daredevilkink | Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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I don't remember them mentioning memory loss, but the trial talked about him experiencing Extreme Emotional Disturbance, so any potential fillers could use that. Idk much about EED but the way they described it made it sound like he was hyped up on adrenaline all the time, kinda like in hypervigilance.

Found a transcript of the ep, too. It says the bullet fragmented in the right frontal lobe and temporal lobe. I'm stealing info from brain injury sites for writing fodder:

Frontal lobe damage symptoms: An injury to this part of the brain cancause changes in emotional control, initiation, motivation, and inhibition. An intolerance for frustration and easily provoked aggressive behavior are typical. Promiscuity and lethargy may also result. An injury to the frontal lobe can lead to the inability to plan a sequence of complex movements needed to complete multi-stepped tasks (such as making coffee).

Temporal lobe symptoms of major damage:
-Disturbance of auditory sensation and perception.
-Disturbance of selective attention of auditory and visual input.
-Disorders of visual perception.
-Impaired organisation and categorisation of verbal material.
-Disturbance of language comprehension.
-Impaired long-term memory.
-Altered personality and affective behaviour.
-Altered sexual behaviour

Thanks for adding this (though I'm not a stickler for medical accuracy if something else serves a story) He said when Karen first talks to him in the hospital that his memories of his family and what happened 'go in and out' so it seems likely that's a problem he'd continue to have.

I kinda just want some Frank dealing low-key with some of these issues and trying hard not to let anybody know but sometimes they still notice

I would disagree. In my opinion Matt is a good friend. Everything has gone badly for him and maybe he could have handled it better but it does not mean he is a bad man. JMO.

Or a bad friend. I think in retrospect both parties will come to an understanding and some level of forgiveness for each other. Otherwise the only option I see it is that Foggy leaves the DD universe or exists on the fringes. Or maybe goes to another show.

NAYRT

I think he CAN be a good friend but hasn't been one lately. Much as it guts me to not have them be friends, any reconciliation without Matt acknowledging that and doing better is going to be hard to swallow for me.

NAYRT

I think there is a difference between intent and action, and life is not always black and white.

So it got away from me a bit but here, the fruit of a day's work. Hope you like? I've only seen the movie once so hoping my beta is right and I've got Spider-Man down...

Matt stands panting from the adrenaline racing through his veins, blood dripping off his gloves and onto the man at his feet. The night is as quiet as it gets in Hell's Kitchen, only the slightly distorted breaths of the criminal he subdued mingling with his own to break the stillness of the-

Wait. Matt turns his head slightly, realising there's a third person breathing, their heart steady but fast. Focusing, Matt tries to narrow down where they are, tracking the taste of their sweat and the scent of their - frankly childish - cologne to the roof of the building beside him. No, hand on it's too close for that... are they on the side of the building? There's no fire escape there.

'Who's there?' Matt asks, waiting. Yes, a soft gasp there and the heart is starting to pound. 'I know you're there.'

The person starts to walk forward, but remains sticking to the wall. What the hell - oh hang on. Wall climbing. What's the name of that Queens' guy who did that? Matt focuses. Spider-Man. That's it. Why is he so far out her- hang on. Bones barely creaking in a figure much smaller than Matt expected. How old is this guy?

'Okay, please don't hurt me. I totally mean you no harm, take me to your leader kind of no harm.' Matt freezes, the highness of the voice stealing his breath away. No, it's not just his imagination; the cologne is childish because he is a child. If this kid is a day over sixteen, Matt's a saint. And if Matt's sure of anything, it's that he's no saint.

'Jesus,' Matt breathes then swallows the instinctive apology for blasphemy trained into him by the Nuns and never quite trained out of him. 'How old are you kid?'

Spider-Man's heart picks up, a humming bee of noise in the alleyway. 'What... what do you mean? I mean, I know the mask takes a few decades off but man, that's kinda insulting.'

Tilting his head in Spider-Man's direction, Matt tries to convey as much disbelief as he can. 'And if you actually answer the question?'

'Question? What question? There was a question? I totally didn't realise there was a question.' Spider-Man moves to sit on the edge of the roof, still too far from a fire escape for Matt to be able to get up there before he was out of sight. Course that means nothing to Matt but best to let the kid have his illusions for a bit. 'Oh! Who's there. You asked who's there! Well I'm there, your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.' He shuffles a bit. 'Just me. Spider-Man.'

That wasn't even subtle. Fifteen. Definitely fifteen and extremely awkward. Where the hell are his parents? ...and Matt did you seriously just think that? Disgust runs through Matt at his assumptions along with a cold shot of pity and the vague impression he might sound like one of those grumpy men on Fox News, grumbling about 'kids these days'. 'Not my friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. You work in Queens. Isn't this a bit out of your range?' Matt takes a step towards the wall Spider-Man is dangling off.

While he shifts a bit more, he doesn't run so Matt takes another step. 'What are you doing in my city?' Matt asks.

'Bit of this, bit of that.' Spider-Man nods at the man on the ground. 'You kinda killed my latest lead on the whole, importing guns into Queens.'

Matt freezes, something cold running through him. 'I don't kill,' he says and he can't keep the chill in his veins out of his voice. 'I never have.'

