#It felt a little good sewing something daredevil again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

set-phasers-to-whump · 5 years

Text

whumptober day 4

prompt: human shield

whumpee: matt murdock (this is before foggy finds out he’s daredevil)

Matt and Foggy were walking down the street after a pleasant night out. Foggy was telling a story Matt had heard at least three times before, and Matt was letting his voice blend into the sounds of the street around them-faint clattering in an alley, the soft squeak of a fire escape being climbed up by someone who wasn’t supposed to be out so late, and the sudden rapid footsteps coming from behind them.

At nearly the same instant Matt registered the person coming, he heard the sound of a knife being drawn, and instinctively shoved Foggy out of the way, spinning around to face their unwelcome companion.

The person spoke in a shaky voice-it was a kid, Matt realised, probably no older than sixteen. He could hear the kid’s heartbeat, thready and desperate-more afraid than he was. “G-gimme your wallet, mister, or I’ll...I’ll stab you, I swear I will!”

Matt slowly reached for his wallet, being careful to show that he wasn’t going to grab a weapon. He didn’t want to hurt this kid-they were probably hungry, or maybe they weren’t and they had just been dared to mug him. He didn’t really care. It was just a kid, he wasn’t about to attack them. He had the situation completely under control, save for one thing-Foggy.

Matt was being far too calm, Foggy thought. He stood up, shaking his head-Matt hadn’t meant to, but he’d pushed Foggy fairly hard, sending him stumbling into the side of a building. Was Matt more used to being mugged than the average New Yorker? he wondered. Maybe he was-he supposed muggers would take any advantage they could get, and a victim that couldn’t see you was certainly a plus.

He should intervene, right? The mugger hadn’t really paid much attention to him since Matt had pushed him out of the way, so maybe he could take them by surprise, get the knife away-it couldn’t be that hard, could it? Besides, he didn’t like the way the mugger’s hands were shaking-this was obviously a rookie, and Foggy knew someone who hadn’t had a lot of practice was far more likely to wind up stabbing their victim-it just made sense. That settled it-he had to do something.

Matt was being commanded by the mugger to hand over his phone now, as well. He again slowly reached for his pocket, but was caught off guard as Foggy slammed into him. He stumbled to the side, and everything slowed down. Foggy was in front of the mugger, who had their knife out. Matt knew what was going to happen immediately, and so he knew what he needed to do.

There was a swish of metal (in Matt’s ears) and a sort of ‘thwack’ sound (in Foggy’s ears). For a second, Foggy assumed the mugger had stabbed him, but-no, that wasn’t right, he’d feel something, so what-oh. Oh. Matt.

He didn’t really feel the stab. He heard the knife strike his flesh, smelled the blood, felt the sidewalk under him as he sank to his knees, but he didn’t feel the pain.

And then he did. He’d felt worse, granted, a hell of a lot worse, but this was different. It took him a second to place why, exactly. And then the why spoke to him:

“Matt! Why-why did you do that? It was under control!”

Foggy. He’d been stabbed before, sure, but never in front of his best friend-he felt-vulnerable, he supposed. Foggy knelt down in front of him, and Matt could feel his hands fluttering nervously around his body, clearly not sure what he was supposed to do. So Matt took charge of the situation.

“What do you mean, ‘under control,’ Foggy? It was under control until you pushed me out of the way!”

“I thought they were gonna stab you!”

“They did!”

At this, Foggy fell silent. “Well, I would’ve been the one stabbed if you hadn’t thrown yourself in the way!” he finally pointed out.

“That’s worse, Foggy!”

“Okay, so neither of us getting stabbed was the ideal outcome, but-c’mon, we gotta-we gotta get to the hospital or something!”

“No, we don’t.”

“What? Matt, you were stabbed! And by the way, you’re acting very calm about this-does it hurt? I’ve never been stabbed before-thanks for that, by the way.” He was rambling, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that, but he was freaking out. His best friend had been stabbed and didn’t even seem all that concerned!

“We can just go back to my apartment, okay? I’ve got some medical supplies, it’s not that bad, I promise.”

“I feel like I’ve gotta point out again that you were stabbed, Matt! How is that not bad?”

Matt stood up suddenly and began walking off down the street, barely limping, one hand curled around himself to slow the bleeding. Foggy shot to his feet and ran after him. “Jesus, okay, Matt, we’ll go back to your place, just-slow down a second!”

Matt obliged, stopping until Foggy caught up. Foggy fell in step with his friend, gently slipping an arm around Matt’s waist and taking on some of his weight. Matt turned to face him, looking puzzled.

“You shouldn’t really be carrying any of your own weight, I don’t think,” Foggy said, “but I dunno if I could carry you, so I guess this works well enough? Unless you have a better idea.”

Matt shook his head and leaned a little more heavily on Foggy. This is nice, he thought. Usually he had to bring himself home after he’d been hurt-this was far more preferable.

Around three-fourths of the way through their journey, Matt began to list off to the side a bit, clearly feeling the blood loss.

“You okay? I mean, obviously you’re not okay, but-”

“I’m fine, Foggy.”

Foggy briefly tried to insist upon carrying Matt the rest of the way. Matt, predictably, wouldn’t let him.

“C’mon, please, Matt, I really don’t want you to collapse on me, okay? It’s bad enough we’re not going to a hospital, I don’t know what to do if you pass out!”

Matt refused until they were about half a block away from his apartment. He spun around, standing in front of Foggy, and pressed his forehead into Foggy’s shoulder. He took a few shaky, deep breaths. “Could we take a quick break?”

Foggy could feel the blood seeping through Matt’s shirt and into his own. “Shit. Yeah, okay, I’ve got a better idea. We’re really close, okay? I can see your building”

Foggy reached down and picked Matt up as gently as he could, opting to carry him bridal-style-he wasn’t at all sure what the protocol was for dealing with a stab wound, but he reasoned that if the wound was facing up, there wasn’t really anywhere for the blood to go.

Matt groaned at the sudden change in position and brought a hand to his wound once again, trying to keep pressure on it.

They managed to make it back to Matt’s apartment without any further complications. Foggy set Matt down on the couch and immediately set to work, grabbing Matt’s first-aid kit (which was a great deal more well-stocked than he had expected) and a chair to work from.

He returned to the couch and set down the kit, realising he really had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Matt noticed Foggy’s hesitation. “We gotta stop the bleeding first. I’ll need a towel, and after that some water, a washcloth, and-”

“Hey, stop, you’re not gonna do anything except tell me what to do, okay? It’s my fault you got stabbed, the least I can do is fix you up, right?” Foggy was freaking out, just a little, but he’d be fine, he’d be fine, what he had to worry about was, would Matt be fine? What if he wasn’t fine, what if-?

Matt noticed his friend’s heartbeat speeding up even more. “Hey. Foggy. You were just trying to help, okay? Can you get that towel, please?”

Foggy snapped out of his panic and hurried to the bathroom. He pushed on the wound with what felt like far too much pressure, but which Matt repeatedly assured him was the right thing to do. After what seemed like an eternity, Matt announced that the bleeding had stopped, and instructed Foggy to get the washcloth and water.

“You need to clean it first, then we’ll get some antiseptic and put it on, and then do the stitches.”

“Stitches? Matt, I don’t know how to sew!”

“It’s fine, I do.”

“No-wait, I’m not letting you operate on yourself!”

“It’s just a few stitches, it’s gonna be fine, really. I promise.”

Foggy felt terrible. Matt was the one who was hurt, and yet here he was, trying to comfort Foggy. Foggy decided he wasn’t going to have any more of that.

“I’ll do the stitches, okay? That way you won’t have to sit up and bend around all funny. I can do them, really, Matt.”

Matt looked like he was about to protest, but changed his mind, evidently. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll let you know what you need to do when it’s time.”

Foggy thus returned to the bowl of water and washcloth in his hands.

“Okay,” Matt said. “You’ve gotta take my shirt off, get the fibres away from the wound, then just clean it, especially at the edges.”

Foggy determined the easiest way to do this was with scissors. “Hope you weren’t too attached to this shirt,” he joked halfheartedly.

Matt grinned weakly at him. “You better buy me a new one, then,” he said, his voice hitching a little as Foggy lifted his ruined shirt away from his torso.

There was a lot more blood, now that Matt’s shirt was out of the way. Foggy carefully cleaned it away, noting with surprise that Matt didn’t even wince throughout the ordeal. It’s almost like he’s done this before-but he can’t have been stabbed before, can he? I would know that, right?

He found the antiseptic and carefully applied it to the wound. This, at least, made Matt wince. “You don’t have to use so much of it, you know,” he said in a strained voice.

“I’m not taking any chances, Mr. I-Won’t-Go-To-The-Hospital.”

And now it was time for the stitches. “There’s some thread in there, should be a needle too,” Matt said.

Of course Matt had a surgical-grade needle and thread. Why wouldn’t he?

Foggy swallowed and steeled himself. “What do I do?”

“Are there any pieces of my shirt still in the wound?”

Foggy examined Matt carefully and determined that he’d gotten them all out already.

“Good, now, this is important-the edges of it, are they jagged or smooth?”

“They’re pretty rough.”

Matt groaned. “I thought they were. There should be a little scalpel in the first aid kit, see it?” Foggy grabbed the scalpel and held it up uncertainly. He had a faint idea of what he might have to do, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“You’re gonna have to cut the edges of the wound to make them smooth.”

“God...okay,” Foggy said. He took a deep breath and began to cut-he was cutting Matt’s skin, how was this okay?

Matt just laid there as Foggy cleaned up the edges of his wound. It hurt, but he knew the worst of the pain was yet to come.

Foggy finished up with the scalpel. “What next?”

Matt directed him through the process of threading the needle and explained how to do the actual stitching. I wouldn’t even trust me to do this, Foggy thought.

It wasn’t too bad-for Foggy, at least. Matt hadn’t had anything to dull the pain-of course the one thing he wouldn’t have was the one thing that would make this easier on him. He had tried not to react too much, but the fact of the matter was, Foggy hadn’t ever done this before.

