#Murdock for President
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dinosaurwithablog · 7 months ago
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Howling Mad FTD Murdock.... I love the wings on his hat, don't you? 😊😍
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malpractisnt · 2 months ago
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Marvel x text posts I made instead of doing whatever you should be doing after making a house md x text posts post.
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a-leg-without-fear · 8 months ago
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God Bless Our President
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this is for @pastafossa as her cat is the murdock tuna team's president. also a reference for the upcoming part 2 of No Fucking Way :)
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starryoak · 2 years ago
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Apparently we’re going to be seeing more of Hobie’s universe and I am SO pumped about that because I have so many questions about how they’ll change it from the official comics, because a lot of Hobie’s universe is so intrinsically American that I can’t wait to see how it changes.
See, Spider-Punk’s universe is one where Norman Osborn became president by either creating artificial copies of or allying with Symbiotes (like Venom), dubbing them Variable Engagement Neuro-sensitive Organic Mesh, or V.E.N.O.M, both bonding with them himself and distributing them to cops and law enforcement everywhere to create super soldiers who could, and in his own words, “Make America Great Again.” His introductory comic depicts this in four pages (one of them a two page spread) where it shows Hobie and his band leading a riot against a wave of cop-Symbiotes called the Thunderbolt Department and using 5,000 watts worth of amps blasting punk music to vaporize the Symbiotes (being weak to loud noises), then personally bashing Norman Osborn’s skull in with his guitar.
Obviously while cops are fucking fascists everywhere, the symbolism of “Make America Great Again” is, well, quintessentially American, so I think it’s pretty clear some of the rhetoric will change, and I really can’t wait to see how it will, honestly. As well, when Hobie says “I hate the PM”, he can be seen tearing a poster of not Norman Osborn, but Kingpin, indicating that he likely is this universe’s equivalent to President Osborn.
As well, his teammates/the Spider-Band are also worth examining, and I really, really can’t wait to see what’s done with them, especially Karl Morningdew.
Karl Morningdew, AKA Captain Anarchy, is obviously intrinsically connected to Captain America, as his universe’s equivalent, but also because he’s Native American, specifically named as the Sentinel of the Cowlitz People. He’s got a not-a-superhero boyfriend named Rick, but that’s not important to this conversation. He’s obviously pretty tied to America, not just in his being very obviously a variant of Captain America with the same powers, but also because his people have lived in America before there was an America to live in, and their oppression by the American government is inextricable to his character. So how they will, or, I suppose, if they will, translate Karl into a British setting is obviously a big question! While not as intrinsically tied to an American identity, he has other teammates who are variants of other Marvel universe characters; Riri Williams, AKA Ironheart, is known as Riotheart in this universe, Mattea Murdock, AKA the Daredevil Drummer of Philly, a counterpart to Daredevil, Kamala Khan, who seems to be pretty much the same + brass knuckles, (will she have her powers changed to fit the new Ms. Marvel show?), and Robert “Robbie” Bruce Banner, a reluctant member of the team who doesn’t actually really want to be there, having tried to give up on that part of his life.
I really, really hope these guys show up, I want to see how they translate these very American characters into the UK, and I think, frankly, they’re really cool and fun!
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thedevotionaltour · 1 year ago
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Daredevil #15 - "—And Men Shall Call Him...Ox!" (February 1966)
Written by Stan Lee Art by John Romita Sr. (pencils), Frank Ray (inks)
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lovelybucky1 · 1 month ago
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Go Greek! Go ΣΑΕ!
Looking to get involved this semester? Sigma Alpha Epsilon (ΣΑΕ) is looking for a sweetheart to organize events, run our social media, and help with philanthropy. You must be a student of Stark University and in good academic standing. If you're interested in this position, contact us through our Instagram.
this is a new au i’m trying out and i think it’ll be a lot of fun! feel free to send asks/requests about any of the brothers and this will act as the masterlist for fics/drabbles about each character, as well as each chapter of the series
all posts can be found under #go greek
all asks about the au can be found under #go greek asks
send an ask to be added to the taglist!
Meet the E-Board:
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Steve Rogers- President, Senior, Art History major, Co-Captain of the Men's Lacrosse team, member of the Young Democrats Club, member of the Weightlifting Club
Sam Wilson- Vice-President, Junior, Non-Profit Management major, member of the Men's Track and Field team, member of the A Capella Club, member of the EMS Squad
James Barnes- Treasurer, Senior, Biomedical Engineering major, Co-Captain of the Men's Lacrosse team, member of Tau Beta Pi honors society
Matthew Murdock- Secretary, Junior, Pre-Law, Vice-President of the Student Government, member of the Model UN Club, member of the MMA Club
Joaquin Torres- Recruitment, Sophomore, Exercise Science major, member of the Men's Tennis Team, member of the Improv Comedy Club
Frank Castle- Philanthropy, Senior, Business major, Captain of the Football team, member of the Beta Gamma Sigma honors society, Captain of the EMS Squad
Logan Howlett- Brotherhood, Junior, Civil Engineering Major, member of the Football team, member of the Weightlifting Club
Wade Wilson- New Member Education, Junior, Film Major, President of the Stand-Up Comedy Club, member of the Badminton Club, member of the MMA Club, member of the Film Club
Sweetheart!Reader- Sophomore, English Major, Co-editor of the newspaper, Secretary of the Environmental Action Club, English Honors Society, Treasurer of the Feminism Collective, member of the Film Club
Side Characters p1
Side Characters p2
Storyline:
The Interview
Chapter Meeting
The Party
The Hangover
The Plan
Non-Canon drabbles/headcanons:
Getting back with your ex (Steve, Bucky, Joaquin)
Supply Closet (Logan)
First Orgasm (Joaquin and Sam)
Getting hit on (Steve, Bucky, Frank)
Bisexual Awakening (Wade)
Wrestling (Matt)
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highfantasy-soul · 4 days ago
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Let's talk about Heather and willful ignorance
Fisk has been in the public eye of NYC for at least 10 years at this point.
He has been very publicly prosecuted twice by none other than Matthew Murdock and his now-deceased best friend and law partner Foggy Nelson where Fisk was found guilty and punished.
Even if you missed Fisk's criminal behavior (buying the FBI and police on SEPARATE occasions), all that 100% came out and was drug through the public eye again when he ran for mayor.
Heather HAS to know about Fisk and what Matthew - HER BOYFRIEND - thinks about him/his history with the man. So does she not care, or is she still feigning ignorance?
When she agreed to take him and Vanessa as clients, it's normal for therapists of high-profile people to look into them to understand their struggles that are public knowledge, so she SHOULD have done her due diligence on their past so she could actually help them in the present - did she or did she not do this?
Then, she's concerned that Vanessa is in a dangerous situation with Fisk - due to her own observations of Fisk's behavior. Why is she now annoyed Matt isn't comfortable with Fisk??
ADD TO THAT Fisk's man showed up at MATT'S apartment - a location Heather, we assume, has not given to Fisk as to where she stays - and she's not concerned about this?? Knowing Matt's history with the man, her own misgivings about Fisk's violent nature, AND the task force that she HAS to know has been coming under a lot of scrutiny and litigation from the ACLU??
Either she's being willfully ignorant, she thinks nothing can harm her and 'well, I don't like his past, but vigilantes are an issue, so I'll let everything slide', OR she knows exactly what's going on and she's choosing to act maliciously in the series.
The GALL to be upset at Matt not liking that her client is the man who made his life hell and now is THREATENING them by showing he knows EXACTLY where she is without her telling him pushes the bounds of belief.....if we weren't living in a President Trump America.
Unfortunately, Heather's actions aren't 'unrealistic'. They're very, very real and apparent to all Americans who have been paying attention.
Willful ignorance and claiming 'I'm still a good person' while stepping aside to let people like Fisk and Trump run roughshod over everyone else in their pursuit of more power - that's a very real and very insidious viewpoint a LOT of Americans hold.
Heather is depressingly realistic and Matt needs to get out of that relationship FAST.
You do not have to baby people who choose to be willfully ignorant and refuse to stand against harm - ESPECIALLY if the person/group has DIRECTLY harmed you, THEIR PARTNER!!!!!
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This isn't even getting into how Heather handled Pointdexter's request to meet with Matt (being hired and groomed by Fisk in the past - and the person who KILLED Foggy), or her vocal views on Daredevil, knowing his involvement at Foggy's death as he tried to SAVE people from the person who murdered Foggy - MATTHEW, HER BOYFRIEND'S, BEST FRIEND!!!!!!
Either this is really bad writing on Heather's character, or it is depressingly accurate to how a LOT of people are.
Either way, I wouldn't mind seeing a bullet through her skull
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sesamestreep · 9 days ago
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said i'm a good man in a storm
(read on ao3)
(read the whole series here)
SUMMARY: The White House brings Matt in to help with polling after the State of the Union address. Foggy suffers as only Christ before him has. [AKA - more of the Daredevil/West Wing AU] A/N: full tags and warnings via the AO3 link but this one's a pretty chill time for once.
“When am I going to have numbers, Murdock?”
Matt’s head pops up from behind a computer monitor, where he was presumably talking to one of the callers about something that Foggy prays was important enough to warrant distracting them from their goal. “What did I tell you last time?” he calls back across the room.
“15 minutes,” Foggy shouts.
“How long ago was that?”
Foggy checks his watch. “Ten minutes or so.”
“So…five minutes,” Matt says, with an innocent grin that says he’s shocked Foggy can’t do the math himself.
“You’re sure it won’t be sooner?”
“I’m certain it won’t be sooner, but if you keep bugging me, it will sure as hell be later than that,” Matt replies breezily, and goes back to his conversation.
Before Foggy can make what he’s sure will end up being an equally clever retort, he feels a hand on his elbow. Turning, he finds Karen glaring at him, which is just great. Apparently he’s on everyone’s nerves tonight.
“What?” he snaps.
Karen’s glare intensifies. “Try that again.”
Foggy sighs, and then tries to relax and unclench every muscle in his body. “What do you need, Karen?” he asks, more gently this time.
“I need a cup of coffee,” she says, “by which I mean, you need a cup of coffee, or a doughnut, or a handful of Twizzlers from the kitchen. Anything that will keep your mouth occupied so you don’t bother Matt to death before we’re done with polling!”
“I don’t need any of that stuff,” Foggy grumbles. “I need numbers!”
Karen winces, which must mean he shouted that last part. He can’t honestly tell anymore, because he’s been running on fumes all week, but especially tonight, now that the President has given the State of the Union address and, in Foggy’s completely biased opinion, it was a remarkable tour de force of statecraft that left him buzzing with adrenaline. He just needs numbers that tell him other people in the country feel the same way, which is why he’s stuck at a downtown office listening to several dozen people make phone calls and wearing holes into the linoleum in his anxiety. The person standing between him and those numbers is none other than Matt Murdock.
When Jeri had talked about hiring a pollster to do some targeted polling after the State of the Union, Foggy had suggested Matt without hesitation. He’d done polling and strategy for a lot of campaigns around the country now, and everyone who worked with him recommended him. Honestly, Foggy might have tried too hard to sell him as a logical choice for the job, because Jeri had just given him a shrewd and unimpressed look and told him to put Matt into contact with the communications team to set it up. In his defense, Foggy was only worried about the whole thing reeking of favoritism on his part, though Karen is the only one who’s aware of his tragic, unrequited crush on Matt. Well, at least, he hopes she’s the only one. Marci, of course, knows him frighteningly well and Jeri is one of the most brilliant political minds in the country, so there’s every chance both of them are aware of it and just waiting for the right moment to use it against him. He’s pretty sure Ben doesn’t know, at least, but Ben is aware of Foggy’s general haplessness, so it’s possible he has his suspicions too. Matt goes a long way in allaying these suspicions by being so blissfully heterosexual and thus clueless about his effect on Foggy and also unerringly competent at his job, which makes any potential claims of favoritism seem unjustifiable.
He is, however, ruining his professional reputation right now by resolutely refusing to give Foggy the information he needs. And the fact that he doesn’t have that information to give in the first place is not an excuse. If Matt was really good at his job, he’d develop temporary psychic abilities and be able to predict the polling numbers, and also influence them to be exactly what Foggy wants to hear. But he hasn’t, presumably because he hates Foggy specifically and American democracy in general. The asshole.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re insufferable to work with?” Matt asks brightly, appearing at Foggy’s elbow without warning and making him jump clear out of his skin.
“I’m insufferable at home too,” Foggy quips when he recovers.
“Well, normally I’d demand to ask your significant other for confirmation, but I happen to know you’re single, so…”
“This is a lot of tough talk for someone who doesn’t have any polling numbers to speak of!”
“I have numbers,” Matt replies, offended. “They won’t tell you anything yet, though, so they’re not particularly useful.”
“I’d like to be the judge of that,” Foggy says, petulantly.
“I’m sure you would,” Matt says with another of his insufferable little smiles. “But unfortunately, I’m the expert here.”
Foggy sighs theatrically. “I hate this!”
“I know. You’re used to being the smartest person in the room.”
“Oh, it’s so cute that you think that’s an actual problem I have in this business,” Foggy laughs. “I meant the waiting. I hate waiting.”
“Patience is a virtue,” Matt says, sincerely.
“Next you’re going to tell me to do five Hail Mary’s.”
Matt shrugs. “Hey, it couldn’t hurt.”
“This is the political strategy and insight they pay you the big bucks for?” Foggy asks, unimpressed.
“Well, have you tried praying on it?”
“This is America, Matthew. Of course we’ve tried it! If thoughts and prayers could get it done, it’d be done already!”
“Maybe it is,” Matt says, walking away from him without turning his back. He shouldn’t be able to do cool moves like that gracefully, but he somehow does. It’s one of many things Foggy finds infuriating about him. “We’ll know in five minutes, won’t we?”
“You said five minutes three minutes ago!” Foggy calls after him, offended.
“This time I mean it,” Matt replies, over his shoulder, as he goes to check in with his assistant, an efficient grad student-type who Foggy has not seen sit or stand still for a single second since they started working together. Foggy has spent the few days Matt and his team have been in town trying to figure out if Matt’s also sleeping with her, or if they’re strictly colleagues, with no conclusive evidence on either side and it’s definitely not making him crazy at all. Not with all the other stuff taking precedence to make him crazy.