'Whoa, sorry ah Mr Daredevil sir.' Did the kid just salute him? 'Stepped on a sore point there, so sorry, didn't mean to offend. Ah, if he's not dead why's he so still?'

A quick moment of focus lets Matt pick up the soft pounding of the man's heart and his distorted breathing. 'Knocked out. He's whining a bit, if you wanna come down and check he's still breathing.'

'I can come down?'

God the kid sounds excited. 'Free city, I'm not going to stop you.'

A second or two passes before the kid reaches out a hand and releases some kind of string from his wrist - not natural, Matt can smell the synthetic materials from here - using it to guide down to the ground. He lands lightly, far lighter than Matt would expect of a person his size and bounces over to the criminal on the ground. He keeps his front to Matt while moving and a distant part of Matt approves, over the rest of him roaring that this is a child.

Placing a hand on the man's throat, Spider-Man breathes out. 'He's breathing.'

'I did say,' Matt says mildly. 'Do I get an answer to the other question I asked?'

'Huh? Oh.' A long pause as Spider-Man rises to his feet. 'Nineteen. I'm nineteen.'

Behind his mask, Matt rolls his eyes. Even without his abilities, he'd picked up on the wavering note in this kid's voice and the slight crack of his voice. He's lying. 'And if you say that without lying?'

'Eighteen?'

'You're questioning your age,' Matt says and he can't keep the note of amusement out of his voice. Spider-Man takes a step back, towards the building. 'You're sixteen, at the absolute oldest and even that seems unlikely to me.' Spider-Man gasps and takes a few rapid steps back, putting his back to the wall. Matt takes a few steps back himself, giving the kid the distance he needs. 'Kid, you're too young for this. Go home.' Turning his back, Matt goes to walk off.

'Wait. You're sending me home? Like a naughty kid in a timeout corner.'

With a sigh, Matt turns back around. 'You are a naughty kid, kid. Leave this job to people with the ability to handle it-'

'I can handle it! Tony Stark came to me for help! He's helping me out, making it so I can choose to do this!' Spider-Man starts to climb up the wall, as if height will give his words more power.

Two can play at that. Matt grabs the nearby fire escape and scrambles to the roof in record time, though Spider-Man beats him there. 'Oh well if Tony Stark says it's fine, it's perfectly okay. Because he's well known for making rational choices and well thought out decisions.' Matt sighs. 'Come on, this job is not something I'd wish on anyone and you don't have to do it kid-'

'Don't call me 'kid'!'

'But you are!' Matt snaps and Spider-Man takes a step back. Checking himself and forcing the devil in him back, Matt takes his own steps back. 'Legally and mentally, you're a child. Have you actually thought this through? Figured out what will happen if you're caught? If you're hurt? Killed?' Oh the irony in what Matt's saying. 'Have you seriously figured out the consequences of your actions?' The silence is sullen but Spider-Man neither confirms nor denies what Matt is saying. 'Look ki- Spider-Man. Go home tonight. Give it some thought and then stay home. It's not safe.'

Spider-Man jerks then runs off, swinging away. Matt catches the muttered 'But I have to do this,' before he's gone.

Well shit. Matt's going to have to show his face in Queens tomorrow, isn't he?

********

'Okay, seriously this is not cool. It's one thing to send me home from your part of the city; no harm, no foul, I know it's yours now I'll steer clear. But dude, coming to my part of town? Not cool.'

Matt just sighs, raising an eyebrow he knows Spider-Man can't see but needing to do it anyway. 'I told you to go home,' he says simply, not bothering to raise his head to look at Spider-Man who is clinging to the building above where Matt is leaning. They're pretty high up, Matt standing on a roof with some sort of even higher roof above him.

'Yeah, last night? This, this is not last night. Come on dude, why are you here?'

Matt moves forward, so it looks like he's looking at the city. 'Can't I be admiring the view?'

'Ha. Ha. Ha. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen is admiring the view. Isn't there enough of a view in your part of town?' A light thump as Spider-Man hops down behind him, shifting in place. 'Why are you here?'

'Because you're fifteen-,' a panicked beat of Spider-Man's heart indicates Matt's guess is right, '-and I can't in good conscience leave you to be a vigilante alone.’

‘Hey! I’m a superhero not a vigilante.’ The pounding of his heart, gritting of his teeth, register in Matt’s mind. This must be a sore point for him, as sore as Matt is about being accused of killing. Hasn’t that joke of a paper been after him as a vigilante? ‘There’s a difference.’

Matt offers him a small smile. ‘Superhero. My mistake. Still, think you need to be legal to sign the Accords to be that, unless your parent or guardian signed for you.’ The way Spider-Man shifts gives more away than his heart ever could. ‘Thought so.’

‘So what? You’re just going to follow me, try and nag me into stopping, into going home?’

‘If I have to,’ Matt says with a small shrug.

‘Well then. Good luck keeping up!’ And with that, Spider-Man shoots a piece of that string - webbing papers tell Matt - and jumps off the roof, swinging away with a delighted noise that has Matt rolling his eyes slightly. Kids.

Course now he has to get down from here. Damn it.