The first stitch was the worst. It had been a while since Matt had had to actually stitch himself up, and he had evidently forgotten just how much it hurt. The needle pierced his skin, and he instinctively reached out and latched onto Foggy’s arm.

“Should I stop?”

Matt replied in a voice tight with pain. “No-no, keep going, just keep going, I’ll-I’ll just let go, gotta sit still…”

Foggy gritted his teeth against his friend’s muted sounds of pain-only the occasional hiss escaped him. Foggy wondered how Matt could possibly do this-he was pretty sure he would’ve passed out by now, or at least screamed. He tied off the stitches as neatly as he could, then cleaned the fresh blood off of Matt’s skin.

“It’s done,” he said.

Matt sighed shakily. “Thanks,” he said softly.

Foggy smiled a faint, exhausted smile. He said what he realised he should have said a while ago-“you’re gonna be okay.” He slid from his chair onto the floor near Matt’s head and carefully hugged him around the shoulders. “You’re gonna be okay, Matt.”

Matt, who had withstood a lot of beatings in his time, who had just been stabbed and then stitched up while completely conscious, suddenly found himself crying. “It really hurts,” he whispered.

“I know, buddy,” Foggy whispered back. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

hi i suck and endings and i have literally no idea if this is good or not but i had a lot of fun writing it!! thanks so much if you read this!!!

#whumptober2019 #no.4 #matt murdock #daredevil #human shield #my writing #stabbed #field medicine #i say things #blood #also i apologise for any inaccuracies #i looked up how to fix a stab wound #also for all i know maybe foggy can sew but in this assume he cant #i apologise if this is ooc

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banditthewriter · 5 years

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The Woman Without Fear - Matt Murdock

This idea was sent to me by an anon for Valentine’s Day. I don’t actually work Valentine’s day into it, haha, but hopefully you still like it darling!

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, torture, talk of needles. Take care of yourselves dears!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

It sounded like someone was crying in the distance. It was a daily instance, but this sounded different. This sounded more like someone was scared.

The sound of a slap made you jerk your head to the side. Down on the ground you saw the form of a man raising his hand to strike the crying woman again.

Not on your watch.

You dropped off of the fire escape you were crouched on as you tuned your eavesdropping device. It left you on the far end of the alley, away from the couple, and you quietly made your way forward.

He might have a weapon and you didn't want the girl to get hurt. Or you.

Close enough to be able to see him but not for him to see you just yet, you grabbed the little cylinder off your belt. With one brief squeeze, a metal shaft shot out of either end.

Bo staff in hand, you gave it a quick twirl before you stepped into the light of the streetlight.

“I think you're going to want to step away,” you said as you shifted your weight, preparing.

The guy had a strong grip on the arm of a smaller woman, his fingers turning her skin pale from the hold. She looked petrified and you were a little disheartened to see that at least some of that was directed at you.

The hood and mask you wore were to protect your identity, not to strike fear into the hearts of the people you interacted with.

That was just a nice bonus.

“Release her,” you demanded in a firm tone as you spun the bo staff around menacingly.

The guy stared you down. If he was perturbed by staring at a masked person with a metal staff, he didn't show it. Instead he started to smile, teeth showing like a snarl more than anything else.

He didn't say a word. He just pulled a gun out of his pocket with his free hand and aimed it directly at you.

“What's that shiny stick gonna do for you against this?”

You were ready, knees bent and staff held level. Time seemed to slow down as he pulled the trigger at the exact instant a body dropped down on top of him.

The bullet shot wide of its mark but you still felt the pain as it grazed you. You grit your teeth and spun around, your staff knocking the attacker down as your quote-unquote savior stood up.

Daredevil. You should have known.

While he made sure the assailant was down for the count, you turned to the girl that was cowering against the wall.

“You're safe,” you said as you twirled the staff away from her. “Are you hurt?”

Her eyes darted past you and you watched them widen with fear before she crumpled onto the ground. You shot to her side, tearing off your gloves to check her for a pulse or any injuries.

“She fainted,” Daredevil said in a gruff voice. “She's not the one bleeding from a gunshot.”

“It was a graze,” you shot back as you continued to look the girl over. “I had it under control.”

“He had a gun,” he replied as he stalked forward.

You stood up and looked him over. The costume looked like it probably kept him mostly safe. The mask was a little terrifying, you had to admit, but only when he was frowning at you like that.

And why didn't it have eye holes? What kind of material was it that he could see through it?

“You aren't the only one that can protect this city, Daredevil. And I can take care of myself.”

His head tilted towards your arm. Whether or not he could see through the mask, you knew he couldn't make out your wound in the dark and through the layers you wore.

You twirled the staff around until your fingers found the slight depression. With a quick squeeze, the sides retracted back in and you replaced the cylinder to your hip.

“You shouldn't be out here trying to take down the criminal element,” Daredevil said with another frown.

It was almost word for word what he said the first time you ran into him.

“I'm not asking your permission.” And then, as you brushed past him back to the fire escape you had been staked out on, you gave him one last look. “You aren't the only one willing to bleed for this city. But at least with me it's not permanent.”

Let him ponder on that, you thought as you took off at a run, climbing up onto the fire escape and back to where you had left your hearing devices.

The night was still young.

------

The first time that you met Daredevil, you had been following what looked to be a gang. You couldn't be certain but you were pretty sure that they were about to commit a crime so you followed them.

It wasn't hard to do. They were on foot and not trying to be stealth or evasive. But they had guns and knives and you weren't about to let anyone come to harm that night.

On one rooftop overlooking the run down apartment building they entered, you were poised to head in if you heard any sound or commotion.

One second you're bracing yourself on the edge of the roof, ready to run to the roof access door if needed. The next you were spun around to face Daredevil himself.

Quickly you went into defense mode, knocking his hand free and ducking away when he tried to grab you again. He was quick and apparently skilled but you weren't some slouch. You didn't just wake up one morning and decide this sounded fun.

“Stop trying to hit me,” he complained through clenched teeth.

“Well stop trying to grab me. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to grab a woman without her consent?”

His mouth ticked upwards and you weren't sure why you felt so proud for having made the devil smile.

“I make exceptions for when innocent people are stalking cartel members.”

A cartel? You thought they were some local gang members. You turned towards the street but he pulled you back a bit.

“Their lookout scours the rooftops. You might want to stay out of sight unless you want a bullet to the skull.”

You smirked but didn't say anything. Instead you pulled out of his grasp and headed over to the roof access door.

“If there is a cartel in my city, I'm not going to just let it happen.”

He followed you and kicked a foot out to keep you from being able to open the door.

“Someone like you shouldn't be out here trying to take on the criminal element of the city.”

That made you pause from wondering if you could trip him up.

“The devil is sexist? Good to know,” you said as you yanked on the door as hard as you could.

“It's not that. It's that you don't know what you're getting into. No one should try to take on the dark underbelly of this city.”

That was interesting. You pulled away from him and the door, eyes canvassing the rooftop for another way down.

“You take it on. You go through every inch of Hell's Kitchen and bloody up anyone that dares to cross your path. You do it every night. You think you own the rights to this city? You think you’re the only one that feels it’s their duty?” You scoffed and shook your head, taking a few steps backwards. “You’ve never been more wrong.”

You turned and took off at a run, the gravel on the roof crunching under your boots. You heard Daredevil call something out but you pushed that to the back of your mind as you launched yourself up and over the lip of the roof, sailing through the air before you landed on a nearby roof with a quiet thud.

The impact jostled you a bit, but you’d had worse. You stood up and looked across the opening to where Daredevil was still standing on the other roof. With a sarcastic salute, you turned and darted across that roof as well.

Let him handle the cartel for the night. You weren’t done just yet.

------

The actual first time you had met Daredevil had been before the red suit. It was before the nickname, before word of a man running around in a black mask had begun to circulate. You had watched him come from seemingly nowhere before he dragged your would be attacker away from you.

A right hook. A jab with the left. He spun around and kicked the man in the face, effectively knocking him out.

When he turned back to you, you could see his chest rising and falling. It didn’t look like it was with exertion because surely that hadn’t taken much energy. No, you had a feeling it was something else.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t do more than nod, unable to find your words. He had asked again, probably wanting to hear you verbalize it. Instead you stood up and ran out of the alley you had been pulled into.

That night you had sat on your bed and looked at the scars that circled your wrists from the way you had been strapped down during the experiments. They were the only scars that never seemed to heal.

With the memory of that man saving your life and the rush he seemed to get from it, you started to plan.

A few years later and you were the person that was rushing in to save people’s lives. You wore an outfit that was inspired by what you had seen on the not-yet-Daredevil; black pants that gave you didn’t hinder your movement but that wouldn’t weigh you down, a long sleeve black shirt, and a black jacket with attached hood that helped obscure your identity.

The mask was for that purpose too. It covered your face and it masked your voice to a point. On the off chance that you encountered someone you knew, you didn’t want them to figure out your secret.

Well, any of your secrets.

You placed the utility belt that you had made on the table and sighed. Next you shed your boots and jacket, your mask having been removed the moment you landed on the fire escape outside your apartment.

The wound from the bullet had already healed even though the blood on your shirt was still wet. You dropped the shirt onto the coffee table and moved over to where you kept a sewing kit. You’d patch the shirt and the jacket; at least this wound was small enough you didn’t need to pull out one of the others that you had stock piled when you started this.

Becoming a vigilante hadn’t been your plan. As a kid you had dreamed about becoming a doctor or a vet or something of the sort. You had it all figured out but it didn’t matter.

The experiments had been something your foster parents had signed you up for. They had told you that it was to help you but you weren’t so sure that that was the truth. It didn’t seem to matter. After days and weeks of boring medical tests, you were strapped to a bed and injected with multiple needles.

The lacerations on your wrists from where you tugged and tugged, desperate to run away, had never fully healed. Sometimes they still hurt, sometimes they burned.

You’d been awake for every second of the experiments. Some of the injections burned, some of them felt like you had ice being poured in your veins.

It was something you learned much later, but some of the kids that were forced into the experiments didn’t make it. You were one of the lucky ones.

The side effects included blinding headaches, fatigue, speedy healing, and extreme agility. It made running across rooftops and jumping from one building to another easier; you didn’t have to worry about not making the landing.