“Motherfucker,” Foggy mutters under his breath, to and about no one and nothing in particular.
Next to him, Karen shakes her head. “I like having Matt in town,” she says, mildly. “It saves me money on theater tickets.”
Foggy looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “You go to the theater often, do you?” he asks, dubious.
She glares at him again. “I’m saying, I don’t have to. Not with that kind of Noel Coward-esque wit on display two feet in front of me.”
“You’ve never seen a Noel Coward play in your life!”
“Maybe I would, if you didn’t make me work late all the time,” Karen replies, airily.
“Have I fired you yet today?” Foggy asks, rubbing his face with his hands.
“Only three times so far.”
“That’s nowhere near my record.”
“I know,” Karen tuts, unimpressed. “Should we go get you a snack?”
“But Matt said—!”
“He’s a smart boy! I trust him to find us when he has something.”
“Fine! I guess I’m overruled.”
“Yes, you are,” she says, sunnily, as she loops her arm through his and drags him bodily to the kitchen. When she deposits him at the cheap rickety plastic table set up for a break area (not that anyone has dared to take a break under Foggy’s watchful eye so far) and starts the process of boiling water for tea (because she’d never let him drink actual caffeine this late), she keeps their conversations going by asking, “So what are we polling people for?”
Foggy gives her a baleful look. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, I mean, I know we’re polling to see how the State of the Union address went over. I get that part. But lots of people poll for that. All the major news networks, the big papers, our party, the other guys' party. We can’t just use their polling data when it’s complete?”
“Well, I have a vested interest in Matt being able to pay his rent, so I figured I’d throw some work his way.”
“I’m serious,” Karen says, as she settles in across from him at the table. “Impart to me your political wisdom and acumen! Teach me, Svengali.”
Foggy sighs mostly to disguise his laughter. “We’re asking different questions than other polls are, is the short answer.”
“Like what?”
“There are certain topics and planned initiatives and legislation that get brought up during the State of the Union, as a sort of weather balloon, and now we need to gauge the reaction to those ideas from potential voters, to help guide our strategy going forward.”
“So, it’s about re-election?” Karen asks, eyebrows raised.
“What else?” Foggy laughs.
“I didn’t know we were running for re-election yet.”
“Well, that’s the several million dollar question, isn’t it?” he replies. “But we’re governing as if we are. Because whether it’s this President or not, we’ll want a Democrat in office, and they’ll find this polling data valuable either way.”
“Seems a little ass backwards to me, all the same,” Karen says as she fidgets with the carton of Twizzlers on the table.
“A statement that can apply to a lot of things we do on a daily basis.”
“I assume we’re not just polling everybody though,” she adds. “It must be targeted, right?”
“What do you think?” Foggy asks, making a big show of perusing his doughnut options from the box on the table.
“Districts in swing states, I imagine, that could reasonably go blue in the next election,” she ventures, slightly uncertain.
“I’m starting to think you’re a ringer. You don’t really need me to teach you anything,” Foggy says, approvingly.
Karen opens her mouth to say something—or, more likely, make fun of him—but she’s interrupted by Matt entering the room.
“Dear God, please tell me you have numbers for me,” Foggy exclaims.
“42,” Matt says, simply.
“42…what?” Foggy asks, urgently. “Percent? Is that the response rate? The number of calls they’ve made so far? The number of respondents who’ve just cursed us out for calling so late? What?!”
“It’s the number of times you’ve asked me for preliminary results since polling started an hour ago,” Matt says, looking mighty pleased with himself. “I promise when I have the numbers you want, you will be able to see it on my face.”
“How?! What would that even look like?!”
“I don’t know. I’m blind. But I trust you’ll know it when you see it.”
“Like pornography,” Karen replies, and Foggy kicks her under the table.
“And with a similar effect on Foggy’s heart rate, no doubt,” Matt replies, smoothly.
“Alright, I’m glad we’re all having a great time at my expense, but you must have come in here for an actual reason,” Foggy interjects, fighting a blush. “Or is that too much to hope?”
“I’m getting some Twizzlers for Amber,” Matt says, grinning. “She snacks when she’s nervous and you’re really stressing her out.”
“Is this Amber talking? Or is it you?”
“You don’t stress me out, Foggy. Your antics amuse me.”
“I’m so glad to hear it, Matt,” Foggy responds snottily. “Good to know I can join the circus if this whole career in politics doesn’t work out.”
“You’d make an excellent clown, it must be said.”
“Yes, but where can I get more pies to the face than good ol’ Washington D.C.?”
“True enough,” Matt admits cheerfully, before clearing his throat. “I actually came in to say—and don’t freak out—we’ve had a bit of a dip in the response rate—”
“What?!”
Matt glares in his direction. “I said, don’t freak out. It’s not a big deal.”
“You came in here specifically to tell me it wasn’t a big deal?!”
“No, I came in here to get Twizzlers. Having this conversation is an unavoidable downside of that errand.”
“Why aren’t you more worried about this?” Foggy demands.
“Because the East Coast is going to bed. It’s a predictable event. We figured there could be a dip at this time and we were right.”
“Matt!”
“Relax, Foggy,” Matt says, rolling his eyes. “There’s three other timezones still awake.”
“How long until—?”
“You have numbers?” Matt finishes for him, brightly. “I’m so glad you asked! Fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen?!”
“Twenty if you really want to try me.”
“I swear to God, Matt, I’ve had so little sleep this week that fighting you is starting to seem like a good plan.”
“Is this what he’s really like to work with?” Matt asks, turning his attention to Karen. “Because I had this idea of him as a charming and open-minded collaborator, and I feel like it’s been entirely shattered by these goblin-esque, numbers-obsessed antics.”
“He’s in rare form tonight,” Karen replies, giving Foggy a canny look. “Probably because you’re here. It’s like letting a kid have too much sugar at a birthday party. They just go nuts.”
“I’m literally right here,” Foggy interrupts, “and I hate both of you.”
“Fifteen minutes and I really mean it,” Matt says, still smiling.
Before Foggy can reply to that with something simultaneously witty and devastating, there’s a noise like a TV set turning off, staticky and warm, before all the lights and the appliances go off at once. There’s a moment of eerie silence—the kind that always follows the electricity going out and the hum of it being noticeably and shockingly absent—and then everyone in the next room starts murmuring in concern.
“Did…did the power just go out?” Matt asks, listening intently.
“Yep,” Foggy mutters into his hands, which are now covering his face.
“Okay, so probably a little longer than fifteen minutes,” Matt replies, easily, like this happens all the time.
“Maybe I should join the circus,” Foggy says, to no one in particular. “Because God is obviously a Republican and He fucking hates me!”
“I’ll get on the phone with the power company,” Karen says, quietly pulling out her cell phone and slipping out of the room.
“I’m going to go check in with Amber,” Matt says, hesitantly. After a split second of consideration, he puts a hand on Foggy’s shoulder. “God doesn’t hate you, Foggy. He just has a really, really dark sense of humor.”
Foggy looks up at Matt through his fingers. “Was that a pun?” he asks, miserably.
“Not an intentional one.”
Foggy buries his face in his hands once more but he can’t stop himself from laughing. “We’re so fucked!”
“We’ll be fine,” Matt replies, patting Foggy’s shoulder again. “Don’t panic.”
“Right,” Foggy says, slumping back into his seat rather than do what he wants, which is to take Matt’s hand on his shoulder into his own and squeeze it like it’s one of those rubber stress toys. “You’re right.”
“I know I am. I gotta go talk to everybody, okay?”
“Sure.”
“You’ll be alright on your own?”
“I’m not bleeding out, Matt. Go do your job. I’m fine.”
Matt doesn’t look convinced, but he nods and heads off anyway. Right after he disappears through the doorway, Karen returns, with her flip phone pressed to her ear, looking harried.
“Is that the power company?” Foggy asks, urgently.
“Yes.”
“What do they say? When are we getting power back?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to a person yet,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But Jeri called me first.”
“How did she hear about the outage so fast?”
“She didn’t. She needs you back at the West Wing as soon as possible.”
“Is something wrong?”
“She didn’t say, but she and the President are calling a meeting with all of senior staff, so…”
“Something’s wrong,” Foggy supplies. He checks his watch, and swears quietly to himself. “Alright, I’ll head back there now.”
“Do you want me to come with? Or stay here and keep you posted?”
“You’d better stay. I trust you to ride herd on everybody once the power is back up. And on the electric company, if it isn’t.”
“Okay,” Karen nods solemnly. “I have my phone if you need me, obviously.”
“Good. I’ll check in.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” she says, wryly, and Foggy mimes puckering up to give her a big kiss, making her wrinkle her nose in distaste.
“Don’t miss me too much,” he says as he heads out, and realizes belatedly that she’s genuinely made him smile for the first time in hours.
*
“Foggy, do you have a minute?” Ben asks, just as senior staff is beginning to make their way out of the Oval Office. The meeting Jeri called turned out to be apprising them all of a hostage situation in Colombia that the President and the Joint Chiefs are currently monitoring, and which no one on staff seems to be able to agree what constitutes a good solution. Foggy’s strong suit has always been domestic policy, not foreign, but they need everyone’s best ideas tonight, it seems. If only anyone had some left after the State of the Union.
Foggy checks his watch, even though it makes him feel like an asshole. “Yes, but just one,” he says, apologetically. “I need to get back to the call center at National Strategies and see what the situation is there.”
“I heard about the power outage,” Ben replies, with a sympathetic look. “That’s tough luck.”
“It’s going around tonight,” Foggy says.
“Hard to believe we were worried about the State of the Union only a few hours ago, huh?”
“Speak for yourself. Until I have those polling numbers, I’m still worried.”
Ben laughs. “Fair enough. My part’s over, at least.”
“It was a hell of a speech, Ben,” Foggy says. “You and Marci should be proud of yourselves. You should have gotten to rest on your laurels for more than twenty minutes over it, too, but that’s how it goes sometimes, I guess.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Ben says, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning in the doorway of his office that they’ve just reached. “Listen, I don’t want to hold you up too much and I know it’s not the best time, but I wanted to ask about Matt.”
Foggy’s heart suddenly hammers in his chest, worse than when he heard about the hostage crisis or when he sat through the State of the Union earlier tonight. There’s something wrong with him, clearly, but he didn’t anticipate Ben of all people bringing this up.
“What about him?” he asks, fairly evenly despite the circumstances.
“How’s he doing?”
“Uh…he seems well enough to me. Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, I’m just asking how he’s handling the pressure,” Ben says, giving him a questioning look. “It’s a larger scale project than he’s done before and at a much higher level, reporting to the White House.”
“Oh, right,” Foggy responds, relieved. “I mean, he’s doing really well. Between my constant badgering and the power outage, nothing has seemed to phase him whatsoever. He’s confident. Steady. Uh…is that…what you were looking for?”
“More or less,” Ben says, still wary. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No! Of course not. Why?”
“You just seem fairly stressed at being asked to give a performance review for this consultant after you recommended him in the first place, and that seems…odd.”
Foggy runs a hand over his face. “No, no. It’s not that. I’m just worried about the power being out and the effect on the poll. I—don’t want to praise or criticize his work before it’s complete, is all. It doesn’t feel fair.”
“I hear you,” Ben says, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “But just based on what you’ve seen so far, he’s doing well?”
“Yeah,” Foggy nods. “Matt’s a complete pro. There’s a reason everybody wants to work with him.”
“That’s kind of why I was asking,” Ben replies, looking around conspiratorially. “Just between us, we’ve started talking to potential campaign managers, for the re-election bid.”
“Are we running for re-election?” Foggy asks, keeping his voice low. “Because there’s been some confusion around that.”
“We’re keeping our options open at the moment, but I think we will. And we need to start having those conversations now, even if we’re not totally ready to pull the trigger, so to speak.”
Foggy winces at the metaphor, but nods anyway. “Sure. But what does that have to do with Matt?”
“Nearly every campaign manager we’ve spoken to so far wants to bring in someone to do polling and strategy, and it’d be a huge help for us in Communications too,” Ben says. “Your boy’s name has come up more than once as the guy to hire.”
Foggy ignores that reference to Matt being ‘his boy’, because either Ben is joking, in which case his overreacting to it will only make him look bad, or Ben is trying to gauge his reaction, which means he really can’t afford to respond to it with anything more than a shrug. But it does take an embarrassing amount of effort to rein himself in.
“Yeah,” Foggy replies, nonchalant. “He’s in demand for a reason.”
“So, you think it’s a good idea? Bringing him on full time?”
Foggy has to really consider this, unfortunately. On a purely intellectual level, it’s a no-brainer. These potential campaign managers are right that they’ll need someone to do more polling on this scale regularly, and they’re right that Matt’s the guy to hire. There are other people, obviously, who could do what he does, but they already know him and trust him. It’s not just Foggy who thinks he’s great, after all.
Then again, Foggy does think he’s great. Maybe too great. And if Matt gets hired for the re-election campaign, that’s almost two years of having to work with him every day, worried about other people catching on to his stupid crush. Or worse, Matt catching on to it. Foggy will have to be on his guard at all times, and being in that kind of close contact with Matt every day, his crush will only get worse. It seems like the sort of thing that can only end in embarrassment and rejection for Foggy.
But all of that is a stupid reason to stand in the way of what’s ultimately a huge opportunity for Matt. Whatever Foggy’s hang ups might be, part of having feelings for Matt is wanting the best for him, and this job would be a huge step up in his career. And Matt’s ambitious—it’s one of many things Foggy admires about him—so he’ll definitely see the value in working with them and he’ll likely seize the chance. Foggy would have to be a monster to stand in the way of that.
“I think it’s a smart move,” he tells Ben sincerely.
“Alright,” Ben says, with a nod. “We’ll have to see how he does with this project first, but I agree. I think he’s the guy for the job.”
“Right.”
“You’ll let me know if your assessment changes over the next few days?”
Foggy knows it won’t, but he nods anyway. “Absolutely.”