********

‘How the hell did you find me?’ Spider-Man demands as Matt punches out the last of the muggers he’d swooped in to fight, pushing Spider-Man to the side. ‘Seriously, how did you find me?’

‘Followed the sound of teenaged angst and attempts at justice,’ Matt snarks, dragging one man towards the light pole nearby. He hears Spider-Man sigh then grab the arm of another man, dragging him to sit beside Matt’s with no hesitation or groaning. It’s as if the man weighs nothing at all.

Matt’s attention must be obvious because Spider-Man pauses and shifts in place. ‘Ah, portional strength of a spider. It ah, comes in handy sometimes.’

‘I’ll bet.’ Matt nudges the two men closer and nods at them, smiling when Spider-Man takes the cue and strings them up with his webbing. ‘Still doesn’t mean you have to use it.’

‘Oh come on, seriously?’ Matt holds up his hands and shrugs. ‘What do I have to do to get you off my back?’ There’s a long pause as Matt lets Spider-Man consider what he just said. ‘Okay, what other than quitting do I have to do to get you off my back? Don’t you have like, your own city to save?’

The question stings, mostly because of the truth in it but Matt’s careful to keep it out of his voice. ‘Hell’s Kitchen will get along without me, until I’ve finished here.’

‘And if you never finish here?’

Another blow, this time sharper and more pointed. Because Matt can’t keep coming to Queens; can’t keep trying to talk a stubborn teenager out of doing what he clearly wants to do, has the ability to do. Matt remembers being this age and remembers the strength of his convictions then. Back then, he’d been determined to find Roscoe Sweeney and bring him to justice, in whatever form he could. Looking back, Matt knows he was an idiot kid trying to punch above his weight but he’s quite sure no one would have been able to convince him of it then.

He sighs. ‘One way or another kid, I’ll finish here soon.’

‘Told you not to call me kid,’ Spider-Man grumbles.

Before Matt can reply, a sharp, high pitched, loud and completely unexpected noise breaks through the night. It takes a moment for his mind to clear, to focus past the noise and realise some asshole’s set off an alarm. One of those buzzing ones, urgh. Quite close actually, enough to make Matt shift and his heart pound. A quick check determines, yes there’s no crime there just someone making as much noise because ‘Spider-Man’s out there, oh shit, come on pigs, get here fast.’

Definitely time to go. ‘Come on kid, let’s mo...’ turning to Spiderman, Matt trails off. Kid’s hands are over his ears and he’s sweating and gritting his teeth like Matt’s too well trained to do. ‘Shit,’ he whispers and cocks his head, listening for sirens. They’re coming, no time to delay. ‘Come on kid, Spider-Man, focus on my voice, my breathing. On me. I know it hurts, but focus on me. Tune the world out, it’s unimportant. Just me.’ For a moment Spider-Man’s hands don’t move but then his breathing begins to steady.

These alarms are aimed at kids right? Because better hearing. But this is an extreme reaction, even for a teenager… Enhanced senses. Oh God above, enhanced senses on top of teenaged hearing. It’s a miracle the kid’s not cowering. ‘Better?’ Matt asks.

‘A little?’

‘Good. Time to go.’ Matt grabs Spider-Man’s hand and drags him towards a nearby alleyway, a jolt of pleasure running through him when Spider-Man lets him do it.

‘How… how’d you know?’ Spider-Man asks in a small voice, as they make their way across the roofs of Queens - Matt doing a lot more jumping on a hope and a prayer than he usually does, without an encyclopedic knowledge of rooftops to get by on.

Matt pauses halfway across a roof, causing Spider-Man to do the same on the edge of the roof. On one hand, the secret of his identity is his best protection for himself and everyone who knows him and his senses are a key point in unraveling that. But on the other hand, Spider-Man’s told him bits and pieces that might make a full picture… and well, Matt knows keenly the feeling that you are alone, that invisible wall that separates you from the ‘normals’ through which every interaction you have is filtered even if they don’t know it. He’d have given anything as a teenager, to have someone on his side of the wall.

‘I was younger than you,’ he says eventually, ‘when I got mine. And I think I’ve had better training,’ Spider-Man bounces from leg to leg, the only sign he might have gotten Matt’s pointed barb about his lack of training, ‘but I do know what it’s like.’

‘You… you too?’ Spider-Man says, almost breathless. ‘But… you don’t seem that strong… Did… did I miss something?’

Matt shakes his head and runs for the next roof, making the jump easily. ‘You’re misunderstanding,’ he grumbles not bothering to raise his voice to be heard. ‘Just the senses.’

Spider-Man follows him easily, not even bothering with his web swings. ‘Oh. But… you have the thing too? Where everything is overwhelming and too much?’ Matt nods. ‘Is… is that why the eyes of your mask? To block out things, when it’s too much?’ Unable to answer truthfully Matt gives a vague shrug and hears Spider-Man nod. ‘Mr Stark made this suit for me,’ he says, ‘and he made these because of that.’ He taps at his eyes and the source of the mechanical whirring noise Matt hears sometimes dawns on him. ‘It… it helps but only with eyesight.’

‘I can help with the rest,’ Matt says carefully. ‘If that’s something you want?’

