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antique-traveler · 3 years ago

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and then they do that more

read it on ao3

4.6k, T, mattfoggy, brief reference to suicidal thoughts (matt's attempt in s3)

Matt's overjoyed by the way his friendship with Foggy has been revived. They're even closer than they'd been before Midland Circle; now they say "I love you" every chance they get, and they hold hands when they walk together, and Foggy greets him with light kisses. He's so happy that Foggy's his best friend.

It’s been three days since Father Lantom’s funeral. Three days since Matt Murdock officially decided to be himself again, three days since he offered his mother a chance, three days since his name was written on another napkin. It’s been three days, and now Matt’s accompanying Foggy to Josie’s for the first time in what feels like forever. The air is humid and musty, the whole room is filled with noise, and every surface is slightly sticky. Just as it should be.

“You know,” Foggy sniffs into his whiskey, “I really thought she of all people would understand. I mean, I was the one who told her to leave Landman and Zack and get her soul back. You’d think she’d support me in getting mine back, too!”

“Yeah, buddy. You’d think,” Matt agrees, frugally sipping his beer. One of them should probably be sober tonight, and it already isn’t Foggy. He leans forward onto the tacky table and adjusts his glasses. “Think of it this way: if Marci wasn’t gonna be supportive of you quitting and starting our new firm, then it’s better to find that out now while we’re still setting up our shoebox office instead of twenty years down the line when she divorces you and takes half of the millions you’re gonna make.”

Foggy laughs sadly. “Why do you always have to be so right, Matt?”

“I’m not,” Matt mutters, the darkness in his voice hopefully being muffled by his pint glass.

Foggy shifts in his seat and puts on a more chipper voice. “Enough of me complaining about my now-nonexistent love life. What’s up in Mattland?”

Matt laughs and leans back in the booth. “Nothing that you don’t know about, Fog. Bruises are starting to feel a little better. Little less sore today than I was yesterday. You know how it goes.”

“Yeah, boy do I,” Foggy scoffs. “You know, you’d probably have less bruises if you hadn’t gone up against Fisk in an undershirt and sweatpants.”

“Well, two Daredevils fighting each other would certainly make for a more interesting front page.” Matt clenches his jaw and tries not to think about Poindexter in his suit, going by his name.

“You probably could’ve still been the only double-D in town if you’d just been wearing the suit from the get-go.” Foggy finishes off his glass and tilts his head at Matt. “Why’d you stop wearing it in the first place?”

Now then, there’s a path that Matt doesn’t want to go down. He’s ashamed to admit that part of the rationale still makes sense to him, at least a little bit. He put the black suit back on to let himself get hurt, to take away his last line of defenses and leave him bare and naked for anyone to make the killing blow.

Tightening his grip on his beer, Matt clears his throat. “I, uh… I wanted to be more vulnerable.”

Foggy juts his chin inwards in confusion. “You wanted to be more vulnerable?”

“Yeah,” Matt says simply before taking a large gulp of beer, waiting for Foggy to pick up on his meaning so he won’t have to explain it.

Suddenly Foggy stills and his shoulders slacken. “Oh,” he whispers.

Matt had told Foggy and Karen that he wouldn’t keep any more secrets. He has so few left now, and some childish instinct deep inside of him makes him want to clutch onto this one, hold it close to his chest and hiss “mine” at anyone who tries to take it from him. There’s another side of him though, the side that wants to keep Foggy and Karen and this new life they’re starting to build together, and that side knows that he needs to tell Foggy about holding out that lead pipe.

“The first night I went back out,” Matt divulges, “I was losing. By a lot. I got knocked down, and I just– everything hurt. And there was this pipe right next to me, on the ground, so I picked it up, and I handed it to one of the guys, and I just– I waited, Fogs. I just waited.” Matt cuts himself when he hears the quiver in Foggy’s voice. Foggy’s smart enough, he doesn’t need Matt to elaborate any more.

Before he can react, Foggy’s arms are wrapped around Matt’s shoulders and his face is buried in Matt’s neck. Matt almost makes himself resist, save face and keep his stoic persona in place, but God, he’s missed this. He’s missed Foggy’s arms around him and his scent filling his lungs. Matt circles his arms around Foggy’s middle and squeezes, pushing his face into his shoulder and inhaling with all he’s got. Matt can feel the collar of his shirt start to get damp and taste the salt in the air, but he doesn’t care. He just hugs Foggy back and promises to himself that he’ll never make him cry like this again.

“Matty,” Foggy says from deep within Matt’s shoulder, “I love you. I should’ve told you more. I should tell you more. I love you so much, buddy.”

Something low in Matt’s gut sparks warmly and he squeezes Foggy tighter for an instant before letting go and letting Foggy see his face. “I love you, too, Foggy.”

“We gotta say it all the time, okay?” Foggy slurs. “‘M gonna tell you I love you all the time.”

Matt smiles and ignores the wetness in his eyes and the heat in his chest. “Me, too, Fogs.”

And then they do that more.

All their time together is filled with “I love you”s, as a hello, as a goodbye, as a “thanks for the coffee”, or just a “thanks for being here”. The first few days, Karen laughs every time they say it, as if they’re just doing it to embarrass each other, but soon she just smiles and sighs at them each time they remind each other that they’re loved.

Sometimes Foggy ups the ante. When Matt surprises him with coffee on a particularly dreary morning, he says “Matt, I adore you.” When he sees that all his paperwork’s already been digitally finished by Matt, he says “Ugh, marry me, Matthew.” When Matt comes into work bruise-free three days in a row, he says “Matt, I love you more than anything in the world”.

His heart beats steady and true every time he says it.

Matt had almost forgotten what it felt like to actually have a friendship as easy as Foggy’s. He’d spent so long isolating himself and convincing himself that Stick’s mantra was true, that friends just weighed him down, that now he’s completely filled with warmth every time Foggy says “I love you”. It seems that with each time they say it, the shared wounds they have start to heal the littlest bit more and the scars start to fade.

Eventually Foggy starts saying it even when Matt can’t respond. When Matt’s across a busy street, waiting for Foggy to join him to walk to work together, Foggy will say it into the air and trust the wind to carry it over to Matt’s ears. A few times, they get separated in a crowded courtroom and Foggy will whisper it under his breath and make Matt’s face heat up from all the way across the room with how happy he is.

Soon enough, every night that Matt’s on patrol, Foggy will say “I love you” out his open window before he goes to bed. No matter where he is in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt always hears him, and always says it back.

Pretty soon it’s January and colder than Everest and Matt and Foggy are walking down the street on the way to work. Foggy said “I love you” when he met Matt outside his building, and Matt said it back like it was nothing, relishing in the heat that pooled in his stomach as he tucked his hand into Foggy’s elbow and braved the biting wind.

“But there’s no way the government would just… let that all happen!” Foggy argues through chattering teeth.

“Foggy,” Matt laughs, “you’re missing the point. You gotta suspend your disbelief a little more.”

“I’m just saying that it’s clearly an invasion of Truman’s privacy. He didn’t consent to being a… a fucking TV character.” Foggy pulls Matt a little closer as they walk and huddles into his side, and Matt feels heat bloom from every point of contact they share. Foggy’s breath, surely puffing out of him in clouds of hot steam, smells like coffee and toothpaste and he quietly hums some old Destiny’s Child song whenever he’s not talking and his steps have synced up to the rhythm of Matt’s own steps and tapping cane.

A car speeds past them and hits Matt with a gust of freezing wind, and he shudders a little bit into Foggy’s side. Without even thinking about it, Matt moves his hand down and laces his trembling, gloved fingers between Foggy’s, letting their arms swing between them as they walk. Foggy doesn’t mention it at all, just continues on rambling about the movie they watched together last night.

“I could easily argue that forcing Truman to watch his dad die like that was child abuse. I mean, it clearly traumatized him.” Foggy casually grips Matt’s hand like it’s natural, and they keep holding hands the whole way to their little office above Nelson’s Meats.

And then they do that more.

Everywhere they walk together, Matt holds Foggy’s hand instead of his elbow, and neither of them so much as mentions it. Matt’s hand fits so perfectly in Foggy’s that he almost thinks it’s weird that it took them so long to start doing this. The spaces between their fingers and the topography of their palms match together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, there’s no uncomfortable overlapping or empty spaces anywhere.

Matt’s so unendingly happy that his friendship with Foggy has healed to the point where they can touch each other so naturally again that each time he takes Foggy’s hand his body floods with heat and he can’t help the smile that crosses his lips.

Soon it bleeds over into the rest of their day, too. Sitting next to each other at the shared little table that they misleadingly call a desk, Foggy will press his thigh against Matt’s or hook their ankles together beneath the table. On movie nights, Matt will gladly tuck himself into Foggy’s side and let him rest an arm around Matt’s shoulders as he narrates.

One time Karen walks in on Matt pouring two mugs of her “coffee” while Foggy hugs him from behind, chin resting on Matt’s shoulder and arms wrapped around his waist. She leans against the doorframe and says, “It’s like seeing a mother gorilla carry her young on her back,” with a knowing sort of sarcasm in her voice.

There’s a day when Matt gets back from a lunch meeting to find their little office flooded with the scent of croissants. Karen and Foggy are standing by her little desk pulling the pastries out of a loud paper bag, and they both light up when Matt leans his cane on the wall and shuts the door behind him

“Oh, Matthieu!” Foggy yells in a horrible French accent. He rushes over and grabs both of Matt’s shoulders before kissing him on the right cheek, then the left, then the right again. Matt burns hot. “I ‘ave found les croissants on ze sale, and now we will eat like kings- uh, Karen, how do you say ‘kings’ in French?”

“Already Googling it,” she giggles from the desk. “Uh, les rois?”

Foggy turns back to Matt and throws his arms up. “We will eat like les rois!”

Matt laughs, gladly accepting a warm croissant from Karen and tries to ignore the tingling feeling that lingers on his cheeks from where Foggy bise-ed him.

And then they do that more.

Now their greetings go like this:

Step one: “Hey, love you!” “Hey, buddy, love you, too.” Step two: at least one kiss on the cheek, depending on how much Foggy wants to make fun of French people. Step three: weave their hands together as they walk, and let the conversation steadily devolve into nonsense on the way to work.

Matt loves it, loves that Foggy feels this comfortable around him again. It’s such a far cry from those months after dissolving Nelson & Murdock, before Midland Circle. Then, he’d just get the occasional voicemail from Foggy congratulating him on a case, or giving him strained encouragement to not hunt down the guy that left his wife’s body floating by the docks. If they ever ran into each other on the street or in a cafe, they’d just exchange awkward pleasantries before finding mutual excuses to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

But now Matt gets a kiss on the cheek and a hand in his and he’s told every day that Foggy loves him. The phrase doesn’t get diluted throughout the weeks, either. It means just as much to both of them the first time they said it as it does the hundredth. It means “you’re my best friend in the world, and if you ever start to forget that I’ll just remind you again”. It means “my life is better because you’re in it. I didn’t tell you enough then, but I’ll tell you now, as many times as you need to hear it.”

