#Curious and Grim|Daredevil au

[brooklynislandgirl]

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This Softness || Accepting

So often Beth has a foot in two worlds, sometimes literally; between being half-Hawai'ian and half-Haole ~ she wears her hapa nature as best she can, being a witch and a nurse places her tenuously between science and magick, being Kinfolk which makes her tread the paths between human and animal and a third again spirit. And perhaps not least, there's that line between her curiosity and her devotion to others. When Matt turns up on her doorstep in the first breath of dawn, she is quick to let him into her apartment. She doesn't ask the how or why as she slips herself under his good arm, at the side he isn't favouring, and helps him over to the large comfortable wrap around couch. She speaks as she normally does, in that smokey-half whisper as if she would shatter like glass if her voice ever rose any louder. "Jus' gimmie a sec, an' I'll patch ya right up." What she wants to know is how often has he found himself like this. He'd probably mention walking down the wrong alley, tell her that maybe he had a disgruntled client. Something to assuage any sense of fear that might line her belly, but these would be half truths. And she can't pry his secrets out of him. When he wants to share...or if.... he'll tell her. When she has her supplies, she returns to the couch and to his side. She picks at his shirt carefully and bares the bruised and battered flesh to the open air. Even if he can't see it, exactly, she meets his gaze. A countenance full of grief, of tenderness unveiled and she lets out a breath. "Oh, Matt. Dat's pretty rough. Lemme see if I can make it hurt less." Her fingertips all but hover over the marred flesh. A coolness follows that carries with it a sense of hesitation but also the tide of her heartbeat. Spiralling outward from that comes a sense of numbness as she spreads the salve against his muscles, and with it a trace of her magick. Nothing that he could later recognise as such but rather a simple lack of pain, an ease of breathing, a spark of healing that will cut down the recovery time by more than half. In that touch, she tries to ignore the unquiet ghosts of previous injuries that stretch back quite a while. "No kine broken, mercifully," she murmurs the lie with the utmost sincerity. Ribs are cracked, but within a couple hours, they will have knit themselves back together at her insistence. "But you must be so tired." When she's done treating the injuries, she drags one of her throw blankets over him and curls into his frame, before gently guiding his head down to her shoulder. She glides her fingertips through his hair. "Close ya eyes, get some rest, an' I'll watch ovah you. When you wake up, might even feed ya if you're hungry." Her breath is warm against his temple. And maybe, just maybe, Matt can pick up the subtle sound of Eddie Vedder crooning. There is no pain, you are receding. A distant ship, smoke on the horizon...you are only coming through in waves....

[brooklynislandgirl]

"Mahalo for lettin' figure it out f' myself dan raddah bein' pushy. Gave me plenny time t' be so worried for you." She's teasing a little but there is a thread of truth to the latter bit, something she's sure he can feel through that hug. @alwaysxinxtrouble

🔥 {Matt}

Send 🔥 if your muse is attracted to my muse'

"Beth, I've been attracted to you since the moment we've met. I never said anything because I didn't want to make things awkward."

@brooklynislandgirl

[brooklynislandgirl]

@defectivexfragmented {{this starter}}

Beth does not sleep regularly. More often than not she goes and goes until she simply ends up crashing wherever she happens to be. Years of working twelve to sixteen hours a day, issues with sleep paralysis and night-terrors, and other factors have created a near permanent insomnia. So when Matt spends most of the night tossing and turning, it registers even when she manages to scrape together a couple hours of dozing. But Beth can't leave well enough alone, can she? She slides out of bed and wraps her robe around her. Soft lilac satin brushing against her skin. The change of her breathing pattern. The near soundless steps she takes barefoot across his floor. She'd be surprised if she startled Matt by suddenly 'turning up', though she always tries to keep his heightened sense of hearing in mind. "Got a hundred different ways of gettin' ya t' sleep, some more fun dan oddahs. Tell me what's on ya mind, an' mebbe dat will tell me how best t' soothe ya body." Her voice is whisper soft from where she leans in the door way, her face lined with concern and empathy.

[brooklynislandgirl]

the devil of Hell's Kitchen vs the punisher?