‘Going to, what was it, ‘aid and abet a menace’?’ Spider-Man says, gleefully quoting the Daily Bugle's recent article on Daredevil’s sudden appearances in Queens. Matt scowls at the words, getting a laugh from Spider-Man. ‘Won’t helping me with this kinda undermine your whole ‘nag Spider-Man into giving up superheroing’ thing you got going on? Like, seriously undermine it.’

‘I’m not helping you superhero,’ Matt grits out. ‘I’m helping you live. Can’t imagine it’s always fun at school, with everything being too much sometimes.’ Matt’s memories of high school are muted by the distance of time and his stubborn desire to forget as much as possible but a few survive. And most vivid of them are the memories of the times the clanging of lockers, dinging of bells combined with the hormones, sweat and inexplicable disgusting odor of teenagers in an enclosed space to be overwhelming. He spent more than a few lunches mediating in bathrooms and one every blue moon allowed himself the luxury of faking a sick day, when too much had become a daily instead of monthly occurrence.

Yes, he knows exactly how much fun high school can be, even with his senses mostly under control. He can’t imagine trying that with none of his training or control… he would have gone mad.

‘...Okay,’ Spider-Man whispers, before surging ahead of Matt. ‘Your place or mine?’ he asks with more confidence.

‘Find me in mine tomorrow night. Think of it as your first test.’

********

‘Focus. What do you hear?’ Three weeks into the weekly lessons - held on various rooftops or deserted buildings in Hell’s Kitchen - and Matt’s sure of three things. One, Spider-Man’s senses are far above the average person but nowhere near as acute as Matt’s. Two, Spider-Man is definitely smarter than Matt, if lacking the experience to apply that intelligence. And three, if Matt was anything like this as a kid, Stick had the patience of a saint to not murder him mid-fight.

‘Do I have to wear the blindfold? I’m pretty sure it makes me look ridiculous. I mean, a mask and a blindfold. Isn’t that a fashion don’t? Pick one or the other, but not both. Masks and blindfolds don’t mix.’

‘Are you volunteering to take the mask off?’ Matt says mildly and smirks at the way Spider-Man tenses and his heartbeat picks up. ‘Thought not. You rely on sight too much, it’s stopping you learning how to use your other senses to their full extent. So we’re doing this without it.’

Spider-Man’s heartrate drops back down to resting. ‘Huh. Kinda makes sense when you put it like that. Sight is the dominant sense… did you have to do this when you trained?’

Something cold runs through Matt. He doesn’t want to lie… ‘I trained without my sight, yes.’

‘How old were you? You said you were younger than me…’

‘Ten. I was ten when I started training, eleven or so when my teacher left me to my own devices.’ Spider-Man rockets to his feet, so fast Matt only realises he’s moved when he’s already standing. Shifting into a defensive position Matt asks, ‘What?’

‘You were ten and you’re on my case? Do you even have a right to complain?’ Spider-Man is angry, his heart pounding and fists clenched but there’s a note in his voice. Hurt maybe?

Matt considers what he said. ‘I started training when I was ten. I started being Daredevil when I was in my late twenties. There’s a bit of a difference there kid.’

Spider Man’s fists unclench and his shoulders sag, the rest of the tension draining from his body ‘Wait. How old are you? Like, right now, how old are you? Because you said you started being Daredevil late twenties and well, Daredevil’s only been a thing a little longer than Spider-Man’s been a thing. You were new when I got my powers kind of little longer than thing.’

Like Matt said, kid is too smart for his own good. ‘I’ll be thirty in a few months,’ he says, his voice making each word sound like it’s being dragged out of him.

‘So not much older than me!’ Spider-Man says, glee in his voice and the bounce he does.

Matt snorts. ‘I’m twice your age, how is that ‘not much older’ than you?’ The bounces slow a bit but don’t stop. ‘Come on, give me your reasoning here.’

‘Well it’s not! Only a few years more than ten years…’

‘Math is not your subject kid,’ Matt says, eyeing the backpack Spider-Man brought with him. ‘Speaking of which, should I be asking after your homework?’ He makes a face that has Matt smirking. ‘Well that’s a yes.’

‘Oh come on, no. I get enough of this from my Au- my Mom. Please don’t start.’ Aunt, not mother, though it was a good try at the redirect. ‘It’s only Spanish anyway,’ Spider-Man adds, with disgust.

‘I can help with Spanish,’ Matt says in his well practiced Spanish, his smirk growing at the way Spider-Man’s head jerks up. ‘I can help,’ he repeats in English. ‘But first, we do this.’

********

Somehow helping with Spanish homework is added to the list of things they practice weekly even if Spider-Man’s mispronunciations sometimes make Matt want to punch something. They’ve moved to Matt’s roof as a meeting place, though Spider-Man doesn’t know it, if only for the convenience of a regular spot.

So even though it’s not their meeting night, Matt knows exactly where to find Spider-Man the night after the Bugle publishes a downright cruel article on Spider-Man. They compared him unfavourably to the horned menace that helped destroy Hell’s Kitchen - at least, so long as Spider-Man remains masked and seemingly unrestricted by the Accords. Matt’s certain Tony Stark’s protection is in play there, combining with the same issue they have getting Daredevil to sign the Accords - the secret of their identities. You’d have to catch either one of them first and unmask him before you’d even know who needs to sign it. No one’s even gotten close and right now they’re not big enough fish to be worth bothering about.