Well, it means “I love you”.

They’re drunk the first time it happens, of course they are. They’ve just signed the lease on the new offices of Nelson, Murdock, & Page, and Foggy insisted that they get shitfaced tonight and start packing up tomorrow with hangovers. Matt somehow draws the short straw again and resigns himself to his role as Foggy and Karen’s chaperone. Which isn’t to say that he’s not also sloshed, of course, just that he’s the only one out of the three of them who can actually walk in a straight line by the end of the night.

Karen is dropped off first, her and Foggy both loudly singing Bridge Over Troubled Water on the whole walk to her apartment building, despite neither of them knowing the words. Karen calls Matt “devil boy” as she says goodbye, and Matt doesn’t hold back his laugh.

On the way to Foggy’s building, they walk the same way they always do– hand in hand, pressed tight against each other– just notably slanted as Foggy makes Matt shoulder most of his weight. Foggy keeps humming the whole way, and Matt can’t even be mad at him for getting the song stuck in his head for what will probably be the next week. He’s always had a soft spot for Foggy’s renditions of Simon and Garfunkel. Foggy leans against the wall by the door when they finally reach his building, and Matt can see his glowing smile fill out his entire fiery silhouette.

Foggy finally mumbles out a “G’night,” and Matt starts to kiss Foggy’s cheek like they always do, but Foggy puts a hand on his chest before he can finish. Matt immediately worries that it’s his fault, that all their new habits have actually been crossing a line and Foggy didn’t want to tell him, but then Foggy giggles and wraps a hand around the loose knot in Matt’s tie and places a quick kiss right on Matt’s lips.

Something in Matt’s chest burns bright and hot like flash paper and he smiles like a little kid when Foggy pulls away, laughing a little at the ridiculousness of it all. Foggy lazily swings open the door and calls out “Love you, buddy!” as he steps in.

Matt drops down each of the stairs and throws it back with just as much gusto. “Love you, too, Fog!”

His whole face is hot and he almost doesn’t mind the lingering March cold, because this is how far he and Foggy have come. Things aren’t just the way they were before Midland Circle and the Castle case, they’re better. He and Foggy are closer than they’ve ever been, and it’s an amazing feeling to have this kind of friendship in his life, the kind he used to dream about as a lonely kid in an orphanage.

And then they do that more.

Their kisses on the cheek are replaced by brief pecs on the lips, and Matt is giddy with it. He takes the feeling he gets each time Foggy says “hello” with a kiss and folds it up deep inside him, wrapping it up in wax paper to save for later when he’s bracing himself on the concrete with a bloody nose and aching ribs, to remind himself who he’s making it through the night for.

The day that it finally comes to a head, Foggy has to leave the office early for an optometrist appointment. He complains about having to get his eyes dilated and wear those dorky little disposable sunglasses they give you afterwards, and Matt dryly says that sighted people are so needy for having to get their vision checked, as if he hadn’t been to more optometrist appointments than he could count in the first year after his accident.

He and Karen hold down the fort at their brand new office (well, definitely not brand new, just newly rented) for the rest of the day, and they take their time closing up, tossing easy banter back and forth like they haven’t since before Frank Castle came into their lives.

“Hey, did you see that email I sent you about our new contract format?” she asks, carefully Tetris-ing all of her pens and notepads and other miscellany into her desk drawers.

Matt quirks up his lip and replies, “No, I didn’t see that, actually. Been a while since I saw anything, really–”

“Oh, shut up,” Karen says, throwing a pencil at his face that he catches in midair just to show off.

Matt laughs brightly and Karen stills from across the room. “It’s good to hear you laugh like that again,” she says, and Matt cocks his head in confusion. She clarifies, “You haven’t really laughed like that since before Confederated Global. This new thing with Foggy really makes you happy, huh?”

“New thing with Foggy…?” Matt asks slowly. There is no “new thing” with Foggy, they’re the same best friends they’ve always been, only now they’re better at showing it.

“Yeah, you know, you two going out, like, officially.” She gives a little shrug and the smile in her voice is clear and easy.

Now Matt’s really confused. “Foggy and I aren’t going out.”

Karen scoffs. “Ha-ha,” she intones dryly, “sure. And I’m secretly Black Widow.”

“No, Karen,” Matt forces out a strained, disbelieving laugh. “Foggy and I aren’t dating. We’re both straight.”

Karen straightens her posture. “Matt, come on, you don’t have to hide it from me. You guys have been kissing and holding hands for, like, months now. I’m not homophobic or anything.”

Matt takes a determined step forward and tries to parse what she’s saying. “Karen, I’m telling you the truth, here. Foggy and I aren’t in a relationship. Neither of us are gay, or– or bi or whatever. We’re just friends.”

Karen digests his words for a moment, then slings her purse over her shoulder and crosses the room, resting a hand on Matt’s cheek consolingly. “Matt, you can’t see the way he looks at you, but I can. Holding hands and kissing each other and saying ‘I love you’ all the time… those aren’t things people do with people they’re ‘just friends’ with.”

Before Matt can respond, Karen slides her hand off his cheek and leaves the office, the click of her kitten heels on the linoleum floor echoing down the hallway as she walks. Matt stands frozen in the office for… he doesn’t even know how long.

You can’t see the way he looks at you, but I can.

Matt throws his satchel over his shoulder, grabs his cane, and flicks off the lights haphazardly before taking long strides down the stairs and out of the building. The voices of people passing him on the street blur together into a static that barely rises over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Matt’s straight, always has been, and so’s Foggy. There’s never been anything between them other than friendship, it just took Matt so long to realize what friendship actually felt like.

Their first few months at Columbia, Matt had been completely thrown off kilter by the way Foggy made his heartbeat waver with just a single touch or sincere compliment. It wasn’t until Foggy called Matt his best friend for the first time that Matt realized oh, this is the first time I’ve ever had a best friend. The first time I’ve ever had a friend.

And now he’s just finally not afraid to express that friendship to Foggy, with kisses and hand holding and “I love you”s.

Except. Except Karen is his friend, and he doesn’t do any of that with her. And Karen doesn’t make him heat up every time she says his name. And Karen doesn’t fill his stomach with butterflies and moths and all sorts of other buzzing things when she hugs him. And Karen doesn’t make his skin tingle every time they touch. And Karen doesn’t hold his hand. And Karen doesn’t kiss him. And Karen doesn’t say “I love you”.

Matt makes it to Foggy’s building sooner than he was expecting to, and, not wanting to wait for the elevator, he bounds up the four flights of stairs to Foggy’s apartment. As he strides down the hallway, he feels like he’s running in a dream, like each step he takes only amounts to a few inches of movement, and his target keeps stretching further and further away. The floor is a treadmill carrying him away from where he desperately needs to be, and he fights tooth and nail against it until he’s finally knocking on Foggy’s door.

Matt folds up his cane and shoves it in his satchel while Foggy comes to the door. When he opens it, he doesn’t even have time to finish saying “hello” before Matt grabs his face and pulls him into a kiss, deeper than they’ve ever had before. Matt tilts his head and sighs into Foggy’s mouth as he tentatively kisses back, and he feels that flash paper feeling spread through his whole body, lighting him up with joy and finality and a little bit of fear. Matt knots his fingers in Foggy’s hair, relishes in Foggy’s hand gently coming up to rest on his hip, then forces himself to pull away before he melts into the floor.

Foggy stands there, dumbstruck, and all Matt can say is, “Okay, I’m definitely not straight.”

Foggy stares at him for another moment before stuttering out, “Wh- What?”

“I’m not straight,” Matt repeats breathlessly.

“O– Okay, thanks for… letting me know. After kissing me?” Matt sighs and steps past Foggy into his apartment, grateful when Foggy just wordlessly closes the door behind him and follows him into the living room. “Do you wanna enlighten me a little on what’s going on right now?”

“Karen thinks we’re in a relationship,” Matt says without any preamble. “She said that I’ve been happier since you and I started this ‘new thing’, and I told her that we weren’t together, and that I was straight. Because I thought I was, but I– I’m definitely not. And then she said that all the– the kissing and everything we’ve been doing isn’t stuff that most people do with their best friends, and she said that…” Matt swallows and takes a deep breath, “she said that she saw the way you look at me.”

Foggy takes a step towards Matt and crosses his arms. “What are you trying to say here?”

Matt lets out a long breath and resigns himself to his fate. “I’m trying to say that just now you made me realize that I like men. And honestly, we kind of are dating, aren’t we? In everything but name, I guess. And I– fuck, I’m trying to say that I think I love you. Not in the way we’ve been saying it for the past few months. I think I’m in love with you, Fogs.”

For a moment the only sound in the room is both of their racing hearts, until Foggy breathes shakily and says, “I need to sit down.”

Matt drops his satchel on one of the barstools in front of the kitchen counter and nervously follows him to the couch, trying not to focus too hard on the sound that Foggy’s hair makes as he runs his hands through it and the earthy sandalwood scent of shampoo that it releases in the process.

“Why–” Foggy starts before catching in a breath, “why do you think you’re in love with me, Matt?”

Matt feels his face burn hotter than the sun and takes a moment to think. A list forms in his head of every time that warmth has filled his gut, his face, his skin because of Foggy, and he clears his throat. “You… you put this heat in me, Foggy. Every time you touch me or hold my hand or– or just say my name, it’s like there’s something burning under my skin. But it doesn’t hurt, it’s like a hot bath. And when I make a joke and I get you to laugh, all I can think is that, God, I’d do anything to make you keep laughing like that forever. It’s like every time in my life that I’ve ever felt happy, all of that is nothing compared to the way I feel when I’m with you, Fogs.”

If Matt’s heartbeat is going a mile a minute, then Foggy’s has reached Mach 8. He stares at Matt for a moment, and Matt thinks he’s about to get the most painful rejection of his life, but then there’s a hand on his cheek, pulling him forward until his lips are on Foggy’s again. It starts off far slower than their last kiss, Foggy just inhales and then pushes himself into Matt, who welcomes him gladly. After a few seconds though, Matt pushes his tongue into Foggy’s mouth and Foggy places a warm hand high on Matt’s thigh, and the kiss turns bruising. Matt feels his pants get a little tighter, and, if his blood flow is anything to go by, Foggy’s feeling the same way.

Eventually they break apart, gasping for breath, and Foggy leans his forehead against Matt’s. “So,” he says between breaths, “definitely not straight.”

Matt laughs a little nervously, “And?”

“And,” Foggy says as he pulls away, a soft smile shaping his words, “I think I’m a little in love with you, too.”

Matt beams and surges forward again, straddling Foggy’s lap and holding his face in both hands as he bites at his bottom lip. Foggy puts his hands on Matt’s hips and squeezes, forcing a low groan out of Matt’s throat. Feeling both of them start to get harder, Matt pulls away again.

“I’ve never slept with a man before,” he whispers.

