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crowcravesmore · 24 days

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Dead Girl Walkin' (Frank Castle x F!Reader)

AKA 'Bounty & Bliss'

Frank Castle x F!Reader (18+)

+ After a mission gone wrong, you end up on the wrong side of Fisks gun, and now you're a wanted woman. You have 30 hours of freedom before every bounty hunter in New York has his eyes on you, so of course you run straight to Frank. Oh how he loves the sight of you.

Word Count: 5.1k ( It's actually impossible for me to write a "short" fic. I'm a wordy bitch, I can't help it. I love to talk.)

Warnings: Cursing, violence, reader getting beat tf up (She's got powers it's fine), explicit content/smut, Frank being such a softie for you, fluff (is that a warning?).

A/N: LETS GO FRANK CASTLE LOVERS! I absolutely adore this man, and I think it shows in how I write him. This is an oldie from my previous blog, but it's one of my favorite fics I've ever written. It's a long one so buckle up. (This fic was absolutely based on the song Dead Girl walking from Heathers the musical. Take that as you will.)

+ + +

It was an absolute fact that you weren't gonna die a peaceful death. Yeah no, you were gonna go out one of two different ways. One, a Bruce Willis, Die Hard type thing with at least two explosions. Or two, someone else is gonna punch your card for you. Full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, that's it.

Frank threw a guess in once. Said you’d probably go out saving a bunch’a kids from a burning building or something, because you're a soft ass like that, Sunshine, that’s why. He was three stitches deep on his right arm, and shooting you looks from his side of the couch. Ain’t that right, Sunshine?

Nope. nuh-uh, not even close. You get a grand total of thirty hours, all Courtesy of Mr. Kingpin himself. Fisk. What kind of name is Fisk anyway? It sounds too much like Fist, or fish, either way it’s awkward. You’re just being pissy, because you got caught, and Fisk is rubbing it in your face.

Third punch is to your jaw, and that’s the one that knocks you, and the chair you're strapped to, back. You’re taking this whole thing in stride, you haven't passed out or anything. Be proud of that. After the fourth punch Fisk finally waves his hand and lets— what's his name? Rick? This guy looks like a Rick —stop. You ever been hit with brass knuckles by a heavyweight? It sucks.

You were hired by an unnamed client to sneak into Fisks club, and put mics anywhere you could. It was easy getting in without being noticed, unfortunately for you Fisk has eyes everywhere. Fortunately for you one of your powers is strength, so a couple of blows by a heavyweight won't kill you. It fucking hurts though.

Fisk says something, but he’s standing on the other side of the room and your ears are still ringing, so he really says nothing. He turns, catches your eyes, and there's a curious sort of smile on his face. Your ears are still ringing but, over all of the noise, you catch him say ‘Again’, and brace yourself for impact.

Rick, son of a bitch, knocks you hard, just under your eye and you can practically hear the bruise forming. You must’ve blacked out for a second because when you blink there’s Fisk, dropped to his haunches in front of you. It takes thirty seconds after you start drooling blood for him to start back up.

“You’re a real woman, you know that?”

“And what does that make you?” Your voice doesn't even sound like you, it’s too scratchy, and your words are hard to make out.

Fisk sort of ignores you and says,“And Because I'm a nice guy,” Pulling a white handkerchief—Christ—out of his shirt pocket and wiping your mouth. “I'm gonna make this easy on you, how bout’ forty eight hours? Sound good?”

You’re so stubborn. Like, way too stubborn for your own good, that’s what you’re gonna tell Frank when you explain why you spit your blood in Fisks face. And because you’re a real woman.

“Thirty hours,” Fisk says, gripping the bottom half of your shirt, using it to wipe his face, and standing up. “Butch,—” So that’s his name, he looks like a Butch. “Show her the door.”

Brace for impact.

You can't be that mad though, I mean come on. After that stunt you pulled at the Quagmire tonight you’re surprised you’re even still walking-uh -running. So yeah, thirty hours and after that you’re gonna be a goddamn beacon of come get me for every baddie in New York. Okay, you gotta stop running or else you’re gonna pull something, and catching a cramp probably isn’t the best thing for you right now...just sayin’.

You pitch from a sprint to a light jog and eventually stop, bowing over and pressing your hands to your knees. A long groan crawls out of you, and you shake your head. The middle of 10th and 42nd isn’t the place to let it hit you. Clear your throat, spit, stand back up, keep walking.

You decide to swerve out of the road and onto the sidewalk, that way you’re not ass out for everyone to see. And it’s a helluva sight. You’ve got a bruise forming just under your right eye and your nose is busted to shit, not to mention the blood- that you’re not even sure is all yours- caked over you. All that and you probably smell like a back alley.

You shift and adjust, turn right toward the dock, and pick up the pace.

‘I can run,’ you think, digging your thumbnail into your palm. ‘haul ass to Seattle, become some poor fisherman's wife.’

That doesn't sound all too bad, besides the fact that Fisk has got eyes all over this goddamn city. You so much as even look toward the bridge and his thirty hours-oh-mercy are gone. Poof! You won't even make it out of New York.

A street light flicks off for a second before coming back to life, and you dig in your back pocket, fishing for your phone. It’s a mess of cracks and smeared blood, but still manageable. You click it on and the screen gives a few half assed flashes of light before turning on. Yeah, still manageable.

You wipe the screen against your shirt and pull it back, checking the time. Twelve oh five. Good, he's still up.

•

Frank's van is static under the west bridge, just next to the pier. It’s a beige camper he’s had since way back when, and is still too sentimental to give up. It’s rusted, a hubcaps gone missing, and the battery is standing on it’s last leg, but don’t ever tell Frank it’s anything less than perfect. Seriously, buddy, don't do it.

You called it a piece of junk once, something mumbled between Frank trying to turn the engine over and almost flooding it.

“If you don’t like it that much, Sunshine, you can walk back.” He shakes his head and turns the key over again. The engine makes an almost awkward sort of noise. Something like a cr-r-r-eek! Before gray smoke creeps its way from under the hood. “God fucking damnit.”

You're ninety percent sure the only reason he didn't knock your head through the window is because he's got a soft spot for you....Eighty-five percent.

Your boot knocks against an empty can, probably oil, and Max pokes his head up. He's lying right outside the van's side door, tucked halfway under it with his head on his paws. You go still and try to remember if this dog actually liked you or not.

When he doesn’t move you chalk it up to a definite maybe, and start walking again. He lets out a few half assed growls before crawling from under the van and barking, loud and proud. You throw caution out the window and speed walk toward him, forgetting the fact that he’s a full grown pitbull, and wave your hands in front of you, shh shh shh! No, doggy. Nice, Max! You got a million different scenarios playing in your head, and none of them are good.

Max is howling now, nose pointed to the sky and oh sonofabitch.

You hear a gun cock over your head and now you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun. This was the fourth scenario. At the end of that is Frank, standing in a pair of raggedy sweatpants, an old NYU tee, and-Christ he's not even wearing any shoes.

You're still a little wobbly in the legs so you press your hand against the doorframe, and lean. That's it. Play it cool, nice and steady.

“Hey, Frank.” You say, and then. “Can I come in?” You're batting against four hours of sleep and maybe a concussion, so hey, frank is the best you're gonna do.

His shoulders slump down and he points the gun away from you, eyes moving three speeds too fast. Like I said earlier, you’re a helluva sight, girl.