Doesn’t stop the Bugle calling for it periodically though.

‘Thought I’d find you here,’ Matt says, sitting down beside Spider-Man on the edge of the roof. He doesn’t ask if Spider-Man is okay, because it’s clear he’s not, even without the taste of tears in the air. So Matt just sits there, waiting, ready to listen when Spider-Man’s ready to talk.

‘They called you the Devil,’ he says eventually in a voice trying for toneless but tripping up because of the roughness left by his tears, ‘the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.’ Matt nods. ‘You were hated for crimes you might have actually committed,’ Matt nods again, his face twisting with the surge of annoyance at the memory, ‘but they changed their minds overnight. Just like that…’

‘Because I gave them someone else to hate,’ Matt says quietly, ‘and it was clear I was innocent.’

Spider-Man shifts away from his side, leaving it cold. ‘And I’m not?’ he says, his voice as cold as Matt’s side.

‘You are. But… but you can’t compare us. I was an unknown before the Devil, just a man in black. And after the Devil, I became Daredevil. There’s enough distance that people can pretend. They fool themselves into thinking that the hate they felt was for the Devil and Daredevil isn’t him.’ Matt sighs and runs his hands over his jaw. ‘I was lucky that no one important in the media took offence to me and now, I even have supporters there.’ He tilts his head, so Spider-Man will think Matt’s sneaking a look at him. ‘It’s luck that makes the difference here, nothing else.’

‘That’s… that’s it? I can fix this by being lucky?’

Matt drops his hands into his lap, resisting the childish urge to swing his legs, even if it might expel the nerves jittering under his skin. ‘Nope. You don’t fix this,’ he says and ignores Spider-Man’s full body flinch, ‘you just live your life and prove him wrong. Eventually the evidence of your good intentions will either be so overwhelming that asshole’ll change his mind or he’ll become a meaningless single voice drowned out in a chorus of praise and opposed by that overwhelming evidence.’

‘So… I keep being Spider-Man?’ Spider-Man says, a touch of warmth and amusement creeping into his voice. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’

A deep breath, then Matt risks a swipe at Spider-Man’s shoulder. ‘You know where I stand on that,’ he says when Spider-Man lets the blow land. ‘A two year break wouldn’t hurt anyone, and you might learn how to throw a decent punch. But… well, if you’re keeping it up, I know you’ve already proven yourself a thousand times. Jameson’s just being slow about realising it.’

That gets a huffed, if teary, laugh from Spider-Man. ‘Yeah.’ He shuffles over, so his side is again pressed against Matt’s. ‘You know, you keep complaining about me not being able to throw a punch but Mr Daredevil, I don’t see you offering to fix that.’

Well, it can’t hurt. ‘You get an A on your Spanish quiz on Friday kid, and I’ll teach you how to throw a punch.’ Was this how Dad felt, when Matt begged to learn fighting instead of doing boring homework? ‘And… Spider-Man?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m Matt.’

‘...Peter.'

I'm also wondering about his reaction of Claire has to come over, like "Matt, who is this woman? What have you dragged her into? Why do you trust her to clean your wounds? What the hell does she mean it could have worked out differently between you two?!"

Or if Stick visits, "Wow Matt, how did you come to be such a pussy with this guy teaching you? Seems like my kind of soldier. Does he know about all those ninjas you were fighting? Wait--what the hell, did you say CHILD SOLDIERS?!"

Basically, I am here for any/all dynamics featuring: Karen Page, Trish Walker, Jessica Jones, Claire Temple - and, to a lesser extent - Marci Stahl, Jeri Hogarth, Vanessa Marianna, and Elektra Natchios.

Bolded characters = my personal favs, obviously.

Ahem. Not a 'proper' prompt by any means, but whatever. For what it's worth - this isn't me saying 'NO PAIRINGS!1!'. I'd just like to read more character driven stories, that focus on the ladies, along with expanding backstories and the like. Pairings I'm not opposed to having featured: Trish/Jessia (totally understand if that's not your thing, but I have a soft spot for those two), Karen/Frank (I ain't sorry), Claire/Matt (*sigh* we could've had it alllllll), Claire/Jessia (suddenly I want this????)

I really really want a fic where Matt and Foggy BOTH write into Captain Awkward (an advice blog) for advice on how to reconcile while apologizing and receiving apologies, and see her (fictional) glorious advice.

Bonuses: we also see some fictional commentary.

the evidence for memory loss is from the first time he talks to karen alone and asks her about going to the house. he says something like 'it comes and goes' iirc.

I also want this nonny, + a million!

I see your Slytherin!Foggy, it makes sense, it really does.

I totally agree with Matt as Gryffindor, and Frank is so totally a Hufflepuff.

But I would say Karen is a Gryffindor, although she is hardworking and loyal and all that, above all Karen is reckless AF and does EVERYTHING without thinking it through/planning AT ALL. Recklessness as always been my defining Gryff trait...as soon as you start thinking about repercussions or outcomes or strategies you start leaning towards Ravenclaw or Slytherin, IMHO.