Granted you weren’t sure what it would take to kill you. Maybe a fall from a ten story building would leave a mark. Maybe a bullet to the brain or a knife to the heart.

So far you hadn’t found anything that kept you down for long.

That’s why you were going to keep doing what you could. That was why Daredevil wasn’t going to stop you.

------

Rain was falling pretty steadily and you frowned as you sat on a part of a roof that was covered. The device that you usually used to find trouble wasn’t working very well in this weather. It was partly a surveillance tap, using a mild transmitter that could pick up sounds up to a few blocks away. It also had the addition of being a police radio scanner but that didn’t help you stop crimes from happening.

The sound of boots on the roof made you grow rigid. You had been there for a while so surely no one had seen you. You took a deep breath and reached for the cylinder, but a voice made you freeze.

“This isn’t exactly the best weather for looking for trouble,” Daredevil said as he came around the wall of the little enclosure you had holed yourself up in.

“Who said I’m looking for trouble? I’m just minding my own business.”

He tilted his head for a moment before he smirked. His hand shot out and grabbed the cylinder on your hip, pressing the mechanism that made your staff stood out. He spun it around before he hit the mechanism that made it retract.

“I think that speaks for itself,” he reasoned as he held it out to you.

You snatched it from his hand and tucked it back onto your hip. The suit was wet but it didn’t look soaked through. Either he had been nearby or it was waterproof.

The heavy feeling of your soaked clothes made you a little envious of that. If you got into a fight right now, you had a feeling there’d be a lot of chafing.

At least it’d heal fast.

“There’s not going to be anything to do tonight,” Daredevil stated as he tilted his face towards the opening. It was eerie with the lack of eye holes, but you didn’t say anything. “You might as well go home.”

You rolled your eyes and reached up to wipe away the rain water that had started to drip under your mask.

“Yeah, and I bet you’ll just head back to whatever cave you crawl out of once the sun goes down, huh?”

He inclined his head as if conceding to you. While he was quiet, you lifted out the tiny device that had a wire in your hood, protected by a layer of plastic to keep it from shorting in the rain. The audio tuner wasn’t picking up anything but raining nearby so you flipped over to the police scanner.

“Is that how you find who needs help? A police scanner?”

You shot a look at him before you leaned back against the brick wall once more.

“Sometimes, yeah. Can’t always just walk past someone when they are in trouble.”

Did you detect a smirk on his lips? You tucked the device back into your pocket with the volume low enough that it barely registered to you. While you weren’t sure if you were on friendly terms with Daredevil or not, you couldn’t stop the thought that he had a nice smile.

The rain wasn’t pouring as hard as it had been. You stuck a hand out and then wiped it on your pants leg.

“You should be wearing gloves,” he said as he turned to face you, a frown covering that nice smile you had just been enjoying.

“I have them,” you said as you pulled them out of your jacket pocket. “I can’t tune the scanner with them on in the rain. You don’t have to worry about me getting frostbite.”

“Wasn’t worried about that. I was thinking about fingerprints.” He gestured to his mask and then to yours. “Figured the reason you wear that is because you have a life that takes place off of rooftops and you don’t want people to know that this is how you spend your free time.”

He had a point. You tugged on the gloves and crossed your arms over your chest. It didn’t feel like conceding to his demands. In fact…

“Are you giving me vigilante tips right now?”

The laugh that that brought out of him seemed to be a surprise even to him. He shook his head a bit.

“I haven’t been able to talk you out of this. I can at least make sure you’re doing it right.” And then with a smirk, “I’m not a vigilante, by the way.”

That made you laugh in return.

“You got a devil kink? And a rooftop kink?”

He started to reply but he froze, his head tilting to the side. You listened as well but there didn’t seem to be anything there. You fumbled with your radio before you could skip it over to the other channel. It didn’t pick up anything nearby.

“What is it?”

Did he have some sort of radio in his cowl? That would be cool… and really extra, which fit his whole aesthetic.

“Trouble,” he said with a wicked grin before he started to head out from the awning. Then, with a look over his shoulder, “You coming?”

You grinned wide under your mask and took off after him.

------

The pain was a dull reminder that you weren’t immune to dumb ideas. It also wasn’t going to stop you from other dumb ideas. Pain was funny like that.

The building that you and Daredevil had cleared during the fire hadn’t been very safe. He had told you to get out but you wanted to do one last pass. And good thing you did because there was a kid on the third floor that would have died.

You got him onto the fire escape and made him go first while you made sure there wasn’t anyone else up there. The sound of the crackling inside the building made you realize that there was about to be an explosion.

There was a window at the far end of the hallway that you were fairly certain led to a parking lot. It was the third floor so it wouldn’t hurt too bad. With that in mind you had taken off at a run and burst through the window right as the gas line blew.

The force of the explosion threw you further and you slammed into the ground harder than you had planned. The number of injuries was higher than you wanted to count. At that point you were breathing in concrete and praying that the building didn’t collapse on you.

Hands were on you, a frantic voice asking if you were okay. You groaned as you were rolled over, the thick taste of copper in your mouth.

“Fuck,” Daredevil swore as he pulled you a little further out of sight. Then he yanked off one of his gloves and started to pass it over your body. “Jesus, what were you thinking? I have to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” you said as your vision swam a little, seeing four horns instead of just two. “No hospitals. I mean it devil boy. No hospitals. I’ll be–”

You didn’t get much more out than that before you coughed up some more blood, feeling it trickle out from under your mask. Oh yeah. That was going to hurt for a bit.

And then it was dark.

------

There was a very obvious lack of a mask on your face. You reached up to check just in case and you saw that you weren’t wearing gloves anymore. Or your jacket or belt.

As you started to sit up, you felt a hand press against your shoulder and push you back down on the bed you were in.

“You had a rough night,” a somewhat familiar voice said. “Although by time my nurse friend got here, you were mostly healed. Neat little trick. Not something you can teach me is it?”

You tilted your face up a bit in the direction of Daredevil’s voice. Instead of seeing red leather and horns, you saw a very attractive man that looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. His hair was a mess, his eyes glassy.

Actually…

“Are you blind?”

A little color went to his cheeks and he leaned over to the bedside table where he grabbed a pair of red tinted glasses. He put them on and you watched him shift a little where he was sitting on the side of the bed next to you.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You jumped out of a third story window of a building that exploded and you look good as new.”

You sat up with a groan, ignoring his insistence that you lie back down.

“Might look good, but I feel like shit. And how do you know what I look like anyways?”

He cleared his throat and then gave a quick nod.

“I’m technically blind but I have enhanced senses. It’s a long story,” he said when you opened your mouth to ask, “and I think your story is more important right now. I had a nurse friend come over but you were healed by time she arrived. She looked you over anyways and gave you a clean bill of health. Does it still hurt?”

Your eyes went to your wrists and shook your head.

“I’ve had worse,” you promised as you started to move to the edge of the bed. Then you realized you had no idea where you are. “Did you kidnap me?”

“You’re in my apartment,” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, that doesn’t answer my question. Seriously Daredevil-slash-blind-man, where am I and where are my clothes?”

He gestured over to a pile of dark clothes on the dresser nearby. You stood up with a groan, wavering a bit before you limped over to it. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust him, but you didn’t know him. You checked to make sure that everything was where you had left it, fingers rubbing at a char mark on the edge of the mask.

“How’d you survive that?”

His voice was soft, gently inquiring. You glanced over your shoulder at him and then back at your mask. The ache in your wrists drew away from the ache in your body.

“I’m technically hard to kill,” you said sarcastically, playing off what he had said about his blindness.

He noticed and you watched him curiously as he seemed to ponder his next step. With a short nod to himself, he stepped over to you and held his hand out.

“I’m Matt Murdock. During the day I’m a lawyer at a firm with my best friend. At night I’m Daredevil. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

You looked between his hand and his face, those eyes that were hard to see through the tinted glasses. At least now you know why his mask didn’t have eye slots.

With a sigh you reached out and grabbed his hand for a shake.

“Y/N Y/L/N. You got any alcohol in this bachelor pad? I think I’m going to need a drink before we get into this.”

His laugh made you smile.

------

It was the first time you had ever told the whole story. And while it didn't seem to be the first time for Matt, he also seemed almost relieved to get the words out.

There was a certain freedom in having someone know it all. And he didn't seem to regard you any differently than he had before.

There was also the shared trauma of being in an orphanage. You joked that you would have picked nuns over becoming a lab rat, but you knew you both had a troubled childhood.

“So what made you decide to do this? You've been like this since a kid. How long have you been running around in a mask?”

You shifted on the couch, tucking your legs under you as you stared at the glass of bourbon he had poured for you.

The cheap stuff. Not that you cared.

“Actually I was saved by some guy in black pajamas and a mask. He didn't know what I was capable of,” you added with a grin.

Matt's mouth dropped open in surprise and you could see him racking his brain for a memory of you. He had taken off his glasses at some point during the conversation so you watched his apparently sightless eyes dart back and forth.

“I don't remember you.”

You knocked the back of your hand against his arm gently, fully aware that he could avoid the touch if he wanted to.

“I'm not offended if that's what you're worried about. Just means you save so many people that you can't keep us straight.” You paused for a moment before you continued. “I want to thank you for that. Not just for saving me, although that's pretty awesome. But because you're the reason I do what I do.”

It wasn't that you thought that he would be blown away by the sentiment but you did notice that he looked relatively crestfallen once you'd spoken.

“I don't take that as a compliment,” he said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I do this so that other people won't have to.”

You turned to place your feet flat on the floor, straightening your spine as you did.

“I don't do this because I have to. I do this because I can and someone should. I'm like this for a reason.”

“But your reason doesn't have to be this,” he explained as he gestured to your wrists.

“You think those people that performed the experiments on me as a kid did it because it was going to help me? They preyed on foster kids because no one would care if we didn't make it out.”

You stood up and paced, unable to take the lack of movement any longer.

“The people that did this to me were criminals. Whatever they wanted me for was probably not good. I was created for the wrong reasons. So if I want to use my new abilities for good, who are you to tell me that's wrong?”