“You look like the back end of hell.” He says, side stepping to let you in, eyes catching on your knuckles. They aren’t the worst of it, but you can tell a lot about a person from their hands, and Frank’s getting the whole goddamn story.

You step up into the kitchen—living room?—and focus on everything you’ve already seen before. The sketchy stain on the ceiling, the empty Budweiser cans, your feet. Just for good measure you pick up a roll of gauze and turn it over in your hand, because this is the most interesting thing in the world, not your bloody knuckles. And definitely not Frank who’s staring down your back, shooting imaginary laser beams your way. Pew pew pew. I’m calling it now, he’s gonna get mad. You know it, I know it, so just fucking face the music before he-

“So,” oh-Kay. He clicks the third deadbolt, and leans his back against the door, gun cocked on the wall, and arms crossed over his chest. “You gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna haveta’ guess?”

He doesn't have to guess, because he already knows. But, he's gonna lean back and give you a chance to say it before he starts pulling teeth.

“This was once in a lifetime, Frank.” You're pushing out excuses and he's barely said anything. “There was an opening-”

“Y/n, what the hell did you do?”

Franks more worried than actually confused. He knows you're in some deep-I'm talking chasm into hell deep- shit, he's just worried he's not gonna be able to pull you out.

“I went to the Quagmire, and Fisk was there.” You wring your hands because of the look he gives you. Priceless. “I had a shot, I took it, I—”

“Tell me you killed him.” He's shaking his head, tilt up, and looking at the roof. He's about to start praying, and lord knows he hasn't done that in a while. “Tell me you killed him, Y/n.”

The throbbing behind your eye is enough to remind you that no, you didn't. You came damn close though, I'll give you that.

Frank blinks, slow squeeze, and groans something low in the back of his throat. He drops his head and drags a hand down his jaw, you're gonna be the death of him if you keep this shit up.

“And,” you gotta get it out now, if you don't do it now you're gonna hate doing it later. “I got a bounty on me.”

“Course you do,” he's looking at you again, but his foot is tapping against the linoleum, so he's beyond mad now. “Is it active?”

You shake your head. “No, I got thirty hours.” You would have forty eight, but he doesn't need to know that...or why you don't anymore.

“Shiiit,” he almost laughs. “Bastard gave you a helluva’ lot more time than me.” His eyebrows tilt down and you catch the way his eyes track along your knuckles. You're standing in front of him, and in this light he can finally get a good look at you. And he doesn't like it. “What'd they do to you, Sunshine?”

There it is. You let out a halfhearted dry laugh and say. “Butch, son of a bitch has a solid right hook.”

“I bet I got better,” He says, lips upturning a bit.

You say. “Oh, I know you do.” And that's it, you're both drawn back into a moment that definitely shouldn't happen. Christ, girl, the man's a vigilante with a truckload of baggage. Stay away. Don't do it to yourself.

You gotta dodge this shit, so you say. “So, what do I do now?”

He gives you a quick once over and pushes himself off the wall. “First, you gotta take a shower, get your mind right.” He stalks over to the hall closet, and starts pulling out random things; a towel, a washcloth, sweatpants, and one of his Rolling Stones T-shirts. He tosses a Then we'll talk, and figure out our next move. over his shoulder and that knocks you back a minute.

Our. Don't dwell on that. Nope, nope, do not do it. You nod, walk over to him, and say. “Thank you, Franky.” Franky’s something only you’d get away with saying, just like he gets away with the whole sunshine thing. It’s weird, you’re weird, leave it alone.

When you reach him he pulls back, giving you this half look between you really okay? and it's okay if you're not. Oh, God, he's gonna have your eyes in the shape of hearts if he keeps this up.

“I'm fine,” You reach a bit more, and he meets you halfway, pushing everything towards you. “You better have hot water though.”

“Baby, you know I do.”

“Mhm, that's what you said last time.”

He says. “Just tell me if it's not hot enough for you, I'll fix it.” And you're positive it's borderline flirty. You gotta occupy yourself with turning on the bathroom light, or else he's gonna see fuuuck written all over your face.

You gotta say something back or it's gonna be one sided, and awkward so you push out. “I'll call you if I need you, Franky.” Low and slow.

Did you just?

Franks mouth pulls up into a grin and he's gotta wipe his hand over his cheek, as if he's just feeling the stubble. Look what you did, you're making him nervous.

Before either of you have a chance to react, the door’s closed and you're pressing your back against it. If you didn't know any better you'd think the man was making a move, but you've got a migraine from hell so you're gonna chalk it up to friendly banter.

You're gonna opt for a cold shower though, just in case.

•

The shower does wonders for you. Your regenerative powers help too, giving your body the chance to heal a bit under the water. You walk out dressed and unstressed with your clothes balled up in your arms, just about to call out Franks name when you hear him say. “Back here.”

You turn and walk into the small bedroom space, just big enough for the two of you. He's laying on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes, looking like absolute sin. Okay, yeah, you're cut off from reading tacky romance novels.

“You can just put your stuff on the table, we'll get em’ washed tomorrow.” He sounds tired.

You walk to the kitchenette table and drop your clothes on top of it, before walking back to the room and saying. “Or we could just get my clothes from my apartment, that's a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We could, and, you know what, why don't we go to the police station while we're at it and tell them about the bad man named Fisk?”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought we were stating dumb ideas.” He says nonchalantly, before adding. “You and I both know that it's not safe for you to go to your place, or else you wouldn't be here, right?”

He lifts his arm off of his face and looks at you. Yeah, right. You nod and he nods back, covering his face up again. “Right.”

Truth be told, you'd probably still be here even if it was safe. Truthfully.

You crawl onto the bed next to him and the springs groan out something light and metallic. Lay down, face up, be quiet.

“Y/n.” That's not quiet.

“Hm?”

“You're not doin’ this alone,” Okay. You turn your head to look at him but he's still got his arm over his eyes. “Not while there's air in my lungs.”

You say, “It's not your fight.” And Frank finally looks at you. His brows tip and he props himself up on one arm so he's leaning over you a bit.

“Hell it's not, you think Ima’ just let that bastard have at you? Nuh-uh,” He shakes his head. “Sorry to disappoint, but that's not how this works.”

“Then how does this work?” You're not mad, just curious. If this is going where you think it's going, God willing, Frank’s gonna be the one starting it.

He's the one with the brick walls here, so you're gonna let him be the first to break them down.

His eyes drop to your lips and roll over the curve of your jaw. It's sharp and soft at the same time, just like the rest of you. You shift, catch his eyes, and his sight slips off to the wall.

“I, uh.” he rolls onto his back and clasp his hands on his stomach. You're making him nervous and he's the one doing all the work. Jeesus, one of you do something. This is embarrassing.

“I don't wanna die.” What? You-pfsshhh. Yeah, okay, start there.

Frank has to blink that in, but he's still too chicken shit right now to look at you. So he asks. “Why not?”

For the love of God.

“Why not?” You repeat, frowning at the ceiling. Frank squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head, backtrack.

“No, not-” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and gives himself a second to get it. He doesn't, so he just nods and says. “Yeah, okay why not? Why don't you?”

You sit up and turn to look at him. He's circulating between frowning at you, and the ceiling, and the door, so when his eyes hit you on their third rotation you say. “I don't wanna die, because I'm not ready yet.” Simple.