“Duh,” Foggy laughs, “me neither.”

Putting on the hungry smile he knows women always love, Matt shrugs off his suit jacket and slides the knot out of his tie before slowly starting to unbutton his collar. Foggy takes in a shaky breath and his heartbeat somehow gets even faster at the sight of what Matt knows is an impressive chest. He rolls his shoulders back and tenses the muscles there in the way that his sighted partners always drool over, and delights in the sigh that Foggy lets out.

Matt leans back in, squeezing Foggy’s hips with his knees, and kisses him again. Foggy kisses Matt. And Matt kisses Foggy.

And then they do that more.

#my fic #daredevil #mattfoggy #matt murdock #foggy nelson #nmcu #netflix daredevil #daredevil fanfiction

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dotsayers · 3 years ago

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20 Questions: Writer’s Edition

tagged by the beloved @myrmidryad

this is a LONG one so here’s a cut to avoid do you love the colour of the sky syndrome

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

101 after a recent purge... no one may know about my Past

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

329004! used to be about 350k but again... purge

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

on ao3 i’ve written for (chronologically) doctor who, skyfall, discworld, les mis, star trek, lord peter wimsey, marvel (various), in the flesh, red vs blue, roosterteeth rpf, check please, hockey rpf, star wars, daredevil, rivers of london, dishonored, emmerdale, dirk gently, holby city, hot fuzz, kj charles, guardian, the covert captain, taskmaster rpf, good omens, ghosts, roswell new mexico, leverage, schitt’s creek, the magicians, 9-1-1, it chapter two, the magnus archives, the old guard, the mandalorian, the ritual, the locked tomb

way back on the pit of voles i wrote for twilight, harry potter, hetalia and xmen first class. and on the newsround chatrooms i wrote exclusively harry potter fic about my oc neville and luna’s daughter

as you can tell i am not prone to staying in one fandom writing wise, i tend to end up with one complete fic and seven abandoned wips concealed deep in my google drive

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

finally see what it means to be living (captain marvel, carol/maria, i really hit the zeitgeist with this one i think i was something like the fifth fic in the ship tag)

do whatever you think (the magnus archives, this series is actually #2-7, then #8 #9 and #11 for me so i’m going to cheat a bit)

standing in a world of my own (daredevil, matt/foggy/karen, another zeitgeist hit! really miss writing for daredevil actually... it’s a perennial fave)

a winding road that stretches towards the truth (iron man, tony/rhodey, i STILL don’t know when this got so many kudos. i swear i looked away when it was at 100 and suddenly it ended up here)

where the long shadows grow (star trek aos, kirk prime/spock prime, thank god some people are checking the prime kirkspock tag is all i’m saying!)

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

i don’t really Do angsty endings... possibly a blanket of stars just because i ended it on something of a cliffhanger and then completely zoned out of rnm for long enough that i forgot where i was going with it. there was definitely the intention of fixing things but then i just... did not do that. and now the show is on s3 and i’m over a season behind! life comes at you fast

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

where the long shadows grow, because it reunited kirk prime and spock prime and they DESERVE TO BE HAPPYYYY. i’m a complete sucker for presumed dead/back from the dead stories, actually, so on a similar theme i have two (TWO) daredevil fics which follow the trope, one about ray coming back post-s2 (might never be normal again) and one about foggy and matt reuniting post-endgame (in the corner, taking up space). this is the only time i will ever acknowledge endgame ever again

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

i do write crossovers! in fact i am often roundly mocked by my friends for the increasingly esoteric nature of my crossovers. way back in secondary i wrote a twilight/labyrinth crossover where angela was sarah and jareth’s daughter because i had a massive crush on a girl who liked both twilight and labyrinth. however, since that has been comprehensively scrubbed from the internet, i think my craziest crossover is probably part three of ‘traced upon the skies’, already an esoteric crossover of rivers of london and hot fuzz, when i added in a crossover with the horror movie ‘the ritual’ just because i wanted rafe spall’s character to be happy

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

EXTREMELY rarely and only with extreme embarrassment. i will not be any more specific than that

9. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i used to really struggle with doing this, to the point that i had over 300 comments just. lingering in my inbox unanswered. so i decided to give those up and just commit to answering them from then on, which has been working fairly well for about a year and a half now. i love getting comments but i get overwhelmed really easily and struggle with replying in a way which feels meaningful without getting in my head about it!

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

yes lmao it was for a harry potter fic on ff.net where harry got sorted into hufflepuff instead of gryffindor. it wasn’t a very good fic but i think the fact it was clearly written by an 11 year old should have scared off at least some of the less flattering comments.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don’t... think so? i don’t know how i’d find out to be honest, my vanity googling is rarely very effective

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! as bronze may be much beautified (skyfall, mallory/bond) got translated into chinese, i was extremely pleased. i think it’s mandarin but the ao3 page for the translation doesn’t say and my mandarin is.................. extremely poor

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

also yes! me and jess little-smartass have written a lot together, although only our star trek/les mis series has been published, more’s the pity. we spent a lot of les mis fandom time workshopping aus and we were always extremely correct about all of it, imo

14. What’s your all time favourite ship to write for?

oh god. i think probably kirk/spock, although there’s some recency bias to that since i reread space manhattans recently and was reminded of my love for them. i really like writing jon/martin but i’ve mostly done that from outsider pov which is a bit different to writing shipfic, i think. joe/nicky from tog was also something i really liked writing but i struggle with plotting longer fic with them

15. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

i recently went through my abandoned fic folder so i actually have a few options for this. the obvious choice would be ‘any of the hockey ones’ but i did delete most of those just for my sanity. more recently i started writing a vaguely smutty pre-the thing mac/fuchs fic for alex @milkdrinker5000 which i really WANT to finish but am struggling with. most obscure answer (even beyond the thing) and most likely to remain unfinished is the insanely in depth post-tog booker/copley fic i had planned out back in about october. i wrote a good 6-7k of that one and then i realised it was going to be, like, difficult, and decided if i was going to put that much work into something it may as well be the novel im meant to be writing

16. What are your writing strengths?

once a friend told me i had an excellent facility for dialogue and ive thought about it every time i write ever since. i love writing dialogue and i think i’m good at knowing what sounds ic and what is right out.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

one of the things i struggled with for a really long time, and honestly still have trouble with, is depicting action in words. once i wrote a hockey fic which featured multiple hockey games and i spent probably four times as much effort editing those to make sense and be interesting that i’ve ever done on a talkier scene.

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i’ve done it but only when i knew more or less what i was talking about - i did italian at school so i felt confident using it for nicky in something particular and real. i try not to italicise when i drop in words from other languages, which is what i usually do when i’m using a language i haven’t studied in depth (for example, joe’s use of arabic in some of my fic), and to only use words which i’ve heard used by native speakers in that context. i think if you don’t feel confident using another language, generally speaking, you shouldn’t do it. and for god’s sake don’t use google translate for a full sentence

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

harry potter on the newsround chatboards. ariana lovegood-longbottom my sweet child

20. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

this used to be an easy question because hands down the fic i was proudest of on posting it was i’ll be seeing you. i spent a year and a half on research and writing! but these days i do cringe a little at my hockey fic, and i think i’m prouder of some of my shorter works. let’s do a curveball and say layer on layer, down on down, which is my favourite of my rnm fics and the one i like most from a narrative voice perspective. getting michael right was stressful and i’m still proud i got it down for a TIME LOOP FIC, my absolute favourite trope

tagging @little-smartass and @leescoresbies just in case they want to try this

#gin i can't BELIEVE you wrote for xiaolin showdown. iconic #text post tag #tagged in #writing tag

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glycerineclown · 4 years ago

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chapter one of while the iron’s hot is coming out tuesday!

the author’s note is 767 words, so i’m posting it here ahead of time to make sure people will read it. thanks!

NOTES ON THE ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Frank finished his last tour with the USMC at the age of 29, and it’s been 13 years since then when this story begins, so Frank is 42 years old. Cerberus never happened, and while Curtis and Bill are also veterans, the three of them did not serve together (only because I wouldn’t believe that they’re all kinky and in the same unit). I’ve aged Bill up to his early 40s as well, to make his in-story history more plausible. To ease any minds up-front, he’s “Billy the Beaut” in this fic, not a villain. I have aged Amy (“Rachel”) up to 22. Karen’s childhood from Daredevil S3 is the same, and now she’s a journalist, but I’m ignoring everything else (the stuff with Union Allied never happened, so she never met Nelson & Murdock, et cetera). Karen has not been aged up. No superpowers!

I’ve tried to make the above information obvious in the text, but some of it may be blink-and-you’ll-miss-it. There are of course other changes besides these, but I don’t want to spoil it.

(Me? Do an actual full AU that’s not constrained to the bounds of canon? Good heavens!)

I’m also going to discuss Kilgrave (“The Purple Man”) from Jessica Jones—in this fic he’s still an absolutely vile and abusive rapist scumbag, but has no actual mind control abilities. Any relationships described will be in the past and will not include Karen.

NOTES ON THE BDSM

I have done a decent amount of research, and have tried to offer a pretty accurate description of the way things work in the real life BDSM community if you live in a big city. When it comes to Frank and Karen, though, this is a fantasy built for the characters.

In this fic, Frank (as a more seasoned member of the community) takes Karen (newbie sub) under his wing as a mentor. They partake in some regularly-scheduled, non-sexual BDSM play, and Karen has a crush on him, which is a lie by omission on her part. Their relationship becomes way too intense and involved to be a platonic, healthy mentor-pupil relationship. A mentor is supposed to be someone that the pupil does not play with and isn’t attracted to, in order to limit the amount of influence the mentor has over someone who is still learning. I do think this is a good rule, and this fic probably illustrates a lot of the reasons why it’s a good rule, especially because not everyone will have the same rigid principles that Frank does.

Regardless, this is just a fanfic, and following that rule would not have made a good fanfic. I don’t expect that anybody who’s here to read this anyway will actually have a problem with the way the story plays out, but your mileage may vary and I wanted to acknowledge it.

At the end of the day, I trust Frank and that’s why I’m writing this fic. You trust Frank and that’s why you’re reading it.

Also, BDSM is in no way a stand-in for therapy. Frank should go to therapy, Karen should go to therapy, everyone should go to therapy. And I think it’s a harmful stereotype that people who are into BDSM have mental health issues or serious trauma, but like, there’s no getting around that with this fandom.

NOTES ON THE CURRENT STATE OF THE WORLD

I started writing this fic in early April 2020 during the coronavirus lockdown. And we all know what's happening now, in June 2020. There are protests happening around the globe to demand justice for black people who have been murdered by police in the United States.

I would like to acknowledge that the optics of The Punisher are not great at the moment. I don't love promoting a fanfic about a character that, at least in the comic books, "means so much to the law enforcement community," as Jon has reminded us at literally every opportunity. As far as I'm concerned, that really just means that Frank has long been a power fantasy for white supremacist cops who want to kill black people with impunity. And then there's the whole Karen thing...