Consider It A Challenge || Accepting

Where to even start with that? At the most base component, there are two men coming at the same systemic problem from opposite sides. She's heard that the Devil will beat a foe ~and how dramatic does that sound?~ to within an inch of his life, only to eventually hand them over to the police. Frank is more to the point, and the rabid animals he puts down have done things that there can be no true recourse for. Her cabal mate has told her that the soul is on a journey, that there is a great Karmic wheel, and that sometimes, the most merciful thing a person can do is end this life so the soul stands a better chance in the future. And in some cases, the end has to be so brutal, so severe, so final that the soul will never choose to do evil again. It sounds like blasphemy to Father Vinnie, but Beth can't find it in her heart to say that she believes it to be entirely untrue. It is her convictions and her use as a Gardener to support Frank, even if he is walking a path too similar to the Thanatoic's.

Maybe the difference is that she doesn't necessarily see his actions as evil but as aggressively proactive medicine. Excising the necrotic tissue so the body can heal. She doesn't have any idea why the Devil does what he does, or ultimately how he makes his peace with his better angels. Until she does, she can't throw her support behind him. And if the contest is more venial? Well, she knows Frank's face. She knows as much of his heart and mind as he deems to share with her. He stirred something inside of her chest that first meeting in the hospital. His biggest concern was for the dog that the Devil left behind. An innocent life that did not deserve the brutality it had experienced. And that's what led her to every shelter she's volunteered at, scouring every one to find his Max. To make sure it was one thing less that Frank needed to worry about. That was enough to show her what kind of man Frank Castle is. She doesn't know what the Devil loves, what he would risk everything for. She doesn't know anything about him beyond his need to get patched up by her and sent back into the night. There's one thing she thinks she knows for sure. "Not fair fight," she says. "Comes down to who is part of my ohana, who I trust. Who I will stand beside til Judgement Day. An' I t'ink we bo'd know da name I'm gonna give ya."

[brooklynislandgirl]

@prettytm     {{xx}}

Marines. You can take the man out of the Corps, but you’ll never be able to separate the Corps from them. Beth should have known that with Frank, should know it with Billy. She’s grown up in the shelter of Marines and Navy Sailors, cutting her teeth on cadences, having no less than a full squad trying to earn points with the Admiral by keeping up with the chores and duties she and Andy couldn’t. From her that first Embassy disaster when she was twelve {and the ensuing International Incident it caused} most of her significant social functions have had one of Billy’s many thousands of brothers or cousins at her side, if not the Admiral himself. She should know better by now. For a few solid moments, Beth loses herself in the music and in the wave and flow of the heat, the light, the motion of it all. She feels the beads of sweat dampening her hairline. The rustle of fabric of his suit as it gathers between her thighs. Against her chest. All along her palms and fingers as she tightens her grasp for a heartbeat or two. Her lips draw tight against her teeth but not in a smile ~not a real one~ and certainly not showing any of the sharp teeth beneath. This is maybe where a little of her privilege shines through or how someone who doesn’t know her might interpret the expression and words, not considering where they come from. No one ever really does. “Don’ put yourself out on my account. I’m...” A big girl, she almost says even if its the farthest from the truth. “I’m going up to the bar.” The heat from her, the negligible weight of her body, all of her seems to vanish somewhere unreachable in that moment as she pulls away from him and starts to turn away without waiting for a response.

[brooklynislandgirl]

~*~ The company Christmas card might not be the MOST professional image that could have been photographed, but that's what makes it special. What makes it resonate somewhere in her chest and Beth can't help but smile through the pangs. She can't help but to brush Foggy's face with her thumb and with an affection she could never bring herself to use if he were standing right next to her. She wonders how many times Karen has had to write the message, and if her fingers ache, as clearly she doesn't use a stamp. She wonders if her own cards and gifts have arrived yet. They're doing well for themselves this year, but the anonymous donation to their Legal Defence Fund...can help the people of the Kitchen, or keep the heat and lights on as needed. And ten grand is....well, it's like the pennies that turn up in grandma's purse, isn't it? Of course, Karen will get the Chanel bag she had admired the other day, and those black leather Prada boots that will only make her taller, sleeker...delivered on Christmas, exactly when the boys get their own gifts. She should give them a call, see if they'll be coming to her holiday party. Beth props the card up against her desk and begins her own greetings...