“Says the girl who went all Annie Oakley on a mob boss tonight.”

“It was his henchmen-”

“-henchmen?”

“-and that's not the point.” You ignore him. “The point is I'm scared. I thought I could do it tonight, but I didn't and now look at me.”

He does. In the weak light from his bedside lamp he can see all of you. The bruise forming (and healing) under your eye, and on the bridge of your nose. The scratch along your neck that dips just below the collar of your-his shirt. It's a lot. You're a lot.

He shifts and pushes himself up a bit before opening his arms. “Come here.”

Then your head is pressed against his chest, with your hand resting on his abdomen. Fingers curled in. You can hear his heart beating, thu-thump. Thu-thump.

His arm wraps around you and you can feel his fingers brush against the middle of your back, right at the dip. A train's horn blares in the distance and suddenly you feel really mortal.

This is it, Kid.

You've finally hit fuck it, because now you're lifting up and kissing Frank Castle. You half expect him to push you off, but nope, his hand pushes straight to your hips, your shirt hitching up around his forearm.

There's no awkward is this okay kisses, nope, you're both just diving for it. You push your hand up to his shoulder and-oh okay, yeah you do that- slide your leg over him, so you're halfway straddling him at least.

You push both of your hands to his neck, thumbs pressed against his jaw, and lean in. It's an awkward approach, something he wasn't exactly ready for this time because your teeth collide, and you're about to pull back and apologize when he reaches down and grips your ass.

Oh-Kay. He tugs you back up toward him and this time you're both ready. Especially you, because your tongue dips into Frank's mouth and he's just here for it.

After a while of just that, you lift up and press your hands against his chest. His other hand scoots up to your hip, and he starts rubbing up and down your thighs.

“Y/n-”

“Hold on.” You scoot so you're really on top of him and sit back a bit, feeling him rub against your clit. He lets out a sharp exhale of a groan and you lift up, before sitting back again and grinding against him. Frank tugs off his shirt and you follow suit, pulling yours up and over your head before tossing it off to the side, and Frank is on you.

You’re not wearing a bra, so he just dips his head down to lick your nipple into his mouth. He reaches up to gather your other breast in his hand, and you bring your hands up to his shoulders just to hold onto something. You bury your face in his hair, shift, and kiss along his head.

Frank starts peppering sloppy kisses across your chest before biting down on your other nipple.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Frank.”

“Mhm,” He’s got a vice grip on your hips, and then he’s bucking up into you. Slow and steady, and meticulous, and—Jeesus. His tongue swirls and bites, and you’re tilting your head back. Eye’s closed just feeling him.

Okay, you gotta-hold on. You push against Franks shoulders and his mouth comes off of you with an almost obscene pop. He starts to ask what’s wrong when you dip your head down and catch his mouth against yours. It’s slow and nasty and good, something almost too sensual to be Frank, but it is. It’s just you and him.

He mumbles. “Com’on.” Against your lips and rolls you over so he’s pressed on top of you. You’re rubbing your hands up his arms and over his shoulders when he —oh Christ, okay—reaches up to grab each of your wrist pinning them over your head. This is more of what you expected, you’re not gonna stop him though.

He peppers kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, before sucking.

“Fra-ank.” God you’re whiney right now, and Franks sucking hickies into your neck, so who the hell cares?

“What’s wrong, Baby?” Frank is an A-1 goddamn tease. Before you can get an answer out he pushes against you. Languid downward rolls of his hips, catching against you and pushing your body up juuust a bit with each thrust. “Hm?”

Your mouths open in an ‘O’ shape, and you’re positive you're not gonna be able to make clear sentences, so you lock your ankles behind him and drag him closer to you. He groans out a breathy ah, shit and pulls his head back up to kiss you again. When he lets your arms go he’s quick to get back on you, sucking and biting his way down your body, and you’re still too dazed to really get what’s happening until he says.

“Y/n.”

He’s sitting up, leaning back a bit onto his legs, with his hands resting on your hips. You prop yourself up on your forearms. “Yes?”

His mouth tips up into a half smile and he says. “I said you gotta lift up,” His fingers tap the waistband of your sweatpants. Oh, yeah, okay. You lift up your hips and he starts tugging your pants down, fingers hooked in your panties too. You lift up your legs and then he’s got everything up and off of you.

He settles back down, onto his stomach, with his head between your legs and looks up at you. You’re still propped up onto his shoulders, and you’ve got a pretty damn good view of him. He dips his head down and starts kissing along your thighs, and again it's strangely intimate for him. Out of your peripheral you catch a car's headlights move past the window, and you think to say something when you feel Frank slide his hands to the back of your knees and fold your legs back on either side of you towards the bed.

You feel him blow cool air against you and you gotta take deep breaths. Scoot, shift, and his face is right between the junction of your thighs. Your hand is in his hair when he drags his tongue up your pussy and over your clit. Your head hits the pillow and you push your other hand into the other one next to you. Gripping.

“Frank,” You breathe for no reason other than it’s just him. “Oh, God, Frank.”

He moans into you and that’s enough to get your back arching a bit. He starts in earnest, jumping between circling your clit, and looong strokes up your vulva. You start to wonder if he’s spelling his name down there, when he pushes his tongue aaaalll the way in until his face is practically buried inside of you. His tongue is pressed flat against your labia and then he’s licking inside you. There’s a pause while you gasp out a ‘Fra-a-ank’, before he starts tongue fucking you. You’re not sure what your sound limit is here so you’re doing your best to keep it to a minimum. Rotating between a string of Oh god, Yes, fuck, and Fraa-aank-just to be safe.

And then he plants his mouth over your clit and sucks, pushing a finger inside of you. Your back is almost full rainbow, pushing your head into the pillow, and your moaning out a loud. “Ooooh, fuck, Frank!”

He hums, and, without missing a beat, his tongue starts circling your clit, and he adds a second finger. Languid and intinse. Faster, tighter, you’re really pushing the sound limit here. He’s still working you to the edge, but has enough time to say. “Come on, Y/n. Come in my mouth, baby.”

You groan. “Oh shit,” But he pulls his fingers back a bit, curve, and he’s finger fucking you against your G-spot. He’s an angel.

You’re loud. Like-you’re voice is probably gonna be strained in the morning- loud. Frank pumps into you, tongue circling tightly, and gets just a little rougher with it. “Ah, fuck, Frank. Please-God-please…” He latches his lips around your clit and sucks, and it's gotta be biblical the amount of times you’ve said God’s name tonight. He presses against your legs and tucks his fingers, moans against you. Your jaw drops and you squeeze your eyes shut, pushing your other hand down to the back of Frank's head and pulling his face into you.

A strain of ecstasy pushes its way through you and you just can’t get out fast enough. “Frank-frank, oh GOD AAaaahhh!!” Your chest has a slow rise and fall to it, and Frank is back to being sensual. Kissing around your still sensitive clit and up your thighs. He lets go of your leg and pushes both of his hands onto your hips, you can feel your wetness on his fingers.

He pulls himself on top of you and this kiss is rougher, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He props himself up onto his forearm and reaches down to push off his sweatpants, throwing them off to the side with the rest of his clothes.

“You ready?” His voice is wrecked, something you’re really not used to hearing from Frank. You think, and push up on his shoulders before wrapping your leg around his hip and rolling so you’re on top. Franks got this dazed smile on his face, and lord he is cute. Really, Frank Castle is cute.