You turned to face Matt who had followed your trek. He had listened intently to your rant. At that point he nodded and stood up, taking a step towards you as he did.

“I always told myself that God made me this way for a reason,” he said simply as he gestured to his eyes. “The way I am now and what I'm capable of? It gives me the opportunity to help those in need. I shouldn't judge you for feeling the exact same way.”

He seemed so sincere. You turned away from him and looked out of the wide windows, biting your bottom lip.

The hours had stretched on since you had met him on the roof the night before. Now the sun was starting to make its presence known through the buildings.

The illuminated sign seemed duller in the growing light. You'd noticed it when you first came to in his apartment but you hadn't gotten a good look until now.

You knew around where you must have been located at least.

“I'm not asking your permission to do this. I know what the danger is and I know what I'm capable of. I jumped out of that window knowing that I might not make it.”

“But you did,” he said as he moved up to stand beside you. “You made it and you saved a lot of people in the process.”

You rubbed a hand over your wrist, the feeling of the scars a grounding reminder of how you survived that fall.

“We saved them,” you said instead.

------

You hadn't seen the gun. You had just taken out three men who were suspected of human trafficking, using your staff to knock them unconscious. As you tugged out the zip tie cuffs you usually used to restrain the people you caught, you heard a noise behind you.

It'd been almost a month since you found out who Daredevil was. Almost a month and in that time you had seen him almost every night that you put on the mask. It made sense that you thought it was him.

With your guard down, you spun around to face Matt. Only instead you found a man dressed like his unconscious buddies.

Your first instinct was to take him down too. You spun the staff, ready to fight, but you never made it that far because you hadn't seen the gun.

The shot sounded like an explosion, the noise bouncing off the metal walls of the warehouse you were in.

First there was nothing, just the noise. And then there was pain.

The man seemed surprised when you didn't immediately fall over. You gasped through the pain as you tried to stay upward.

The next shot shouldn't have surprised you. It did knock you over.

One hole in your chest, one in your stomach. The one in your chest was already starting to heal, but that didn't stop the pain you felt.

The shooter walked up and peered down at you. He tilted his head as he looked you over, probably not sure what he was looking at. You watched through blurry eyes as he aimed the gun at your head.

With another ringing gunshot, everything went dark.

------

The thought of showing up unannounced made you feel a little vulnerable, but right then you didn't mind. You wiped at your face and prayed that there wasn't any left over blood, but you hadn't exactly stopped to check a mirror.

It'd only been a few moments since you had knocked but you raised your fist to do it again. Instead the door swung open and you were faced with a panicked looking Matt.

“Get in here,” he said as he dragged you in by your arm. “I could smell the blood through the door. What the hell happened?”

He was wearing sweats so obviously he hadn't been out tonight. Or he had already come back home.

You let him guide you to his couch. Then he felt around to check that you were in one piece. His hands were warm as they brushed your face and then your chest.

You grabbed his hands before they went to your stomach, your fingers linking with his almost immediately.

“I think you may have had a point when you said that I shouldn't do this alone,” you said as you squeezed his hands.

“What happened?”

With his hands in yours, you explained that you'd been taking down some traffickers when you realized there was a fourth one. You relived the moment of being shot three times, the aches making it hard to catch your breath.

“I knew I'd heal from the one to my chest and my stomach because I've done it before,” you explained quietly, eyes locked on your clasped hands. “But I didn't know if I'd survive a shot to the head point blank.”

“Y/N,” he said as he reached you to cup your cheek.

“In that instant before he pulled the trigger, I couldn't help but think that was it and I was about to die. And the last thing I thought was that I didn't want to go without telling you…”

You hesitated then, unsure how to word it without making a fool of yourself. But the look on his face made you feel calmer than you had any right to be.

He felt it too.

Instead of finishing your sentence, you simply leaned in and pressed your mouth against his. It was a kiss full of desperation and longing, but it filled you with such joy.

You'd never thought you'd have something like this. Because of who you were, you always thought you would end up having to hide a part of yourself. You never dreamed you could find someone who would know all about you and not pull away.

And Matt was definitely not pulling away. In fact he was tugging you closer, his mouth moving against yours eagerly.

Having another mask ruined was worth it for this moment.

------

There were too many for you to take on by yourself. You spun your staff around as you looked at the people surrounding you.

Way too many for you to take on alone. Good thing you weren't alone.

In the instant that Daredevil appeared, you struck out and attacked. The two of you worked together flawlessly, dropping armed thug after armed thug.

The two of you had developed quite the reputation on the streets for being capable and even ruthless at times. It was also well known that where one of you were, the other was soon to follow.

Apart you were both fearsome opponents. Together you were a force to be reckoned with.

No criminal stood a chance against Daredevil and the Woman Without Fear.

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#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic #my writing

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runpogorun · 5 years

Link

Here’s my gift to @wrtng-thngs-nd-stff for the Daredevil Exchange. It also fills the ‘Innocent until proven guilty’ square on my Daredevil Bingo card. Enjoy!

The prompt was: “Each night counts for something or else we’d all go mad,” by Charles Bukowski.

*****

Matt was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on his socks and his tie when his phone beeped with a text message from Foggy:

Each night counts for something or else we’d all go mad.

Matt frowned, and held up his phone to dictate a response. “Fog. It’s too early to be that cryptic.” He placed the phone beside him and reached down to pick up a shoe, groaning quietly.

Foggy’s reply was swift:

It’s not early, you’re just late. I’ve been watching the video of DD from last night. Are you okay?

Matt finished tying his shoes, and shrugged on his suit jacket before dictating his next text. “Yes, mom. I’ll see you soon.” He checked the time. He was only a little late, and last night’s video can’t have been that dramatic.

That’s unlikely, my dude. And did you forget Bukowski?

Matt had. He paused to do a quick internet search, and opened a new note in his phone. Then he straightened his tie and went to face the day.

_____

The next week, when Matt was once again late, it was this:

Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you've felt that way.

Are you going to make it?

I need you today.

Matt was in a coffee shop, waiting for the triple order they would all need to get them started on the last day of pre-trial preparation. He didn’t bother replying, just sighed and collected his order then walked the short distance to the office. It had been a not-insignificant period of time since his last serious injury. He was keeping it together.

Matt wove between the towers of boxes, placing Karen’s coffee in the middle of her desk, then knocked on Foggy’s office door. Foggy’s head lifted, and he sprang out of his chair with a cry of, “Coffee!”

Matt leaned against the doorframe and nursed his own cup. “Where’s Karen?”

“Picking up those photos.”

Matt hummed in response, taking a sip of coffee. Foggy wandered back to his desk and plopped down in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “Do you think Ms Zhang feels okay about tomorrow?” Foggy asked.

Matt nodded. “I offered to pick her up, walk with her to the courthouse.”

“She lives literally nowhere near you.”

“Ah,” Matt said, “But she doesn’t know that.”

“You do you, buddy. Just get her there on time.” Foggy’s head bent to the desk in front of him, his hands shuffling papers. He sighed again. Behind Matt, the door swung open and Karen stalked in. She must have spied the coffee immediately, because she headed straight for her desk, dropping a thick envelope and scooping up her coffee cup with a sigh of happiness. She came over to join Matt, touching him on the arm in greeting as he smiled at her.

“Come on, Fog. We’re going to kill it tomorrow. We’re prepared. You can be happy.”

Foggy slowly raised a hand, pointing his pen at Matt and in a deep voice intoned, “We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.”

“What?” asked Karen.

Matt shook his head. “He’s on a Charles Bukowski kick,” he said.

Karen made a noise of comprehension, turning her head between Matt and Foggy. “Ohhhh,” she said. “Oh yeah, he’s perfect.”

“I know, right?” Foggy cried, gesticulating wildly.

“What?” Matt asked.

“He’s like your… depressed Fairy Godmother.”

Matt downed the last of his coffee. “I’ve got work to do.” He walked to his office and firmly shut the door on the sounds of laughter.

_____

Maggie really did make neat stitches, her fingers moving nimbly. Matt wondered if she’d learned before Jack. Maybe it was just the kids. She’d once stitched him up, when he was thirteen years old and a car had backfired, sending a sonic wave which confused him enough that he’d missed the curb and tripped. He’d angrily brushed off the concerned stranger who tried to help him, and limped home, blood dripping down his leg and pooling in his sock. Maggie hadn’t had a lot to say then, sighing and pushing him into a seat with firm hands.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, punctuating it with a sharp snip.

Matt snorted. “That would be a waste.”

“A waste would be this wound being a bit deeper, and you bleeding to death in an alley.” She turned and started tidying away her supplies, carrying them to the sink.

Matt stood and reached for his shirt, turning it right side out and running his fingers over it. The blood around the ragged tear was dry and crackly. He poked two fingers through the hole and wiggled them. Someone shrieked three blocks over, and Matt turned his head sharply to the side, listening hard. The sound dissolved into giggles - a group of friends having fun. He relaxed again, smoothing away a few flakes of blood.

“Matthew.” Maggie was standing close in front of him. He hadn’t noticed her moving closer.

“Hm?”

She walked towards him and reached out, smoothing his hair back from his brow. “You look tired. I said I was here to listen.” Slowly, she pried the shirt from his hands, taking it from him.

“It’s nothing,” Matt said, sitting down again.

“Sure.”

Matt scrubbed a hand through his hair, pulled his mask from his pocket and smoothed it out on his knee.

“You still worrying about whether you’re making a difference?” Maggie asked.

“No. I know I am,” Matt said, shaking his head. “It’s more… keeping my head in the game. You know. Not... letting my friends down. Again.”

“This one’s clean,” Maggie said, throwing a bundle of fabric at him.

“Black, I hope,” Matt said, shaking the shirt out pulling it on over his head.

“You know, kiddo, what matters most is how well you walk through the fire.”

Matt froze. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ll wash this and sew it up for you. Why don’t you visit me at a reasonable hour, next time? Take me out for afternoon tea.”

_____

“You told my mother about Bukowski?” Matt’s glasses were in his pocket, and he narrowed his eyes in an approximation of a hard stare.