@brooklynislandgirl liked for a Christmas Card

[brooklynislandgirl]

"I am a child of Mary. I am a child of Mary. I am a child of Mar-"

[brooklynislandgirl]

@prettytm​  {{xx}}

The speed it takes for her to feel stupid could break the sound-barrier. Now, a lot of the time she doesn’t hear things correctly the first time, but she can absolutely hear the tone a person uses, and she can read their expressions like subtitles. If she wanted to, she could absolutely blame Frank for this. He’s pointed out before that not everyone buys into her sweetness and light faery bulls....business. That she’s got to learn how to throw verbal punches now and again. Frank tells her a lot of things, enough that she could make a gospel of it, but the failure in practice is her own fault. She hadn’t meant to have touched a nerve, but here she is, looking Billy in the face, and she can feel the sourness that rises with her baiting question. And it is absolutely on her to make amends.  ”I..” she scoots a little closer, puts a small hand on Billy’s leg. “I didn’ mean it way it sounded. I only try f’ tease you, small kine. My family...is been said we could buy an’ trade countries if we wan. Only kine I evah could wan for...is da kine ya can’t buy, you know? An’ I’ve always been smart. Mebbe too much for my own good. I know wha’ dat can create, an’ dat feelin’ of always bein’ watched or judged. Of nevah really knowing if people like you for you, or what you can do for dem.”

It’s her turn to shrug. “I’d have traded it all away years ago, if I could, jus’ to have a chance of bein’ happy. An’ I’m not sayin’ dat to make ya feel sorry for me. I jus... I wan ya t’ know I’m not like dat. I like you for you. You make me laugh. You...” She falters. “I’m sorry, an’ I hope you know...I really do mean dat. And dat Frank give horrible horrible advice.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

@wardogsong {{xx}}

The nod is slow, but even without being able to brush even the most surface of his thoughts, she can heart it. The song in his blood. A primal scream like her own that threatens to rend asunder what stands before him. She hadn’t misjudged Frank at all, it seems. Makes her nostrils flare. The smell of adrenaline seeping through his pores, enticing even if it’s nearly smothered by the man’s fear soaked skin...and trousers. The same magick that offered Frank numbness before works as a paralytic, leaving the human filth aware of everything but unable to move. She wishes she could say the same about the stench. She doesn’t answer until Frank has spoken his piece, worked out most of the relevant details on his own. She likes that about him, he’s quick. Especially when he’s upright. When he isn’t a patchwork quilt of new bruises and beaten bones. “Own son. Dat file, right dere? Thick as ya chest?” She enunciates the word very clearly. “Every stitch I put into dat boy. Every bruise I salved. Head to toe, no less dan twenty visits, an’ dat’s just da ones I know about. Today he come to me. Gonna be out rest of da season wi’ a cast. All because someone don’ know how for hold his liquor. How for recognise he t’ree time biggah dan a ‘leven year old. I warned him. I did. Try so hard...” Maybe she needs to repeat that, like it will absolve her of her own guilt, but she raises her chin and her eyes grow cold, as arctic as Frank’s perhaps. There is a reason why, amongst the Traditions, they call hers ‘the bloody bitches’ without irony. She does snort at the way he speaks the world Life. She understands all too well what the questions are, and they’re exactly like he says. And it’s that very life that stirs. That makes her nerves squirm under her skin until she can’t help but drag her gaze away from him. Only half of what he says is meant for her. The rest belongs to the man. What remains unspoken though? A flash of those teeth. A little too sharp, a little too white. It isn’t a smile that has her lip pulling back in a sneer, but she keeps it to herself. What is she going to do? Wrestle Frank Castle to the ground over the privilege? If she’s bloody...well. He has his own moniker that anyone with two brain cells to rub together should respect, and almost a foot-and-a-half on her, not to mention a hundred and thirty pounds that even she can’t pull out of nowhere. She’s not taking him without permission or an elephant gun loaded with tranquilisers. “So you can plead his case...or help wi’ a shovel.” She selects her favourite 10-blade.  

[brooklynislandgirl]

@prettytm​  {{xx}}

"I've never peeked once. Trained Professional I'm afraid."