“Thanks, Foggy. Oh, and keep this under your hat for now? I don’t want to approach Matt with it until it’s a done deal on our end.”
“Sure,” Foggy says. “Our secret.”
“Appreciate it,” Ben replies, pushing off the door frame. “I won’t keep you any longer. Good luck with the power company.”
“We’ll need it,” Foggy calls back, already turning towards his office so he can grab his coat and head out.
*
When Foggy finally gets back to National Strategies—after a cab ride from hell in the sudden downpour of freezing rain, because this night needs more exciting variables than it already has—he almost collides with Karen, who’s ducking out onto the street and fussing with an umbrella at the same time.
“Ah, Jesus, Foggy,” she yelps, and steps back, swinging the umbrella away from him, “I didn’t see you there.”
Foggy is distracted by how narrowly Karen has avoided stepping in a hideously slushy puddle with her suede heels and takes a second to refocus on the fact that she’s speaking to him. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I am,” she laughs, nervously. “I could have killed you.”
“I wish I could say with confidence that I’m tough enough to withstand an umbrella attack from you, but I know that’s not true,” Foggy jokes. “I think you’re resourceful enough to kill me with almost anything.”
“Well, you’re lucky I love you, then.”
Something about the way she says it—looking away at the umbrella like she still might open it, even though they’re completely protected by the building’s awning, and sounding less like she’s teasing him the way she usually would and more like she really means it—draws Foggy up short. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” Karen asks, whipping her head up so quickly to look at him that a silken section of her hair cascades over her shoulder dramatically, giving her the appearance of a wronged woman in a film noir. It nearly looks like she did it on purpose. She tucks the flamboyant lock of hair behind her ear nervously a second later.
“You never tell me you love me earnestly,” Foggy says. “It’s always a set up to telling me I’m an idiot or that I’ve got mustard on my tie or that I’d die without you.”
Karen smiles bleakly. “All of which are true.”
“Goddammit,” Foggy exclaims, grabbing at his tie. “I haven’t even had any mustard today!”
Karen reaches out and takes his hand. “I was kidding.”
Foggy holds her hand right back, even more tightly. “So, what is it? What’s the matter? Is it the power company?”
“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “They said we’d have power back in 30 minutes and that was twenty minutes ago, but also before this rain started.”
“So, it could be longer.”
“Yeah.”
“What is it, then?” Foggy asks. “What’s with the face?”
“I’m going to get pizza for everybody,” Karen says, gesturing back towards the building. “The outage is from a blown transformer, so it’s only a few square blocks that are affected. I found a pizza place that’s not too far and they still have power, so I’m headed there now.”
“Okay…well, I know that’s not why you look so glum. Pizza has never, in the history of the world, made anyone less happy. And you could have sprang for delivery if you didn’t want to walk, you know I’m not that cheap, so…”
Karen sighs, tucking her hands under her arms and stamping her feet for warmth. “Will you walk with me?”
Foggy would normally bitch and moan and make her convince him, because that’s who they are, but Karen seems off right now and he’s a lot more interested in making her feel better and figuring out if he needs to break anyone’s kneecaps in defense of her honor (not that he’s the guy to go to for that second thing, because he’s a lover not a fighter, generally speaking, but if there was really no one else for the job, he could do it and he would do it for Karen and maybe no one else on earth) than he is in keeping up their usual banter.
So, he says, “Of course,” and holds out his arm for her to loop hers through. He also gently pries the umbrella from her hands and gallantly opens it for her. In these particular shoes, Karen is still slightly shorter than him, so it’s more convenient for him to hold the umbrella anyway. She ducks under its protection gratefully and they start walking in the direction she drags him.
“My condition for walking in the freezing rain was that you’d tell me what’s going on, you know,” Foggy says after a block or so.
Karen heaves an enormous sigh, like he’s really taxing her limitless stores of patience by caring about her feelings, but she squeezes in closer to his side under the umbrella too, so she must not be that put out. “It’s stupid,” she says, ultimately, which tells him exactly nothing.
“Well, that doesn’t narrow it down at all. Everything you deal with on a daily basis is some shade of stupid or another.”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me,” she replies, in a small voice, sounding very much unlike herself. Karen doesn’t really cower or back down from anything. She’s confident and direct almost to a fault. So, when she makes herself small like that, Foggy knows to really worry.
“Jesus, you’re making me nervous,” he exclaims, grabbing her hand where it still rests on his arm, “I won’t be mad! I promise. Just…out with it, please.”
Karen still looks nervous, but after a second, she says, “While you were off at the senior staff meeting, the rest of us were just sitting around, waiting for the power to come back on, so I was talking to Matt and Amber, trying to, you know, pass the time and get to know them better…”
“Right,” Foggy nods, still not clear on the source of her distress. “That’s not a fireable offense, you know. I didn’t expect you to fix the transformer yourself.”
“No, I know. I just…I may have been trying to figure out if there’s anything going on between them.”
“Between Matt and his assistant?”
“Yeah. I mean, you said that you thought—”
“Oh, God, I was joking,” Foggy laughs. “I mean, not that it doesn’t happen, of course. And, to be honest, I think better of Matt than that, but it also wouldn’t be the worst thing I could learn about him if he did, occasionally—”
“They’re not hooking up,” Karen interrupts, with a pitying look.
“Thank God,” Foggy replies, squeezing her arm. “I really wasn’t doing a good job acting cool about that, was I?”
“I thought you were going to pull something, honestly.”
“Me too.”
“Amber worked with him on the Bryant campaign—she was Bryant’s personal aide, in fact—and now she goes to grad school at Georgetown,” Karen supplies, back in familiar territory. “He said he didn’t know anyone else in town who’d be able to help on such short notice, and he thinks Amber’s great.”
Foggy narrows his eyes at her. “So, he wants to sleep with her, is what you’re saying.”
“I may have more or less implied that…”
“Karen!”
“I wanted intel, Foggy!”
Foggy pauses for another second to drive home how little he approves of her methods before he relents and asks, “And?”
“I said she seemed like a nice girl and very pretty—”
“Good grief! You’re worse than my nana!”
Karen shoots him a warning glare. “And Matt agreed that she was, on both counts, but said he had a policy of not dating people at work, especially subordinates after a, and I’m quoting here, ‘messy experience’.”
“Well, that’s smart,” Foggy says, now thinking about what Ben just told him about Matt potentially working for the campaign and ignoring the stab of disappointment in his chest. Not that Matt would date him anyway, but…well, that’s unfortunately all there is to it, in the end.
“I think so too,” Karen replies, still quiet in that suspicious way that makes him worry.
“None of this sounds that bad to me, you know. I don’t understand why you’re acting like you killed a mockingbird.”
Karen sighs again, and shakes some errant hair out of her face nervously. “It’s just that…this discussion paved the way for him to ask about me and you.”
Foggy nearly misses a step on the slushy sidewalk, but he catches himself in time. “What about me and you?”
“Just how we seem so close and we’re always joking around with each other and we spend so much time together…”
“Yeah…?”
“And how—Matt said this, not me—that must create opportunities for, you know, feelings to develop.”
“That sounds like a very Matt way of putting it, yes.”
“And when I said that we were close, but not like that, he sort of…didn’t believe me.”
“It is hard to believe,” Foggy replies, solemnly, just to watch Karen’s head whip around in disbelief. He tries to keep up the facade for another moment. “I mean, look at me, Karen. I’m gorgeous! It’s a miracle you’ve held back this long.”
“Foggy,” Karen groans, shaking her head.
“I know, okay? I’m just kidding. But who cares if Matt doesn’t believe you? What does his opinion matter?”
“It’s just he was so insistent!” Karen exclaims, gesturing broadly with her free hand. “Like two people couldn’t work as closely as we do and get along like we do and not be in love with each other.”
“We are in love with each other.”
“We are?”
“I mean, maybe not ��in love,’ exactly,” Foggy replies. “But we do love each other. We’re like family now.”
“So you see me as a sister?”
“God, no! You’re…you’re my best friend, except that I pay you, which does make it kind of weird. And you’re my right hand man, except that you’re a woman. And you’re just…you’re Karen! I don’t know! You defy easy categorization!”
Karen looks up thoughtfully, like she’s pondering the stars, except they can’t see them now anyway with all the clouds. “Maybe this speaks to how co-dependent and weird our bond is these days, but honestly? That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“You need better friends,” Foggy jokes, but squeezes her hand on his arm.
Karen shakes her head at him. “Matt seems to think attraction, at the very least, is inevitable, in a situation like ours.”
“Well, maybe that says more about Matt than it does about us.”
“You think?”
“I—” Foggy hesitates, but Karen does seem actually upset by this, and honesty feels like the only real solution to that. “You know I think you’re beautiful. I hope that’s okay to—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable here.”
Karen offers him a small smile. “I appreciate that, but I know you and I trust you. It’s fine.”
“So, then, to Matt’s point, I am attracted to you. You’re beautiful and smart and good at what you do and kind. These are all things that make me attracted to people normally, and you’re no exception.”
“Okay…”
“But I think, I don’t know—I think sometimes you just miss the window and things never escalate beyond a sort of objective attraction. Does that make sense?”
“I think so, yes. You’re saying we’re past the point where that could happen between us?”
“Yeah. It’s like—you notice the spark and you either nurture it and build it into a real flame or you let it smolder until it eventually goes out. And we didn’t do that. We were doing other things with our lives.”
“Like, winning a presidential election…”
“For example,” Foggy says, smiling. “I mean, that’s how I see it, at least. How do you feel?”
“Me?” Karen asks, bewildered. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re not in love with me, right? I didn’t somehow miss that?”
“Well, as you said, you are gorgeous.”
“I know,” Foggy sighs, dramatically.
“You’re right,” she says, thoughtfully. “I mean, I do love you. You’re maybe the most important person in my life—”
“We really gotta do something about that,” Foggy interjects, shaking his head sadly.
“You could let me leave the office before midnight more often,” Karen suggests.
“Alright, let’s not go crazy.”
Karen laughs, which is a good sound after all that worrying. “I just mean that when you hired me as your assistant—”
“I don’t recall having much choice in the matter, as a point of fact.”
“When you hired me,” Karen continues, “you gave me this life and I love it and I appreciate it.”
“Well, good.”
“But I’m not in love with you,” Karen admits, quietly. “Not in this universe, at least.”
Foggy knew that already, but hearing it out loud still feels bittersweet. It’s not often people feel compelled to tell you they don’t love you, after all. He’ll have to thank Matt for this dubious honor when they get back.
“So, you’re saying I still have a chance in another universe?” he jokes, instead.
“Oh, for sure,” Karen smiles. “In another universe, we’re probably, like, stupid in love with each other!”
“Probably in a couple of universes,” Foggy agrees, enjoying the warmth of her smile.
She rubs his arm like she’s trying to warm him up. “Loads of them, I imagine.”
“That was all then? Matt gave you an existential crisis because he couldn’t figure out why we weren’t dating.”
Karen’s smile dims again and she looks away. “No, that’s not it.”
“Well, then? Do I need to challenge him to a duel, or what?”
“I just might have gone too hard in denying you and I had something going on…”
“So, he doesn’t believe you?”
“No, I just—I think I did convince him eventually because he kind of…asked me out?”
“Is that a question?” Foggy asks. He’s impressed that he doesn’t trip over his own feet or sputter at her or otherwise physically embarrass himself, because it felt like he might. It felt like being smacked over the head with a mallet—or, so he imagines.
Karen winces, which means his even tone and physical calm did not fool her one bit. “He said, if I’m really not seeing anyone, we should grab a drink before he heads back to New York.”
“So, he definitely asked you out?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“What did you say?”
“That I’d have to check my calendar.”
Foggy can’t help it; he cackles at that. “Karen!”
“I know,” she says, putting a hand over her face in humiliation. “I was caught off guard, okay?!”
“I’m sure you said it in a cool way,” Foggy reassures her, “like a heroine in an old screwball comedy from the 30s. Transatlantic accent and all.”
“That’s true. I always respond to romantic overtures with my Katherine Hepburn impression.”
“I know.”
“You’re really not mad?” Karen asks, looking at him sideways.
“No. Of course not!”
“Really?”
“Matt’s not mine to feel possessive over, Karen,” Foggy says, as gently as he can manage. “I get where you’re coming from, really, and it does you credit that you care about my feelings to that extent, but I’d have to be delusional to be upset with you over this.”
“It’d be okay if you were,” Karen replies, just as gently. “I know how you feel about Matt.”
Foggy waves a hand to dismiss this. “It’s a schoolgirl crush. It’s nothing serious.”
“I don’t know…”
“I do,” Foggy insists. “Even if he were into guys, which I have no reason to suspect he is, you’ve seen him, what he’s like and how he operates. He could have anybody. I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with him, not in this universe or any other.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Well, you’re very sweet to say so.”
“No, I mean, why would he ask me all those questions about how we could work so closely together and not develop feelings for each other if he wasn’t at least aware of your charms?”
“There’s a big difference between that and him wanting me, though, and you know that.”
“I just mean…yeah, maybe not this universe. But any other? I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“Well, that’s something, at least,” Foggy replies, squeezing her arm again. “Do you think Matt and I are in love in the universe where we’re all squids or something?”
Karen elbows him in the stomach. “You’re a freak, you know that?”
“I’m extremely aware, yes,” he says, as she pulls him to a stop in front of an unassuming storefront with a neon light advertising hot pizza blaring out into the frigid night. It smells like garlic and warm bread and Foggy could kiss her right now for thinking to feed everyone, because he’s suddenly aware that he’s starving. “So, are you going?”
“To get the pizza? Yeah, of course, I just—”
“No, not that,” he says, pulling the door open to the sound of a bell overhead. “I meant, are you going to accept Matt’s invitation?”
“What? No! No way!”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s—and you would—it just wouldn’t be—!”
“Do you like him?” Foggy asks as they step into the restaurant and stamp slush off their shoes.
“You know I think Matt’s great,” Karen answers, frowning at him as he tries to collapse the umbrella.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“He’s your crush!”
“Yes, but I already said—”
“I know what you said but that doesn’t change anything for me.”