He grabs onto your waist and lifts you up with almost ridiculous ease, before shifting his eyes down and watching as you wrap your hand around his dick and slowly guide yourself down onto him.

You press your hands against his chest and raise up, just to grind back down, and Franks gotta focus on his breathing or else he’s gonna cum way too fast.

You go like that for a while, a slow and steady rock, but Frank’s been sporting a hard on since you laid next to him so he’s not as patient as he could be. He adjusts his grip on your waist, hikes his legs up so he’s digging his heels into the mattress, “You ready, baby?” and starts to buck up into you. And you thought you were leading the show.

You’re panting out little ah’s with each thrust, and you gotta brace your hand on the headboard for some kinda leverage. Frank pulls you down onto his chest and kisses you full, mumbling a string of “You like that? Huh? Ah, fuck.” against you, before wrapping his arm around your waist. You grind down and meet each of his thrust and he’s done for. He pushes his face into your neck as he starts pistoning into you, lips mouthing at your neck. His thrust start getting sloppy, uncoordinated, and he moans out. “Com’on, Y/n.” Before reaching down and circling your clit.

And it's building and building and you rasp out. “Frank, I—”

He bites down on your shoulder and Oh, okay, yes that. You dig your nails into his shoulder and he’s forcing every ounce of himself not to scream. “Y/n!” Low and breathy. He still does. His hips stutter as he cums, and you pick up your pace, fucking him through it. His hips eventually stutter and he bucks a couple of times before sighing into your neck, spent.

You both just stay like that for a while. Breathing in each other, enjoying the come down. You can’t help but let your mind drift to thoughts of Frank outside of this. Domesticated, and lovely. He just came inside of you, so the idea of having his kids passes through briefly. You’ll deal with that tomorrow. He coaxes you off of him and onto the bed, sliding the sheets onto the both of you. Sliding his arm under your back he pulls you into his side and closes his eyes. You rest your head against his chest, hyper aware of how intimate this is. Neither of you are sure whether or not you should dwell on that or not.

He, Christ, reaches down and plants a kiss on your forehead before laying back and saying. “You’re not getting your card punched, not while I’m still here.”

Does he know what he’s doing to you? You just nod, because you’re not really sure if you believe him or not, and he sees that.

“Hey,” He says, nudging you a bit. You sit up and look at him, and he’s got this look in his eyes. Something like worry, and hope, and so much love for you it almost breaks your heart. “I’m serious, I’m not letting him or any a’ them get to you.”

You’re the closest thing this man has got to a friend, hell even a family, so yeah. You believe him. You nod and lean up to kiss him, before laying your head back onto his chest.

Thirty hours.

A/N: I'm actually obsessed with this man. Y'all please leave comments letting me know if you liked this / what you think. I wanna hear back from you! Have a great day, beautiful.

#I love writing so much what a great outlet #frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x female reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #kash writes

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youhavetosmile · 2 months

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Hello!! Regarding the series Daredevil: Born Again, what theories do you have about the future of Matt and Karen's relationship knowing that there is interest involved with the arrival of Hether to the program? Greetings from Peru.

HI!!!!! My husband lived in Arequipa for two years before we met, so Peru is special to us! <3

I have two theories. The first is one that @breckstonevailskier offered: that Heather is working for Fisk in some way and trying to somehow sabotage Matt's efforts to take him down.

The other theory I have is that the scene we saw being filmed is a flashback to during the Blip and Matt was dating Heather to fill the Karen-sized hole in his heart :D

I can handle some drama in the middle, but Karedevil has to be endgame. She is the only one who's ever been able to love and accept all of who Matt is (I know they're not dating at the end of s3, but you can tell the feeling is there). Even Charlie said she's "the love of his life."

Thank you for the ask!

#karedevil #daredevil #matt x karen #matt and karen #daredevil born again #charlie cox #matt murdock #writers please don't make me sad

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thosemintcookies · 7 months

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Genuinely I have no hope for the new DD series.

They're really trying to backtrack on Ben's death when it unequivocally shouldn't have happened. It looks bad. You literally made him a black man just to kill him forgetting that he's actually a huge part of matt's life and a close friend and moves the story forward a lot.

They're gonna kill foggy. I wouldn't have cared if they recasted but foggy is matt's best friend, his subtextual life partner, and matt's primary anchor into the real world. They're treating foggy like he's a civilian sidekick when he's not. he's a proxy romantic lead.

looks like they want another matt love triangle. girl those are boring i'm so tired. I'm SO tired. Matt's love life should be like 20% or less of his character bc his personality is his being autistic about the law coming to a head with his Need to Help that causes him so much distress he needs to throw up but all the time.

Bringing in heather is fine but really they should have brought in milla because there's an in built story to explore with her job. but god forbid we have to have another disabled character of lasting importance on the show where the guy very notably is disabled. It's not like it would be refreshing to actually lean into a non-superpowered character with a disability or anything.

Hell they should bring in Becky. We need a non-love interest woman who is matt's age. please. I'm begging you. He's a pasty little nerd like yes he's had a lot of love interests but I promise it's actually a small number for 50 years and he literally has normal friends. Killing off foggy will further exacerbate the issue where it looks like he only talks to women around him who fetishize his blindness which is GROSS

Please for the love of god can we have 1 non-fisk centric story. Bring in stunt master or some shit i'm fucking begging

We're getting Muse but where is my boy sam??? Muse is SAM'S VILLAIN TOO. oh wait. I forgot this series has a thing against portraying asians as people who have their own agency AND who are not evil

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kemetic-dreams · 5 months

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Land taken from African Americans through trickery, violence and murder

For generations, African American families passed down the tales in uneasy whispers: "They stole our land."

These were family secrets shared after the children fell asleep, after neighbors turned down the lamps -- old stories locked in fear and shame.

Some of those whispered bits of oral history, it turns out, are true.

In an 18-month investigation, The Associated Press documented a pattern in which African Americans were cheated out of their land or driven from it through intimidation, violence and even murder.

In some cases, government officials approved the land takings; in others, they took part in them. The earliest occurred before the Civil War; others are being litigated today.

Some of the land taken from African families has become a country club in Virginia, oil fields in Mississippi, a major-league baseball spring training facility in Florida.

The United States has a long history of bitter, often violent land disputes, from claim jumping in the gold fields to range wars in the old West to broken treaties with American Indians. Poor European landowners, too, were sometimes treated unfairly, pressured to sell out at rock-bottom prices by railroads and lumber and mining companies.

The fate of African American landowners has been an overlooked part of this story.

The AP -- in an investigation that included interviews with more than 1,000 people and the examination of tens of thousands of public records in county courthouses and state and federal archives -- documented 107 land takings in 13 Southern and border states.

In those cases alone, 406 African American landowners lost more than 24,000 acres of farm and timber land plus 85 smaller properties, including stores and city lots. Today, virtually all of this property, valued at tens of millions of dollars, is owned by Europeans or by corporations.

Properties taken from Africans were often small -- a 40-acre farm, a general store, a modest house. But the losses were devastating to families struggling to overcome the legacy of slavery. In the agrarian South, landownership was the ladder to respect and prosperity -- the means to building economic security and passing wealth on to the next generation. When African American families lost their land, they lost all of this.

