* WITHOUT / FEAR !

                     ❝      —————    i    don’t    care    what    puppy    face    you    make    ,    i’m    still    not    doing    it    .    ❞ 

@vigilawyer·  //  liked  for  a  starter  !

IT TOOK ONLY A MOMENT BEFORE THE AMUSEMENT DROPPED FROM HIS FEATURES.   granted,  this was a hiccup.   a minor hiccup.   sometimes,   a masked vigilante dressed like the fucking devil barged on your door and let himself in!  that was how it went! “one on one. yes.” sly fox (he’d heard of you, oh yes; you’re thorough. you’re impressive). he can appreciate a man spiteful enough, vicious enough, to beat his way through so many of the fine men and women and others on his payroll.

he moved closer, a delighted grin breaking across his features. “don’t tell me. DAREDEVIL. you went through all of this trouble YOURSELF. a regular eagle scout with a chip on your shoulder! do good, fight crime. i’m getting misty.”

                   ❛   no --   not an eagle scout.   no chip on my shoulder.   just a guy who got fed up with people like you,   and decided to do something about it.   ❜     for it’s the sort of men that counted themselves among penguin’s caliber,   penguin’s ilk,   that caused his city the most pain and misfortune,   that left it scarred with every selfish move they made.   every pained howl of the police siren,   every sorrow-filled drone of the ambulance tocsin.   this city was not safe,   and would remain as such until all of its tar-black streets and dimly-lit allies were swept clean of the ones that plagued it.   penguin,   as the devil had come to understand it,   was one of the most prominent figures of the underworld,   one of the higher-end villains on the spectrum.   hundreds of men and women worked for him,   did his bidding --   god-awful things for the sake of money and mayhem.   two-dozen of them,   he’d taken out cold tonight alone.   and now,   he stood face-to-face with the one he’d been after the whole time.

“ GOOD CHRIST.  IS IT CHRISTMAS, OR ARE THE KENNEDYS IN TOWN?  If only they could get this kinda turnout at the polls. ”  He glanced at Matt’s face.  In the immaculate white-tile heart of the teeming department store, a labyrinth of thronging shoppers and festively sartorial displays had shunted them like reeling pachinko balls to the center of the fragrance aisle, and even Norman’s chemically insensate nostrils were not impervious to the assault.  Over a cloying rendition of Silver Bells, the hiss of pump-nozzle atomizers rose like the whisper of a gas-leak, and the hundred gleaming shop-girls detonating their hundred gleaming bottles of perfume put Norman in mind of a hand grenade erupting in a rose-garden.

His partner wore the grimace of a man marooned in space, and judging by his uncanny silence, oxygen-levels were running low.

“ Alright.  We’re through here. ”  Norman took him firmly by the arm, and drawing himself professionally upright, marched him decisively towards the exit.  “ Step aside, please  –  On your right  –  Pardon me, ma’am, comin’ through  –  ‘Scuse me, wouldja mind  – ? ”  He strode past the make-up counters, the great plinths of eyeshadow like enormous water-color sets waiting for a titan’s brush; past the holiday gift-sets and stratiform shopping bags of customers perusing fingerprinted cases or fumbling through handbags and wallets; past a man’s extended elbow  –  just a little too close  –  catching his sharp exhale of ‘ watch it, ’ with a wry turn of the lips.  “ Sorry, pal.  Matter of national security. ”

In lieu of a wink, he gave Matt’s hand a conspiratorial squeeze, and brushed towards the door.

(   @vigilawyer   //   starter?  or random lil holiday-ramble bc i couldn’t fit it in an ask. ;; )

                         he’d never been particularly fond of department stores,   least of all the inevitable,   teeming expanse of cologne-counters and sample fragrances.   vaguely,   he could recall his childhood self --   prior to the accident,   prior to his heightened senses developing   -- going on a last-minute christmas shopping spree with his father,   worn-down after a particularly brutal twelve-round match just the night before.   bruised left eye,   split knuckles bandaged up callously and jammed into his coat pockets;   his nose crinkling as they walked through the perfume department,   grabbing matt’s hand,   walking faster  ( ‘c’mon,   matty.   no time for dawdlin’.’ )  in an attempt to escape the barrage of sickly-sweet scents that threatened to float their way,   should they stay in the area a moment longer.   it didn’t help,   not in the least.   matt recalls leaving the store,   taking a long,   deep breath of the crisp winter air,   and still having the scent of eau de fleur parfum stuck in his nostrils.   back then,   he hadn’t truly been rid of it ‘til the next morning.   now,   he’s not certain he’ll even manage to survive the trip out of the complex.