“You’re too loyal for your own good,” Foggy says, shaking his head at her. “But despite what I’ve got doodled in all the margins of my notebooks, I’m not Mrs. Matt Murdock. I have no claim on him.”
“Too bad,” Karen replies, stubbornly. “I’m giving you dibs.”
“Karen,” Foggy sighs, “if you really like him, you should—”
“And if I really, really liked him that way, I would,” she interjects, nonplussed. She even shrugs. “But I don’t. Not like that. He’s handsome, sure, and charming.”
“And he’s got a good job and he cares about the same issues you do. Why would you ever want to date someone like that?”
“He also lives in New York and travels for work constantly. We’d basically never see each other. And I’m not looking for something as casual as what Matt and I could manage. I could do that with someone you don’t have feelings for just as easily and I’ll sleep much better at night besides.”
Foggy hesitates again, but his conscience won’t let him lie, not even by omission. Karen gets his best, no exceptions. “And what if that wasn’t an obstacle anymore?” he asks, carefully. “Would that change anything for you?”
“What do you mean?” Karen asks, as they approach the counter. Once there, she’s distracted by a stoned-looking teenager who asks for the name on her order. After they disappear to retrieve it from the kitchen for her, Karen returns her attention to Foggy and raises an eyebrow at him, telling him she’s still waiting for an answer.
“What if Matt was going to live here?” Foggy asks, his throat feeling tight. “What if he worked here?”
Karen looks at him for a long moment, searchingly. “You mean…?”
“It’s not official yet, so if anyone asks, you know nothing,” Foggy says, even though he knows he can trust her without qualification. “But Ben wants to hire Matt to work on the campaign, assuming this trial period goes well.”
“The re-election campaign?”
“The very one.”
“So, he’d be here, and on the road with us?”
“Yes.”
“For the next…two years?” Karen clarifies, after doing the math in her head.
“Yes,” Foggy replies. “I’m asking, does that change anything?”
Karen looks like she’s still processing, but her eyes meet his at that question and her gaze hardens and her shoulders go back. “No,” she says, firmly.
“Karen…”
“It doesn’t change anything for me, Foggy. I mean it.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am,” she nods. “Besides, if that does happen, Matt and I would be colleagues and he wouldn’t want to be involved with me anyway, per his own rule.”
“I have a hunch that’s more of a flexible guideline for Matt than a hard and fast rule,” Foggy says, leaning his weight against the counter. “He might make an exception for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” Karen asks, confused.
“Someone as great as you,” Foggy explains.
Karen’s eyes soften and she tips her head to the side, considering him. Before Foggy can ask what she’s thinking, she surges forward and pulls him into a hug. Foggy’s a little taken aback at first but once he recovers, he hugs back, letting his arms squeeze around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she says, still holding him.
“For what?”
“This is going to be tough for you, I think.”
“Oh,” Foggy says, deflating a little. He feels small and pitiful in a way he doesn’t usually allow himself to feel and, while he’s safe with Karen, it still doesn’t feel nice. “I’ll live.”
Karen pulls back to consider him. “I know, but…”
“It’ll probably help,” Foggy lies, blithely, forcing a smile. “If absence makes the heart grow fonder, then constant presence probably makes the heart cold and indifferent. Right?”
“Right,” Karen replies, gamely but with obvious uncertainty. “You’ll probably figure out that you hate the way he chews and that he’s a bad tipper and, um…”
“Thinks the Earth is flat,” Foggy finishes for her.
“Exactly! Things that will only come up with routine, daily contact!”
“For two years,” Foggy says, bleakly.
“He might say no!” Karen offers, changing tack.
“He won’t, though.”
Karen shakes her head, sadly. “No, but it never hurts to hope, right?”
Foggy pats her shoulders and steps out of her arms. “I have a lot of anecdotal evidence to the contrary, unfortunately.”
Karen regards him sadly and puts a hand lightly on his sleeve. “I really am sorry.”
“No need,” he replies, gently removing her hand. “This is how it goes sometimes.”
“Still.”
“It’s not like we’re soulmates or something, Karen. He’s just a guy I know!”
Karen looks at him with even more pity now, which he wasn’t aware was possible a second ago. “Still,” she says, quietly.
“Yeah,” Foggy says, softly. “Thanks.”
“If I can be a complete traitor for one second,” Karen adds, leaning her hip against the counter, “I am glad to hear Ben wants to bring him on.”
“So am I, aside from all the personal reservations,” Foggy replies, “and those are largely stupid, anyway.”
“I get where you’re coming from, though.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I should stand in the way of Matt’s career. If I’m really his friend, I should be happy for him!”
“And aren’t you?”
Foggy pauses to consider and finds, somewhere deep in his heart, past the surface level disappointment and worry, there is a vein of excitement and genuine pleasure at the idea of Matt moving up in the world and getting something that Foggy knows he wants. “Yes,” he says, fiddling with the buttons on his coat.
“Really?”
“Yes. Completely. It’s—he deserves it! He works hard and he’s great at what he does! I want every success imaginable for him!”
Karen nods, as if she’s proven something just now. “Well, there you go!”
“There I go…what?”
“There’s your proof that you’re really Matt’s friend and you’re a good person and you’re not selfish, or whatever else it is you’re worried about.”
“I was—” Foggy stops and shakes his head. “Thank you, Karen.”
“No problem.”
“I’m going to grab us a cab, because I’m not walking all the way back in this weather, not with you in those heels and us both having to smell pizza the whole time.”
“Good idea,” Karen replies. “I’ll meet you outside when I’ve got everything.”
It takes both of them and the teenager behind the counter (not to mention the extreme patience of the cab driver who probably could have picked up a more convenient fare anywhere in this weather) to get everything from their order into the cab, which means that both the teenager and the driver get considerable tips. They get back to the National Strategies office in one piece and in relatively short order, though, and Foggy and Karen are working to distribute pizza boxes evenly between them without impairing their field of vision when Amber appears in order to help them.
“If you just grab the door, that’ll help a lot, I think,” Foggy says, as she reaches to take some of the boxes from him.
“Well, I just thought,” she starts, and then shakes her head. “Matt wants to talk to you, when you have a second, so I thought I’d free you up to go see him.”
Foggy exchanges a look with Karen, before handing a bag to Amber. “This will only take a minute. I’m sure he’ll manage.”
“Okay,” Amber replies, uncertainly, but she goes to prop the door open with her hip. Once Karen and Foggy are past her and through the door, she lets it close behind her, and adds, “I cleaned off a table up front so there’d be room for the food.”
“Good thinking,” Karen says, with a nod.
“Well, we haven’t had much else to do with the power out,” she says, tucking a curly strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s back now, though,” Karen notes, approvingly.
“Yeah, just,” Amber says, sounding tired. “That’s why Matt needs to talk to you, Mr. Nelson.”
“Oh, God,” Foggy says, as he deposits the pizza boxes on the empty table. “Amber, please! Don’t make me make the ‘Mr. Nelson is my father’ joke with you!”
Amber frowns at him, clearly puzzled. “The what?”
Foggy sticks his hand out to her, like he’s introducing himself. “Mr. Nelson’s my father, call me Foggy.”
Amber throws a desperate look at Karen before taking his hand and shaking it dubiously. “Right. Foggy.”
“Unless you’d rather make me feel old and out of touch?”
She finally cracks a smile at that. “No. Sorry.”
“Good,” he says, taking his hand back and turning his attention to Karen as she begins arranging the pizza boxes on the table with ruthless efficiency according to some system only she’s privy to. “Uh, what else can I do to help?”
“Go talk to Matt,” Karen replies, without even looking over her shoulder at him. “We’re good here.”
“Are you sure? I can—”
She does turn towards him then, but only to shoot him a less-than-impressed look. “Are you implying that between myself and Amber we can’t figure out how to open a few pizza boxes?”
Foggy looks over at Amber, who’s wearing a reluctantly amused expression that she turns on him a second later. Foggy mimes loosening his collar to really solidify himself as a weird old man in Amber’s mind, corny sitcom sight gags and all, and then holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright. You got me there. I’ll go bug Matt.”
“He’s in the back office,” Amber puts in helpfully, as she goes to arrange some paper plates and napkins on the table alongside the food.
“Thank you,” Foggy replies, and heads in that direction. Once he gets to the office, separated from the open bullpen area the callers have been working from by a partially windowed wall, he knocks on the doorframe to announce himself.
“Yeah?” Matt calls back, barely pivoting his attention from whatever it is he’s doing—which, as near as Foggy can tell, mostly involves sitting in the dark. Clearly, no one told him the power had come back on. Then again, what should Matt care about the lights being on or off?
“It’s Foggy. Amber said you wanted me.”
“Desperately,” Matt says, cracking a smile.
“She said you wanted to speak to me, you menace,” Foggy replies, rolling his eyes even as his face heats. Something about the conversation he just had with Karen has sapped the fun out of flirting with Matt. He’s never really had any hope anything would come from it, of course; he’s not that delusional. But now it’s like he has the feeling of participating in a joke at his own expense and it doesn’t feel good at all.
“Of course. What did you think I meant?” Matt asks, innocently as he rises and comes around to sit on the front corner of the desk.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this instead of eating pizza.”
Matt crosses his arms over his chest and his smile evaporates as he tips his chin downward. “I’m sorry. I joke when I’m nervous.”
“You? Nervous?” Foggy asks, astonished. “That’s something new and different.”
Matt frowns at him suddenly. “Hey, I think I’ve kept it together pretty well so far and I don’t—”
“No, exactly,” Foggy interjects. “I was being literal. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous before.”
That, for some reason, makes Matt laugh. “Oh, yes, you have.”
“I’m pretty sure I haven’t. You’re a very cool customer normally.”
“Then I’m an extremely talented faker, which was always what the nuns said about me in school, so…”
“Okay, I feel like you probably have something important to tell me right now, so I’m not going to take that obvious bait for a side track, but we are absolutely coming back around to that insane bit of backstory you just casually dropped right there.”
“Appreciated.”
“Yeah, so what’s going on, then? And make it quick, because you being nervous is making me nervous.”
Matt chews on his lip in a very distracting manner, which does nothing to help Foggy’s nerves. “I think we should suspend polling for the night.”
“Alright.”
“Now, look, I know what you’re going to say and it’s—sorry…‘alright’?” Matt blinks at him, baffled and betrayed at once. “You’ve been hounding me all night about how important these numbers are and you’re ready to call off polling that quickly?! With no arguments whatsoever?!”
Foggy sighs and leans against the door jamb. “I assumed you were going to give me your reasoning next and I also figured, given how you’re an expert and all and I trust you, that your reasoning would be sound. Am I wrong?”
“Are you—? No! Of course not, I’m just surprised.”
“So. Why suspend the poll?”
“Everybody except the West coast is asleep now and we’re quickly approaching the point where we’d have to stop calling altogether,” Matt explains. “By the time we get everyone back online and calling again, we’d have maybe 20 minutes left before the West coast goes to bed. We’ve lost the momentum. We pick back up tomorrow night, refreshed, and we’ll still get good data. It won’t be the same pure reactions we were anticipating to the speech, but people will have the benefit of the news cycle, talking to their co-workers about the State of the Union, forming a real opinion.”
“They could also forget what the President actually said by tomorrow,” Foggy says. “Our results could be skewed.”
“We’ll have to do polling tomorrow anyway, to capture the time zones we missed tonight. For morale and for practicality’s sake, I say we come back fresh tomorrow.”
“And if I got the President on the line and asked you to defend this decision, that’s what you’d say?”
Something stubborn comes into the set of Matt’s jaw then. Stubborn and attractive, but that last part is no surprise anymore. “Yes. I’d say this to anybody.”
“And if our results tomorrow are inconclusive or unhelpful on the issues we’re worried about?”
“That’s on me,” Matt says with a defiant shrug. “But I don’t see a better way to play the cards we’ve been dealt.”
“Me neither,” Foggy says, with another sigh. “Consider your decision co-signed.”
Matt deflates a little, as his defiance is no longer needed. “Thank you, Foggy.”
“Don’t thank me. I’ll still throw you to the wolves if this breaks bad.”
“You won’t,” Matt says, cheerfully, because he has no idea what’s at stake and Foggy can’t even tell him.
“This impression you have of me as Mr. Softee, who’s a sweetheart to everyone, is misguided, you know,” Foggy replies, because it’s never too soon to put distance between them if Matt’s going to end up working for the campaign. It will suck right now, but it might be better for everyone in the long run. “Nobody makes it to where I am by being a nice guy. Your earlier assessment that I’m a pain in the ass to work for and with was correct. I am not being kind by taking your advice, I am trusting your professional judgment.”
Matt cocks his head to the side, considering him. “So, you showing up at Sunday Mass after our terrible first meeting to apologize and encourage me despite my campaign’s dismal prospects was…what? Some Machiavellian ploy beyond my ken? Because I think it was probably just something a nice person would do, personally.”
“I can feel guilt on occasion and still be a fucking nightmare to work for, Matt. Please. Be serious.”
“I am serious,” Matt replies with an easy smile. “I don’t know why you’re trying to act tough with me now—”
“I didn’t say I was tough, I just meant—”
“But it’s not going to work,” Matt interjects, pushing off the desk in a way that has to be intentionally sultry because there’s just no way anyone can look that hot by only standing up, “Mr. Softee.”
Foggy swallows, because Matt stepped closer to say that last part. “If that nickname catches on, I’ll know who to blame…”
“See? You can’t even threaten me properly! Some nightmare you are!”
“Alright, well, this conversation is officially way less fun than pizza, so I’m leaving,” Foggy says, and turns to do just that. He’s stopped by Matt’s hand on his elbow.
“I am sorry for teasing you,” Matt says, looking at least halfway contrite, which is pretty good for him, all things considered. “It’s just that the one thing you’re never going to be able to convince me of is that you’re some kind of opportunist asshole. I know better.”
Foggy swallows hard. This is exactly what they need to avoid if they're going to be working together. “You really don’t know me that well, Matt. Not enough to be saying anything that definitively.”
Matt smiles at him indulgently. “And you really have seen me nervous before. At our first meeting. I was terrified.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Foggy says, and Matt’s beautiful, long eyelashes splay across his cheek as he directs his gaze towards the floor. “Did fool me, I guess.”