“To be fair, I think she’d already heard of him,” Foggy said, shrugging in an overexaggerated way.

“You still haven’t told me why. Why, all of a sudden, you’re all trying to make me feel guilty by throwing some old sexist alcoholic’s rantings at me.”

“I don’t need to do anything at all to make you feel guilty. You do that all by yourself. And Theo got rid of his old bed so he didn’t need my copy of Post Office to keep the legs level, so he gave it back to me.”

“Please tell me you didn’t start a file of quotes you thought applied to me,” Matt said, giving the stare another go.

“Innocent until proven guilty. Stop trying to hypnotise my dinosaur.”

Matt sighed. “Karen’s coming. Let’s pretend to be busy.”

_____

Matt truly did regret this type of injury. It was embarrassing, being so limited by pain that he struggled to do even the basics. He heard Karen’s footfall on the stairs and carefully, so carefully, climbed out of bed, making it to the couch just before she said, “I’m coming in, Matt,” and slid her key into the lock. Matt bit back a groan of pain, and pasted a smile onto his face.

She walked straight to the kitchen, all rustling shopping bags and high heels. “Hey, Karen,” he offered.

“I didn’t expect to see you out of bed.” Karen put a couple of things in Matt’s near-empty fridge. “Beer?”

“Please.”

She came over, putting the beer on the coffee table passing him his carton and fork, and slipping off her shoes to tuck her feet underneath herself. “Don’t try that face. It makes you look worse, which I didn’t think was possible.” He didn’t think he could reach his beer without her seeing how sore he truly was.

Instead, Matt prodded at his takeout. He was ravenous and it smelled good.

“Foggy’s on a date, so you’ve only got me tonight. Want to watch a movie?”

Matt smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Great. Eat up, then, because you need to be in bed and food doesn’t belong in the bedroom.”

“I’m good here.”

Karen shook her head. “Your couch is not as comfortable as that big, soft bed.”

Matt just rolled his eyes. Karen reached out and patted his knee, and said, “If you have the ability to love, love yourself first.”

Matt stabbed his fork into his take out, and threw up his hand. “Okay, okay, I admit defeat. We can watch in my bed, as long as you don’t quote him any more.”

“It’s a deal,” Karen said, smugly.

_____

Matt woke, in searing pain, but it wasn’t going to kill him. He had wondered, the previous night. He certainly wasn’t going to make it to the office today, or maybe tomorrow either.

He picked up his phone to check the time. Late enough that Foggy would be concerned, so he dictated a text: “In the morning it was morning, and I was still alive.”

Foggy phoned back thirty seconds later. “Buddy, do I need to call an ambulance?” He sounded short of breath.

“I don’t know. Does your chest hurt?”

“An ambulance for you, asshole. How bad is it?”

“Like I said, I’m still alive. But I won’t be in today. I’m sorry, Fog.” Matt pulled the comforter higher, tucking it around his neck.

“Do I need to call Maggie?”

“No.”

“Matty-”

“I said no, Foggy.”

“Fine. But I’m bringing you lunch. And you’d better still be alive.”

“Foggy.”

“Hey, you know, today might be the time to use that Bukowski quote I’ve been saving up.”

“Jesus, Fog, haven’t you used them all up?”

“Oh no, he was a very prolific man. But this one is the best. Are you listening, Matty?”

Matt pressed his face against the pillow and made a vague noise.

“Sometimes you just have to pee in the sink.”

#pogowrites #daredevilbingo #daredevilexchange #Daredevil #Charles Bukowski

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avengersmusings · 4 years

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FULL NAME: Natalia Alianova Romanova MEANING: Christmas Day NICKNAME: Natasha, Nat, Tash, Tasha MEANING: Natasha is the name she usually goes by to distance herself from the Red Room, Nat’s just a shortened form of her name, and Clint calls her Tash/Tasha when they’re alone thanks. AGE APPEARANCE: Appears 30, is actually 36 BIRTHDAY: April 22nd, 1984 ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Taurus SPECIES: Enhanced Human GENDER: Cis female ALLERGIES: None SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Pansexual THEME SONG(S): Praying by Kesha, Black Widow by Iggy Azela & Rita Ora, I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift, and Alone Together by Fall Out Boy

APPEARANCE

HAIR COLOR: Red HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: Shoulder length, usually either wavy or straight. She’ll wear it up in a bun if she’s lounging around. EYES COLOR: Green EYESIGHT: 20/20, the serum she was injected with corrected any and all imperfections. HEIGHT: 5″7′ WEIGHT: 145 lbs OUTFIT/CLOTHING STYLE: On missions it’s whatever SHIELD makes her wear but when she’s alone it’s usually leggings and someone else’s shirt or sweats and Clint’s shirt. Flat shoes are a must and jeans are only worn if they’re going out in public (and they’re tight as can be). ABNORMALITIES: None. DISTINGUISHING MARKS(SCARS,MOLES): Various knife/bullet wounds that have scarred over; a long bullet wound along right hip; small scattering of freckles along upper back, shoulders, and face. SELF CARE(MAKE UP): Nat always looks well kept and put together. The Red Room forced her to. FIRST IMPRESSION ON PEOPLE: People usually think she’s a bitch and unapproachable. SKIN COLOR: Latina/White mixed BODY TYPE/BUILD: Slim, lean, and muscular. DEFAULT EXPRESSION: Resting bitch face x1000. POSTURE: Nat always has perfect posture, her body tense like a dancer’s. MEASUREMENTS(FEMALE ONLY): Waist: size 12; Bust: size 34D PIERCINGS: Multiple piercings on ears, bellybutton piercing. DESCRIBE THEIR VOICE: As the Black Widow, there’s no distinguishable accent but when Nat is alone her natural accent comes out.

RELATIONS:

MOM: Anika Romanova HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Natasha’s mother died when she was young, but hse does have a fond memory of her mother singing to her. DAD: Ivan Petrovitch (Adopted); birth father is unknown. HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Before she was kidnapped by the Red Room, their relationship was very good. He took her in after her mother’s death and the Red Room told her that he was dead. SIBLINGS: Mayna Romanova HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: For the longest time, Natasha had no idea that Mayna was even still alive. They went through the Red Room together but it wasn’t until Nat dropped all of SHIELD’s files to the public that she found out her sister was still alive. CHILDREN: N/A HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: N/A OTHER FAMILY MEMBERS: N/A PAST LOVER(S): Alexi Shostakov (Ex-Husband), James Barnes (Ex-Fling) CURRENT LOVER: Clint Barton REACTION TO MEETING SOMEONE NEW: Nat keeps quiet and analyzes them until she gets a good read of them. ABILITY TO WORK WITH OTHERS: Usually, Nat can work with anyone. Her training forces her to want to work with others, even if she doesn’t agree with them. However, it takes her a while to fully trust her teammates. HOW SOCIABLE(LONER,ETC): Mildly social, but only to those she trusts and cares about. FRIENDS: The Avengers team, Elise Burke, Wanda Maximoff, Carol Danvers, Pepper Potts PETS: Liho, a 3 year old black male cat. LEAST FAVORITE TYPE OF PERSON: Overbearing men, cocky people, men who don’t take her seriously because she’s a woman. PARENTAL TYPE(PROTECTIVE,ETC): Protective, Carefree. FAVORITE PEOPLE: Clint, Elise, Bucky, Wanda, and Pepper are her top five favorite people. LEAST FAVORITE PEOPLE: Clint, anyone Hydra or Red Room affiliated, people who are rude to women.

PERSONALITY:

..WHEN YOU FIRST MEET THEM: ? Cautious, closed off, cold. ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY LIKE YOU): Affectionate, Loyal, Playful. ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY DISLIKE YOU): Cold, Mean, Sarcastic. FAVORITE COLOR: Red. FAVORITE FOOD: Russian Pelmeni, pizza, anything chocolate. FAVORITE ANIMAL: Cats FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Flute FAVORITE ELEMENT: Fire LEAST FAVORITE COLOR: White LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Lemons, Cabbage Rolls, beans LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: None really. LEAST FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Deep bass and drums LEAST FAVORITE ELEMENT: Earth HOBBIES: Ballet dancing, listening to calming music, eating cereal with Clint at 3am. USUAL MOOD: Calm, collected, but usually in a good mood.

DRINK/SMOKE/DRUGS: Drinks socially. DARK VERSION OF SELF: Cunning, ruthless, a trained assassin that will kill without hesitation. LIGHT VERSION OF SELF: Loyal, willing to make the sacrifice play, intelligent. HOW SERIOUS ARE THEY: Nat is usually pretty serious, but does have a playful side. BELIEVE IN GHOSTS: Ghost are real and they haunt her at night. (IN)DEPENDANT: Independent, though tends to be dependent on people she really cares about. SOFT SPOT/VULNERABILITY: Talking about her pre-SHIELD past, Clint, orphaned children. OPINION ON SWEARING: She doesn’t do it unless the occasion calls for it, but isn’t against it. DAREDEVIL VS CAUTIOUS: It depends on the situation. MUSIC TYPE: She prefers classical or calming music and cannot stand rap or hip hop. MOVIE TYPE: Action, Horror, dumb comedies Clint makes her watch BOOK TYPE: Nat’s read all the classics but her favorites are those trashy romance novels and she pretends she doesn’t read them. GAME TYPE: Anything, she’s been trained to know how to read to win them all. COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE: Nat likes being comfortable, meaning not too hot or too cold. SLEEPING PATTERN: Nat’s usually up at all hours, but likes to try to keep a sleeping schedule. It doesn’t really work out. CLEANLINESS/NEATNESS: Nat’s okay with a little bit of disarray in her living areas, a light clutter to show a home is lived in isn’t bad. But she can’t super messy environments. DESIRED PET: Cats HOW DO THEY PASS TIME: Nat’s free time is either spent training or with Clint. BIGGEST SECRET: There isn’t much Nat keeps secret anymore, between the SHIELD leak and her desire to let her teammates know everything. HERO/WHO THEY LOOK UP TO: Peggy Carter. WHAT ANIMAL WOULD THEY BE: A lioness. FEARS: Becoming Natalia again and hurting one of her coworkers, Clint leaving her, failing to save someone. COMFORTS: Warm baths, Clint drapping himself around her, Liho purring on her chest.