So even though this fic is not about police or even about the military, I feel obligated to say this here: DEFUND AND DEMILITARIZE THE POLICE. INVEST IN COMMUNITIES OF COLOR. BLACK LIVES MATTER! And fuck every pickup truck I see on the highway with a Punisher bumper sticker. I will send you a dirty look from the safety of my car.

I considered postponing the release of this first chapter, but I want to add something nice to your newsfeed.

Here’s how I’ve been getting through lockdown—here’s hoping it’ll help you. To all my lonely, touch-starved, horny readers out there, who just want me to shut up and get on with the story already, this one’s for you.

#while the iron's hot #kastle

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amandagaelic · 4 years ago

Note

1, 17, 19

Hi there -- thanks for swinging by! :) 1. If you’re an author, how many WIPs do you currently have? (Be honest!)

I don’t actually have any WIPs. Honest. The way my brain works, I get an idea, I fixate on that idea, I outline that idea, I eat, sleep, drink that idea, and then I write that idea. I don’t write anything else until that idea has become a story. I may have a story finished and unpublished while I start on another story, but it’s basically like, every story gets its turn in the center of my brain and then...it’s time passes and it just lives on the interwebs.

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

So...I tried @whumptober2020 for the first time this year with a MacGyver fic (Undone) and I also had a whumptober idea for Daredevil using the ‘sensory deprivation’ and ‘enemies to friends’ prompts. The idea would be to have it post S3, so Matt’s friends know who he is, the Defenders exist, and the events that Matt survived in S3 are all in full swing. I love having others see Matt--his strengths and his weaknesses--and I thought it would be interesting to have Matt going up against something impossible (as per usual) and be hurt in such a way it impacts his hearing (which, after the events of S3, would be doubly traumatic). Without his hearing, he can’t ‘see’ and he’s basically trapped where he’s fallen. Enter Frank Castle...coming across his nemesis, helpless, at his mercy, basically, and he has to make a choice. But, because Frank is an inherently good guy--and has been tracking all the events with the false DD, Fisk, yadda yadda--he finds himself feeling something almost protective toward Matt. Struggles ensue, communication of some kind happens, bad guys show back up, the duo end up needing each other, there is calamity and angst and desperation and pain, but...ultimately a sense of redemption and, dare we say it, respect. I don’t know if I’ll have time to write it in October, so...if it continues to chew on my brain, it may end up just being a story, rather than a whumptober prompt fill. Additionally, @disappearinginq has been lighting my brain on fire with a Magnum idea regarding wrong place/wrong time-type hostage situations, and I have to say...I’m really liking where this idea is taking me. So...that’s another possibilty.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

For me, headcanon is less events and more the little character quirks that have little to no basis in the show, but seem to really fit the way we all write the different characters. Like, Mac having PTSD. Or being resistant to sedation. That type of thing. It’s 2:30pm on a Friday and my brain is gone, so I can’t seem to dredge up more than that, but I think you get me, yeah?

#fanfic tag #send me asks #storytelling

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thelonelybrilliance · 5 years ago

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Tagged by @wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey, whose answers I mostly knew bc we talk all day long :D

“Quarantine” Questions and Answers

are you staying home from work/school?

Yes. First WFH day was March 13. I work for the gov, though, so I’m still being paid and I’m very fortunate for that. Also my work is mostly reading/writing/researching so that is...not TOO hard to do from home.

if you’re staying home, who’s there with you?

I’m alone in Manhattan. I don’t want a roommate but I miss friends and family. Also I like the concept of a fluffy cat rn.

Are you a homebody?

Yes, because I’m a creature of habit, but I like the freedom to go out and about. And I wanted to do some traveling this year.

what movies have you watched recently? what shows are you watching?

Rewatching Marvel & Disney movies. Watching a bunch of Kdramas--Rugal (AMAZING), Crash Landing on You (ALSO AMAZING, two eps left), While You Were Sleeping (LEE JONG SUK--no more need be said), My Love From the Star (I needed to finish this ages ago but I’m going to do it this time!)--and the Cdrama Nirvana in Fire, which @abadpoetwithdreams has been reccing for ages.

I’m also catching up on Schitt’s Creek and GBBO. And an episode of The Office here and there.

I am going to finish Jessica Jones s3 and Daredevil s3 soon too, and maybe catch up on Suits and Supernatural and The Witcher.

an event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

I stopped making travel plans when all this started...happening, but I did have to cancel a trip to see @wearetakingthehobbitstogallifrey and that was sad. Also in a better world I would have visited my baby nephew for Easter. :(

what music are you listening to?

Taylor. Halsey. Poets of the Fall. Niall’s new album. Various Kdrama OSTs. Lana Del Rey. Disney songs.

what are you reading?

You Never Forget Your First (GW bio) by Alexis Coe

The Last Light of the Sun by Guy Gavriel Kay

Enemy Brothers (again) by Constance Savery

Just finished my reread of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and I also plan to read Red Rising in a bit.

I am also WRITING a lot--fixing up my P&P retelling, Fixing on the Hour, and writing a super-long Silmarillion Gold Rush AU. They’re both on AO3 (@TolkienGirl)

What are you doing for self care?

I walk two miles each day, keep in touch with friends and family, clean my apartment, bake and cook, read and watch my shows, and stay in touch with my coworker.

Life is very sucky right now and distraction = survival. Plus I’m so much more fortunate than many others right now.

#tumblr games #coronavirus #about me

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myriadimagines · 5 years ago

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God’s Soldier

Marvel (The Defenders) One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Matthew Murdock

Other Characters: –

Warnings: death

Request: –

Word Count: 722

A/N: I just finALLY finished S3 of Daredevil and it is so rich I can’t even begin to describe. All the stuff about God in just the first two episodes just......... got me. Anyway, I was inspired, so here is this hot mess that I wrote on a 12 hour flight that sounded a lot better in my sleep deprived head. Good luck figuring out what I was trying to write because clearly, I didn’t know. Enjoy.

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

The world drowns him every morning, pushing him under the tidal waves to flail helplessly for a single breath. It leaves him choking, spluttering blood against the porcelain sink, the metallic taste almost overpowering the thick layer of ash that covers his tongue and the lingering flavour of your lips on his, your last breath swallowed in his mouth.

He carries the weight of your dying body in his arms every where he goes, carries the weight of the cement crashing down on him with his decision to leave everyone and everything behind for you. It’s become part of his own body weight now, a part of him that his braided into him, intricately laced into his sinews and burned into his muscles. He can never rid of the weight, and he’s not sure he wants to.

It didn’t matter now. You, Foggy, Karen — the people Matt Murdock once cared about, loved in his own way, all paid a painful price for being close to him. But Matt Murdock was dead, now part of the Midland Circle debris to never be recovered, and the Devil wasn’t going to make the same mistakes.

He was always an angry, broken child, he’s been told, always brimming with fury at the world and all it’s taken from him and all it continues to take. Perhaps the anger was supposed to dissipate with age, yet it only strengthened, a bonfire burning away in his ribcage, smoke pluming from his throat and out of his mouth like a chimney with each scorching word that leaves his lips. He can feel the flames lapping at his bones, could feel the heat pumping through his veins with each beat of his heart. Every inch of his body is an insatiable inferno, his knuckles set ablaze each time it connects with the makeshift punching bag he hangs from the church ceiling, each time his fist hits against flesh. He hates how good it feels, hates how he only steps deeper into the flames rather than away. He no longer worries about his world burning down around him when he lives within the heat, grows used to the scalding sensation. But the longer he lingers in the fire, the harder it is for him to tell when he is being burned alive.

He grows used to the musty smell of smoke that singes his nostrils. Or perhaps it is the smell of his own charring skin.

Perhaps his anger was misplaced, directed at the wrong places his whole life. He was a loyal servant to God his whole life, God’s soldier, so he believed, a mindless follower fulfilling what he believed to be God’s deeds. He had believed everything thrown his way was part of God’s plan, a challenge for him to overcome. But he knows better now. Knows better than to be cowardly, like Job, mouth full of dirt from having his face down in the soil as he prayed to God who slaughtered his children like goats. He knows now there was only one person to answer to, one person to fight for, to bleed for, and that was himself.

God took you away from him. Wanted you for himself and snatched you away from Matt’s loving arms into his own selfish claws. Matt would either be incredibly forgiving, or incredibly pathetic, to continue being his perfect soldier.

He visits the park bench the two of you used to sit at, whenever he can muster enough strength to walk up the stairs out of the church. He sits, reminiscing over first meetings, first dates, all the firsts that are now painfully tinted with lasts — the last time he saw you, the last time the two of you went on a proper date in between the chaos that was your lives. He sits, listening to the overwhelming sensory experience that is New York’s liveliness, a constant cacophony of footsteps and sires and chatter, yet he tunes it out. Useless sounds, white noise. He tunes it down, dials it so low it hums at the back of his head, a faint murmur close to silence. Father Lantom told him that God speaks in whispers, yet he’s never met with anything but silence, deafening, overwhelming silence. He has never heard anything from God. He never has, and he doubts he ever will.

tags: @proudchocolateaddict / @myfriendmagislit / @fire--pheonix / @sheridans-dynamos / @beautifulbows924 / @writinqss / @woah-imagines / @steve-rogersirl / @musicallisto / @gofandomsandotherstuff / @melannchoholic / @mockingjaygirl1221 / @emmacata / @hauntedpocdreamer / @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt / @5aftermidnight / @thedamagedcne / @melody-of-scream / @diansaprince / @real-fbi / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @locke-writes ↳ want to be added to the tag list?

#marvel imagine #the defenders imagine #daredevil imagine #matt murdock imagine #marvel one shot #the defenders #the defenders one shot #daredevil #daredevil one shot #matt murdock #matt mudock one shot #reader x matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #imagine #imagines #reader insert #one shot #oneshot #💜

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whump-with-wren · 5 years ago

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For the BTHB woukd you consider Reluctant Caretaker with Matt Murdock and Danny Rand? Could Danny be the one who needs to be taken care of? I found some other stories of yours with those two and it got me hooked.

Bingo Prompt: Reluctant Caretaker

Fandom: Defenders, Daredevil, Iron Fist

Characters: Matt Murdock, Danny Rand

Word count: 1,500

A/N: Hey, glad you enjoyed my other stuff! And thanks for the prompt, this was loads of fun. Also uuh... I have no idea where this is set in the Defenders-verse. Like, early Iron Fist season 2 and Daredevil season 3? Don’t know if that lines up in canon, but whatever, it was fun. (also I’m only about halfway through DD s3, no spoilers please!)

_____

He was bleeding, bruised and beginning to get worried when someone dropped from the buildings to join the fray. Matt wasn’t sure where the newcomer had come from, distracted as he was by the gang of criminals putting up more of a fight than he had expected. The newcomer had bounded down from the rooftops, entering the fight with a swift kick to the head of one of Matt’s opponents - downing him instantly.