“You put me at ease.”
“I pissed you off pretty instantly, from what I remember.”
“Yeah, well,” Matt says, with a dangerous smile that does support the veracity of him having a long history of infuriating nuns, “I’m pretty comfortable with anger, as an emotion.”
“You’d have to be, in our line of work.”
“People don’t stay terrified in your presence, is what I’m saying, Foggy. You’re one of the good ones.”
“God, you sound like my mother,” Foggy laughs, “next you’re going to ask how I’m still single!”
“I have been wondering…”
“Oh, yeah? How much?”
Matt gives him a light shove. “Go get pizza,” he says, with a laugh. “I’m sorry I tried to express gratitude for you backing me up. That was clearly a mistake.”
“One I hope you’ll learn from,” Foggy replies. He pauses in the doorway, though. He just can't help himself. “You’ve got good instincts, Matt, and you’re smart.”
Matt looks confused for a moment, not following the change in subject. “Alright…”
“Makes it very easy to be nice to you,” Foggy adds, and watches the words land as Matt’s expression clears into a brilliant smile.
“God, you were right,” Matt replies. “You’re an absolute monster. How does anyone work with you?”
You’re about to find out, Foggy thinks but can't say as he leaves the office and puts on the bravest face he can muster. Two years. This is going to be brutal.
*
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dinosaurwithablog · 9 months ago
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Howling Mad Murdock for President!!! That's my write in vote. I think that he'd do a better job. He couldn't do any worse, and he's a good guy, and his party is the A Team. They'd whoop everyone's ass into shape.
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kelseyjunemartin · 3 months ago
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Daredevil TV Show Intro Analysis
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The intro depicts a red liquid, presumably blood, pouring over a figure of Daredevil, Lady Justice, and over images of New York City. New York is figuratively bled by crime. And Daredevil both causes bloodshed and bleeds for his city.
The red isn't just blood, it also is the color of passion and fury, two defining characteristics of Matt Murdock. As Daredevil he is at once painting the town red as he spreads justice, and seeing red as he lets stress and violence overtake him.
There is also a pairing of opposites taking place. Lady Justice is connected to Matt's persona as a good-willed attorney that fights for justice with the law. This is contrasted to his Daredevil persona which fights against injustice extra-judiciously.
Another opposite present is the contrast between Daredevil and the angel outside the church. Matt embodies both demonic and angelic qualities. He uses violence to perform good works. Also, he must lie and manipulate to protect himself and those he cares about.
The very first shot in the intro is a close-up of the cloth over Blind Lady Justice's eyes. A sense of blindness presides over the intro because the images are hidden until revealed by the blood. This emphasizes the themes of blindness in the show. Justice is blind. Love is blind. Blind rage.
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handeaux · 1 month ago
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Do You Hate Daylight Saving Time? You Can Blame Cincinnati Busybody E.H. Murdock
It’s that dreaded week following the annual “spring forward” as we turn our timepieces toward Daylight Saving Time. Having lost an hour, our weary brains endeavor to recalibrate our circadian rhythms while our biological clocks wail in agony. Who is the idiot who devised this semiannual torture? Cincinnatians have one of our own to blame. His name was Edward H. Murdock.
Mr. Murdock was the president of the Queen City Printing Ink Company, known as “The Oldest and Largest Printing Ink Works in The West,” with branches in Chicago, Boston and Philadelphia. Around 1907, he vacationed in England and was impressed by the long summer days enjoyed by inhabitants of that sceptered isle. According to the Cincinnati Post [20 May 1909]:
“‘That set me to thinking,’ says Murdock. ‘And it came to me all at once that what we lacked geographically we could make up by freedom from the slavery of the clock. I thought of all the objections to the idea I could think of, and found that they wouldn’t hold water.’”
Although Murdock claimed credit for the idea, he had vacationed in England just about the time that nation was debating Daylight Saving at the instigation of prominent builder and outdoorsman William Willett. Without mention of Willett, Murdock had some circulars printed up extolling his idea – essentially to adjust clocks by two hours from May through September – and plopped them onto the lobby desk of the Business Men’s Club. Murdock’s name appeared nowhere on the document, and he bided his time as discussion flowed out of the clubrooms and into the newspapers. After a week or so of speculation about the origin of the circulars, Murdock stepped out from behind the curtain to form the National Daylight Association. Within a month, his organization sent a delegation to Washington where they got the support of President William Howard Taft. The Cincinnati Post was enthusiastic:
“In two weeks an Idea that started in the brain of a Cincinnati man has grown into the biggest single national thought of the moment; it is gaining more popular discussion than the tariff; newspapers are writing up and making funny pictures of the Idea; the President and his Cabinet are thinking about the Idea very seriously; knockers are trying to find flaws in the Idea and find themselves on a futile job, and nearly everybody else is wondering why nobody in the United States ever before thought about turning the clock back two hours and getting two more hours of daylight out of a summers day.”
To be honest, other people had thought about something very close to Murdock’s idea. As early as 1784, Ben Franklin satirically proposed a system along the same lines. He didn’t take the idea seriously and neither did anyone at the time. None of Murdock’s predecessors had inspired a national debate on the matter.
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Once Murdock’s idea got national traction, the response was far from universally positive. The Catholic Columbian, diocesan newspaper of Columbus, Ohio, deplored the entire concept [23 July 1909]:
“This is an absurd piece of legislation, which is certain to fail for want of observance on the part of the people. The daylight-saving movement is a fad and a fallacy. It is bound to come to an untimely end.”
According to the Catholic Columbian, the measure was unnecessary, confusing, useless and – most notoriously – an importation, and the Catholic Columbian would have nothing to do with a plan that originated in England.
Likewise, Watson’s Jeffersonian Magazine [September 1909], after eviscerating the English Daylight plan, went after Cincinnati’s initiative:
“The ludicrous imitators in America, styling themselves the National Daylight Association of Cincinnati, would do well to agree among themselves to get up before day, but to let the American public have its breakfast at just about the same time it has been accustomed to for some several hundred years.”
There were some heavy-duty supporters of the Daylight Saving idea, including the esteemed Journal of the American Medical Association:
“In a word, we have very probably in this movement for prolonging the usefulness of daylight one of the most important hygienic ameliorations that can now be made for all classes of people. Doubtless the working classes would benefit even more than most others because, while their fatigue requires them to go to bed early, the activity of life around them often seriously disturbs their sleep during the hours before midnight which should be so precious. Let us hope that so simple and efficient a means of lessening one of the unhygienic tendencies of our day will receive the consideration it deserves.”
The Kansas City Star congratulated Cincinnati on a useful and easily effected benefit, noting that, if adopted nationally, the new time system would require no major alterations to railroad or factory schedules. The St. Louis Post-Dispatch suggested, because Cincinnati had so recently installed the first lighting system in the nation for its major-league ballpark, the Daylight Saving plan was just a ploy to get more fans into the stands for night games.
Despite the national attention, Mr. Murdock’s idea never got more than local traction and wasn’t adopted for quite some time. Among the reasons for ignoring Daylight Saving Time was the chaotic nature of time itself in the United States. For decades, the only official time was “sun time,” which meant that every city and town in the country had its own local time. Noon in Cincinnati was several minutes later than noon in Cleveland, which was quite a bit later than noon in New York and so on.
A huge innovation arrived in November 1883, when almost all North American railroads adopted a standard time system. Under this system, Cincinnati was placed in the Central Time Zone. "Railroad Time" was 22 minutes slower than "Cincinnati Time." Detroit was 28 minutes fast while Indianapolis was 10 minutes slow. Louisville was 18 minutes fast and St. Louis was one minute slow.
If you had anything to do with the railroads, you might have adopted “Railroad Time,” but most Cincinnatians stuck with “Cincinnati Time.” Hotels, in particular, scheduled employees on “City Time” and served guests on “Railroad Time.” The switch to Daylight Saving Time, then, did not require federal approval; Cincinnati City Council adopted the idea in 1909, but declined to actually implement the measure. It took World War I and efforts to conserve candles and coal that led to a wartime national adoption of Daylight Saving Time. National (mostly) implementation of Daylight Saving Time did not occur until 1966.
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a-leg-without-fear · 8 months ago
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HI. HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE YOU
this is a lovely coffee shop and i would like to order a (white) mocha for Mr. Matthew Murdock, please (i know that’s not technically on the menu but every time i go get coffee irl i get a white mocha so i thought i would toss it in)
i love you TOO oml hi Vi welcome to my establishment. lucky for you, we have a special deal on white chocolate mochas!! for the low, low price of free, i'll whip up your drink, AND make it a large for ya :)
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Your eyes traced over the lines of Matt's features while you sketched on your drawing pad. Deep graphite coated the grey paper in the peaks and valleys of your lover's face.
Dark brown eyes set under a pronounced brow bone, sloped nose that curved in just the right way, high cheekbones, plump lips that looked awfully kissable, wavy hair falling over his forehead and tangling in his full brows, peppering of stubble along his sharp chin.
You couldn't believe how lucky you were. This absolute stunner sitting next to you was yours. Irrevocably and entirely. You were who he fell asleep with every night, legs tangled together and arms wrapped around each other. You were who he had coffee with every morning, the rejuvenating beverage brewed specially by him. And you were who he would go to when in need, whether it be to stitch him up or to comfort him after a particularly bad day.
"How's it looking?" his low voice rumbled. Matt had been sitting perfectly still for you while you were sketching him. Eyes relaxed as they stared off into space, light smile stretched across his mouth, dimples only slightly digging into his cheeks.
"I would ask your opinion, but I don't think we'd get very far," you replied. He met the comment with a quiet laugh, chest bouncing against the side of your knee. You were leaning on the arm of the couch with your legs draped over his lap.
"I'll trust your judgement," he said softly. His warm hand continued in its lazy pattern of rubbing up and down your leg. You hummed contentedly.
"Then it's looking great. Just like you."
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i luv u vi i would die for you
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ephiesoul · 9 months ago
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⭐️Choose your President⭐️
❤️🤍💙 Markiplier Edition ❤️🤍💙
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❤️ Stage One
⭐️ Round 1 Bingiplier vs Googleplier
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 2 Author vs Actor Mark
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 3 Eric vs Stan
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 4 Wilford vs Bim
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 5 Heehoo vs Necromancer
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 6 Jim vs Dr. Iplier
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 7 Engineer vs Camp Mark
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 8 Bill vs Darkiplier
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 9 Host vs Illinois
Voting Closed - Here | Results - Here
⭐️ Round 10 Night vs Yancy
Cast your Votes - Here | Results - TBA
⭐️ Round 11 Noir Mark vs Murdock
Cast your Votes - Here | Results: TBA
⭐️ Round 12 Annus vs Damien
Cast your Votes - Here | Results: TBA
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🤍 Stage 2
⭐️ Round 1 Googleplier vs Author
Voting Closed: Here | Results: TBA
⭐️ Round 2 Eric vs Wilford
Voting Closed Here | Results: TBA
⭐️ Round 3 Heehoo vs Jim
Voting Closed: Here | Results: TBA
⭐️ Round 4 Engineer vs Dark
Voting Closed: Here | Results: TBA
⭐️ Round 5 Host vs Yancy
Voting Closed: Here | Results: TBA
⭐️ Round 6 Noir Mark vs Damien
Voting Closed: Here | Results: TBA
💙 Stage 3
⭐️ Round 1 Googleplier vs Wilford
⭐️ Round 2 Darkiplier vs Jim
⭐️ Round 3 Yancy vs Damien
⭐️ Bing Bonus Questions
What trait matters most in a President? Here
Bingiplier vs Actor bonus round - Here
Bing vs Actor results - Here
(Voting available on Tumblr, Instagram & X)
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sjsmith56 · 7 months ago
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My Heart Is Yours - A Private Man, Chapter 7
Summary: Bucky returns to the house late, after being released through the work of his lawyers. Tracey stays over, sensing he needs help with anxiety.
Length: 4.9 K
Characters: Bucky, Rebecca, Tracey, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, Marie.
Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content (oral, f receiving, p in v). Not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
Author notes: Things are heating up quickly but both Bucky and Tracey feel something that neither has felt before and want to jump in with both feet. Translations are from Google Translate.
<<Chapter 6
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It was almost midnight when Bucky returned to the house, in the company of Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock. Rebecca was asleep in her reclining chair, having refused to go to bed until she knew Bucky was alright. Tracey was asleep on the couch. When the key was inserted in the door she sat up immediately and got up, rushing to Bucky, who held and kissed her. He next went to Rebecca's side and hugged her, stroking her hair while she cried at how frightened she had been for him. Then he turned to the two lawyers who followed him in.
"Sweetheart, this other man is Matt Murdock, Foggy's partner," said Bucky. "You should have seen him take on the lawyers who swore out the complaint against me. They had no choice but to release me."
She looked gratefully at the man with his white cane and dark glasses. "Mrs. Proctor, it's nice to meet you," he said. "Foggy has told me about you and Bucky. I'm glad I was able to help him today."
"Why did they arrest him, Mr. Murdock?" she asked. "He did nothing wrong."
"No ma'am, he didn't," said Murdock. "They were being very narrow minded in how they interpreted the Sokovia Accords in swearing out the complaint against Bucky and the judge agreed with me. I'm pretty sure they were doing it on behalf of someone or some organization that would like to have Bucky under their control."
"They tried to say that my intervening in the robbery was over reaching my rights as a private citizen to make a citizen's arrest," started Bucky.
"Which is complete nonsense," said Murdock. "There was no damage to life, limb, or property when Bucky took control of the situation. The fact he intervened successfully without bloodshed when three others left that employee in the lurch showed great restraint. Similarly the action he undertook today saved the man's life as he would have fallen well before the fire department arrived. Bucky only did what was necessary by getting the man into a safer position then they both waited to be helped down by the fire fighters."
"Why do you think the charges were laid?" asked Tracey, as she sat back on the couch, where Matt and Foggy were now situated.