"When they steal your land, they steal your future," said Stephanie Hagans, 40, of Atlanta, who has been researching how her great-grandmother, Ablow Weddington Stewart, lost 35 acres in Matthews, N.C. A European lawyer foreclosed on Stewart in 1942 after he refused to allow her to finish paying off a $540 debt, witnesses told the AP.

"How different would our lives be," Hagans asked, "if we'd had the opportunities, the pride that land brings?"

No one knows how many African American families have been unfairly stripped of their land, but there are indications of extensive loss.

Besides the 107 cases the AP documented, reporters found evidence of scores of other land takings that could not be fully verified because of gaps or inconsistencies in the public record. Thousands of additional reports of land takings from African American families remain uninvestigated.

Two thousand have been collected in recent years by the Penn Center on St. Helena Island, S.C., an educational institution established for freed slaves during the Civil War. The Land Loss Prevention Project, a group of lawyers in Durham, N.C., who represent blacks in land disputes, said it receives new reports daily. And Heather Gray of the Federation of Southern Cooperatives in Atlanta said her organization has "file cabinets full of complaints."

AP's findings "are just the tip of one of the biggest crimes of this country's history," said Ray Winbush, director of Fisk University's Institute of Race Relations.

Some examples of land takings documented by the AP:

After midnight on Oct. 4, 1908, 50 hooded European men surrounded the home of a African farmer in Hickman, Ky., and ordered him to come out for a whipping. When David Walker refused and shot at them instead, the mob poured coal oil on his house and set it afire, according to contemporary newspaper accounts. Pleading for mercy, Walker ran out the front door, followed by four screaming children and his wife, carrying a baby in her arms. The mob shot them all, wounding three children and killing the others. Walker's oldest son never escaped the burning house. No one was ever charged with the killings, and the surviving children were deprived of the farm their father died defending. Land records show that Walker's 2 1/2-acre farm was simply folded into the property of a white neighbor. The neighbor soon sold it to another man, whose daughter owns the undeveloped land today.In the 1950s and 1960s, a Chevrolet dealer in Holmes County, Miss., acquired hundreds of acres from African American farmers by foreclosing on small loans for farm equipment and pickup trucks. Norman Weathersby, then the only dealer in the area, required the farmers to put up their land as security for the loans, county residents who dealt with him said. And the equipment he sold them, they said, often broke down shortly thereafter. Weathersby's friend, William E. Strider, ran the local Farmers Home Administration -- the credit lifeline for many Southern farmers. Area residents, including Erma Russell, 81, said Strider, now dead, was often slow in releasing farm operating loans to Africans. When cash-poor farmers missed payments owed to Weathersby, he took their land. The AP documented eight cases in which Weathersby acquired African-owned farms this way. When he died in 1973, he left more than 700 acres of this land to his family, according to estate papers, deeds and court records.In 1964, the state of Alabama sued Lemon Williams and Lawrence Hudson, claiming the cousins had no right to two 40-acre farms their family had worked in Sweet Water, Ala., for nearly a century. The land, officials contended, belonged to the state. Circuit Judge Emmett F. Hildreth urged the state to drop its suit, declaring it would result in "a severe injustice." But when the state refused, saying it wanted income from timber on the land, the judge ruled against the family. Today, the land lies empty; the state recently opened some of it to logging. The state's internal memos and letters on the case are peppered with references to the family's race.

In the same courthouse where the case was heard, the AP located deeds and tax records documenting that the family had owned the land since an ancestor bought the property on Jan. 3, 1874. Surviving records also show the family paid property taxes on the farms from the mid-1950s until the land was taken.

AP reporters tracked the land cases by reviewing deeds, mortgages, tax records, estate papers, court proceedings, surveyor maps, oil and gas leases, marriage records, census listings, birth records, death certificates and Freedmen's Bureau archives. Additional documents, including FBI files and Farmers Home Administration records, were obtained through the Freedom of Information Act.

The AP interviewed black families that lost land, as well as lawyers, title searchers, historians, appraisers, genealogists, surveyors, land activists, and local, state and federal officials.

The AP also talked to current owners of the land, nearly all of whom acquired the properties years after the land takings occurred. Most said they knew little about the history of their land. When told about it, most expressed regret.

Weathersby's son, John, 62, who now runs the dealership in Indianola, Miss., said he had little direct knowledge about his father's business affairs. However, he said he was sure his father never would have sold defective vehicles and that he always treated people fairly.

Alabama Gov. Don Siegelman examined the state's files on the Sweet Water case after an inquiry from the AP. He said he found them "disturbing" and has asked the state attorney general to review the matter.

"What I have asked the attorney general to do," he said, "is look not only at the letter of the law but at what is fair and right."

The land takings are part of a larger picture -- a 91-year decline in African American landownership in America.

In 1910, African Americans owned more farmland than at any time before or since -- at least 15 million acres. Nearly all of it was in the South, largely in Mississippi, Alabama and the Carolinas, according to the U.S. Agricultural Census. Today, Africans own only 1.1 million of the country's more than 1 billion acres of arable land. They are part owners of another 1.07 million acres.

The number of European American farmers has declined over the last century, too, as economic trends have concentrated land in fewer, often corporate, hands. However, African American ownership has declined 2 1/2 times faster than white ownership, the U.S. Civil Rights Commission noted in a 1982 report, the last comprehensive federal study on the trend.

The decline in African American landownership had a number of causes, including the discriminatory lending practices of the Farmers Home Administration and the migration of Africans from the rural South to industrial centers in the North and West.

However, the land takings also contributed. In the decades between Reconstruction and the civil rights struggle, black families were powerless to prevent them, said Stuart E. Tolnay, a University of Washington sociologist and co-author of a book on lynchings. In an era when African Americans could not drink from the same water fountains as European and African men were lynched for whistling at white women, few Africans dared to challenge Europeans. Those who did could rarely find lawyers to take their cases or judges who would give them a fair hearing.

The Rev. Isaac Simmons was an exception. When his land was taken, he found a lawyer and tried to fight back.

In 1942, his 141-acre farm in Amite County, Miss., was sold for nonpayment of taxes, property records show. The farm, for which his father had paid $302 in 1887, was bought by a European man for $180.

Only partial, tattered tax records for the period exist today in the county courthouse; but they are enough to show that tax payments on at least part of the property were current when the land was taken.

Simmons hired a lawyer in February 1944 and filed suit to get his land back. On March 26, a group of Europeans paid Simmons a visit.

The minister's daughter, Laura Lee Houston, now 74, recently recalled her terror as she stood with her month-old baby in her arms and watched the men drag Simmons away. "I screamed and hollered so loud," she said. "They came toward me and I ran down in the woods."

The Europeans then grabbed Simmons' son, Eldridge, from his house and drove the two men to a lonely road.

"Two of them kept beating me," Eldridge Simmons later told the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. "They kept telling me that my father and I were 'smart niggers' for going to see a lawyer."

Simmons, who has since died, said his captors gave him 10 days to leave town and told his father to start running. Later that day, the minister's body turned up with three gunshot wounds in the back, The McComb Enterprise newspaper reported at the time.

Today, the Simmons land -- thick with timber and used for hunting -- is privately owned and is assessed at $33,660. (Officials assess property for tax purposes, and the valuation is usually less than its market value.)

Over the past 20 years, a handful of African families have sued to regain their ancestral lands. State courts, however, have dismissed their cases on grounds that statutes of limitations had expired.