I love sorting characters! :)

Elecktra is very disappointed in Matthew for allowing Karen to think he was cheating on her. It hurt Karen's feelings and made both Matt and Elecktra look bad. Unacceptable!

Elecktra decides a fitting punishment for Matthew and apology/reward for Karen would be for him to give Karen a dozen orgasms, using only his hands and mouth. He's not allowed to use his dick on Karen unless she begs him for it, out loud.

bonus if Karen does eventually beg, but to be allowed to go down on Elecktra

double bonus if Elecktra decides to tie Matthew up (next to them in bed) while she and Karen enjoy each other, and he can only "watch", while she and Karen narrate in detail what they are doing to each other.

D'awww! Love this!

I'm just gonna camp out here and hope this happens, because yessss I need them all to be friends and support each other and have cocktails together

Oh, yes.

Just imagine: Claire finally having a Good Day - and getting pampered with her pals (you just know it'd be Trish's idea). Trish encouraging Karen to improve her self-defense skillz, and making sure homegirl takes care of herself bc Karen is a busy bee, etc.

Honestly, Trish supporting her friends is something I am 100% here for.

Wheeeeee my ickle fluffies!

So, this was part of an idea I had for one of those 'epic' AUs, or whatever you wanna label it as. But, I'm me, so the chances of such a thing actually materializing are... not good. Maybe someone will take this on, maybe they won't. Still - here it is.

Some point after s2, Karen and Frank manage to cross paths once again. Shocker, right? For one convoluted reason or another, they end up releasing all that pent up sexual tension. Frank eventually moves on, and so does Karen. No biggie. Except - Karen discovers that she is - wait for it - pregnant. After much consideration, she decides to go through with the pregnancy. [Spoiler alert: Karen Page's life is messy as hell.]

Fast forward 5-ish years later, and Karen - still fighting the good fight over at The Bulletin - is a single mom, raising Frank Castle's child. And at the worst possible moment, he enters her orbit again. Shit, as they say, goes down.

I realize listing a bunch of wants is...overwhelming, and a major turn-off. But, to get a vague idea of what I was originally going for:

- Long-ish, plotty, Karen POV. Various dynamics, all surrounding Karen's personal and professional life.

- Emphasis on female friendships. I had this vision of Karen becoming bffs with Claire, Trish, Jessica - and perhaps even Marci, bc of her relationship with Foggy. But, yes. Karen and Frank's child is going to have some incredible 'aunts' in his or her life.

- Leading a very dangerous life while raising a child. Karen doesn't stop after becoming a mother. This makes for some risky situations. Fighting for the truth and all that means you brush shoulders with some incredibly dangerous people. How the hell does one go about protecting a innocent child in that sort of mess?

- Wilson Fisk. Oh, hey, remember him? The man who threatened everyone at Nelson and Murdock? Remember Wesley? Well, I was going to have him be released and fuck shit up. Karen, you in danger, girl.

- Frank and Karen. I do not, for one second, believe these two will ever have a 'normal', 'stable' relationship. Nor do I think a happy ending is in the cards for these two. However, that doesn't mean they couldn't make it work on some level. And with a child, well...that makes it all more complex. Can you imagine Frank discovering that he has a kid? It ain't gonna be pretty, folks. I just want something that explores their dynamic, in a truthful way. Let Karen be flawed but brilliant. Let Frank be Frank.

If you managed to read all that, I am so sorry.

Their kid having similar personality traits as Lisa and/or Frank Jr. Ouch. :(

I hate when this happens, because now I'm getting all sorts of ideas. Like, for example, mini Karen being a tomboy and inheriting her mother's foul mouth. Karen wanting her child to have the best quality of life, but struggling with how she can provide that while remaining in Hell's Kitchen. Karen having to lie about Frank being the father, creating some vague story about some random hook up, feeling shame that her daughter will never know her father.

The looming threat of Wilson Fisk and various criminals (of varying degrees of power), and wanting to keep her child safe. Good lord, I'll stop right here.

For the next two days, Matthew Murdock was more or less in a half-conscious state of feverish nightmare. When he sweated through the sheets the guards bathed him twice, and the cold water must have been enough of a relief that he didn’t fight it the second time, and let one of them wash his hair while Fisk watched from the doorway. He was bathed clothed because he was not in a state to be left alone, and Fisk ordered more clothes for him, more suitable to his current figure.

His sole possessions were his cane and a backpack. It was emptied and scrubbed out while the personal items inside were sprayed with disinfectant. He had an ATM card, a state-issued non-driver ID, a Medicaid card with a sticker on the back alerting EMTS to his blindness, and some assorted paperwork in braille stuffed in a binder. The cell phone with a broken screen had no service. Wherever his Daredevil suit was, it wasn’t kept on his person, though a hastily-torn version of the old black mask was stuffed in a ziplock back with his keys, a golden gross on a chain, and a more simple wooden rosary. There was also a laminated prayer card with a picture of St. Michael on it, but there was no way he could know what it looked like, so it must have been a gift from a rather insensitive do-gooder.