HOW DO THEY ACT WHEN THEY ARE:

SAD: Nat has two sad modes: run away or shut it down. When she’s sad she either shuts down her negative emotion until she can’t hold it back anymore or runs away to deal with them on her own. HAPPY: Playful, joking around, wanting to be around as many people as possible. ANGRY: Depending on who/what made her angry: fighting, harsh words, or poking at known weaknesses are her usual go tos. AFRAID: Nat isn’t usually afraid, but when she is her body shuts down and goes into fight or flight mode. LOVE SOMEONE: Steals their clothing, wants to be around them all the time, becomes over protective. HATE SOMEONE: Nat either avoids them or makes their life a living hell. WANT SOMETHING: Nat will go after it, she’s not the one to beat around the bush. CONFUSED: Nat doesn’t get confused often but if she does end up confused she works it out until she understands it.

HOW DO THEY REACT TO:

DANGER: Nat’s fight or flight response kicks in and she tries to protect her teammates from whatever danger is present. SOMEONE THEY HATE WHO HAS A CRUSH ON THEM: Nat murders them, no she just lets them know she’s not interested. PROPOSAL TO MARRY: At first, she thinks Clint is joking because he’s him. But when she eventually realizes he’s being legit, she’d accept and they’d spent at least a day celebrating. DEATH OF LOVED ONE: After so much loss, Nat’s almost immune to it. She gets sad and wants to be alone for a little bit and then wants Clint to just hold her. DIFFICULT GAME/MATH/ETC: Nat will not rest until she works it out okay. INJURY: If someone else is hurt, Nat hides it and pretends she’s okay. She’s also been injured so many times that she doesn’t realize she’s hurt half the time so. SOMETHING IRRESISTABLY CUTE: Nat pretends it’s annoying while secretly dying on the inside. LOSS OF HOURS OF WORK: I dare SHIELD to try to cut her out of something. I dare them.

Knowledge:

LANGUAGES: English, Russian, German, Latin, ASL. SCHOOLING LEVEL: Whatever the Red Room was FAVORITE SUBJECT (S): Dance, Combat INTERESTED CAREERS: None really. EXPERTISE: Combat, Weapons Mastery, Hacking, Seduction & Manipulation PUZZLES: Puzzles aren’t that hard for her. CHEMISTRY: The science subject? Not so much. Human chemistry? She’s an expert. MATH: Math wasn’t that hard for her to understand. ENGLISH: She can speak it but reading something and finding hidden meanings? Not so much. GEOGRAPHY: SHIELD gave her some training so she has basic understandings of map reading. POLITICS/LAW: Nat has a basic understanding of the law, but she doesn’t really pay attention to politics. She knows how to play people to get what she wants. ECONOMY/ACCOUNTING: This is probably the one section Nat doesn’t care about. COOKING: Nat can cook basic things and enjoys doing it. SEWING: She’s really good at it, especially if it’s medical sewing. MECHANICS: Nat knows the basics of car owning but that’s about it. BOTANY (FLOWERS): Yeah no. MYTHOLOGY: Nat took an interest in Norse Mythology after meeting Thor but that’s about it. DRAMATICS(ACTING,SINGING): Nat’s skill set deals with acting so. READING LEVEL: Proficient. HOW GOOD ARE THEY AT PLANNING AHEAD: It depends on what she’s planning. Missions, she’s great. But everything else? Not so much.

ROMANCE:

DO THEY TAKE INITIATIVE: ALL THE TIME. Nat’s constantly pulling Clint in for kisses or cuddles or into empty rooms. HOW DO THEY ACT(SHY,ETC): It depends on her mood and what she wants, but usually she’s pretty forward and confident in what she wants. GENTLEMAN/LADYLIKE VS KLUTZY: Nat’s smooth, but Clint tends to make her nervous. She’s never felt like this for someone before. GO SLOW VS JUMP INTO: Nat’s romantic life was to jump into things quickly and she took her time with Clint. PROTECTIVE: FUCK YES. ACT LIKE FRIENDS OR LOVERS: Honestly, both. WHAT KIND OF PRESENTS DO THEY BUY: Who needs presents when you can just give them sex? It’s probably a new toy or something they can use in the bedroom. TYPE OF KISSER: It depends on her mood, sometimes she wants soft kisses and some times she wants it rough. DO THEY WANT KIDS: No, but also yes? DO THEY WANT TO MARRY: Only if it’s Clint. MAKE GOOD OR BAD DECISIONS: Both. She has a self-destruction tendency when it comes to love/romance. ARE THEY ROMANTIC: Yes. HOW ARE THEY IN BED: One of her skill sets is being good in bed okay. GET JEALOUS EASY: Yes and no. She knows Clint is it for her, and her for him, but at the same time she doesn’t like people touching her man. WIFE/HUBBY BEATER: No. Nope. No. Never. MARRY FOR MONEY: Nope. Maybe for the laughs to Tony, but not really. FAVORITE POSITION: Nat likes being on top. She really enjoys being on top during oral and just CRUSHING Clint between her thighs okay. WHAT WOULD HAPPEN ON THEIR DREAM DATE: Oh god, staying in and just hanging out and cuddling on the couch followed by great sex. OPINION ON SEX: Sex used to be something she just did because she was expected to, but now it means so much more to her. It’s one of her favorite things to do with Clint.

#char: natasha romanoff #natasha: bio

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dccomicsnews · 5 years

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Welcome to the latest edition of DCN Cosplay Spotlight, where I talk to some very talented people in the wonderful world of cosplay. This month I had the pleasure of talking with someone who has recently made some waves in the cosplay scene with her awesome Wonder Woman cosplay, Lis Wonder!

Check out the interview below:

DC COMICS NEWS: Tell us a little bit about yourself. Where are you from originally?

LIS WONDER: My name is Lis, and I am from sunny Miami, Florida. I am 30 years old and I was born in Cuba, but when I was eight years old my family left to Russia, and I was raised there. Then, we came to the USA to pursue the American dream, and here we are! I am a simple Florida girl who loves photography, the arts, cosplaying, and animals.

DCN: What was your first ever cosplay project?

LIS: My first cosplay was at the age of 12 when I decided to become Tutankhamun, but those pictures will never be released. It was terrible, but amazing at the same time. I did the full makeup, and I used materials from around the house to create the Egyptian pharaoh. I have always loved makeup and transforming myself into various characters but didn’t have the means (Instagram, Facebook) to share my passion.

DCN: You’ve gotten a lot of notice for your Wonder Woman cosplay, particularly from Wonder Woman director Patty Jenkins. What is it, for you, about this character in particular that made you want to create a cosplay?

LIS: Growing up I struggled with my accent and my look was definitely not your typical “American” TV girl, like Lynda Carter for example. So when it was announced that Gal Gadot was going to play Wonder Woman, I was beyond excited. The original Wonder Woman was not from the USA yet she loved the world and this country, like me, and the values she stood for, fairness, kindness, hope, resonated with me. And then when Dawn of Justice came out, and my entire family turned to me in shock and said “You look just like her!,” the dots connected themselves and the idea to cosplay someone I admired, who I identified with, and I actually looked like was born.

I started with a very basic cosplay that someone had already made, and I did some modifications to it. I also studied Alyson Tabbitha’s tutorial and photos of her Wonder Woman, which helped me tremendously. But it’s when I went to Tampa Con and dressed as Wonder Woman and saw the reaction of all the little children that I realized just what a beloved and important character Diana Prince is. It is my goal to do her justice and bring something positive and good in this world through my cosplay. I also feel validated by Patty Jenkins who noticed my cosplay and re-tweeted my photo. I know this is something I am meant to do.

DCN: With Wonder Woman being more in the public spotlight recently, have you felt any added pressure to portray the this character right?

LIS: The world really needs Wonder Woman right now and everything she stands for. So yes, I feel pressure to make sure my portrayal is accurate. Especially since I have organized a few community outreach events. I will be visiting some local hospitals this holiday season to bring gifts, and I know that a Wonder Woman cosplay done well will bring joy too!

DCN: How long did it take you to put this cosplay together?

LIS: Not long, as I purchased most of it completed and the modifications were not major. I am currently learning to work with EVA foam and getting better at sewing so that I can create more armor and other cosplays.

DCN: What is it about cosplay that calls to you?

LIS: Creativity and the fact that you can be any character you want whenever you want. Before I used to think I could only dress up on Halloween, but now I dress up every weekend and share my ideas and concepts online with the cosplay community.

DCN: What has been your favorite cosplay project so far?

LIS: Daredevil for sure! I had lots of fun doing all sorts of fantastic martial arts moves and putting blood all over my face. It was a simple cosplay (black shirt, black pants, boots, and a face cover), but it was the most fun I have ever had cosplaying. I also loved my Aquaman cosplay because it was done by the ocean and although it was very challenging due to the big waves and the slippery rocks, the photos came out amazing. I organized the photoshoot myself with some help, and I edited my own photos.

DCN: Do you have a favorite memory or story while cosplaying?

LIS: When I went to Tampa Con I went with my best friend. My skirt for Wonder Woman was very stiff and so were my boots; I COULD NOT BEND AT ALL. I had to go up and down stairs with stiff legs, and I couldn’t even pick up my shield and sword every time I dropped them, which was a lot. But we laughed so hard that it made it fun and memorable. I wish I had smiled more but I was very uncomfortable and it was extremely hot, so when I look at the pictures I always laugh at my face.

DCN: Outside of cosplay do you have any other interest/hobbies?

LIS: I love photography! I actually created a separate Instagram account for photography @lis.tham. I also sing and play golf.

DCN: How do your friends and family feel about you cosplaying? Are they supportive?

LIS: They love that I am doing something that makes me happy, and I am blessed to have an amazing support system.

DCN: Do you have a pet peeve when it comes to cosplay?

LIS: Some folks think that costume and play is for children. They don’t understand the concept, the fun, the hobby, the good it can do…it boils down to judgmental people. But I won’t allow that to stop my passion.