Murdock took a bit of a breath. "That's something my partner and I are going to explore. In fact, we think there is something that the authorities are not being forthright about. Foggy here contacted the Army about Bucky's claim for back pay some time ago. At first they said it was still being considered with a decision to come soon, then suddenly last week a motion objecting to the application was filed. We were still waiting for an official reason for the motion but were told it was classified. I plan to be at their office first thing tomorrow morning to find out the reason and why it is classified."
"They think the dismissal and the charges are related," said Bucky. "Someone doesn't want to admit they were wrong, or maybe they're trying to get my pardon thrown out."
"They can't do that," stated Rebecca. "The pardon came from the President himself."
Murdock smiled. "You're right, Mrs. Proctor and that should not be reversible. Whoever is doing this does have power but we have the law. Bucky is a private citizen who has kept out of any sort of trouble since the Battle of Wakanda. Even though he was involved in the operation against the Flag Smashers no objection to that involvement was ever filed. He is gainfully employed and looks after you quite well from what I've heard." Murdock stood up with Foggy. "Now, it's getting late and I know Bucky has to be at work early tomorrow. We'll leave you with our assurances that we'll keep pushing to find out who is taking these measures. You have my promise on that."
Murdock stuck his hand out and Bucky shook it, as did Tracey and Rebecca who raised herself partway from the reclining chair to do it. Bucky saw the two lawyers out then came back inside.
"I'm sorry you had to wait so long," he said. "Did both of you get something to eat?"
Rebecca nodded. "Tracey made something for both of us. Bucky, you saw I walked. When I woke up I could hear the men outside say to get ready to take you down and I just couldn't stay in bed and let them. I don't know where the strength came from but I walked right to the end of the hallway."
He smiled and hugged his sister again. "I noticed. We'll have to tell the physiotherapist. The FBI agent was actually quite decent. He was just doing his job and I think he didn't want you to witness me getting hurt. He took the cuffs off in the SUV, saying he believed I was a man of honour." He looked at the clock. "It's late, you should be in bed, and Tracey should get home."
She shook her head. "I called my neighbour to feed Al. I'd like to stay, if you don't mind. Rebecca said she'll lend me a nightgown ... unless you want me to wear your dress shirt again."
A happy smirk was his answer and he lifted a smiling Rebecca up, carrying her into the bedroom. When he placed her on the bed Tracey said she would take care of getting her ready. He could hear their voices as they spoke in the bedroom and smiled at how close they already seemed. When Tracey came out to say that Rebecca was ready he followed her back to the bedroom while finishing off a second high calorie energy bar to compensate for not eating dinner. Tracey watched from the doorway as Bucky fixed the covers just so and smoothed his sister's hair. It had been one of the first things that attracted her to him, witnessing how gentle he was with Rebecca. After kissing his sister’s forehead and whispering he loved her he turned the light switch off, closing the door behind him. Tracey looked up at him in the dim hallway.
"Do you want me to make you something to eat?" He shook his head as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Rebecca was afraid but she was angry as well. It upset her to hear the officers in the back yard talk about you as if you were a dangerous criminal."
"I am dangerous," replied Bucky, as he walked back out to the living room to turn off the lights. "If I lost control I could easily take out a dozen of them. I just don't let go anymore because I could hurt someone really bad, or worse. HYDRA wanted me to be a killing machine and I have the strength and knowledge to do it still."
"Then why am I not afraid of you?" she asked, looking up at him with her brown eyes and wrapping her arms around his middle.
He smiled slightly and kissed her. "Because I'm not that man anymore. I was a champion boxer when I was a young man but I was a better lover. Maybe I'm trying to get back to that dynamic." Effortlessly Bucky lifted Tracey onto the kitchen counter, opening her legs to pull her close to his body. "I do want to get some sleep tonight."
"So do I," she answered, then ran her fingertips through his hair. "But sex is a great way to get rid of tension and anxiety.”
A beautiful smile crossed Bucky's face and he placed his hands on both sides of Tracey's face. Planting his lips on hers he kissed her seductively, toying with her tongue just enough to make her whimper. Then he picked her up to sit at his waist, stopping at the kitchen light switch to turn it off, then walking them both in the dark to his bedroom. As they walked Tracey pulled her shirt off and kissed him fiercely all the way through the doorway to his room. When he closed the door behind him he stood there enjoying how her skin felt against his hand and undid her bra. Holding her with his vibranium arm he unzipped his jeans with his other hand and wiggled out of them, prompting Rebecca to laugh a sultry laugh that immediately made him hard. She pulled his T-shirt off and wrapped her arms around his shoulders nuzzling his neck and collar bone. Gently he laid her down on the bed and unzipped her jeans, pulling them off. Then he laid on top of her and looked at her in the dark. He could tell by her breathing and her heart rate that she was definitely aroused, as was he. But there was something he wanted to say first and he swallowed nervously to get the courage to say it.
"Thank you for standing by me tonight," he said. "My first reaction to the arrest was to argue against it but when you came out of the bedroom it helped calm me. I'm so glad you were there."
"So was I," she replied.
"All I want is a quiet, normal life as a private man. Is that so much for some people to understand?"
"It shouldn't be," she replied. "They should see you like I just did when you're with Rebecca. You're one of the most gentle men I know."
Even in the dim glow of the night table light she could see him blush. "That's kind of you to say. You make me feel young again, and I haven't felt this comfortable with anyone since I was a younger man." A ragged breath came out of him. "I'm not asking you to move in or to make a formal commitment or anything. I just want to know if you feel like this could lead to something wonderful for both of us. Would you be part of it, something with me?"
"Are you proposing?" she asked, her eyes focused on him. "It's early for that, isn't it?"
He nodded shyly. Gently she put her hand on the side of his face. "If you asked real sweet like, I would move in tomorrow. I knew something wonderful was happening when you set the coffee date." Bucky kissed the palm of her hand. "My only fear is if I am enough for you. You're only the second man, not counting my lost night in the motel, that I've ever been with. That's not a lot of experience to get the full measure of a man but ...." She drew in her own ragged breath. "Right now I trust you more than any man I've ever known, including my own father."
As the tears came out onto her cheeks Bucky used his thumbs to wipe them away then kissed her gently. "Baby, don't cry." His voice was silky soft. "You're all that I want, ever. Look how beautiful you are, inside and out."
He buried his face in her neck kissing and mouthing the soft skin while she ran her hands down his back.
"I trust you as much as I trust Rebecca and Sam," he whispered. "I love you, Tracey. I know it's early to be feeling that way but I've never said that to anyone before and I mean it with all of my heart."
Raising his head he looked deeply into her eyes, seeing love reflected back at him. He didn't wait to hear the words returned back from her as he didn't need to hear it, not yet. As she ran her hand through his hair he understood that right now, touch was her love language. He accepted her touch, closing his eyes and softening his face as her fingers soothed him. Leaning on his right arm he ran his lips down her throat to her collarbone. Rubbing his metal thumb over her breast he felt her nipple pebble and lowered his mouth onto it, swirling his tongue around as her breathing increased in response. From there he pressed his mouth over her abdomen then nudged her panties with his chin. Tracey brought her hands down and hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties, sliding them down. He pulled them the rest of the way off and pressed them into his face.
"You smell so good, angel," he whispered. "If I were blind I would know you by your scent."
"Bucky," gasped Tracey as he buried his face into her folds, licking and probing with his tongue.
She bucked her hips up into him and he placed one hand on her abdomen steadying her as he gave her his all with just his tongue. Within moments he could feel her body quivering as she reached the edge then he slowly pulled away.
"Why are you stopping?" she whined softly. "I'm so close."
"I know, angel," he whispered as he kissed her neck. "I'll make it good, I promise."
Pulling his briefs off he ran his tip through the wetness that was spilling from her, spreading it over his cock, making him harder as his hand glided smoothly over the shaft. After adding some lubricant he guided himself in slowly, listening to her soft moans which grew louder the deeper he was in. When he bottomed out he began thrusting in a slow rhythm, pressing against her clitoris with each thrust. Gently he took her hands, placing them above her head, and holding them in place with his metal hand. Increasing his pace and force he watched her intently as they moved together. For Tracey it felt like he was splitting her in two but the sensation was so insanely pleasurable that she could hardly bear it. When she could manage it, she watched him just as intently, seeing every blink of his eyes, every flick of his tongue. When he pressed his mouth on hers, thrusting his tongue deeply in she raised her hips into him and soon felt the quickening rush of her orgasm rip through her body. Bucky came just moments later, after he freed her hands. Together they rode the wave of the release finishing it with intense hungry kisses.
"You were right," whispered Bucky.
"About what?"
"I'm not feeling any anxiety right now," he answered, grinning mischievously.
She grinned back and ran her hand through his thick hair. "Do you mind if I have a quick shower?" she asked. "I'm kind of a mess down there."
"Go ahead," he said. "Do you want company? I promise to just shower. I have a nice shirt you can wear to bed."
She nodded and slipped out to the bathroom while Bucky brought clothes for both of them. He was as good as his word, taking just five minutes to shower, although he did wash Tracey's back. After leaving her in the shower, he dried himself, put clean boxer briefs and sweatpants on then went back to the bedroom to straighten the bed and pick up their clothes. When Tracey returned she wore one of his T-shirts that was big enough to come down to her mid thigh. Bucky pulled the covers back and she laid with her back into him so he could put his arm around her.
"I love how you smell," he whispered, after he turned the light off and spooned behind her, burying his face in her hair. "You would tell me if saying that was weird, right?"
Her smile was still there as she looked back at him, this man out of his time but so in tune with her. "It's not weird at all. It's all part of our body chemistry and I think we have amazing chemistry happening between us. Now, no more talk. It's after one and you have to be at the dock for when?"
"Seven," he answered. "Thank you for staying. I love you."
It was several minutes before he heard a faint whisper saying "I love you" back and her hand squeezing his that was on her waist. That night neither one of them had a bad dream.
🌅
The touch of soft lips on Tracey's cheek woke her up and she opened her eyes to Bucky's smile as he leaned over her. Gently touching her face with his hand she put her hand on top of his and lifted it off, kissing his palm. He was already dressed for work and she could see it was quite light out.
"I just wanted to say goodbye before I left," he whispered. "Rebecca is still asleep. Amina is here already. I told her you stayed the night. She's happy for us. They all are. Apparently they saw things before we did."
"I'll get up now," she said softly. "I'll need to go to my place before I go to work." She looked down for a moment. "Did you mean what you said?"
"About loving you and wanting to make this something wonderful? Every word of it." He caressed her hair and face then kissed her again, sweetly. "My heart is yours."
She sat up as he wrapped his arms around her. His body heat came through his T-shirt layers and his clean smell filled her senses. Once more they kissed then he stood up and went to the door, looking at her once more before he left. There were goodbyes exchanged with Amina then the sound of the front door closing signalled his leaving. Getting out of the bed Tracey made it, then put her clothes on that she wore the day before. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair and stepped out into the hallway. The smell of fresh coffee wafted towards her and she was grateful when Amina put a cup of it down in front of her as she came into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Miss Tracey," said the Sudanese woman, her eyes sparkling. "Both you and Mr. Bucky have the look of people in love. We all hoped it would happen for you both."
"Thank you Amina," she replied. "It started out well, although I didn't plan on staying here last night."
"They showed it on the TV late news," said Amina, shaking her head. "So soon after he saved that man at the amusement park for someone to accuse him of breaking the Sokovian Accords just doesn't make sense. Was Mrs. Rebecca alright?"
"She is," answered Tracey. "She walked. Heard the police in the backyard discuss how they would take Bucky down and it energized her. Got out of bed herself and walked right to the end of the hallway. It was incredible."
"Mrs. Rebecca is a good and strong woman," said Amina. "Mr. Bucky cares about her so much." Her face brightened. "Now, let me make you some breakfast before you go."
"No, no, you're here to look after Rebecca," protested Tracey. "I have to go to my place, feed my cat and change for work. I'll eat there. I'm so glad the funding we applied for came through. Marie Peters told me all of you volunteers did wonderful work with Rebecca. Now you get paid for it and Bucky can be home for the nights, getting a proper sleep."
"And he'll be available to see you," smiled Amina. "Much easier to have a romance when you're not working night shift. Do you know that my brother-in-law got the night shift at the docks? Mr. Bucky worked with him on the weekends to improve his English language and taught him about the work he could expect to do. Helped him get qualified on a forklift. His first night will be tonight. He's very happy to finally be working and providing for his family."
"No, I didn't." Tracey shook her head with a smile. It would be just like Bucky to downplay his efforts to help someone. "I'm very happy for your brother-in-law. Now, I really must be going. Have a good day with Rebecca."
"Thank you, we will have a great day," replied the other woman.
🌇
Tracey stepped out into the early morning sun and unlocked her car. Soon she was pulling into the parking garage of her apartment building and went up the elevator to her floor. When she opened the door Alley Cat was waiting in the hallway, with a glare that she knew wasn't good.
"I'm sorry," she said to the grey and white cat. "It was an emergency and I had to stay with Rebecca. By the time I could leave it was late and I wanted to stay there."
The cat turned around and sat with its back to her, making her smirk. She put some food out for him and went into the bedroom, picking out an outfit from the closet. Quickly she washed her face and moisturized it then applied her makeup. Coming out to the kitchen she poured some cereal and milk into a bowl, then ate it. She looked around her small apartment, her home ever since her husband left her.
The end of their relationship had been coming almost from the moment they married. In many ways she felt like Geoff thought he was obligated to marry her, being from a conservative family that prided themselves on their values, which included no sex before marriage. They met in her final year of nursing school, she a shy, quiet, and inexperienced girl, which she really was then. Even though she knew about reproduction from her studies she was totally clueless about having sex, how it should feel, what she should do. Geoff Russell, the hypocrite, was quite experienced, and expressed his disappointment with her responses to sex right from the start. She suspected he was cheating on her soon after their return from their honeymoon, when he told her his job required him to be on the road three weeks out of the month. When he was home they had sex but he was always making her feel like he was doing her a favour, and rarely did foreplay or after care. Her biggest takeaway from her marriage was how lonely she was, which didn't change after the divorce because of her introversion and shyness. At least, it didn't until she rang the doorbell at her new client's house and a beautiful man answered the door.