A group of attorneys led by Harvard University law professor Charles J. Ogletree has been making inquries recently about land takings. The group has announced its intention to file a national class-action lawsuit in pursuit of reparations for slavery and racial discrimination. However, some legal experts say redress for many land takings may not be possible unless laws are changed.

As the acres slipped away, so did treasured pieces of family history -- cabins crafted by a grandfather's hand, family graves in shaded groves.

But "the home place" meant more than just that. Many Africans have found it "very difficult to transfer wealth from one generation to the next," because they had trouble holding onto land, said Paula Giddings, a history professor at Duke University.

The Espy family in Vero Beach, Fla., lost its heritage in 1942, when the U.S. government seized its land through eminent domain to build an airfield. Government agencies frequently take land this way for public purposes under rules that require fair compensation for the owners.

In Vero Beach, however, the Navy appraised the Espys' 147 acres, which included a 30-acre fruit grove, two houses and 40 house lots, at $8,000, according to court records. The Espys sued, and an all-white jury awarded them $13,000. That amounted to one-sixth of the price per acre that the Navy paid European neighbors for similar land with fewer improvements, records show.

After World War II, the Navy gave the airfield to the city of Vero Beach. Ignoring the Espys' plea to buy back their land, the city sold part of it, at $1,500 an acre, to the Los Angeles Dodgers in 1965 as a spring training facility.

In 1999, the former Navy land, with parts of Dodgertown and a municipal airport, was assessed at $6.19 million. Sixty percent of that land once belonged to the Espys. The team sold its property to Indian River County for $10 million in August, according to Craig Callan, a Dodgers official.

The true extent of land takings from African families will never be known because of gaps in property and tax records in many rural Southern counties. The AP found crumbling tax records, deed books with pages torn from them, file folders with documents missing, and records that had been crudely altered.

In Jackson Parish, La., 40 years of moldy, gnawed tax and mortgage records were piled in a cellar behind a roll of Christmas lights and a wooden reindeer. In Yazoo County, Miss., volumes of tax and deed records filled a classroom in an abandoned school, the papers coated with white dust from a falling ceiling. The AP retrieved dozens of documents that custodians said were earmarked for shredders or landfills.

The AP also found that about a third of the county courthouses in Southern and border states have burned -- some more than once -- since the Civil War. Some of the fires were deliberately set.

On the night of Sept. 10, 1932, for example, 15 Europeans torched the courthouse in Paulding, Miss., where property records for the eastern half of Jasper County, then predominantly African, were stored. Records for the predominantly white western half of the county were safe in another courthouse miles away.

The door to the Paulding courthouse's safe, which protected the records, had been locked the night before, the Jasper County News reported at the time. The next morning, the safe was found open, most of the records reduced to ashes.

Suddenly, it was unclear who owned a big piece of eastern Jasper County.

Even before the courthouse fire, landownership in Jasper County was contentious. According to historical accounts, the Ku Klux Klan, resentful that African were buying and profiting from land, had been attacking African-owned farms, burning houses, lynching African farmers and chasing African American landowners away.

The Masonite Corp., a wood products company, was one of the largest landowners in the area. Because most of the land records had been destroyed, the company went to court in December 1937 to clear its title. Masonite believed it owned 9,581 acres and said in court papers that it had been unable to locate anyone with a rival claim to the land.

A month later, the court ruled the company had clear title to the land, which has since yielded millions of dollars in natural gas, timber and oil, according to state records.

From the few property records that remain, the AP was able to document that at least 204.5 of those acres had been acquired by Masonite after African American owners were driven off by the Klan. At least 850,000 barrels of oil have been pumped from this property, according to state oil and gas board records and figures from the Petroleum Technology Transfer Council, an industry group.

Today, the land is owned by International Paper Corp., which acquired Masonite in 1988. Jenny Boardman, a company spokeswoman, said International Paper had been unaware of the "tragic" history of the land and was concerned about AP's findings.

"This is probably part of a much larger, public debate about whether there should be restitution for people who have been harmed in the past," she said. "And by virtue of the fact that we now own these lands, we should be part of that discussion."

Even when Southern courthouses remained standing, mistrust and fear of white authority long kept Africans away from record rooms, where documents often were segregated into "white" and "colored." Many elderly Africans say they still remember how they were snubbed by court clerks, spat upon and even struck.

Today, however, fear and shame have given way to pride. Interest in genealogy among African families is surging, and some African whispered stories.

"People are out there wondering: What ever happened to Grandma's land?" said Loretta Carter Hanes, 75, a retired genealogist. "They knew that their grandparents shed a lot of blood and tears to get it."

Bryan Logan, a 55-year-old sports writer from Washington, D.C., was researching his heritage when he uncovered a connection to 264 acres of riverfront property in Richmond, Va.

Today, the land is Willow Oaks, an almost exclusively European American country club with an assessed value of $2.94 million. But in the 1850s, it was a corn-and-wheat plantation worked by the Howlett slaves -- Logan's ancestors.

Their owner, Thomas Howlett, directed in his will that his 15 slaves be freed, that his plantation be sold and that the slaves receive the proceeds. When he died in 1856, his European relatives challenged the will, but two courts upheld it.

Yet the freed slaves never got a penny.

Benjamin Hatcher, the executor of the estate, simply took over the plantation, court records show. He cleared the timber and mined the stone, providing granite for the Navy and War Department buildings in Washington and the capitol in Richmond, according to records in the National Archives.

When the Civil War ended in 1865, the former slaves complained to the occupying Union Army, which ordered Virginia courts to investigate.

Hatcher testified that he had sold the plantation in 1862 -- apparently to his son, Thomas -- but had not given the proceeds to the former slaves. Instead, court papers show, the proceeds were invested on their behalf in Confederate War Bonds. There is nothing in the public record to suggest the former slaves wanted their money used to support the Southern war effort.

Moreover, the bonds were purchased in the former slaves' names in 1864 -- a dubious investment at best in the fourth year of the war. Within months, Union armies were marching on Atlanta and Richmond, and the bonds were worthless pieces of paper.

The Africans insisted they were never given even that, but in 1871, Virginia's highest court ruled that Hatcher was innocent of wrongdoing and that the former slaves were owed nothing.

The following year, the plantation was broken up and sold at a public auction. Hatcher's son received the proceeds, county records show. In the 1930s, a Richmond businessman cobbled the estate back together; he sold it to Willow Oaks Corp. in 1955 for an unspecified amount.

"I don't hold anything against Willow Oaks," Logan said. "But how Virginia's courts acted, how they allowed the land to be stolen -- it goes against everything America stands for."