DCN: Do you have any cosplays you will never do and why?

LIS: Nothing with nudity. I can be attractive and impactful with my clothes on!

DCN: Why do you think cosplay has become so popular in the last few years?

LIS: Two words: Social media! This has allowed for people like me from all over the world to share their projects and receive feedback.

DCN: Which DC character may we see next from you?

LIS: I am working on Donna Troy, and I am very excited about it. She is very powerful and strong – just the type of female characters I go for.

DCN: Thanks so much for your time! Let our fans know where they can find you.

LIS: Thank you for this interview, I am truly grateful. I use Instagram to keep in touch with all my followers @lis.wonder and Twitter @lis.wonder1.

Once again, I’d like to give a special thank you to Lis Wonder for taking the time to do this interview. Please be sure to check out her work on social media and support this very talented cosplayer!

DCN Cosplay Spotlight: LIS WONDER Welcome to the latest edition of DCN Cosplay Spotlight, where I talk to some very talented people in the wonderful world of cosplay.

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denimwrites-archive · 7 years

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The Tailor

Prompt: "Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is No!" from a random generation website thing. Fandom: Marvel Pairing: Deadpool X Reader Summary: You take care of Deadpool after he comes to your apartment in pieces, then he's off hurtling into danger again, what the hell are you going to do with him? He really needs a child leash. Word Count: 2,045 Warnings: Blood and inferences of adult themes? Maybe some swearing? Idk it's Deadpool, he's going to be crude. A/N: This is my first time writing Deadpool, and my first time breaking the fourth wall (I'm not even sure I really did it right oops), so please be gentle. I know the ending is pretty sucky but I tried. I hope you enjoy the Merc with a mouth, but who wouldn't?

~~~

You heard a frantic knocking on your apartment door. You blearily wiped the sleep from your eyes and threw the covers off of you before sighing and making your way towards the pounding. When you were finally able to unlock the door and work the handle, the sight that met your eyes was not a surprising one.

A man in a red suit covered in blood and riddled with holes limped into your apartment without a word. You were finally starting to wake up, so you headed to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for the wounded merc. After turning on the coffee pot you returned to find Wade laying on your couch with one of his arms draped over his eyes. You placed the ice on his stomach where the worst of the damage seemed to be.

He hissed slightly as the cold touched his mending skin, but relaxed as the ice pack worked to numb the area. You returned to the kitchen and began to make some semblance of a breakfast. You searched through your cupboards for something to eat, and found some easy muffin mix. You added the water and some extra chocolate chips before pouring your concoction into a non-stick cake pan, because it was too early for the complexity of muffin tins. You preheated the oven and poured your guest and yourself some coffee while you waited.

When you returned to the living room, Wade was still in his earlier position, but the ice pack had moved farther south *wink*. You shook your head with a slight laugh and placed his mug on the coffee table. You mentioned that you were making breakfast, and he grumbled acknowledgement. You patted his arm and returned to the kitchen upon the beeping of the oven. You slid in the pan of muffin-cake, and set the timer to 15 minutes.

You peeked at Wade in the living room again to see he was tentatively moving his healing muscles. You wished you could do more for him, but he said he didn't want you to get hurt. You went to your room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, then put them in the bathroom which you tried to organize slightly.

You looked at the muffin-cake, and after the toothpick test, considered it ready. You put some on a plate and returned to the living room to give it to Wade. He was gingerly sipping the coffee, and you saw his eyes perk up when he saw the food. He ate like he was starving. "I guess your stomach is healed then," you joked. Wade shook his head and said something unintelligible due to his face-stuffing.

You gave him a look and he swallowed before saying, "Stomach was fine, intestines were torn to shreds though." He quickly inhaled the rest of your muffin-cake. You even ended up "giving" him the rest of your piece, meaning he stole it while you went to check that you turned off the oven. When you returned to find your piece missing you just shook your head.

You told him to take a shower, and that you'd have more food ready when he was done. He gingerly got off the couch and slowly moved to the bathroom. It was then that you remembered the sad state of your pantry, so you grabbed the phone-book and found a mexican restaurant that delivered. You ordered a taco platter and some chimichangas (both for Wade, since he seemed to eat more when he was healing), and you decided to splurge on your favorite mexican dish.

You heard Wade singing some Rihanna in the shower, so you knew it was okay to grab his suit off of the bathroom floor. When you inspected it you saw that the damage was extensive, but you tried to patch the holes you could. You fixed his mask first, since you knew he would throw a bitch-fit if he noticed it gone. After it was repaired you quickly returned it to the bathroom where Wade was now doing a rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. You chuckled thinking of the music video-esque montage that was no doubt going on in his head.

When you were halfway done with the second leg of his suit, you heard the water turn off. You continued to work, and had moved on to fixing the torso of the suit when you heard Wade clear his throat behind you. You glanced back at him and said, "Enjoy your shower, Red?"

"Yeah, although you're going to need some more shampoo."

"You don't even have hair!" you exclaimed laughing slightly. Then you heard a knocking at the door. "Go get your food, Douchepool." He clapped excitedly before sprinting to the door and answering it.

You heard a brief exchange and a gasp of outrage before the door slammed. You sighed and put your head in your hands. There goes another restaurant that you can't order from again. When the smell of heavenly spices hit your nose you looked up to see Deadpool offering you a box as an olive branch. You took it and dug in, Wade doing the same.

You were halfway done with your Mexican meal when you heard Wade burp. You glanced at him to see that he already finished the taco platter. He noticed your gaping expression and smirked, "You may swallow more than flies if you keep your mouth open like that," the Merc teased.

You quickly shut your mouth and blushed slightly, returning to eating your food while Wade chuckled at his crude joke. It remained relatively silent even as you finished your take out and returned to Wade's tattered suit. He watched you quietly as you repaired the tears and tried to make it have some semblance of its original quality.

You held up the suit looking over your work, and smiled to yourself. Although fixing Wade's suit was quite annoying, it was definitely strengthening your sewing ability. You had actually made yourself an apron the other week. Yes, an apron isn't the hardest thing to make, but you enjoyed the challenge just the same.

You ran and put his suit in your washer on its gentlest setting. Although you had improved, your stitching still wasn't the most secure in the world. It was mostly just a bandaid until Wade could get another suit made. When the washer chimed you tossed the suit in your dryer for a few minutes.

You started to clean up the messy Mexican containers, and handed Wade his mismatched, but whole, suit when the dryer was done. He nodded in thanks before heading to the bathroom to change back into his outfit. When you finished cleaning in the kitchen and returned to your living room you noticed a Hello Kitty sticky note on your couch with a little heart on it with "W.W.W." underneath it. You looked around to notice that your front door was open. You slowly closed it and returned to the living room.

Sighing, you looked at the time. You didn't even know what time it was when Wade first started pounding on the door, but it was almost six in the morning now. You sighed again and decided to take a shower with what was left of the hot water.

Jumping in you wash and go to grab the shampoo before you remember Wade used all of it. Grumbling, you continued to wash away the rude awakening and the grime from Red's suit. You stepped out of the shower and realized you hadn't grabbed any clean clothes. Seeing the sweats you loaned to Deadpool, you shrugged them on before plopping yourself in front of the TV.

You mindlessly flipped through channels for about an hour, and finding nothing good to watch, you decided to do some more cleaning. As you tidied your apartment, you heard another knocking on the door. You looked at the clock to see that it was almost eight and decided it probably wasn't a mass-murderer so you opened the door to be proven wrong.

"Heya, toots," the Merc greeted before moving into your apartment for the second time that morning. You internally groaned at the sight of his once again mangles suit. You gave him the are-you-serious-right-now look, and he sheepishly smiled. You just shook your head at him and went back to cleaning your apartment. You had grabbed a book off of the floor when you noticed that he tracked blood into your apartment.

That was the last straw, the other tenants already complained about Wade's pounding and yelling, but now you were going to have to pay to get the carpets cleaned in both your apartment and the hallways outside. You dropped the book you had picked up and walked to your bedroom as calmly as you could. "(Y/N)? Hey, come on, it's not that bad. The other guy looks a hell of a lot worse. I mean he doesn't have an awesome suit like I do, but I mean who other than me could pull this off?"

[There are quite a few other supers who could pull that off actually, including but not limited to Cyclops, Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Black Widow, Daredevil, Spiderman, Superman, Batman, Green La-]

"Hey, narrator, get off my back will you? You're the one who had me say that. And how dare you bring him up. You know how much shame he brings me," Wade rambled to no-one in particular. "I was talking you you, you son of a bitch! Don't tell them I wasn't talking to anyone." [He continued to rant to me, but this story is about you, so let's get back to that shall we?]

You made it to your room and... went to close the door, but there was Wade; with that look on his masked face, like everything was just dandy. You couldn't take the fact that he came to you when he needed help and when you weren't needed he just cast you aside. He said it was for your protection, but it felt more like a slap in the face. So you returned the favor with a swift kick to the nuts, before slamming the door closed.