His eyes were like the ocean, his strong jaw and cheekbones were incredible to look at, and his thick dark hair just screamed to be touched. The final clue that she was interested was his physique made her desire his arms around her and his body on hers, a new feeling for her. His own introversion matched hers but she found a kindred spirit in him; someone who had been hurt in the past, who was lonely like her, and wanting a connection. As she thought of their first time together just two nights ago she had to squeeze her knees together to deal with the throbbing deep inside of her. What they did was incredible, gentle yet fierce, soft yet demanding, sweet but lustful, and she wanted more. Al rubbed against her leg and she looked down at the cat.
"I'm forgiven now, am I?" she asked, as she took another spoonful of cereal. "What do you think about moving? We could live in a house, with lots of windows, a back yard, trees, and a nice soft lap for you to sleep in. What do you say, Al? Should we not renew the lease and take a chance on a relationship with Bucky?"
Al gave out a strong meow and rubbed against her leg again. A yes, then. A feeling of anticipation mixed with a little bit of anxiety filled Tracey. It would be the most impulsive thing she had ever done, throwing caution to the wind to move in with Bucky. Her lease renewal was coming up in just over a month. If she locked herself in to another 12 month lease there would be a penalty to break it, unless she found someone to sublet it. But if she lived with Bucky and Rebecca (it would be both of them and rightly so) she wouldn't be alone any more, and she would share the bed of someone who made her feel desirable with just a single look. She took her phone out and looked at Bucky's number. Quickly she tapped out a text and looked at it for a moment then sent it.
>>Missing you already. I think I should live with you. Do you really want me?<<
She finished her cereal and was brushing her teeth when the response came.
>>More than anything. We'll work out the details at dinner. Inima mea este a ta.<<
She looked the phrase up on Google Translate and smiled when she saw it was Romanian for "my heart is yours." It's what he said in English to her before he left for work. Noting the time she got dressed and made sure everything was turned off before she left. Twenty minutes later she pulled into her parking spot at the public health office and grabbed her purse, pulling her ID lanyard out. Marie Peters was just getting out of her car at the same time.
"Well, there she is," said Marie warmly, putting an arm around Tracey. "How are you? How was the date?"
"I'm good and the date was wonderful," said Tracey. "Bucky's very much a romantic man. He cooked dinner, set up the back yard with pretty lights, and music. We danced after ...."
"And?"
"And I spent the night and stayed there last night as well," admitted Tracey, blushing. "It was the best weekend I've ever had."
Marie smiled fondly at her. "I'm glad to hear it. He is a gentleman and with that face I'm guessing the rest of him looked pretty good as well."
Tracey said nothing but did smile. They slid their ID cards into the reader and entered the building. Several other nurses had arrived and called out to Tracey, welcoming her back. The supervisor came out of her office and gestured to Tracey's desk where a covered floral arrangement waited for her to open the paper.
"These arrived for you about twenty minutes ago," she said. "I think you've made a conquest. The delivery person said he ordered them Friday, insisted it had to be delivered before you got here, and wrote the card himself."
Approaching her desk cautiously Tracey put her purse on top of the desk and unwrapped the opaque paper which covered the arrangement. There were at least two dozen roses of various sizes and colours arranged in a vase, in red, a deep red, almost burgundy colour, pale pink, or deep magenta tones. The other nurses crowded around with one of the younger ones looking up the meaning of the colours on her cell phone.
"The burgundy ones are for passion," said the younger nurse in awe. "The regular red is for true love, the pale pink for sweetness and femininity, the magenta are for appreciation and gratitude." She looked at Tracey with excitement. "He's totally in love with you."
There was a full sized envelope with the arrangement and Tracey plucked it out of its place. Inside was a beautiful card with a blue and green cover, saying Thinking of You. Inside the card in Bucky's beautiful handwriting was a message that he was glad she was back and for her to have a wonderful first day back at work. Bending over she smelled the flowers and smiled. In the few years of her marriage she never once received flowers from her husband. Bucky got her this before he even saw her, before she stayed over and before they said they loved each other. Swallowing, she tried to keep herself calm. This, what Bucky was doing, was new territory for her. She was being courted. As the other nurses dispersed back to their desks the supervisor stayed and put her hand on Tracey's shoulder.
"It was a good decision to remove yourself as his sister's nurse," she said with understanding. "This is a unique man, with deep feelings for you. Do you feel the same?"
Tracey nodded. "I do, very much," she said, in a low voice. "It's almost overwhelming but I know he's probably the man I've always dreamed about."
"Well, we're all very pleased for you," said her supervisor. "I truly hope he makes you happy."
Almost in a daze she sat at her desk and logged into her work computer. For the next hour she checked her client list and appointments, but was often distracted by the roses. She pulled her phone out and sent Bucky a text.
>>The flowers are beautiful and everyone thinks I'm a lucky woman. I agree. You are the only man for me.<<
The response was in Spanish. >>Eres mi amor hermosa<< She looked it up finding it meant "You're my beautiful love."
She smiled. >>How many languages do you know?<<
>>Many and I will tell you I love you in all of them<<
>>😊 I have to go to my first appointment. See you later, love.<<
>>I'm still not good at those emoji things. See you later, angel.<<
Checking her medical bag to make sure she had everything she needed Tracey downloaded her schedule onto her phone and said goodbye to everyone. She looked up at the blue sky as she walked to her car and felt happy, truly happy at how her life was going at this moment. That feeling lasted her the entire day.
Chapter 8>>
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whatarethooseshuri · 9 months ago
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Only one death and that would be @verygoodlawyer Matt
Max is on a killing spree guys
SORRY ITS LATER THAN I THOUGH ANYWAY WELCOME TO THE THIRD ANUAL HUNGER GAAAAAAAMMESSS
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@tiny-barnes-sibling
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@verygoodlawyer
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1rsoldiersince2012 · 10 months ago
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Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)
Words: 4475 (chapter 52)
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52. Dogs to a Gunfight
"Page? Karen Page? I need to see her." You say, making your way towards one of the interrogation rooms in the police station, coming face to face with more officers than you can count. 
At least four tall figures loom over you, scrutinizing your every move. Despite feeling slightly intimidated, you hold your ground. "What's the matter, ma'am?" The tallest one, sporting a long beard, questions.
"Lawyer business. She's my colleague." 
"I.D.?" His accent is thick; he's probably from England or even Scotland.
"What is this, are you holding the president himself? Come on." You open your briefcase, fully packed with documents and your personal belongings, struggling to find your purse stuck at the bottom of it, under some folders. As you retrieve your I.D., the whole hallway of officers is now looking at you, hands resting on their belts, ready to grab their guns if you were to pull out something other than a document. You calmly hand the bearded officer your I.D. and wait for him to let you through.
"30? You don't look a day older than 26." 
You furrow your eyebrows, feeling a mixture of surprise and confusion at the comment. "Thanks, I guess," you say hesitantly. "Can I go in now?" 
"Yeah, sure." He steps aside, with the other three officers, giving you the document back.  
The doors fly open and Karen jumps in her seat, but then recognizes you and immediately sighs. "Oh, it's you, thank God."
"Karen, what's-" She knocks the air out of your lungs, embracing you tightly. You hesitate at first, but then wrap your arms around her, hugging her back. "Are you okay?" 
She pulls back, quickly wiping a tear from her cheek, "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright."
"I'm not." Grotto clears his throat, bringing all the attention to himself. "That freak almost killed me yesterday."
"Could you please elaborate on the situation, Mr. Grotto?" You take the information sheet from Karen, swiftly scanning through her notes. "I'm new to your case."
"Where's Murdock and that other? Who are you?"
"Your lawyer, Mr Grotto, get used to it." Your face becomes expressionless and blank as if you've turned off all your emotions. You did this intentionally; clients always need that coldness for reassurance.
Foggy enters with a fresh wave of air, but alone, happy to see you with Karen. 
"The paperwork's almost done and Brett's gonna be in in a minute." Karen is the first to speak, gently moving away from Foggy. He greets you with a firm hand on your shoulder.
"Where's Murdock?" Grotto asks again, not sparing a glance in your direction. 
Foggy sits next to you clearing his throat. "He took a sick day." A sick day? First, he's not answering your calls, and now a sick day? You look at Foggy, confused but say nothing. Not the time. "You told us the Irish were attacked by a whole gang of guys. I'm pretty sure the word you used was "army." You want to tell me why I'm now hearing this is all being done by one man?"
 "Look, I didn't know you guys were-" 
"Who does he work for?" This time Foggy left his soft side at home, and you're happy about it.
 "I got no idea!"
 "Well, what do you know?" You ask, studying Grotto. He's scared, twitchy and aware of every sound that reaches his ears, like a guard dog protecting his bone.
 "I know he's a sociopath, that's what. I mean, yeah, fine I heard the rumors, okay, but I didn't think I thought it was ridiculous, okay? Ten, or 20 guys could be mowed down at a time. And with precision? You know, tactically. Every hit was like some kind of SEAL Team 6. Then people started saying it was one guy doing all that. One man? I thought it was a ghost story." He takes a deep breath, focusing on Karen. "Some campfire shit you tell freshies to make 'em crap their pants. But now... You saw. That guy was the Grim Reaper." Karen's face tones down a shade.
"Mr. Grote, I'm Sergeant Mahoney.  Got some clothes here for you." Mahoney comes inside, carrying an orange uniform. 
"What? Am I arrested?" Grotto's eyes widen at the prison clothes, disappointment in his lawyers rising.
"Just protective custody until we can figure out WITSEC." 
"Why the peel?" 
"Or stay in the gown with your ass hangin' out, - I don't care." Mahoney answers, visibly drained from last night, and annoyed. "We pulled the security footage from the hospital. I've got ten men going over it right now."
"Any leads?" You ask, hopeful for this shit to end quickly.
"I was hoping you had something. Let's let him change. You two wanna step outside with me for a sec? Now, the DA's office is sending someone over to talk you through Witness Protection options."
"Today?" Foggy asks nervously, he didn't feel ready to face anyone from the District Attorney's office.
"Yeah, right now. And listen, take whatever deal they offer, okay? You don't wanna mess with this psycho." Mahoney walks up to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"So you do have a lead." Karen walks up behind you. You're eager to find out what happened to Matt, and your hand instinctively grasps the cross around your neck.
"I ever tell you what Clemons used to say? Gotta treat witnesses like mushrooms." Mahoney takes a sip, and continues,  "Feed 'em shit, and keep 'em in the dark. That scum's on a need to know."
"So fill us in. Who's bankrolling this guy? Who does he work for?" Foggy leans forward to hear Mahoney better. 
"The DA's office says the shooter's independent. Vigilante type, targeting different crime families. And not in a ...a Daredevil way. In a Death Wish way."
You instantly get uncomfortable upon the mention of Daredevil. Great, another vigilante. Just exactly what this city needed.
"Holy shit." 
"Daredevil kicks ass, this whole city cheers like we just won the World Series. But this guy? He does it, and the streets get bloody. Makes everybody stop and think twice about the whole 'hero' proposition." 
"Well, what do you think?" You ask, curious about how Mahoney feels about city's vigilantes, one in red particularly.
"The whole force is split. Some cops want him off the street, others think he's making our jobs a whole lot easier. But if you ask me, it's only a matter of time before the wrong person gets caught in the crossfire." You nod slowly to Mahoney's words, agreeing; it was a blessing just as much as it was a curse.
"Yeah, you put it that way, I guess copycats were inevitable." Foggy sighs.
"No, it's not the first, just the latest. Yeah, we call them 'Devil Worshipers.' Nutjobs inspired by the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Shit, most of 'em are just ineffectual idiots, but this guy, in all my years on the force, I've never seen anything like him." Mahoney leaves you three standing in a complete silence.
*** 
"Shit, it's not an assistant, it's the actual DA." You nudge Foggy with your elbow when you notice a tall woman making her way down the corridor.
"That's Reyes?" Karen looks at the two of you confused.  
"In all her defense-attorney-destroying glory. How do I look?" Foggy turns to face the two of you, adjusting his jacket and running a hand through his long hair. He desperately needed a decent haircut.
"Uh, semi-professional." Karen jokes, but Foggy's fallen face tells you that he took it to the heart. "No, Foggy, I'm kidding."
"You'll be fine." You tap him on the shoulder, fixing your slick back ponytail.
"Okay." Foggy squeezes a tight smile at you.
"Are they the ones that brought in Grote?" Reyes asks with authority in her voice, making every officer in this part of the station stop in their tracks and listen.
"Um, Franklin Nelson, of Nelson and Murdock," Foggy says with a hesitant smile as he extends his hand, but Reyes doesn't reciprocate the gesture. "This is my associate, Karen Page, and my colleague, Y/N Y/L/N," he adds, gesturing towards you with a nod of his head.
As she catches sight of you, her face lights up with recognition, eyes squinting as she looks on you, but Reyes doesn't verbally acknowledge it. Instead, she instructs the officers, "I want you to get Mr. Grote ready for transport."
"Excuse me, but, transport where, exactly?" Foggy starts panicking.
 Reyes turns to her assistant, Tower, "Once he's in our custody, I want you to personally handle all the arrangements."
"Just to put it out there, our client's already given us a list of his conditions." Foggy interrupts, and you bite the inside of your cheek when Reyes makes a face at Foggy's comment; the kind of face one would use on a kindergartener who asked something as stupid as 'why people can't fly?'
"Mr. Nelson, have you ever negotiated a witness protection agreement?"
 "Well, speaking for my firm, I can attest that we're all very fast learners," Foggy speaks again, and you can only watch him fall even further in her eyes.
"The District Attorney appreciates your efforts, but our office will be handling the case from here." One look from Reyes, and Tower is already kissing her butt. Typical career chaser.
"Excuse me. Grotto is our client." You insert yourself in the conversation, earning a laser-like look from Reyes, "We asked for your help, not for you to turn things around however you want, Ms Reyes."
"And it would be in Mr Grote's best interest for you to recuse yourselves so he can bring in a legal team with more expertise." Tower's eyes bore into yours. 
While you two briefly engage in a staredown, Karen mutters under her breath with a slight chuckle, "You mean someone you can push around."