Matt recognised him immediately, inwardly cursing. Danny Rand. Grateful as he was for the assist, he would have preferred it had been anyone but Rand. The kid was probably the member of the small group of heroes he had found it most difficult to get on with, and beyond that, he didn’t want anyone to know he was alive.

He didn’t let his annoyance show, glad for the darkness of the night and his crude mask, nodding in Rand’s direction. The kid glanced in his direction, giving Matt a look that he assumed was a quick grin. Somehow, that didn’t make his mood any better.

With the extra help, it didn’t take long to regain the upper hand. Despite himself, Matt found himself enjoying fighting alongside someone as competent as he was. He quickly reminded himself he couldn’t get used to this. He was striking out alone now, if anyone else got involved they would only get hurt.

It wasn’t long until the group of men were either out for the count on the ground or had vanished into the night. Rand was slightly out of breath, his adrenalin-fueled heart thumping quickly. But Matt noticed that he seemed more settled - calmer - than when they had last met.

“Thanks for the help,” he said, as though he hadn’t been the one who had leapt into the fight to help Matt. Matt stared in his direction. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them for a while - I’m pretty sure they’re part of a drug run between China Town and Hell’s Kitchen.

Matt nodded, not really wanting to talk in case he was recognised. The kid didn’t seem to care, continuing talking. He liked to talk, Matt noted.

“Honestly I’m surprised they came this far - I thought it was just a China Town thing.” He seemed to consider for a moment, then muttered under his breath in a voice he probably didn’t know Matt could hear, “Wonder how far they spread. Maybe Luke knows something.”

He was about to leave when he heard a sound - a second before Rand, a second too late to do anything. He darted forward, a warning on his lips, but he was too slow - the gun exploded with sound and Rand went down.

Matt leapt over his motionless body, dodging another bullet and slamming a fist into the shooter’s face. Finishing him with a spinning kick, he listened closely for anyone else. The only sound he could hear was Rand’s breathing.

Satisfied Rand would live, he was halfway up the building before he paused. He could still make out Rand’s heartbeat, distant, but loud enough to be worrying. It was stuttering, uneven - blood escaping through the bullet wound.

He hesitated for a long moment, considering what he should do. If he went back, there was a higher chance of being recognised. And knowing Rand, the kid wouldn’t let him just vanish back into obscurity again, he would likely be revealed to the rest of their wannabe Avengers group.

The sirens growing closer decided him - Danny was a vigilante as well, sirens were never a good sign for vigilantes. So, with a curse, Matt dropped back to the road.

Getting Rand a few rooftops away to safety was harder than he had expected - that kid was heavier than he had thought. Eventually, he lowered Rand to the roof of a building a few blocks away from the scene.

Again, Matt felt the urge to vanish into the night. He shouldn’t be here - the longer he stayed the more likely it was that Rand would wake up and recognise him. But he was still bleeding, and Matt could tell he needed help.

This would be the point where he would dump the kid outside Claire’s window and vanish again, confident Rand would survive and no one would know he was still alive. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where she was.

He swore under his breath again, rolling Danny over to get an idea of what the wound was like. It didn’t seem bad - a bandage should suffice. He was rather surprised a single bullet had downed Danny, though Matt suspected he had been running on fumes for a while.

He unwound one of the bandages wrapped around his hand - it was slightly bloody, but that wouldn’t matter - and used it to staunch the blood Rand was losing. He was just finishing it when the younger man shifted, opening his eyes with a groan.

Matt sat back, closely monitoring Danny’s condition as he struggled to a sitting position, hiding his frustration. He shouldn’t be here.

Rand pressed a hand to his side, looking down at the bandage as he crossed his legs in front of him. He noticed Matt with a slight increase in his heartbeat, his breath catching for a second. The heartbeat settled a moment later, but Danny was still wary.

“What happened?” he asked, his head moving in a way that suggested he was looking around. Matt shrugged, his voice low as he answered, hoping Rand wouldn’t recognise him.

“One of ‘em doubled back. Didn’t see him.”

Rand nodded, slowly struggling to his feet. Matt stood as well, hearing the way his breath came quickly, smelling the blood, sweat and adrenalin on him.

“Take the night off,” he said as Rand swayed slightly. Matt could tell he was exhausted - could tell he had been out all night and most of the night before, and probably many other nights before that.

“No, I’m - I’m fine,” he muttered. “Gotta keep going.”

Matt cocked his head to one side, sensing the quaver in his voice. Sirens rang in the distance and he resisted the growing urge to chase after them.

Rand took a step away, stumbled, and Matt darted forward to catch him before he faceplanted into the roof.

“Easy,” he said quietly. Danny groaned, letting out a long breath as Matt stepped back, making sure he stayed upright this time.

“I’m okay,” he muttered, “Just reorientating myself.”

Matt wasn’t convinced, but the kid didn’t seem to have any trouble walking to the edge of the building. He listened, hearing the footsteps and heartbeat of the other man, analysing him for any lasting problems. Satisfied he should survive the trip home, he stepped back, moving towards the other side of the building, following the sirens.

“Go home,” he said softly as he moved.

“Wait,” Rand said, causing Matt to pause. He didn’t turn, hearing Rand face him, step towards him. “Do I know you?”

A barrage of curses flashed through Matt’s mind at the question. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. This was why he had wanted to leave in the first place. People couldn’t know he was alive - people couldn’t know Matt Murdock was still around.

“No,” he said stiffly, starting to move again. Danny was disappointed.

“Oh. You just… I guess you remind me of a friend. But he’s…” the kid trailed off, but Matt heard the unfinished ending. “He’s gone. He’s dead. He’s not here anymore.”

“Good,” he thought firmly. He shrugged in response to Danny.

“Sorry to disappointed,” he said sharply, then leapt off the building.

Despite himself, he didn’t go far, only a few buildings away, where he ducked behind the door leading downstairs. There, he listened.

Rand was looking in the direction he had left. Finally, he turned to leave, one hand pressed over his wound, vanishing into the night - in the direction of China Town.

Matt felt a strange urge to go after him. It reminded him of the urge to reveal himself to Karen and Foggy, to tell the world he hadn’t died. It reminded him of smiles and laughter and happiness. Friends.

“Danny called me a friend,” he suddenly realised. He had barely known the kid for a few days, had fought him, betrayed his trust, tied him up. But he had called Matt a friend.

“Hindsight,” Matt told himself. “He’s making our relationship seem more than it was because I’m not around to correct him.”

Satisfied with that answer, he pulled himself away to find the next crime.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Rand, couldn’t stop thinking about the others in that group. Jessica, Luke. Of Karen and Foggy, grieving for him.

What would life be like if he had allowed himself to be loved?

“It’s too late for that now,” he told himself. That part of him had died in the rubble of Midland Circle. He was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. That was all he needed to be.

The Devil didn’t have friends.

#whump #bad things happen bingo #defenders #matt murdock #danny rand #iron fist #daredevil #reluctant caretaker #gun shot wound #my writing #I need to figure out my tagging system!#Anon

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152glasslippers · 6 years ago

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is love alive

Summary: “You just…” she started. “You don’t have to spend it alone.”

Because she knew he would. She knew that Curtis still had family, family who couldn’t know Frank was alive, and that David would be gone, but even if neither of those things were true, that he’d still spend it alone anyway. That he wouldn’t want to impose his baggage on anyone else. It wasn’t an easy day.

“You can spend it with me,” she finished delicately.

But it wasn’t an easy day for her, either. He knew that, too.

Post-Daredevil season 3. Karen invites Frank over for Christmas. Fluff, pining, and gift giving ensues.

For @mapleymood for the Kastle Christmas secret Santa gift exchange! (I’m sneaking this in right before the deadline, I know.) Thank you for waiting for your gift—I hope you love it! Merry (belated) Christmas, and happy new year! xx

(For the purposes of this fic, DD s3 took place around March (there was snow melting in some shots??) and it’s been a year since the events of TP s1.)

Read it on AO3, or right here:

November 27

He called while she was standing in her office, contemplating the enormous number of files she’d amassed in the last eight months. The filing system she’d haphazardly pieced together—an assortment of empty copy paper boxes and plastic milk crates—since Nelson, Murdock & Page took off wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

Over half a year later, and the space still felt new.

She barely registered her phone ringing, picking it up off her desk absentmindedly, sliding her thumb across the screen to accept the call without looking to see who it was.

“Karen Page.”

“Bad time?”

The timbre of Frank’s voice washed over her. She felt the warmth of it from her scalp to her toes, a wave of relief easing the tension in her shoulders and the tightness in her calves, relaxing her whole body as she sank against her desk.

“No. Hi.” She never used his name on the phone, wasn’t worth the risk. There was no knowing who might be listening, and in the year since he’d gotten his new identity, she’d never once called him Pete. Nor did she ever intend to.

Whatever it was, this thing between them, whatever she had with Frank, she didn’t want any part of it not to be real.

“You okay?” He always asked this, no matter how long it’d been since he’d last seen her. An hour, a day, a week. Ever since Fisk.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

She always asked it back.

“I’m fine, Karen.” She could hear the wry smile in his voice. “What are you doing Sunday night? You got plans?”

“No.” Outside of work, she rarely ever had plans—that much hadn’t changed since Matt came back from the dead, since she started working with Matt and Foggy again—unless they were with Frank. “You have something in mind?”

“It’s the first night of Hanukkah. We’ve got an invite from David and Sarah and the kids.”

She tried to ignore the way her heart tripped over the word “we.”

“Should I bring anything? Gifts for the kids?”

“Nah, they’re skipping gifts this year, taking the kids down to Orlando while they’re off from school.”

“Okay.”

“It’s kind of an early thing, yeah? Pick you up around 4?”

“Sure.”

They fell quiet then, and Karen knew she should say goodbye and hang up, that this was all Frank had called to talk to her about, but she couldn’t make herself do it. She hadn’t seen him in over a week, and it was far from the longest they’d ever been apart—laughably so—but she missed him. Frank had been with the Liebermans for Thanksgiving—apparently, he’d owed David for missing it last year—and she’d spent the day with Matt, Foggy, and Marci, but her thoughts had kept chasing after Frank, wondering if being with another family was better than being alone, or worse.

She’d never been able to decide.

She was in the middle of convincing herself that another five days without seeing him wouldn’t kill her, that even if she was used to seeing him once, twice a week now, she’d done it before and she could do it again, when Frank said, “See you before then?” and surprised a laugh out of her. Light, airy. A sound she only ever seemed to make around him.

“Friday night?” he asked. “I’ll bring dinner?”

“See you then.” She could hear the smile in her own voice now.

“Take care, Karen.”

He hung up then, before she could say anything else, and when Matt and Foggy came in to her office ten minutes later, she was still sitting on her desk, still clutching her phone, still smiling.

December 2

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

Her back was to him, unlocking the door to her apartment after Hanukkah at the Liebermans’. There’d been a few months when he’d left her at the door to her building whenever they parted ways, but that was before Fisk. Now he didn’t leave her anywhere but her apartment, with the door locked behind him.