#afrakan #african #kemetic dreams #africans #afrakans #european american #european #europeans #land grab #land

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

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INFP - INFJ Characters I Relate To

Luna Lovegood - Harry Potter

Wanda Maximoff - WandaVision

Number 7 - The Umbrella Academy

Cassie Ainsworth - Skins

Max Caulfield - Life Is Strange

Peter Parker - Spider-man

Lapis Lazuli - Steven Universe

Raven Queen - Ever After High

Bubbles - Power Puff Girls

Newt Scamander - Fantastic Beasts

Nico di Angelo - Camp Half-Blood

Charlie Kelmeckis - Perks of Being a Wallflower

Amelie - Amelie

Aurora - Sleeping Beauty

Musa - Winx Club

Alice Kingsleigh - Alice in Wonderland

2-D - Gorillaz

Persephone - Greek Legends

Victor Van Dort - Corpse Bride

BMO - Adventure Time

Asriel Dreamer - Undertale

Jason Dean - Heathers

Courage - Courage the Cowardly Dog

Lucy Pevensie - The Chronicles of Narnia

Romeo and Juliet - Romeo and Juliet

Barry Allen - The Flash

Davy Jones - Pirates of the Caribean

Merlin - Merlin

Susanna Kaysen - Girl, Interrupted

Emma Chotta - The Red Band Society

Carrie Krueger - The Amazing World of Gumball

Arwen Undomiel - The Lord of the Rings

Ethan Lewis - Euphoria

Anne Shirley - Anne of Green Gables

Rue - Hunger Games

Ratcatcher 2 - Suicide Squad

Misty Day - American Horror Story

Lydia Deetz - Beetlejuice

Joshua Washington - Until Dawn

The Phantom - The Phantom of the Opera

Aurora - Maleficent

Alison Cameron - House M.D.

The Monster - Frankensstien

Crybaby - K-12

Sweeney Todd - Sweeney Todd

Abigail Hobbs - Hannibal

Credence Barebone - Fantastic Beasts

Kermit the Frog - The Muppets

Ofelia - Pan’s Labyrinth

Ponyboy Curtis - The Outsiders

Coraline Jones - Caroline

Rogue - X-Men

Candy Chiu - Gravity Falls

Eloise Turner - Last Night in Soho

Zoe Benson - American Horror Story

Sam Manson - Danny Phantom

Louis de Pointe du Lac - Interview with the Vampire

Antigone - Greek Legends

Wiccan - Marvel

Orpheus - Hadestown

Melinda Sordino - Speak

Evey Hammond - V for Venddetta

Fisk - Undertale

Harry Osborne - Spider-man

Greg Wuliger - Everybody Hates Chris

David - Hilda

Buffalo Bill - Silence of the Lambs

Christine Daae - The Phantom of the Opera

Scorpius Malfoy - Cursed Child

Frances Houseman - Dirty Dancing

Max - Sharkboy and Lavagirl

Susie Salmon - The Lovely Bones

The Grabber - The Black Phone

Ethan Morgan - My Babysitters a Vampire

Stevonnie - Steven Universre

Abby Sciuto - NCIS

Miles Halter - Looking for Alaska

Jacob Portman - Miss Peregrine

Sarah - Labyrinth

Marius - Les Mis

Bridgitte Fitzgerald - Ginger Snaps

Thomasin - The VVitch

Edith Cushing - Crimson peak

Basil - Dorian Gray

Allen Ginsberg - Kill Your Darlings

Jane Eyre- Jane Eyre

Andrew Detmer - Chronicle

Wanderer - The Host

Kurt Wagner - X-Men

Scout Finch - To Kill a Mockingbird

Emma - Blue is the Warmest Colour

Syrena - Pirates of the Caribbean

Sara Crewe - A Little Princess

David Haller - Legion

Skeeter - The Help

Nico Minoru - Runaways

Dave Lizewski - Kick-Ass

Annie Sawyer - Being Human

Nugget - Kindergarten

Chip Dove - Jennifer’s Body

Mia Warren - Little Fires Everywhere

Chase Mathews - Zoey 101

Eli Goldworthy - Degrassi

Willow Rossenberg - Buffy

Fiona - About a Boy

Violet Harmon - American Horror Story

Anastasia - Anastasia

Spike - Buffy

Theo Putnam - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Frances Shea - Legends

Micheal Darling - Peter Pan

Jughead Jones - Archie Comics

Johnathan Morgenstern - The Shadowhunters

Rapheal Santiago - The Shadowhunters

Bree Tanner - Twilight

Angela Weber - Twilight

Michelle Jones - Spider-man Homecoming

Davina Claire - The Originals

April Ludgate - Parks and Recreation

Alec Lightwood - The Shadowhunters

Nia Nal - Supergirl

Raven - Teen Titans

Remus Lupin - Harry Potter

Atticus Finch - To Kill a Mockingbird

Will Grahm - Hannibal

Harley Quinn - DC Comics

Amy Dunne - Gone Girl

Lexi Howard - Euphoria

James - The End of the Fucking World

Vision - WandaVision

Nina Sayers - Black Swan

Veronica Sawyer - Heathers

Mathew Murdocck - Daredevil

Gellret Grindelwald - Fantastic Beasts

Dawn - Total Drama

Sally - The Nightmare Before Christmas

Eurus Holmes - Sherlock

James Wilson - House M.D.

Professor X - X-Men

Ester Coleman - Orphan

Winter Anderson - American Horror Story

Needy - Jennifer’s Body

Joan of Arc - Clone High

Micheal Morbius - Morbius

Nick Goode - Fear Street

Miss Honey - Matilda

Cole Sear - The Sixth Sense

Brea - The Dark Crystal

Ingrid Beuachamp - The Witches of East End

Victoria Winters - Dark Shadows

Bella Swan - Twilight

Ramona Flowers - Scott Pilgrim

Fern Arable - Charlottes Web

Dwayne Hoover - Little Miss Sunshine

Rose Bukate - Titanic

Candyman - Candyman

Magenta - Rocky Horror

Tom Riddle - Harry Potter

Bruce Banner - The Hulk

Sirus Black - Harry Potter

Barbra Godron - Batman

The Enchantress - Suicide Squad

#INFP #INFP Characters #INFJ #INFJ Characters #characters I relate too #alice in wonderland #the enchantress #misty day #abby sciuto #needy lesnicki #frances shea #cassie ainsworth #Abigal hobbs

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docgold13 · 2 years

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365 Marvel Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…

October 6th - Daredevil

Mathew Murdock was raised by his father in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood of New York City. Matt’s father was a semi-professional boxer known as ‘Battling Jack’ Murdock. He wanted better things for his son and impressed unto him the importance of studying and staying out of trouble. The cautiousness this instilled in young Matt earned him the teasing nickname of ‘Daredevil’ amongst his peers.

When he was an adolescent, Matt saw a blind man walking towards an oncoming truck. Matt pushed the man out of the way. The truck crashed and a radioactive isotope spilled out, striking Matt across the face and blinding him. While recovering in the hospital, Matt discovered his hearing, smell, taste, and touch were amplified to superhuman degrees. He also developed a ‘radar sense’ that formed a mental picture of his surroundings.

Matt came to realize that his augmented senses and radar sense more than compensated for his lack of sight; that it enabled him to performing incredible gymnastic feats. Matt was sought out by the ninja master known as Stick. Stick became Matt’s sensei and trained him to use his powers to become a near-peerless martial artist, acrobat and combatant.

Not long thereafter, Matt’s father was killed by mobsters after he refused to participate in a fixed boxing match. An enraged Matt used his powers to track down his father’s killers. The man responsible ended up suffering from a fatal heart attack.

Matt went on to college and then law school. He befriended Foggy Nelson and became romantically involved with the mysterious Elektra Nachos. At the same time, Matt continued to patrol the city as Daredevil, a costumed crime fighter who protected the innocent from criminals.

After graduation from law school, Matt and Foggy opened up the own practice providing legal council to the underserved populations of the city. An early client was The Fantastic Four who asked Murdock and Nelson to represent them in renegotiating the lease for The Baxter Building.