After inspecting them all himself, Fisk took Murdock’s possessions and put them on his bed stand. The younger man was still wheezing in his sleep but he sounded considerably better than when he arrived. The guest room – built for a specific type of guest, with locks on the outside and reinforced doors – was not particularly crowded with furniture, so the sound of ragged breathing bounced over the freshly-painted white walls.

Music. He wondered what kind of music Murdock liked. Probably something that was locked in his phone. Fisk made his own choices; he preferred Italian opera and he pumped it in both floors.

The next day, shortly after he sent food down (it was so much easier to cook for two than for one; it felt less indulgent) he was informed that Murdock was awake and about. “Send him up,” he said.

There was a private staircase between the two floors, and everything had a lockdown mode. Murdock emerged from the hallway with hesitation, carrying his cane in one hand and an empty plate in the other. His head was cocked to the side, his face hidden behind a trimmed beard and the glasses Fisk had his men purchase for him on a supply run. “Fisk?” It was not entirely clear if he knew the answer to his own question.

“You’ve been delirious for nearly three days,” Fisk explained without missing a beat at the sink. “The doctor said to expect some confusion. Now that you’re on antibiotics that should clear up quickly.”

Murdock stood there, mouth agape for a moment before he spoke again. His voice was still hoarse from coughing. “You made me an omelet.”

“I have a staff – “

“No. You made it.” He put the plate down on the nearest surface he could find with his cane, which he was actively using now, almost as an accusation.

“I can assure you it wasn’t poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I know.” Murdock removed the glasses. “These aren’t mine.”

“You didn’t have any on you,” Fisk said, setting aside the dish towel. “Keep them.”

Murdock held them out for another moment before putting them back on his face. “Thank you.”

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

His guest played with the handle of his cane. The original orders were to take it off his person before letting him near Fisk, but those had been abandoned with everything else. “You had pictures.”

“Yes.”

“You’re stalking Foggy and Karen.”

“That’s a very unrefined term,” Fisk replied. “Surely we’re both above that.”

Again, Murdock looked a little lost. “Did I agree to anything?” As if, maybe, he intended to honor his words?

“You had a great desire to protect your friends,” Fisk explained. “But no. We did not have a comprehensive discussion.”

“We’re not friends anymore,” he said, this time with a cough, but at least it was dry and unproductive. The cane was probably the only reason he was on his feet this long.

Fisk sighed. “You should rest. Dr. Goucher said you’re going to be weak for a long time, and you can’t leave yourself open to any new infections you might susceptible to you in your ... condition.”

Murdock nodded. “Thanks.” He still sounded very unsure of everything, as if he found himself in some strange dream space. “For the eggs.” He turned around, tapping his cane against the floor and the walls with uncertainty, and left Fisk alone.

***************************

Dr. Goucher came the next day and was not overly pleased with Murdock’s progress. “He’s not getting enough nutrients. He needs more than carbohydrates.” It seemed is patient was unwilling to drink much of the disgustingly chemical nutritional drinks. “Tell him if he wants to recover, he needs complex carbohydrates, vitamins, and proteins. Try to convince him to eat solid food. And don’t let him go outside without covering his mouth – it’s too cold and this could roll into a bronchitis.”

Fisk wondered exactly he was going to convince the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen all this, but he didn’t express those concerns. “Thank you, doctor.”

He sent plates of food down but they came back up only picked at. The guard assigned to watch him said the antibiotics were making him too nauseous. Their guest was a very stubborn patient.

Sick of eating alone – or with his accountant – and counting down the days until Vanessa’s return, Fisk looked down at his professionally-cooked, exquisitely prepared dinner and said, “Tell him to dress for dinner and send him up.”

Murdock emerged, wearing a clean dress shirt and slacks belonging to someone else, and looking a bit dumbfounded, but far more capable of navigating the space around him. He folded up his cane and set it on the table next to him. Behind his glasses, his expression was hard to read, but he was probably about as puzzled as Fisk often found himself when he was in the room.

“Dr. Goucher said you need to eat,” Fisk said, and put his napkin on his lap.

“Do you always cook for yourself?”

“Being seen in public is a bit of a ... security risk right now.”
“You are a convicted criminal.” Murdock’s voice was deeper because he couldn’t breathe through his noise and scratchy from a raw throat, but just a tiny bit of his unfortunate humor was back.

“I assume that Columbia taught you something of the appeals process.”

Murdock frowned but offered no comment. Fisk guiltily watched him eat a little harder than he should have – the way his guest first located each utensil with his fingertips, touching all of the forks and spoons, then used both utensils in his hand to find the food on his plate and carefully move it around, occasionally slipping in a finger to touch something despite the presentation of delicacy that was supposed to come with formal dining.

“It’s rude to stare,” Murdock said without lifting his head, after he was about halfway through his dinner. But he was smiling when he said it. “Do you want to know how I know you’re doing that, too?”

“I would never – “

“I’m not an idiot,” he said. “I also – I suppose I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the senses I have to rely on are a little bit muted right now, so I’m sure it’s a more exaggerated show for you to enjoy.”
“I do not consider your ... disadvantage any kind of show,” Fisk replied.