She left the door open as she moved into the apartment, an unspoken invitation, and Frank followed her inside, caught off guard by the question.

“I’m, uh, working at the soup kitchen with Curt and some of the guys from group on Christmas Eve.”

He headed straight for the kitchen, unloading the bag of leftover latkes and sufganiyot from Sarah. A lamp flicked on behind him, and when he turned around, Karen was leaning against the back of the sofa, watching him. She’d slipped out of her shoes, her heels abandoned unceremoniously on the floor next to her.

“What about Christmas day?”

“You about to make an offer, Karen?” he asked flippantly. He didn’t know how to have this conversation with her. Didn’t know why she’d be asking unless she planned to invite him, didn’t know what an invite meant. “Murdock and Nelson busy or something?”

Karen rolled her eyes, pushed off the back of the couch and walked past him, further into the kitchen.

“You’re not a consolation prize, Frank. I have no idea what their plans are.”

She pulled the bag of leftovers toward her, disappeared behind the door to the fridge to put them away. When she reappeared, their eyes met.

Her gaze was a physical thing, pinning him in place. It always had been. It grounded him, knocked the wind out of him, held them together when he should have left her alone. He’d never been able to shake the feeling of it.

He didn’t know how much longer he could resist it.

“You just…” she started. “You don’t have to spend it alone.”

“You can spend it with me,” she finished delicately.

But it wasn’t an easy day for her, either. He knew that, too.

They fell quiet. Karen flushed in the silence and dropped her eyes to the floor, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You don’t—have to decide right now. The offer’s…there.”

This was dangerous territory. To give himself something he wanted on a day when it would mean something. To admit how badly he wanted it.

“Yes.”

She lifted her head to look at him again.

“Yes,” he repeated.

“Okay,” she whispered, almost smiling, and he answered it back.

“Okay.”

They watched each other for another minute but he cut it short before the weight of everything he wasn’t saying could crush them both.

“It’s getting late. I should go.”

She nodded, and he trailed after her through the apartment. She opened the door and moved out of the way, holding it open for him.

“Thank you for bringing me tonight.”

She smiled, and he crossed into her space, kissing her on the cheek.

“I’ll call you.”

“Be careful.” She always said it, even though he hadn’t fired a gun outside of a shooting range in over a year. Even though the most dangerous thing he did was work construction, and that just to keep his hands busy.

“You, too.”

When he got back to his car, he could still smell her perfume.

December 14

A week later, reality set in. And five days after that, panic.

She called Sarah on Friday.

“Hey, Karen.”

“Hey. Is David home?”

She didn’t need an audience for this. Especially one that might get back to Frank.

“No, he took Zach out for a movie night; Leo and I are having a girls’ night in.” There was a slight pause, like Sarah was reconsidering Karen’s question, and when she spoke again, her tone was serious. “Why? Is everything okay? Do you need to talk to him?”

“No. I’m fine. I…” She sighed, dropped her forehead into her hand. “I did something stupid.”

“Oh.” A beat, and Sarah seemed to catch on. “Oh.” Another pause. “I’ll open a bottle of wine.”

Karen grabbed her car keys off the counter.

“I’m on my way.”

When she knocked on the Liebermans’ front door less than an hour later, Sarah answered it with a glass of white, holding it out to Karen before she’d even crossed the threshold.

Karen took it and walked in, didn’t even bother saying hello. “I invited Frank over for Christmas.”

Sarah shut the door after her, opened her mouth and took a breath like she was going to say something, then didn’t.

“I’ll get the rest of the bottle,” she said finally.

Karen nodded, downing half the glass before setting it down on the coffee table and shrugging out of her coat. Leo was sitting at the table in the dining room, reading. Or, she had been.

“Hey, Leo,” she said, toeing out of her boots.

“Hi.”

“Sorry for crashing girls’ night.”

Leo shrugged a little. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Sarah walked back into the living room, bottle of wine in hand, pouring another glass for herself.

“Inviting him for Christmas.” She blew out a breath, sat down on the couch next to Karen. “That’s big. That’s big when the man in question isn’t Frank Castle.”

“I didn’t even think about it. He dropped me off after we got back from your place, and I just thought, ‘I don’t want him to be alone on Christmas. I want him to spend it with me.’” She pushed her hand into her hair, looked at Sarah. “What if he felt forced into it?”

“Karen. You think Frank has ever let anyone force him into doing anything?”

“No, but what if it was out of, of pity? Or obligation? He felt bad saying no, felt like he had to say yes.”

“Frank doesn’t pity you. He cares about you.” Sarah studied her thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s not a big deal.”

“Holidays are a big enough deal when you’re already in a relationship. And Frank and I are…not.”

“You might as well be.”

They stared at each other for a minute. It was a conversation they’d had before. She could feel Leo watching them from the dining room, well within hearing distance.

“I need more wine.” She reached for her glass.

“Look, I know it’s not…what it’s not. But you’re committed to each other. You have been as long as I’ve known you.” Karen opened her mouth to argue and Sarah held up a finger. “Maybe it’s unorthodox. Maybe it’s not what other people mean when they say commitment, but Karen. Come on.” Sarah leveled her with a look. “The things you’ve done for each other. And I know you haven’t even told me the half of it.”

“What if it’s too much?” she whispered. This was what it always came down to. “I don’t want to push him. His family’s dead, Sarah.”

“But he’s not,” she said gently. “And you aren’t, either.”

Karen took a deep breath, sank further into the couch cushions.

“So he comes over for Christmas, and then what? Then what do we do?”

“You do whatever it is the two of you do when you’re alone.”

Karen rolled her head to glare at Sarah, who was sitting with her elbow propped against the back of the couch, her eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Funny,” Karen said, voice flat, and Sarah started laughing. “I mean, do I get him a present? What the hell do I even get Frank?”

Sarah opened her mouth, most likely to say something inappropriate, but Karen cut her off. “Don’t.” Sarah laughed even harder.

“I have an idea.” Leo’s voice was barely audible, but it brought Sarah’s laughter up short. They both turned to look at her. Her book was lying untouched on the table in front of her. “About what to get Pete.” Leo and Zach still called him Pete. It was easier that way. “I could show you. Upstairs.”

Karen glanced at Sarah, who shrugged, nodded.

“Sure,” Karen said, surprise making her voice soft.

She followed Leo upstairs to the office, where they sat down at the air-gapped computer she knew David had bought after he’d been cleared by Homeland. All of the family’s personal files were on it, including, apparently, Leo’s photos.

Leo had been an avid photographer ever since Karen had met her, but according to Sarah, it was a new hobby she’d picked up after David’s return. Karen had never questioned it; she only had a few pictures left of Kevin and her mother.

Leo opened a folder that seemed to be all from the cookout David and Sarah had thrown in August. It was a small group, just the family plus Karen and Frank and Curtis. Leo started scrolling through the photos, searching for a particular one. She found it quickly, like she spent a lot of time looking through these pictures, and opened it.

Karen couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath when she saw it.

It was a picture of her and Frank. They were standing close, turned toward each other. Her mouth was open wide in a smile, her skin pink, her hair falling loosely over one shoulder. She was laughing at something he said, her eyes on his, and he was looking right back at her. His smile was smaller, that crooked, almost shy smile she loved so much. There was no one else in the frame; clearly Leo had caught them alone.

“I can print it for you,” she offered.

Karen swallowed against the burning in her chest. She felt lightheaded.

So this is what they looked like to other people.

“Can I see the rest of them?” she asked faintly.

They clicked through the rest of the album together, shots of Frank and David cooking, Karen and Sarah in the kitchen, Curtis and Zach playing football. Selfies of Zach and Leo, Karen and Leo. David and Sarah kissing, Zach photo bombing with his tongue out, Frank and Curtis hugging, a family photo of the four Liebermans. The picnic table they’d set up in the backyard, the flowers in the back garden, the sunset over the garage.

“Wait.”

She stopped Leo on a picture that was so starkly different from the man she’d met chained to a hospital bed—from the man who’d stubbornly refused to admit he was lonely; from the countless times she’d him him bruised, bloody, and beaten—it was breathtaking.

It was everything she’d wanted for him.

“That’s the one,” she told her.

Leo nodded, got up to put photo paper in the printer. “It’ll take a minute,” she said. “I can bring it downstairs when it’s dry.”

“Thank you.”

Leo shrugged. “It’s Dad’s rule. No printing pictures of Pete outside the house.”

David was as fiercely protective of Frank as she was.

Karen smiled. “Still.”

She stood up to leave, headed for the door, but Leo’s voice stopped her.

“Karen?” She turned back around. “I know I’m only thirteen, and it’s none of my business, but…” She hesitated. “I think Pete loves you.”

Karen froze, shock making her forget how to breathe. But Leo wasn’t done.

“And I think you love him, too. So maybe just…tell him.”

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than for it to be that simple.

“Thank you for the picture,” she said. “It’s perfect.”

When she got home that night and opened the envelope Leo had given her, there was a second picture in there, the one of her and Frank.

Then again, maybe it was.

December 25

He hadn’t seen it when he first walked in.

He’d been too preoccupied with Karen’s smile when she opened the door, with the red of her sweater and the way her hair stood out against it. With the way she said ‘Merry Christmas’ and the smell of whatever she’d made for breakfast. With dropping his bag next to the couch and hiding the gift he’d brought in it.

He didn’t notice it until they’d finished cleaning up after breakfast and they were sitting next to each other on the couch, each of them with a mug of coffee in hand. She tilted her head toward it as they sat down.

“That’s for you.”

Frank glanced from the present back to Karen and she nodded. He set his coffee down next to it and picked it up. It was no larger than a hardcover book, but thinner. There was a bow stuck to the center of it and a tag underneath.

Proof that “after” exists. xx Karen

He paused after reading it, swallowed hard, and tore it open.

It was a 5x7 frame with a picture he’d never seen before. From the end-of-summer barbecue David and Sarah had thrown before the kids went back to school. He was standing with David and Curtis, just the three of them, David’s arms thrown wide, gesticulating wildly, Curtis’s head thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut with laughter. Frank was holding a beer to his lips, mouth twisted like he was trying not to smile. He vaguely remembered the moment it was taken, busting David’s balls for whatever crazy shit he’d just said.

“This one of Leo’s?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Karen didn’t say anything else, just watched him silently, patiently, like she wanted to let him have this moment.

He knew Leo had started taking pictures, that he must have been in them, but he’d never asked to see them. Maybe because he knew it would be exactly what Karen said, proof of his new life, and he’d been afraid that seeing it in photographs would somehow let him down and it’d become proof of something else instead: That his new life would never be enough, that it would never compare to his old one.

He’d had no idea how badly he’d needed to see a picture of it until now. A picture of his brothers. The brother he’d managed to carry with him from before his life was shot to hell, and the one that he’d found on the other side of the shitstorm.

From the woman he’d met while he was in the middle of it.

