daredevilkink | Prompt Post #1

THIS POST IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
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.

Leave a prompt. Fill a prompt. Everyone wins!

Rules:

~~YKINMKATO. Play nice.~~
All comments must be anon.
~~If you fill a prompt, drop a link to it on the~~ ~~fill post~~ ~~so 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 the~~ ~~mod post~~ ~~if you have any problems with meme or the~~ ~~delicious~~ ~~account. If you crosspost to AO3, please add your fill to the~~ ~~DDKM collection~~!

~~ETA: we now have a~~ ~~discussion post~~! for anything you want to talk about.
ETA2: we have a ~~delicious account~~! it's only got the first ten pages of prompts at the moment, but mod is very slowly adding the rest. mod would greatly appreciate it if you put keywords in the subject of your prompts, because figuring out one-word summaries is hard. (for anyone who doesn't have a delicious account/hates the page style, use ~~this link~~)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Matt is 18, Foggy is 26. Mixing in a bit of comic canon and making up my own. Did they go to Columbia for undergrad, too? Well, they did now.

---

Foggy says a little apology in his head for every little shithead remark he's made at events like these after the third student asks if he's ever been shot at.

But really, who did he think he was fooling? A recent grad who has only just passed the Bar, he has a ramshackle office with a non-functional fax machine and what might be a multi-line phone but he won't be certain until he actually gets more than one call at a time. Yet somehow, he managed to convince the Career Day committee that he is a functioning adult with a wealth of experience and knowledge to share with the impressionable youth of New York City.

He's definitely not fooling this crowd of impressively bored teens, that's for sure, most of whom spent the time during his spiel of where he went to school and why he went into law on their phones.

"So, I'm a criminal defense attorney. I tend not to represent people who have actively committed a crime against me, you know? I'm the guy they call after they, uh, shoot at someone else." A murmur of disappointment and scribbling follows that statement. He cranes his neck a bit to catch a peak at the worksheet some of the students had, wondering if the program really did put him down as "The Law Offices of Franklin Nelson, Esq." as he'd requested, but couldn't make it out. "Any other questions? Who here wants to go into law?" he asks, raising his own hand, hoping to see at least one mirrored in the crowd.

Silence and blank stares. He sighs and lets his hand fall back to his side. "Alright then, run along to the next booth."

The horde shuffles off to the next poor sucker waiting to share the exciting world of accounting with the shining stars of tomorrow - all of them except for that one uncomfortable-looking gangly kid who probably thinks he's cool, wearing sunglasses indoors - oh wait, that's a white cane, quit being a dick, Nelson. He looked familiar, but Foggy couldn't quite place where he'd seen him before.

"Did you have a question?" Foggy calls out a bit louder, trying to get his attention over the constant hum of voices in the cramped hall.

"I heard you mention going to Columbia," the kid said, approaching his table with one cautious hand held out at hip level. "I was hoping to ask what you wrote your entrance essay about. It's one of my top choices."

"Sure, competition there is really tough so you need to stand out. Actually, my essay was on a kind of a funny story. Did I mention earlier my mom wanted me to be a butcher?"

"No," the kid said cautiously, but he breaks out into a little grin all the same. "What does that -"

Before the kid could ask, undoubtedly, what that had to do with anything, he's interrupted by the screech of a microphone over the loudspeakers. "Attention all attendees: please begin lining up for the buses. Make sure to stick with your class groups. We will be doing a headcount in five minutes."

Figures, when I finally got a live one... "Sorry, buddy, looks like we're out of time. Oh, I know! I'll give you my card..." He trails off, digging hurriedly into his pockets. He'd just gotten them printed recently, off-white and tastefully embossed, and he's excited to finally hand one out to someone that isn't a family friend humoring him with a request for a will update.

Unfortunately a snazzy business card means nothing to a blind kid, but at least his parents will appreciate that the stranger trying to contact their teenage son is a consummate professional.

This really wasn't weird until he thought about it like that.

"If you want, you can email me your essay and I can look it over? I mean, I totally don't mind." He waffles for a minute between holding it out and sliding it into the fingertips resting on the tabletop until the kid throws him a bone and holds out a hand.

"That would be great, thank you." And yeah, maybe volunteering wasn't such a bad idea after all when he gets such a genuine smile out of offering something so little.

"Matthew! Come along, now!" calls out a severe-looking woman. The kid - Matt - shrugs the card into his coat pocket and clack-clack-clacks toward the source of the voice.

Hearing the name makes that connection he had been struggling for earlier: that was Matt Murdock, from his same shitty neighborhood; that one boxer's kid that lost his sight after saving an old man from being hit by a truck. He kind of hates that his first thought is, Well, he's probably not going to be hurting for scholarships.

All in all, as he tells Marci later when they meet at Josie's, he's still a bit disappointed that he couldn't make a "How can I reach these keeds?" joke, and she gives him a playful smack on the shoulder.

"Hope you know what you're getting yourself into." She gives him a knowing eye. "It can be hard to get rid of strays."

"Oh, please. I'm just going to help him spruce up his application, and that'll be that."

"Famous last words," Marci says, and makes him buy her another round.

Adorable! I can't wait to see where this is going.

Omg, I adore this already! Please continue :D

Oh my god! So good so far! I'm dying to know what happens!

*nods* Listen to Marci, Foggy.

Such a cute fic! I'd love to read more.

Prompt Post #1

FILL Matt/Foggy - Teenage Matt 1/?

Re: FILL Matt/Foggy - Teenage Matt 1/?

Re: FILL Matt/Foggy - Teenage Matt 1/?

Re: FILL Matt/Foggy - Teenage Matt 1/?

Re: FILL Matt/Foggy - Teenage Matt 1/?