“That’s not the kind of man I am.”

“I have no idea what kind of man you are,” Murdock admitted. “I thought you wanted to kill me.”

“Do you really think I would have invited you into my home? For that purpose?”

Murdock just looked dour. “You tried before.”

“You tried before,” he said. “If Nobu hadn’t slowed you down considerably ... I’d rather not speculate on what might have happened.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Yes, a considerable one.”

“No,” Murdock said, driving his fork so hard into the plate he almost broke it. “I mean, it was a mistake. I wanted to kill you. I thought – I believed it was the only way to stop you. That it was something I had to do to save my city. But I was wrong. Only G-d can make that decision.” He aggressively scratched one hand against the other, his limbs bundled up by an inner fire Fisk hadn’t seen in them since their meeting in prison. “I’m sorry.”

Fisk sat back. He really didn’t know with that, especially because it sounded so legitimate, so pained. “You’re apologizing to me? Shouldn’t you be apologizing to G-d?”

“I already did,” Murdock said, all hunched over now, his breathing a little ragged from the stress. Fisk had no doubt that it was true, or that everything Murdock had said was true. “I still feel sorry. It doesn’t stop.”

Fisk was never so grateful that he wasn’t a proper Catholic anymore. He didn’t need that albatross around his neck. “I ... accept your apology. For what it’s worth.”

“What do you want from me?” Murdock demanded. “Why am I here?”

“Do you have anywhere else to go?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I find it hard to believe that a man of your intelligence and education would voluntarily find himself on the streets,” Fisk said. “Considering you have twelve million dollars in a Swiss bank account courtesy of one Elektra Nach – “

Murdock slammed his palm on the table. “Don’t say her name! Don’t you dare – “ His shout dissolved into coughing, but he otherwise kept it together, his whole body tense with fury. “You have no right.” But the last demand came out hoarse and somewhat high.

He hadn’t known what Miss Nachios meant to Murdock before, but Fisk certainly did now. “But apparently you felt Vanessa was fair game.”

Murdock’s jaw tightened as he tried to hide how shaky he actually was. “I never would have hurt her. I only wanted information from you about Castle, to stop him from killing anyone else.”

“So you were bluffing.”

“It would have hurt you, not her.” He had to stop to hide another cough.

“She’s my fiancé! Do you think it would mean nothing to her to never see me again?” He resisted to urge to grab Murdock and throttle him. It would be so easy ... “How do you think your ... Elektra ... would feel if she could never see you again?”

Murdock sunk even lower, defeated without even a real hit. “She’s already dead.”

It was not a fight anymore. The air went out of the room, along with all over noise beyond their own breathing – Fisk’s angry gasps, and Murdock’s strained wheezes.

Fisk straightened himself out. He was clearly distressing Murdock at a time when his opponent was already too weak to fight back, even if he wanted to. “Enough. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You’re lying.”

“A matter of opinion,” he said. He didn’t know her; how could he feel sorry? But he wasn’t a completely cruel man. “Please sit down and finish eating, and I promise we will not continue this discussion until a date we both agree upon.”

Matt glared at him, but he did sit, and they ate the rest of their meal in silence.

Aw I love this! I haven't seen CW yet because I'm super behind on the MCU in general but Peter is adorable.

Now I seriously need to cook me some Indian food, and I'm also tempted to write the Foggy+Claire version when I can find some time... really cutely written, nonnie, thank you!

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Page 52 of 165

Daredevil Prompt Post #11

Re: Frank has brain damage, how does it affect him?

Re: Frank has brain damage, how does it affect him?

Re: CIVIL WAR SPOILERS - Matt gets recruited

Re: CIVIL WAR SPOILERS - Matt gets recruited

Re: CIVIL WAR SPOILERS - Matt gets recruited

Re: CIVIL WAR SPOILERS - Matt gets recruited

[Fill] Daredevil and MCU Spider-Man [1/2]

[Fill] Daredevil and MCU Spider-Man [2/2]

Re: Frank Castle gets turned into a Pitbull, Daredevil laughs his ass off, gen or Matt/Frank

The Ladies of Daredevil/Jessica Jones - friendship centric

Matt & Foggy, reconciliation, Captain Awkward

Re: Frank has brain damage, how does it affect him?

Re: The Ladies of Daredevil/Jessica Jones - friendship centric

Re: Hogwarts AU

Elecktra/Matt/Karen, Domme!Elecktra

Re: [Fill] Daredevil and MCU Spider-Man [2/2]

Re: The Ladies of Daredevil/Jessica Jones - friendship centric

Re: The Ladies of Daredevil/Jessica Jones - friendship centric

Re: [Fill] Daredevil and MCU Spider-Man [2/2]

Frank/Karen, In which a one-off encounter results in a mini Frank or Karen

Re: Frank/Karen, In which a one-off encounter results in a mini Frank or Karen

Re: Frank/Karen, In which a one-off encounter results in a mini Frank or Karen

[Fill] Fisk Pities Matt (2/?)

Re: [Fill] Daredevil and MCU Spider-Man [2/2]

Re: FILL: Afternoon Visit | Re: Frank + Claire, showing appreciation and thanks