"We had enough expertise to handle Wilson Fisk." Foggy puffs his chest, boasting.
"I'll say this once, Mr. Nelson." Reyes begins, "If, God willing, your firm doesn't collapse under the weight of the chickens and the fruit baskets you've been collecting from your indigent clientele, there will come a time when you need to ask a favor of the District Attorney's office. And depending on how this situation resolves, that favor will either be forthcoming or permanently withheld. Am I making myself clear? "
"Of course." Foggy utters quickly, obviously crapping his pants.
"Hang on," You gesture with your hands, smiling, "so, just to wipe the dust from my quite recent Master's diploma, as someone who represents the government, Ms Reyes, you surely act biased, am I correct?" Tower and Reyes both similarly raise their eyebrows, "I mean, what's it for the government if a law firm like us with all of our fruit baskets and chickens collapses or not? What, if I was still in Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz, I wouldn't have to go through all this crap, when there's an active psycho shooter on the loose who wants to kill our client, right?" 
"You know what y/n?" Foggy turns to you, hiding his grin, "I just remembered, that local DA's don't have jurisdiction over the witness protection program. That's solely determined by the U.S. Attorney's office, a.k.a. the Feds, who are probably just as douchey as you are, but at least they can deliver on their promises and their threats. Since this really isn't working out between us, maybe I should just deal with them directly."
"I happen to know a few feds actually, let me make a call-" You pull out your phone, meanwhile Reyes grasps your wrist and lowers it. 
"Hang up. What do you want?" 
"I'd be careful with hands, after all we're in a police station." You continue smiling, watching how Reyes's fingers leave your skin.
"As I see it, the District Attorney's office would like to receive credit for any arrests that arise from Mr. Grote's testimony. And my client, on the other hand, could definitely use the enthusiastic endorsement of the New York DA when entering in his witpro agreement. In either case, he'll be requiring legal representation, which will be provided by the law firm of Nelson and Murdock. To put it in layman's terms -  cut the shit, lady. You're dealing with us." Foggy's self-confidence is going through the roof and you couldn't be any more prouder than you are right now, watching Reyes and Tower's crestfallen faces, after someone finally put them in their places.
"Oh,  that was amazing!" Karen exclaims as soon as Reyes disappears out of earshot.
"That was just round one."
***  
"So, what happened?" You ask Karen when she steps outside to get some fresh air and finds you sitting on a bench in front of the station, smoking.
"Uh, apparently that crazy guy with a gun is called the Punisher now." She sits next to you, exhaling loudly.
"Huh, everyone's got a fancy name now. What about Grotto?"
"Reyes wants to wire him and meet some drug dealer called Brass so they could get more on the Punisher." 
"Well, shit." You sigh, watching the smoke evaporate from your cigarette into the gray sky. "It rarely ends well with the wires. That's basically a death sentence to Grotto."
"What do you mean?"
"Most of the time people with wires are not lucky because they're too nervous, sweating, avoiding eye contact or touching their chest, because the wire starts feeling itchy, and it's easy to notice, especially if a person has experience in illegal stuff. Drug dealers are very careful, mainly when it's a simple meeting, or they know that someone they're meeting has been arrested or lawyered up. It's a simple thing really, but the adrenaline of the situation is out of Grotto's control." You're met with Karen's wide eyes, so you shrug "my dad was a cop. Many failed missions."
"This can't be it, right? There has to be a solution, somehow we can turn the situation around."
"I wouldn't stress myself about someone like Grotto that much. I know how scary it must've felt in that hospital, but Grotto brought this on himself, and if that man is out for revenge, we're not gonna stop him with a simple witness protection, and neither will Reyes. She's practically using him as bait to lure the big fish."
Karen lowers her head, looking at the ground, shoulders slumped with defeat. "You're staying here?"
"Yeah, gotta talk with Mahoney. You're going back to the office? I want you to send these back to-" 
You're about to reach for a folder in your briefcase, when Karen shakes her head, "Um, not really. I'm going elsewhere before, don't wanna lose the documents."
"Alright, doesn't matter," you stand up, dropping the remains of your cigarette on the ground. "See you later?"
"Yeah, probably." 
You leave Karen sitting alone and slowly stroll towards the station, hopeful to not cross paths with Reyes or her puppy Tower, but it wouldn't be a fucked up day without things you dread the most coming true next to the coffee machine. 
"Had a nice break, Miss Y/l/n?" Reyes asks when you come face-to-face with her in the lobby.
"Yeah, I did." You press a 'coffee with milk' button on the machine, "did you manage to fuck things up for us?"
"I would be careful with that mouth of yours, y/n." Reyes's voice becomes threateningly low.
"I'm done sugarcoating things, District Attorney. You put him on a deathbed simply because you think working with smaller firms is a waste of time. If you actually manage to catch the Punisher with our client as bait, you'd get all the glory and all the votes for the next election, right?" 
"You think you can see through me, but the truth is, you can't see past your nose, y/n. I know a lot about you that might be a big push out of your seat; I mean, a client getting killed in your arms is enough to excuse you, but all the times you were involved with Daredevil?" She scoffs a low laugh, "I am keeping a close eye on you."
You swallow some harsh words, and offer a tight-lipped smile, "Glad to be such an important part of your busy life, D.A." You grab your coffee, excusing yourself from Reyes's presence before you lose your temper in a police station of all places.
***  
Matt was in a state of distress as his ears were filled with a piercing, agonizing ringing sensation. The discomfort was so intense that it felt like a sharp needle was being driven into his brain while a deafening church bell reverberated in his ear simultaneously. It was an overwhelming experience to be deprived of not just one, but two of his most vital senses. While Matt had grown accustomed to living without one sense, the sudden loss of hearing felt like a terrifying nightmare. Frightening thoughts raced through his mind, with the fear that this deafness might be permanent, but just as quickly as it appeared, the feeling dissipated. Amidst the confusion and shattered glass, there was nothing else left; nothing new.
He still hasn't called you back. He kept replaying the "love you" part in his head over and over again. You must be at the station with Foggy and Karen, and he didn't want to disturb you. If anything, he'll call back in the evening, ask you to come over, and fall asleep with his head resting in your lap. Your fingers in his hair, and you, telling him about your day and how you three got Grotto into the witness protection.
Maybe that guy's bullet hit him harder than Matt initially thought. None of these events were part of Matt's plans for the evening, as he had a significant amount of Daredevil business to attend to. At times, Matt longed to establish his own identity, separate from the complexities of leading a clandestine double life. With each passing day, the persona of the devil drew Matt deeper into this vigilante shit, making it increasingly challenging for him to maintain his true self, to exist solely as Matt Murdock.
A knock on his door interrupts Matt's thoughts. He slowly navigates the corridor and, when the knocking persists, yells, "I'm coming, I'm coming."
"Hey." Karen greets first.
"Hey. Sorry, you startled me." Matt's voice is low and uncertain.
"I didn't mean to." Karen apologizes, immediately regretting her decision to come here.
"Come in."
"Uh, sure?" 
"Of course." Matt lets Karen inside and closes the door. "I, uh I heard what happened."
"Yeah, I'm fine." She says, voice wavering, " No, uh, actually, I'm I'm barely holding on. I really don't enjoy being used for target practice."
"Come here." He extends an arm towards Karen's body and engulfs her in a brief hug. "I'm glad you're okay."
"How about you?" 
"Uh, me, yeah, I'm fine." He lies. He's been lying too much recently.
"Hair of the dog that bit you?" Karen gently kicks a piece of broken glass, watching Matt walk towards the kitchen aisle. 
"It's, uh, it's not what it looks like."
"What does it look like?"  Karen is met with a stone-cold poker face and quickly apologizes. "Sorry. No, I don't mean to pry. I just... I worry about you a little bit-"
"No need. There's no need to worry."
"Yeah, you know that doesn't help, right? You, denying that there's anything wrong."
"Karen, let's not-" 
"No, I... How many times can I hear that you fell down the stairs, - or you walked into a door?" 
"Well, you know, I'm blind." Matt deadpans, only to be met with a counterargument.
"And you know that I'm not an idiot." Matt huffs loudly in response. "Okay, um Let's say this. When, or if, you ever feel like you can tell me what's really going on with you I promise that I'm here. Is that a deal?" 
"That is a deal. Now, what can you tell me about the meeting with the DA?"
"Yeah, um, it's... Where to begin? Um. Reyes showed up." Karen sits on the sofa.
"Personally?" 
"Uh, yeah."
"Any idea why?" 
"Well, uh, it wasn't to bask us in the warmth of her personality, I can tell you that."
"Yeah, Reyes wouldn't buy a pack of gum if it didn't move her political career forward."
"Well, she wants him on a wire. She's got him set up for a meeting with some big fish in the mob named Brass."
"And are they gonna protect Grotto?" 
"Yeah. Foggy and y/n made sure of it." Karen notices Matt's expression softening. " But he's scared shitless over this psycho shooter, Matt, and I can't say that I blame him. Reyes even used it for leverage. She called him 'the Punisher'." 
"What do they know about him?" 
"That he's very scary, but I could have told you that. So whatever they know about him downtown, they're keeping it to themselves."
"All right, well, that's where we start." Matt rises from his seat, making his way towards Karen, "We need to put together a file, a thorough one. Find out who this guy is, and what makes him tick."
"Great."
"You think, uh you think he's crazy?" Matt asks. 
"Uh, the Punisher? No. I think he was inevitable."
"Inevitable? How so?" He draws his eyebrows together, confused. 
"Maybe... maybe we created him. All of us. The moment that we let Daredevil, or the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, or whatever it is-" 
"There's no connection." Matt's answer comes flying immediately, and now it's Karen who's confused.
"Well, actually, I think it's a pretty straight line, Matt. Daredevil practised vigilante justice in our backyard and we applauded him for it. I know that I did. And we never stopped to think that maybe his actions could open the door for men like this. Men with guns. Men who think that the law belongs to them."
Matt crosses his arms in defence. "There's a difference."
"Well, I don't see it. Not anymore." Karen's voice rises slightly.
"Yeah, well Daredevil never killed anyone." 
"Well, not that we know of."
There's something about this city that makes good people want to shoot their way out of bad situations."
"You think this 'Punisher' could be a good person?" Matt is amazed at Karen's train of thought.
"No. No, I'm just saying he could be any one of us. I'm gonna get back to Foggy. You know he hates prepping cases alone."
"Right. What about y/n? She won't help you?" Matt makes the situation even more awkward by asking about you, but he just couldn't help himself.
"She's probably gonna still be at the station." 
"What for?"
"I don't know Matt, you can just call her." Her words come out harsher than she wanted, so she quickly adds, "if you need anything at all-" 
"No, I won't." He answers quickly.
"You just let us know, okay?" Karen hurries to get to the door before Matt.
"Okay, thanks. Thank you for coming around."
Karen turns around in the doorway, standing only a step away. Matt feels the change in the air and slightly backs away. "Wait, Matt, I, um... We care about you. You're worth keeping around."
Matt only nods, and Karen's high heels are already ringing in the corridor.
*** 
You return to the temporal station, crossing paths with Reyes in the corridor again. When you step inside, Foggy is giving a lecture to Grotto. "Whoa, who's this accordion-selling fella?" You say, noticing the ugly white shirt that Reyes gave to Grotto, causing him to grimace at your comment. "Reyes almost burned me with her laser eyes."
"This is not a deal you walk away from." Foggy ignores your blabbering and continues.
"Not alive, no." Grotto rolls his eyes.
"You get them Brass and they get you away from the psychopath hunting you." Karen adds.
"It ain't just him. What if it's Brass puts a bullet in me? What if the Irish got wind I'm doing this?"
"They didn't. When Fisk went away, so did a lot of corrupt cops. No one's palms are getting greased anymore." Karen tries to provide a little bit more comfort. "We're getting you out. Clean."
"Doesn't feel like getting out. Feels like getting in. Deeper than before."
"No, you're not. Grotto, this is your second chance." 
"Just don't say anything incriminating, you'll be fine." You add from your seat, from where you were already scrolling on your phone. 
"You serious? Is she serious?" Grotto panics again, and Karen is the one to calm him again.
"She's joking, don't mind her." 
"You're covered. That's why we're here." Foggy waves a folder, "These are your orders for witness protection. The golden ticket."
"It's, uh, legally binding until midnight." Karen reminds Grotto.
"Upon which, if not executed, they turn into the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Foggy jokes, earning a chuckle from you.
"What?"
"It's time, let's go."  Tower marches in to take Grotto away, giving you a dirty look.
*** 
"Where did he go?" You ask, watching the white shirt Grotto disappear around the corner.
"Overwatch positions, check in by the numbers." The guy in front of you says into the microphone of his headpiece, and you feel your heart sinking in.
"What exactly is an 'overwatch position'?" Foggy asks Reyes, confused.
"Let the police do their job." The latter cuts, and you rise from the chair, face already without color." 
Karen walks up to Reyes's computer and pulls away her headpiece. On the other side of the wire, you can clearly hear policemen talking, "Charlie three is set. Clear fields of fire in sectors one and five. Over. Charlie four is set." Reyes puts the headphones back in, annoyed.
"You're waiting for him." You say, feeling a lump in your throat rising.
"You're using my client as bait for the Punisher?" Foggy catches up with you.
"Probably the first useful thing your client's ever done in his life." Reyes scoffs.
"Oh, I'm gonna have so much fun suing you. Whatever it is that you have planned here for tonight, it ends now. We're getting Grotto out." Foggy stands up, angry and annoyed.
"Target is inbound! Target is inbound!" A voice from Tower's walkie-talkie shouts, and on the screen, you notice a white truck speeding into the parking lot.
"It's a trap, get everyone out now!"You say, before noticing two figures fighting in the distance. 
"Take the shot!" Reyes shouts while Foggy mutters 'no'.
"It's him... And daredevil." You mumble, not able to pull your eyes away from the screen. As both of them disappear, Foggy abruptly stands up and runs out, leaving you and Karen with Reyes in the room.
"Ah what the hell!" Karen exclaims, angry. You only shake your head in disappointment. What else was there left to do? 
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