She's been a nurse-practitioner for nearly a decade now, experienced in both trauma and family medicine. Practiced at attempting to put someone at ease, she doesn't realise that what she says, the offer made, might come across as flirtation. Would be blushingly astutter if she did. It wouldn't be because he striking, he absolutely is, even she can see that. The sort of face and frame that would be the envy of Michelangelo. Colouring that makes an impression, eyes as dark if not moreso than his hair, impossibly fair skin. Lithe, lean, all of his numbers on target for perfect health.

When he vanishes from view, she sits at the little charge desk, logs into the system and starts inputting chart notes. She makes note of his name, as she doesn't recall him introducing himself. Italian, at least by assumption. Ex-military, because of course he is. The impeccable cut of his suit might suggest Ivy-League business man, but his posture, certain subtle body language, it points to former service. Single, young for a CEO.

She's intrigued.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Advent Calendar: Day 13 @devilinthekitchxn​ ​

“Hodie scietis, quia veniet Dominus, et salvabit nos, et mane videbitis gloriam eius.” Today, you know that the Lord will come, and He will save us, and in the morning you will see His glory. On one hand, Beth thinks that’s grossly unfair to Matt who has just finally joined her. Fortunately she’s sitting in a space at the back of the church, having given up her seat in the front to an elderly pair of ladies when she realised her friend was going to be late. His suit is rumpled in places, it’s hastily tucked in, and she can practically smell the bruises he covered with it. It breaks her heart that even on Christmas Eve, he can’t catch a break. That there are people willing to do evil and violence even on the celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace. She can’t make herself angry with him for being late, for being hurt. She waits until he’s seated himself beside her on the pew before taking his hand. Beth doesn’t presume Matt needs the help unless he asks for it, or at least his body language gives it away. To anyone else it might seem cruel, but they don’t know him quite the way she does. Her fingers intertwine with his and she gives it a small squeeze. She knows if she stays close to him for the rest of Mass, her mana will eventually find its way around him. It will dull the worst of his aches and pains, seeking to undo some of the damage he’s done. The entire congregation raises their voices. “.....Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis….” She leans in toward his shoulder, whispering gently to not interrupt the people in front of them, but mostly not to give away any of his secrets. “Thought I was gonna hafta send out search an’ rescue into local bars. Or a’least text Foggy an’ yell a’ him in all caps.” He breathes something that sounds like a laugh, but it feels more like a groan. She almost wishes that his devout nature would have allowed him to go home. Use speech-to-text to give her a heads up, and she’d have come over. Maybe even wait til morning, bring him the gifts she’s got wrapped for him under her tree, and breakfast too. She might still do that, but what she is absolutely going to do is drive him home and see him up to his apartment before heading over the bridge to hers. Unless he invites her otherwise. And maybe he can feel her cheeks grow pink at the impropriety of that sort of thought here of all places. “For wha’ its wort’ Matt’ew, I’m glad you’re heah. I really was worried.” This isn’t a lie, even if her heart picks up its pace. It’s dangerously close to other feelings, softer ones she’s not sure she’s comfortable with, or that he is, either. Still, she’s not yet let go of his hand when they rise at the Father’s bidding.  

[brooklynislandgirl]

★ matt

Little Every Day Blessings || Accepting

I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you if only to save you from yourself // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re nice // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better

[brooklynislandgirl]

