from the show was that I couldn't decide on colors.
Re: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 03:52 am (UTC)(link)Aaaaaaaaah.
Re: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 05:14 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 01:50 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: Idle Hands
(Anonymous) 2015-08-04 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)OP
(Anonymous) 2015-08-05 08:53 pm (UTC)(link)I love it so much, thank you!!!!
Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2015-08-05 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)Yay!! I'm so glad. And thank you for the delightful prompt!!