                         or,   rather --   he might not have been certain initially,   but norman must’ve caught sight of his face at some point,   at the poorly-disguised expression of discomfort and lack of oxygen,   because he’d grabbed him by the arm posthaste,   and led him immediately through throngs of people and scents alike.   an elbow brushed them here,   a mean word had been muttered in their direction there,   but norman paid it no mind,   dismissing their haste as a matter of national urgency.   and matt ... --   well,   the fumes that threaten to choke him might as well have been noxious gas,   at this point.   but lack of breathable air or not,   he’d be damned if he didn’t allow himself the slightest bit of laughter at his partner’s handling of the matter.   norman jayden,   always crisp and professional and to-the-point.   norman jayden,   treating everything as a case to work,   a job to run,   a matter of sensitivity and urgency.   matt sometimes felt it was doubly so,   when it came to him --   moreso now than ever,   having let him in on his secret.   but he doesn’t mind it,   or so he’s come to find.   if anything,   he’s added this bit to the tower of reasons he adores the man;   a tower which only ever seemed to grow in height,   never dwindle. 

but in addition to that,   a lot of this decision has to do with the fact that matt’s gone through such a turbulent time all throughout season three.   the season’s got much to do with his struggles with his identity,   with his value as a person,   with his shaken faith and finding his footing in his religion and god again,   with finding his “real self” and discarding his “facade” --   almost leading him over the edge and to the point of committing murder himself,   which would absolutely have not been him.   the truth of it is,   there was never a facade.   i know i’ve said this before,   and i’ll say it again:   season three confirms not just for me,   but also for matt,   that there is no daredevil without matt murdock,   and no matt murdock without daredevil.   the two are one and the same,   one cohesive unit,   and while it does take him a lot of turmoil and angst and literal blood to come to the conclusion,   he does manage.   

the end of season three isn’t the resolution,   though.   i personally feel that there’s a lot in matt’s life  /  his mind that is left unresolved,   and a lot of it has to do with daredevil,   and the night with fisk,   and rediscovering his own identity.   he doesn’t want to put himself back in a position where he may just fly off the edge again.   when he goes back out onto the streets to fight for the people,   he wants to do it while secure in himself and his convictions.

and while he does ultimately go back to being the devilish protector of the city he so loves,   i think that he does it only when he’s certain of who he is and what he needs to do.   that takes time,   and thought,   and self-care especially,   which he’d severely neglected in giving himself for the last three seasons,   and especially in season three in particular.

@vigilawyer is under the umbrella

“     I    ,     SIR    ,     AM AFFRONTED    .”    his lips pulled back to reveal teeth    ,     a wheeze of laughter huffing past his lips    .    he doubled over   ,    an exaggerated   ,    mocking picture of amusement   ,    leaning heavily against his cane as his torso shuddered with another laugh    .     “it took you long enough    !”    as if oswald were a common criminal    !     it did not befit a RESPECTABLE vigilante to neglect a king   .     “what is it ?       devil        ?        mr.        devil ?        you’ve been terrible for business        ,        sir        .        it’s about time        .”

                    ❛   'figured i’d do it the right way,   this time.   you know,   fight my way from the bottom-up.   ❜     and he’s done a damn good job of it,   of that much,   the devil is certain.   he’s stirred up more than just a vague sense of unease within the ranks of the other man’s crime syndicate.   rather,   he’s broken bones,   destroyed product,   stolen weapons and tossed them into the depths of the bay.   all of it,   to get at him --   the man he knows is causing trouble in his city,   causing trouble for his people.   he cracks an amused smile,   shows his teeth,   but it’s only a ruse.   he means business.   he means to take oswald down a few notches.   so be it.        ❛   it’s daredevil.   and you and i --   we need to have a talk,   penguin.   one on one.   ❜

“won’t know till you do it, hm?” they’re sitting side by side while foggy’s in the other room negotiating what will be the future office of nelson, murdock & page. she can barely hear them through the wall but knows that matt can, but she doesn’t ask to know what they’re saying–whatever’s going on in there will be relayed back to them once foggy’s done. so far, judging by what she can discern from the tones of voices, it seems promising.

“hey matt–remember what i told you? about not coming back right away? are we still okay on that?” getting back into the swing of things, allowing herself to fall into routine again–she needs it, but she’s not sure she needs it right away.

                    ❛   'tell the truth,   i think i’ve already got a pretty good idea,   actually.   ❜     these last weeks,   last months,  have been nothing if not a continuous downward spiral,   after all.   fall after fall after fall into darkness,   the likes of which he’d only just escaped.   there were moments then that he’d believed he’d really take that final step over the edge,   that he’d go beyond the point of return --   truth be told,   he’s glad he didn’t.   it would not have been him,   would not have been daredevil.   they stood for justice,   not vengeance.   he knows that now.   and he happens to be sitting just beside one of the three biggest reasons for that.

                    (  in the next room over,   foggy’s father claps the aforementioned’s back enthusiastically,   laughing,   reveling in agreement.   the deal’s done;   they’ll have the space for their new office:   nelson,   murdock and page.   foggy’ll be back in to tell them --   or just karen,   really   -- in a few minutes.   matt will let him have the pleasure.  )

@vigilawyer

              ❛  why do i get the feeling you’re about to ask me to do                  something i really don’t want to do ?  ❜