Advent Day IX ~ Peace on Earth and a Little Stolichnaya @survivorofhellskitchen

She can see this ending either incredibly well…or so badly she will have lost three friends by morning; two for being furious with her, and the third because he knows exactly what side his bread is buttered. Though honestly, Beth has no idea where that phrase comes from and why people insist on using something so inane as an indication of wisdom, but that's neither here nor there. She'd promised Karen a night to remember and Beth never breaks her promises. Beth had sent Karen the dress and shoes she'd had her eye on and reminded her that there was a date in their future. She also sent all the right accessories, from jewellery to hand bag. Told Karen to be ready by no later than seven on the dot, mostly because her driver gets cranky when he has to wait, and yes, she insists on the car picking Karen up. Meanwhile, Foggy's one job is to get Matt ready by the same time, and that they'll both get to where they are going by precisely eight-fifteen. Just over ten minutes from Curtain Call. After all, what's more romantic than a Christmas Eve performance of the New York Ballet Company's Nutcracker, and then dinner afterwards at a reserved table at the famed One if By Land, Two if by Sea. Okay, okay, so maybe Beth did laugh a little about that, because Matt and Karen are two and Beth is definitely a child of Sea. Then there's the carriage ride through the park, set with blankets, roses despite how Beth feels about them, and of course, champagne from her very own cellars. It's all meant with a good heart because, for once, she wants to see some of her friends happy. She has enlisted a lot of people she knows to help. Some to patrol his beat so that he won't suddenly have to duck out on her. Some to ensure Karen doesn't get pulled away because of a juicy assignment or spoiled because Matt pulled double duty….just there's a lot of things that can go wrong when one is dating a vigilante who works nights. She doesn't know first hand, but then again, Matt is also not the first guy to show up bloody on her doorstep at all hours with more bruises, broken bones and internal organ damage than any five Marine platoons. Mostly though she knows what it's like to have plans ruined, how quickly one can end so far on the back burner that you don't remember what the kitchen even looked like. And the idea of Karen having to shoulder that kind of thing is not something she wishes for the other woman. Once she's absolutely certain the car has arrived to pick her up, Beth texts Karen.

{Text: KP} Hi! I am so so sorry I can't make it tonight but I'm not leaving you completely stranded. {Text: KP} Foggy's got Matt ready and waiting for you. The tickets are in your name at the call box. Dinner is already reserved and paid for. There's a little surprise at the end. {Text: KP} I hope you have the best night of your life and that you call me sometime over the weekend and tell me all the juicy details. {Text: KP} Merry Christmas, Karen! 🎄🎄🎄

[brooklynislandgirl]

74

Things That Make You Squirm || Accepting

She steals one of the chile-cheese fries and chews it thoughtfully for a moment. Then she shakes her head and laughs. "Yeah, like. You met my braddah right? Tall? Loud? So overprotective sometimes I'm drownin' on dry land? He'd nevah let me even considah it for fun. Says it's all kinds'a wrong. An' I don't know I could. It's not why I dance. I do it t' be part of some great sea of people. T' feel an' be felt, is like...a prayer to life, ya know? Somet'ing kapu." A momentary pause. "Dey also probably gimmie stupid name, like 'Lil Fiji', because dey don' know da difference between anyone Polynesian, an' because exotic dancers aren't exactly respected. How many times you pay f' one to grind all ovah ya, an' didn't even know her name?"

[brooklynislandgirl]

@defectivexfragmented​   {{xx}}

It’s rare that she gets to see him looking pleased, relaxed, or happy. Maybe what she’s seeing is a mixture of all three. Maybe Matt has finally gotten good at putting on a poker face. Beth isn’t sure. Normally she would never even mention what she had, those very few and far between times when she has feelings that she’s been told not to call normal.

There’s nothing wrong with you, Jayden would say. You’re just built different is all. But she doesn’t want to be.  Still, she cocks her head and in no danger of being found out, she allows her brows to knit and her eyes to wander as if she’ll find evidence to support his claim, or an explanation written in the not-shockingly bare space of his loft. Still she moves almost soundlessly toward his sink. Yes, she rinses out bottles, and yes she’s going to recycle her own and his when he’s done with it. “Wha’ do you mean? Like...do dey...ya priest...even let two people confess a’ once?”

[brooklynislandgirl]

Random headcanon

Billy Russo || Patron Saint of Spite. 1. Entire conversations on the phone which consist of nothing but emojis, which make no sense to Andy or Frank. 2. Billy will drink Andy's best single malts and then Beth replaces it with bottom shelf blends. Then they bet to see if Andy notices, and how long it takes him to do so. 3. Beth steals Billy's shirts the most because they are the ones that fit her best. 4. Do you live in a cornfield? Because I'm stalking you. 5. Whenever he hears his ringtones, he makes absolutely certain to change them. Beth still doesn't know how he does it. {{x. x.}}

6. Despite knowing what he knows, Billy gets offended when someone {{Andy}} calls her a witch.