“Thank you, Karen.” And when he looked up at her, she smiled softly, a little sad, and he knew she understood how much he meant it.

He set the frame back down in front of him, facing them. He looked at it for another second before reaching over the arm of the couch into his bag. “I uh, got something for you, too.” He pulled out the album Leo and Zach had helped him pick out and set it in her lap. “Didn’t wrap it,” he said sheepishly.

Karen looked up from the black cover, the like I care in her eyes easily translated.

She opened it and stilled at the first page, at the “What It Means to Be a Hero” headline. She looked up at him again, eyes wide, but he didn’t say anything. She turned the page, then another, and another. Page after page, byline after byline, cut and pasted in neat columns.

“Frank…” she started, but that was it. He watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction. Her speechlessness was starting to make him nervous.

“I know you’ve got a new job, that you’re with Nelson and Murdock now, but you were one hell of a reporter, Karen. You deserve to remember that, be proud of it.”

“Frank,” she said again. She was still turning pages. “This is every article I’ve ever written.”

He huffed a laugh to cover his embarrassment, tried to pass it off as amusement at her reaction.

“Yeah.”

She stopped turning pages to look at him.

“How do you have all this?”

“I’d been saving them. Kept them through all the…” He waved his hand in a gesture he hoped she understood to mean the mess with Rawlins and Homeland and Russo.

“Why?” she whispered.

He looked down at the pages.

“It was a way to feel close to you, yeah? Keep an eye on you.”

He didn’t see her move toward him, just felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, the corner of the album digging into his thigh as she closed the distance between them.

They hadn’t hugged yet this morning, and he realized he’d missed it, the way she felt against him, the way he fit against her. He pressed his face into her hair and she hauled herself even closer. She turned her head and her lips brushed against his ear.

“Thank you, Frank.”

He held her tighter.

She pulled back after another minute but stayed close, one hand resting on his thigh, her other hand readjusting the album in her lap, tracing the edges of the clippings.

“Do you mind if I just…look at this awhile?” she asked quietly.

He pushed her hair back over her shoulder, his thumb barely brushing her cheek. “No.”

He let his arm fall to the back of the couch behind her, and Karen leaned back next to him, only a few inches between them, the ends of her hair landing on his sleeve, and Frank was content just to watch her, to catalogue the awe and reverence on her face knowing that he put it there.

---

Frank was asleep on the couch next to her, his chin resting on his chest. His gift lay half-forgotten in her lap, her articles much less interesting than the sight of Frank sleeping.

He looked peaceful in sleep, and it dawned on her sadly that she was relieved. That when she’d imagined it, which was more often than she wanted to admit, she’d always worried that he couldn’t sleep for long, only managed to grab stolen moments of rest between an endless rotation of nightmares.

But maybe that was just her.

She’d also imagined nights where neither of them slept at all, for entirely different reasons.

Her face warmed at the thought, and Karen stood up slowly, carefully, before watching Frank sleep became something like torture.

She left the album on the coffee table next to the picture she’d given him and wandered into the kitchen, started pulling flour and sugar from the cabinets, butter from the fridge, without really thinking about it, something about Frank’s presence soothing enough that she didn’t feel scared of the past.

Frank woke up just after she’d pulled the second tray of cookies from the oven. She froze where she was, standing behind the kitchen island, as he lifted his head abruptly, looking around frantically. She thought for a second that he’d forgotten where he was, but then his eyes finally landed on her and he visibly relaxed, and she realized he’d been looking for her.

It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice was rougher than usual from sleep. It traveled through her body like an electric shock.

He got up from the couch, running a hand over his hair.

“Sorry about that.” He wasn’t quite looking at her, and his cheeks looked a little pink, although she supposed that could have been from sleep.

“Don’t be,” Karen said softly and went back to rolling out the dough to avoid staring.

Frank leaned against the counter across from her. “Gingerbread?”

“They were Kevin’s favorite.”

“Lisa’s, too.”

She looked up at him and his eyes on hers were so open, so unguarded that she asked the question she’d spent the last three weeks telling herself she wouldn’t.

“Where were you on Christmas last year, Frank?”

He hadn’t shown up again until a few weeks after the new year, nearly two months after the hotel. She knew he hadn’t wanted to burden her, that he’d wanted to get his shit together at least a little before he reinserted himself into her life, and maybe he’d thought he would have ruined her holiday, but in truth, she’d spent the whole month of December wishing that Christmas would bring him to her, even if it was just to let her know he was safe.

It was foolish, a little girl’s wish, but she’d wished for the same thing at midnight on New Year’s. That one, she guessed, had come true; it’d just taken a few weeks.

“The cemetery, for most of the day. Then Curt showed up at my door with David and a couple of six packs, saying he’d already told me once not to be a wallowing asshole,” Frank said with a smirk.

Karen laughed, then felt her stomach drop out.

“Frank, if you wanted to be with them today, you didn’t have to…” But he shook his head, and she trailed off.

“I was there yesterday,” he said simply. “What about you, huh? What Christmas traditions am I getting in the way of?”

Getting drunk. Almost calling my dad. Crying over you.

“I spent Christmas morning with Doris.”

“And then?”

“And then I was here.” She left it at that, and Frank didn’t push. They both knew what she meant.

“So poor Mrs. Urich got the boot, huh?” he asked a second later, playful, but she could see the concern in his eyes, that by being here he’d made someone else spend Christmas alone.

“No. We had dinner last night.” She finished rolling out the last of the dough, set aside the rolling pin. “You’re not getting in the way, Frank.”

His eyes were serious when he answered.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Karen.”

He held her gaze until she nodded.

Frank grabbed a cookie off the cooling rack, and she went back to the dough, pressing a cookie cutter into it. She pretended not to watch as he popped the whole cookie in his mouth.

“Well?”

“Good.”

“Good.” She tossed another cookie cutter at him, and he caught it with a laugh. “Then make yourself useful.”

---

It wasn’t the Christmas Frank would have imagined for himself a year ago, six months ago. It wasn’t the Christmas he’d planned on before Karen asked him three weeks ago, and it wasn’t the Christmas he’d expected when he knocked on her door that morning.

If he was being totally honest, he hadn’t really known what to expect, but it wasn’t this.

Karen licking icing from her fingers and laughing at the flour handprint she left on his shirt. Squeezing past each other in the small space while they cooked dinner, sharing stories of their best Christmases as kids, the worst relatives they had to spend time with. Eating dinner on her couch, talking through the Grinch and Charlie Brown. Cleaning up her kitchen for the second time that day, the sound of Karen humming along to Christmas songs on the radio. The soft glow of her single strand of multicolored twinkle lights when they turned off the rest of the lights and tuned the TV to a local station playing Miracle on 34th Street in the original black and white. Karen’s feet tucked under his thigh while she slept through the second half.

It was almost midnight when the credits started to roll. He reached for the remote and turned the TV off, left the string of lights on and bent over Karen, picked her up, arms around her back, under knees, and carried her into her bedroom. She turned her face into his chest, and his heart beat a little faster.

“What time is it?” she mumbled as he lay her on the bed. Her eyes were still closed.

“Late.”

“I missed the end of the movie.”

He laughed softly. “I’ll tell you what happened later.”

He pulled the blankets up over her, stood there until he was able to ignore the ache in his chest and force himself to go.

This time, without Karen in his arms, when he passed her dresser he saw it: another picture from that same day in August, this one of the two of them, the glossy finish reflecting the yellow light from the streetlight outside her window.

It stopped him dead in his tracks. He stared at it, unmoving, so long that when Karen spoke again, it startled him.

“Do you ever think about staying?”

Her voice was soft, and when he turned to look at her, she was sitting up in bed, watching him.

“I think about it every time you go. Every night you leave.” She closed her eyes again, and in the dim light, he caught her pained expression. “And every morning I wake up, and I miss you. I wake up, and I think, ‘I wish Frank were here.’”

She opened her eyes and looked right at him. His blood pounded, his entire body wound tight, waiting on the edge of a knife for whatever she was going to say next.

“Stay,” she whispered. “Please.”

He knew what she was really asking, what it would mean if he stayed. They both did.

Frank glanced at the picture again. It was so plain on their faces. He was in love with her, and she loved him back.

He stayed.

#kastle #kastle christmas #kastle christmas 2k18 #kastle ff #kastle fanfic #karen x frank #the punisher #karen page #frank castle #sarah lieberman #leo lieberman #mine: fanfic

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theladyragnell · 6 years ago

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Thoughts on Daredevil s3

Which I have finished at last, several months later than the rest of the world!

1. Overall, this was so, SO much better than season 2. There was some stuff about it I really loved, and if there’s some stuff about it I didn’t love, well, again: significantly better than s2. So let’s start with things I loved!

2. I feel like this season, for the first time, they really made good use of Matt’s soundscape, consistently and well. His hearing loss after Midland Circle in the beginning, and how that was conveyed, and then throughout--his hallucinations of Fisk, the ways he overheard and eavesdropped, it all felt like a much better use of his superpowers and of the soundscape (I wish I’d been listening on headphones like I’d been in the first two seasons, I bet it would have been even more pronounced there). Since they never use much/very obtrustive background music, it was nice to have some Interesting Sound Stuff to consider. (Though music-wise, they occasionally called up the theme music, which I appreciated, and I think it was kind of an orchestral version of it playing somewhere at the end there during the funeral scene somewhere?)

3. I also feel like s3 managed a more consistent arc than season 2, which was a bit of a mess story-wise for me. Matt got an interesting, if exasperating, arc throughout the season, and his speech at the funeral felt really satisfying and also like a good ending for the show, honestly! I’m not very sad about cancellation, with the ending we got, other than knowing that Vanessa would have been a more interesting Kingpin and I would have liked to see that. It felt satisfying and full-circle and like Matt was in a good place, and I was really happy to leave him there, in the end. He was a dick along the way, but that’s just part of The Murdock Charm(TM).

4. And other people got good arcs too! Nadeem, of course, was really really amazing, more on him in a bit, and they did such a good job making him real and sympathetic and a foil for Dex. Foggy got an interesting plot that takes advantage of his strengths! (We got to meet the Nelsons!!!!!) Karen got some good moments! We had MAGGIE, who really deserves her own bullet point!

5. How about I give her that bullet point, actually? Not so much because I want to talk about an arc for her but just because I deeply appreciate her and her presence in the story? She’s fucked up, in her past, and dealt with untreated mental illness (just like her son), and she’s a woman of deep faith and also above all just a lot of fun? She’s such a valuable addition to the cast, and I like where they left things with her and Matt, too.

6. Karen. I liked getting to see her backstory, even if it took me out of the tension of the plot some and it could have been done in a different way for sure. (This show never learned how to use its flashbacks, except in one case, below.) I loved her telling Foggy and Matt about Wesley, and getting those secrets out in the air for them! I also love that, after Matt treating her like she was innocent, like she says, her argument against his killing Fisk is that there’s a kind of innocence she wants him to preserve. Both of them knowing that she’s the one who’s crossed that line where he hasn’t leaves their characters in a more interesting place for me than they’ve been pretty much all along. Though I still can’t say that it is A Thing I Ship, particularly.