You wanted to be there for him, with all of his favorite snacks and to distract him when his skin hurt and to reassure him that the world was real and that you loved him. But, oh no, he had to go and be a dick and protect you, because you know you can't kick ass on your own. "Well, I guess I showed him," you muttered. [That's right, go you! You can handle your own.]

You heard a tentative knocking on your door as you silently fumed. "Whatever you're going to ask, the answer is no!" you shouted through the door. You heard him sigh before he started knocking again. You were not going to open it, you vowed.

The knocking continued for some time, in which you decided to maybe give him another chance. I mean how was he supposed to know how frustrated you were? You never really showed that you were annoyed by his actions, so you supposed that he deserved at least an explanation of your outburst.

[Yep, that's totally what you decided, of your own free will. I wasn't bribed to ensure you gave Deadpool another chance, no sir. Not a chance. *Munches on cookies with Deadpool's face*]

You opened the door slightly, peeking your face out to see Wade sitting with his back to the door. He looked up at you with hopeful eyes before scrambling to his knees with his hands together ready to beg forgiveness. You smiled at his gesture, and just held out a hand. He grabbed it and you pulled him up off the floor and into a hug.

You pulled him close and tried to convey that you weren't really mad at him, but that you cared a lot about him and didn't want to lose him. He held you close and it was a nice moment.

Until the explosion happened...

... JK you and Deady came to an agreement where he worked less and spent time cuddling with you while watching Netflix. Chill may or may not happened.

#deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #wade wilson #deadpool #fanfic #marvel #my writing #is this even my normal setup for fics?#idek I haven't posted on this blog in probably a year oops #here you go anyway #merc with a mouth #breaking the fourth wall #second person #fanfiction #hope you enjoyed if you read it

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alpinesquib · 7 years

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In-depth Character Sheet

Decicded to fill out this chacter sheet (by memesfrommenace) for Robin

(Read more if interested, but going to admit this is pretty lengthy)

FULL NAME: Anabelle Robin Beaumont (fake name: Robin May Weever) MEANING: Her real name, meant to sound rather regal NICKNAME: Robin MEANING: Robin’s parents made each of their children have middle names related to birds AGE APPEARANCE: 16 BIRTHDAY: June 17th ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Gemini SPECIES: Inkling (firefly squid) GENDER: Female ALLERGIES: None yet found SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Either THEME SONG(S): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSc5sN5zLAM

APPEARANCE

HAIR COLOR: Light blue with pink spots HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: Short hair almost like a bob, with a simple fringe EYES COLOR: Light brown EYESIGHT: Relatively good HEIGHT: 5′6 WEIGHT: 118 Ibs OUTFIT/CLOTHING STYLE: Casual formal ABNORMALITIES(TAIL): None DISTINGUISHING MARKS(SCARS,MOLES): Freckles SELF CARE(MAKE UP): Not much other then foundation FIRST IMPRESSION ON PEOPLE: Quiet, jumpy, awkward SKIN COLOR: Caucasion BODY TYPE/BUILD: Slender DEFAULT EXPRESSION: Straight faced POSTURE: Very balanced and straight MEASUREMENTS(FEMALE ONLY): (???) PIERCINGS: One on each ear, rarely used though DESCRIBE THEIR VOICE: Marcella Lentz-Pope (female voice 1, 0:36)

RELATIONSHIPS

MOM: Mrs Beaumont HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Ignores completely DAD: Mr Beaumont HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Ignores completely SIBLINGS: Phoenix(older brother) and Gully(younger brother) HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Very distant from each other CHILDREN: None HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Has none OTHER FAMILY MEMBERS: Never seen any other members PAST LOVER(S): None CURRENT LOVER: None REACTION TO MEETING SOMEONE NEW: Timid but excited ABILITY TO WORK WITH OTHERS: Very well, as she can cooperate well and listen, but is prone to lie about knowing how to perform a task and failing to not let others down HOW SOCIABLE(LONER,ETC): Quite sociable, but struggles to actually make new friends FRIENDS: Yes PETS: None LEAST FAVORITE TYPE OF PERSON: Someone controlling PARENTAL TYPE(PROTECTIVE,ETC): Caring AFFINITY WITH…: Birds FAVORITE PEOPLE: Friendly, brave and funny people LEAST FAVORITE PEOPLE: Controlling, aggressive liars

PERSONALITY

..WHEN YOU FIRST MEET THEM: Very timid ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY LIKE YOU): Will start to act more confident ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY DISLIKE YOU): Grow more distant and quiet FAVORITE COLOR: Light blue FAVORITE FOOD: Spaghetti carbonara FAVORITE ANIMAL: Birds FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Piano FAVORITE ELEMENT: Earth LEAST FAVORITE COLOR: Neon red LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: Any spicey food (she is weak) LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: Lizards LEAST FAVORITE INSTRUMENT: Violin LEAST FAVORITE ELEMENT: Fire HOBBIES: Reading, Sewing, playing on her 3ds USUAL MOOD: Happy DRINK/SMOKE/DRUGS: None DARK VERSION OF SELF: Never left her home and grew to become her parents puppet, losing motivation for anything and caring very little about anything other then carrying out orders LIGHT VERSION OF SELF: Bubbly and full of smiles, always laughing and able to make friends with anyone quickly HOW SERIOUS ARE THEY: Occasionally serious, but only when left alone too long to over think things CLASS IN AN RPG: Knight BELIEVE IN GHOSTS: Nope (IN)DEPENDANT: Is trying to be independent but keeps finding herself having to rely on others SOFT SPOT/VULNERABILITY: Seeing someone genuinely distraught and sorry about what they have done OPINION ON SWEARING: Not very polite, but acceptable in some cases DAREDEVIL VS CAUTIOUS: Has a daredevil mindset but a very cautious approach MUSIC TYPE: Melody MOVIE TYPE: Musical BOOK TYPE: Slice of life GAME TYPE: Life simulators COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE: 15 SLEEPING PATTERN: Bed by 10 and awake by 8 CLEANLINESS/NEATNESS: Very clean and organised DESIRED PET: A cat HOW DO THEY PASS TIME: Playing on her 3ds or catching up with a friend BIGGEST SECRET: Her actual name HERO/WHO THEY LOOK UP TO: Everyone WHAT ANIMAL WOULD THEY BE: A bird FEARS: Being abandoned, being used, most insects, cramped spaces COMFORTS: A fresh cup of tea, warm blankets, having a friend close by, her favourite show

HOW DO THEY ACT WHEN THEY ARE…

SAD: Become very distant and recluse, choosing to avoid people and if confronted put on a fake smile HAPPY: Smile and become more excited, talking a lot more and day dreaming ANGRY: Emotional and upset, rarely ever gets angry AFRAID: Withdrawn LOVE SOMEONE: Shy, wanting to get closer but afraid they may ruin things HATE SOMEONE: Distance themself and generally try to avoid them WANT SOMETHING: Act awkward about it by hanging around it but take a while to say it CONFUSED: silent, tries to process things before saying anything that may be wrong

HOW DO THEY REACT TO…

DANGER: Will reach for her rapier if on hand, otherwise is ready to try and use what she learnt to disarm someone SOMEONE THEY HATE WHO HAS A CRUSH ON THEM: Feel bad about how they might of acted and possibly try to give them another shot, or just confront them on it and turn them down PROPOSAL TO MARRY: Possibly begin to cry before accepting and hugging perfuously DEATH OF LOVED ONE: Saddened, withdrawn, taking a while to accept it and move on DIFFICULT GAME/MATH/ETC: Become slightly aggrivated and tap either leg or hand constantly INJURY: Get it seen by a doctor if serious, but always hide it from friends unless it is a simple bruise or scratch SOMETHING IRRESISTABLY CUTE: Blush up and become infatuated by it for the moment LOSS OF HOURS OF WORK: Feel a bit down

HISTORY

BIOGRAPHY: Robin used to be the middle child of the Beaumont family. Being the only daughter she was used as a doll by her mother and pushed to make friends to form good relations with other families by her father. Not being interested in making friends and prefering to stay alone, she was bullied by the majority of the school who felt she was acting ‘snobbish’ and teachers were simply paid to look past this. Life didn’t get easier at home as she was forced into carrying out multiple extracuricular activities such as fencing, playing piano, violin and chello, singing , studying, manners, gem appraisal basics, etc. Stress ultimately got to her and cause her pigment to make her ink a dull brown, making her bullied even more and a shame to be seen by the public in case slander is said about the Beaumont family, causing her to become now home schooled. Reaching a dark point in her life, Robin felt there was nothing to do or no one to turn to and was ready to end everything, before coming across the sight of inkopolis that seemed to catch her sight. Each night she would watch the lights and occasional fireworks that came from it, and after a few weeks she finally made the descision to run away and start a new life. Cutting all her hair, changing her name, moving schools secretly and taking only some clothing and money, she began a new chapter in her life, and is ready to take on whatever challenge may now stand in her way of freedom. FIRST APPEARANCE: At the start of this blog in September of 2015

KNOWLEDGE

LANGUAGES: Knows english and basics of other ancient languages SCHOOLING LEVEL: Year 12 FAVORITE SUBJECT (S): History INTERESTED CAREERS: Unsure, but possible outfit designer EXPERTISE: History, English, Sewing, Fencing, Playing certain instruments, appraisal of some gems PUZZLES: Has not tried out many CHEMISTRY: A (based on the rank system because it seemed cool) MATH: A ENGLISH: S GEOGRAPHY: A POLITICS/LAW: S ECONOMY/ACCOUNTING: S COOKING: B SEWING: A MECHANICS: A BOTANY (FLOWERS): B MYTHOLOGY: A DRAMATICS(ACTING,SINGING): A READING LEVEL: HOW GOOD ARE THEY AT PLANNING AHEAD: Very, always having a plan for everything IMPULSIVE/STRATEGY: Very strategic, always working out the ways of getting the advantage over a foe and if at a disadvantage will look for the best method of escape

ROMANCE

DO THEY TAKE INITIATIVE: Somewhat, might ask to hold hands but is usually too shy to do anything else HOW DO THEY ACT(SHY,ETC): Shy GENTLEMAN/LADYLIKE VS KLUTZY: Tries her best to be ladylike GO SLOW VS JUMP INTO: Go slow PROTECTIVE: Somewhat protective ACT LIKE FRIENDS OR LOVERS: Whatever their partner is comfortable with WHAT KIND OF PRESENTS DO THEY BUY: Small ones that hold a lot of meaning TYPE OF KISSER: A quick kiss on the cheek and then she hides herself DO THEY WANT KIDS: Yes DO THEY WANT TO MARRY: Yes MAKE GOOD OR BAD DECISIONS: Good decisions ARE THEY ROMANTIC: Somewhat, just to shy to do them HOW ARE THEY IN BED: They’re 16 so no. GET JEALOUS EASY: Not really, unless someone were to hang around their partner very much and get extremely close WIFE/HUBBY BEATER: No MARRY FOR MONEY: No FAVORITE POSITION: 16! NO GO. WHAT WOULD HAPPEN ON THEIR DREAM DATE: Go to a diner, order burgers or a pizza and just talk and joke about, then share a milkshake. Get walked home and possibly kiss before going inside OPINION ON SEX: AGAIN, 16!

#Robin #character info #oc

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