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daredevilkink2015-04-15 05:15 pm
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Prompt Post #1
THIS POST IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
HEAD OVER TO PROMPT POST #2 TO DO THAT THING.
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HEAD OVER TO PROMPT POST #2 TO DO THAT THING.
But please keep filling prompts on this post! Make sure to link any new fic on the complete or work in progress fills posts so it doesn't get missed.
Please read the current rules before commenting on this post.
Rules:
YKINMKATO. Play nice.All comments must be anon.If you fill a prompt, drop a link to it on thefill postso everyone find it.Warnings are nice, but not necessary.Use the subject line for the main idea of your prompt (pairing, kink, general wants).All types of prompts are welcome.Multiple fills are always okay.RPF is allowed. Crossovers, characters from the extended Marvel Universe and comics canon are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 TV show in some way.Drop a comment on themod postif you have any problems with meme or thedeliciousaccount. If you crosspost to AO3, please add your fill to theDDKM collection!
ETA2: we have a
(Mini)Fill: Worst Case Scenario
(Anonymous) 2015-05-19 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)The smaller of the two bags is shoved behind the broken plastering of an empty office building on 42nd and 3rd. This is his cut-and-run bag, in case he can’t return home. It has a change of clothes, five dollars’ worth of loose change, and Matt stowed it away praying he would never have to use it.
The second of his bags had its contents carefully thought out over one bad night, when he couldn’t sleep and the city was loud and there was the quivering aftermath of a too-close gunshot crackling like a shot-em-up in his head. Under a small pile of clothes, he puts his first braille bible and a worn-down rosary with a centrepiece depicting St. Michael the Archangel. Next to this, a plastic stegosaurus toy and a burner phone preloaded with enough credit for him to make three short calls.
After deliberating for a long while, he packs a badly-knitted scarf on top. He doesn’t actually know what colour it is, but Foggy had described it as stripy, the two-tone blues of Columbia law school, seriously man, it’s a good thing you’re blind because it’s all wonky and I dropped so many stitches it’ll let the wind in. Matt considers taking it out repeatedly, but forces himself to keep it in, rubbing his fingers over the soft, uneven weave.
It reminds him of all the things he doesn’t want to lose.
**
He hears the frantic stumbling of feet, clattering up the stairs with a slipping grip, and when there’s an unnecessary loud bang-bang-bang on his door, he wonders numbly if they’ve found him already. His body stiffens, and he stills, ready to bolt.
“It’s me Matt! Open up!”
He’s barely processed the words as his hands shake undoing the lock, and then he’s got thick arms crushing around him and there’s the scratch of a cheap shirt under his hands, and he hears a familiar voice say gratefully “I thought you’d gone already. I thought I wouldn’t get here in time.”
“You saw the news then,” he says miserably and unnecessarily.
“Everyone’s seen it,” Foggy says. “You aren’t going to be safe here, you need to get out of the city for a while.”
Matt nods, thinking that now that Foggy’s here this will be their awkward goodbye, that neither will know what to say. He wants Foggy to be angry with him and it makes him more ashamed when he’s not.
But Foggy says, “I’ve got something for you” and walks over to the kitchen table, Matt following, still half-coiled to bolt, thinking the longer he’s here, the more he’s associated with me, the more he’s in danger, and hating himself for being so selfish that he can’t just say goodbye now.
He hears the sound of a zip being undone, and Foggy takes his hand and guides it forward until his fingertips touch fabric. He runs his hand over unfamiliar textures, and waits for Foggy to explain this to him.
“I- er… got a few things ready,” Foggy says, embarrassment tinging his voice. “Just in case… well, in case something like this happened. I tried not to make it too heavy. This,” he moves Matt’s hand over the inside of the bag. “This is a first aid kit, your usual bandages and stuff. Shampoo, soap. Length of rope. Matches. That’s a small folded knife there. Burner phone, in case you need to call. It should last you a while credit-wise. There’s a- that’s a passport and driving license. Don’t ask me how I got them because then I don’t have to lie. Your name is Michael Moore. Figured it was close enough to your name. There’s… There’s a printed list of safe-places you can lie low for a while slotted in at the back. Just tell them I’m calling in a favour. There should be a debit card there as well. It’s only got about two-hundred dollars on it, but… it, it should help. ”
Matt’s fingers brush over the plasticky shape of a tiny roaring t-rex, tucked under the coils of rope, and his throat is suddenly too tight.
“I have a bag prepared already,” he says, and then follows on quickly with “b-but it’s just clothes and stuff though. I’ll put that one in here.”
He reaches out, pulls Foggy into a one-armed hug. He suddenly, desperately, wants to ask Foggy to come with him. Knows he won’t, that he’s needed here to sort this mess out while Matthew Murdock plays the coward and runs away. He hates that Foggy’s friendship is having to cost him. He wants to say that he’s sorry, but knows that Foggy won’t accept it.
“Thank you,” he says fiercely instead. “Stay safe for me while I’m gone?”
“You know me, buddy.” Foggy’s voice is thicker than usual. “Same to you, huh? Can’t come running all the time to save your sorry ass.”
Matt collects the first bag from under his bed, and puts it carefully inside Foggy’s. He hears the shift of the things in his own bag bumping against each other. He’s glad he kept the scarf in.
He thinks he can hear sirens coming. He’s not sure if they’re for him or not.
“There’s a fire escape exit the next floor up,” he tells Foggy, readying to leave out of his apartment window. He settles his mask over his face, the bag settling comfortably over his shoulders. “No-one should see you leave. You won’t get in trouble.” He pauses, offering a weak smile. “I’ll see you soon.”
“You better, Murdock,” he hears Foggy say as he clambers out the window. The bag bumps against his back.
Time to go sort out this mess.
Re: (Mini)Fill: Worst Case Scenario
(Anonymous) 2015-05-20 05:13 am (UTC)(link)(well done, anon)
Re: (Mini)Fill: Worst Case Scenario
(Anonymous) 2015-05-20 07:08 pm (UTC)(link)(oh oh yes this is perfect)
Re: (Mini)Fill: Worst Case Scenario
(Anonymous) 2015-05-20 09:35 pm (UTC)(link)Re: (Mini)Fill: Worst Case Scenario
(Anonymous) 2015-05-27 06:20 am (UTC)(link)Re: (Mini)Fill: Worst Case Scenario
(Anonymous) 2015-08-02 03:31 pm (UTC)(link)