7. The One Flashback This Show Ever Did Right: the Dex episode, with Fisk strolling through his memories and the tapes and everything! I can’t say I was wild about the CONTENT of the flashbacks, but mechanically, they did great with that whole situation.

8. And now onto Things This Season Did Less Well. Let’s start with a minor gripe! Look. I enjoyed Foggy/Marci in this season. It was sweet! But it 100% did not feel like the Marci we were presented with in the first two seasons to me. It feels like somewhere she and they could maybe have ended up, but only a matter of months down the line from the end of s2? That I have more trouble with. It felt like they wanted Foggy to have a very serious girlfriend and put Marci in the role. Maybe other people do not agree! But the Netflix MCU has problems with consistency in its female characters particularly, and this feels like a small example of it.

9. (Speaking of Women Netflix MCU Has Done Dirty, I miss Claire so much. She and Sister Maggie should bond over all the bullshit Matt was spouting for the first 2/3 of this season.)

10. Look. The villains. There were points when Dex was interesting (by which I mean chilling), and there are points at which the PLOT was interesting, but there was no point at which I found Wilson Fisk interesting. Every time he opened his damn mouth to make another gravel-voiced speech my brain just started making static noises. He was just. So bad. But then again, I have always found him boring, so maybe I just resent having to sit through all of his shit again. And Dex was chilling, but also at times unintentionally ridiculous, and I did not know what to do with all that nonsense at all. At least Vanessa was there in the end, being chilling and fascinating and The Villain We Deserve.

10a. I am hesitant to mention this because I really have no right to be speaking on the matter, but I am so uncomfortable with everything that happened with “Rabbit in a Snowstorm” in those last few episodes? They put this fascinating woman on our screen, a Holocaust survivor, and had her face down Fisk without fear, and had him, in the end, buckle gracefully and choose, for once, the bare-minimum right thing to do. And then, off-screen, Dex kills her. And Fisk is ... distantly displeased, but it does nothing but show us that Dex has been molded into a monster, which was ALREADY FUCKING KNEW, since that was the point of him killing a priest and other people in a church. Or maybe it was supposed to show Dex falling out of favor in Fisk’s eyes, which we also knew just from the acting and the dialogue. Or maybe it was just to fucking show some blood on the painting as foreshadowing, in which case it was in even MORE poor taste. So it was just this senseless death so they could have the painting as a set piece for Fisk’s blood? And probably other people whose voices on the subject matter a lot more than mine have already weighed in, so I’m going to leave it there.

11. Wandering back into Things I Am Torn About from Things I Outright Dislike: Nadeem. I love him, and I pretty much knew he was going to die (and then I did know when an anon kindly confirmed it for me), and was pissed off that he was going to die. I’d heard something about a deathbed confession when I went looking for spoilers after my confirmation, and I had painted a scene in my head where he was surprised, shot somewhere not immediately lethal, and made his confession While Dying, possibly at Matt’s behest. So I actually really appreciated him knowing and planning and getting to choose the manner of his death, if they had to kill him. He was an actor, not a reactor, and he was a true hero in this season, which was nice especially in the beginning of the season when Matt was being a first-class dick.

12. This is quite long enough, but I would like to mention my favorite moment of the season, which is Matt’s tiny soft little “Foggy?” when Karen finds him after the Bulletin massacre. The stuff ships are built on, tbh.

#nelson and murdock: feelings at law #PHEW #that was a lot of feelings #who knows how many of them are coherent #tl;dr fisk is just the Worst but overall this season was hugely better than s2 for me

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yinnezha · 6 years ago

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Hi! I wanna start this by saying that I don't really have an opinion on the karedevil relationship, as in I'm fine with it going canon or not as long as it's well written. So this is a genuine question: where do you see the writing that hints towards them having an actual relationship? Because to me personally it always seems like Karen is super into Matt, while he comes across as not that interested. Especially in S2, it felt more like he thought 'okay whatever, I guess we can go out.'

I also kinda feel like Karen deserves better? I love Matt dearly, but I mean, he basically dropped Karen the instant Elektra was back and acted like a douche, then decided to die with Elektra in Defenders, and then in S3 he seemed totally bitter he had to save her instead of going after Fisk. Maybe I’m just not seeing the writing you’re seeing, but that could totally be me since I’m not invested in any ship on the show. (2)

hey, I wanna start by apologizing for how long this answer is. I will address the points you raised and keep it as objective as I can, talking about the writing of the show and my understanding of it. All bias towards or against particular ships will be kept to myself.

“where do you see the writing that hints towards them having an actual relationship?”

The writing of the first season is filled with hints and foreshadowings, and while Matt and Karen spend the first season without a romantic involvement, it is underlined that they will. But is under lines, it is subtle, less in your face than Matt’s involvement with Claire (and for a reason but I’ll get to that). It is lines like Karen explaining how she promised to her grandmother to only serve her recipe to her future husband and then proceeds to serve it to Matt first, then Foggy. It is lines like Matt telling Foggy back in college that he’s looking for someone that he really likes listening to and a couple of episodes before that, he mention to Karen very matter of factly that he likes listening to her voice. It is lines like Karen’s acceptance of and trust in the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. If you rewatch the first season looking for signs like these, you’ll find them (there are more).

“to me personally it always seems like Karen is super into Matt, while he comes across as not that interested”

Of course Karen’s interest in Matt was obvious from the start; she admires his idealism, his will to fight for justice, how he’s a person who wants to do good. But to understand why Matt wasn’t immediately interested in Karen we have to see things from his perspective. She’s a stranger, involved in some messy things, who is good but lies to him (for whatever reason that she has) and we cannot forget this, that Matt knows Karen lies to him. So with Matt’s “understanding” of people we can assume he is wary of having a relationship. See, Matt’s relationship with Claire was surface and it was meant to be that way. It happened fast, it developed fast and it ended fast. Because Claire was not the one who would accept him and understand him. And so in parallel with that, because Claire cannot accept Matt’s fighting crime, we have Karen’s undying support for the Man in the mask. You see what I mean? But back to Matt’s “disinterest” in Karen… He knows she is a good person, but that’s as far as it goes. They needed time to adjust, to get to know each other beyond the circunstances of their meeting. They needed to build a foundation, and that was happening slowly throughout the first season. The strangers become friends. Enters the second season where some time has passed and they are more confortable with the idea of exploring their mutual interest.

“it felt more like he thought ‘okay whatever, I guess we can go out’.”

Again, let’s take into consideration that they work together, they see each other all the time, they go out together. In the first episode we see a shift in Matt in which he is more playful with her, more lingering looks… Foggy says “I leave you two alone for one minute” which kind of implies that this is a common ocurrence now, that Matt and Karen are on the flirting banter for a while. And then later on the episode in which Matt kiss Karen for the first time, Foggy says “careful Matt keep going like this you might just end up happy and for a catholic boy that’s a pretty dangerous thing” interesting that he could’ve just teased Matt about being happy but he mentioned Matt’s religion as a subtle reminder to the audience of Matt’s inner struggles, how he beats himself up over what he deserves. You see when is something serious, meaningful is harder for him, his beliefs, his doubts gets on the way. Matt probably wanted to be with Karen for a while but didn’t know how, didn’t know if he deserves her (because of how he sees her, because in reality we the audience knows that she would understand and accept him). So you see, I disagree with your point on Matt “settling” for going out with Karen.

“I also kinda feel like Karen deserves better? I love Matt dearly, but I mean, he basically dropped Karen the instant Elektra was back and acted like a douche, then decided to die with Elektra in Defenders”

Remember my point on Claire not accepting Matt’s Daredevil identity? Well, Elektra is the opposite. She accepts Daredevil, but she does not accept Matt. See? This is good writing! We have different ends of the issue of Matt’s double life in both seasons. And both relationships were wrong for him because something was missing, and in both seasons we have Karen being underlined again as the one that would accept him as a whole. This is very important and it is in the storytelling. There is a reason why Elektra’s relationship with Matt was a parallel to Karen’s in episode 5, it was to show to the audience which relationship is the right one. A lot of people has issues with how Matt handled things but we’re here to talk about the writing and the second season was about Matt’s struggle with his double life and what he really wants. He spends the whole season losing control of his life, and it reflects on his choices.

Now on Karen deserving better, don’t you think Matt deserves better as well? Elektra was a toxic relationship that destroyed Matt’s life as he knew and drove away the two people that matters the most to him. And I’m not erasing Matt’s responsibility here, but no matter how we feel about his actions Matt is the hero of this story, it’s his show and so the writing is telling us to root for what is right for him and that is not Elektra. And he does deserve better. Matt is a complicated man, a tortured man (I mean he is a devoted catholic for crying out loud) he is messy so of course things won’t be easy for him. And that is what makes him interesting. And he did not just fucked up his relationship with Karen but with Foggy as well to whom he was also a bit of a douche. So it’s not about the romance here, but more about Matt’s choices and development and what he needs to fix it. And he does in the third season, he is heading in that direction.

In Defenders Matt was holding onto Matt Murdock and then in season 3 he was holding onto Daredevil. Matt never had a season in which he was not struggling with this. And part of the reason why his relationships don’t work is because of that. But now at the end of the third season we will finally see Matt being fully himself and the people that matter the most to him accepting and understanding because that’s the natural progression of the writing. We had to go through all of this, we needed him to reach this point. And not only Matt but Karen needed some development too. And the third season stripped them of their lies and made them face the truth and when that happened we had one of the best scenes of the season (a little biased sorry) and that is the start of a new chapter for them.

Both Karen and Matt deserve better and the better is themselves, a better version of themselves. Honesty and truth and trust. And that’s what we have been watching since the first season, that’s the story. That’s what the writers are telling us. They are the right, just not right now. They need to learn, they need to deserve, they need to reach that point where they’ll have the understanding and trust that we know they can have, and we know because it’s underlined, it’s being shown to us since the start. It’s a slow burn, beautiful and difficult and complicated and messy… just like Matt’s life. Just like Karen’s life. Just like all the good love stories are.

Many people has issues with Matt and Karen’s relationship, but from the writing and storytelling perspective is great. And is the direction the show will keep taking. They have been developing this romance since the very first episode of the show. Charlie Cox absolutely loves and understand the relationship because he knows Matt Murdock better than anyone, and he is right. Karen is Matt’s soulmate. It’s more deep and slow. And now to finish, something he said that sums up everything I said in a less annoying way:

What we never tried to do, and I think I’m speaking for the writers of the series as well, was to make the beautiful story with Karen – Deborah Ann Woll - look like a rebound relationship. Ultimately it’s a much deeper bond, which lasts fifty years and ironically is more important exactly because it doesn’t draw from roof-jumping, but from everyday life. I think if Karen and Matt could find a way to match their respective darknesses, they would find an excellent balance.

#anonymous #ask #karedevil

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