Matt’s activities as Daredevil led to his encountering numerous heroes and villains, including The Sub-Mariner, Spider-Man, Dr. Doom and Ka-Zar. He has had many enemies but perhaps known greater than Wilson Fisk, thyself-appointed ‘Kingpin of Crime.’ Daredevil and The Kingpin would match wits on countless occasions and the villain has been Daredevil’s most persistent arch nemesis.

Just as perilous as his adventures as Daredevil has been Matt’s love life. His college sweetheart, Elektra, would resurface as a ninja assassin working for The Hand. He has had romances with Karen Page, Heather Glenn, Natasha Romanova, Maya Lopez, Dakota North, Milla Donovan and many others. Many of these affairs have ended tragically as Matt’s enemies have often sought to use his loved ones as a weapon against him.

Along with his many foes Matt has also made powerful allies. He has been a member of both The Defenders and The Avengers and has had longstanding friendships with Spider-Man, The Black Widow, Luke Cage, Dr. Strange and fellow lawyer, Jennifer Walter (The Savage She-Hulk).

Actor Rex Smith portrayed the hero in the television move, The Trial of The Incredible Hulk; actor Ben Affleck also played the hero in the 20th Century Fox movie, Daredevil; and actor Charlie Cox has portrayed the character int he Marvel Cinematic Universe, debuting in the Netflix series, Daredevil. The hero fist appeared in Daredevil Vol. 1 #1 (1964).

#365 Marvel Comics Heroes #Daredevil #Defenders #Avengers #Marvel Knights #Rex Smith #Ben Affleck #Charlie Cox #cut-out #She-Hulk #paper art

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markstucker · 2 years

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YCBK 247: College enrollment is dropping even though the pandemic is waning

In this episode you will hear:

(11:30) Mark and Vince discuss a May 26th article by Stephanie Saul that appeared in the New York Times entitled, “College Enrollment Drops, Even as the Pandemic’s Effects Ebb”. Vince and Mark discuss why enrollment is dropping even though the pandemic is no longer at its zenith.

Mark and Vince also go off topic and talk about a range of college admissions topics

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/26/us/college-enrollment.html#:~:text=Overall%2C%20total%20undergraduate%20enrollment%20has,altered%20the%20traditional%20college%20experience.

(39:34) For our question from a listener, a mom from Illinois wants to know if four schools is too few for her son to apply to

(56:24) Our interview is with John Ambrose, the Director of Undergraduatate Admissions at Michigan State University. Our topic is, Understanding Michigan State University. 3 of 3

This interview will also serve as our college spotlight.

Preview of Part 3

John continues to discuss MSU’s strongest programs

John goes on the hot seat in our lightning round

The recommended resource is the book, Fiske Countdown to College: 41 To-Do Lists and a Plan for Every Year of High School by Ed Fiske and Bruce Hammond

Please send in your questions either on Twitter at @YCBKpodcast using the Messages tab (this is our preference) or via email at [email protected] for the 27 admissions interviews we are doing in the summer and fall. Our interviews are with the following people at the following schools:

Confirmed interviews you can still send in questions for our guests: Bard-Mackie Siebens Mercer-Kelly Holloway Reed College-Milyon Truelove- Rice University-Tamara Siler American University-Andrea Felder Pitzer College-Yvonne Berumen Chapman University-Marcela Meija-Martinez Connecticut College-Andy Strickler* Trinity College-Anthony Berry* College of the Atlantic-Heather Albert* Spelman College-Chelsea Holley* Scripps College-Victoria Romero* Saint Louis University-Daniel Wood-(Interview is about transfer admissions, Daniel is a transfer counselor) Colby College-Randi Arsenault* University of Georgia-David Graves* Washington University St Louis-Ronne Turner

To sign up to receive Your College-Bound Kid PLUS, our free quarterly admissions deep-dive, delivered directly to your email four times a year, just go to yourcollegeboundkid.com, and you will see the sign up on the right side of the page under “the Listen to our podcast icons”

Follow Mark Stucker on Twitter to get breaking college admission news, and updates about the podcast before they go live. You can ask questions on Twitter that he will answer them on the podcast. Mark will also share additional hot topics in the news and breaking news on this Twitter feed. Twitter message is also the preferred way to ask questions for our podcast:

https://twitter.com/YCBKpodcast

To access our transcripts, click: https://yourcollegeboundkid.com/category/transcripts/

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bukkybarnes · 2 years

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just finished hawkeye ep 3 and like okay but was that fisk or what

#i swear to god that was fisk #hawkeye spoilers #heather talks/

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justdealingwithsomeissues · 3 years

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Kingpin seems like an off choice for Alpha Flight...

#Marvel #Alpha Flight #Heather Hudson ~ Vindicator #Wilson Fisk ~ Kingpin

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universalfanfic · 11 months

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Well, thanks to a conversation with @inkoutsidethelines, here's a snippet of another AU.

Sutton accidentally let's slip the name of some superheroe's LI before they got together and suddenly she's considered a matchmaker. It only gets more stressful when people in Hell's Kitchen start to hear about it.

Heather belongs to @ink and she deserves more screen time in any future parts

Sutton hadn’t meant to fall into the role of “superhero matchmaker” after settling in the Marvel universe. She’d accidentally let one name slip, the couple worked out, and then her notoriety spread like wildfire. Suddenly heroes were seeking her out asking who their perfect match was, assuming she had some sort of strange ability for solely romantic premonitions.

And what was she supposed to do?

At first she’d tried to refuse. It didn’t seem right to interfere with the timeline of the universe or put ideas in people’s heads of who they should be with, but superheroes could be so stubborn. Even getting an unlisted phone number didn’t keep them away.

So maybe she caved a couple more times, and a couple more couples worked out.

What was she supposed to do?

Sutton reassured herself with the excuse that the people she suggested be together got together in canon anyway. They either knew each other or eventually would. Maybe she wasn’t hurting anything.

“Do you really have a hundred percent track record of success with your matches?” Heather, Sutton’s book bestie, gave her an evaluating look as she took a sip of her coffee. “That seems impossible.”

“Guess I’ve gotten lucky.” Sutton shrugged sheepishly. “Besides, I don’t advertise it. I still can’t believe someone would be desperate enough to knock on my third story window when I wouldn’t answer the door.”

“Can you blame them though?” Heather said with a cheeky smile. “Wouldn’t you want to know who you were meant to be with if you knew someone could tell you?”

Sutton huffed and rolled her eyes.

“I’m not meant to be with anyone, unfortunately. I’ll have to find someone the old fashioned way.”

“That’s my point,” Heather insisted. “It’s so hard to meet people now-a-days. It’s hard to build that trust. I can’t imagine what that’s like for someone in the hero business.”

Sutton conceded the point with a nod of her head.

“True. But I’d still like to retire, so to say, on top. I’m going to run out of names eventually.”

Heather laughed as she picked up her dessert.

“What an odd way to phrase it.”

[]

The first hair raising incident her matchmaking brought on happened a week after her chat with Heather.

There was an art gallery in Hell’s Kitchen that advertised it had some modernist art from the 1930s, and Sutton wanted to see what Steve would have been familiar with in his time. Maybe she’d have something interesting to talk to him about the next time she saw him.

She idled before canvases depicting rural farmland, small towns, and industrial workers. Snapshots of the romanticized ideal of an America struggling to right itself after struggling through a depression. As she studied one piece about mail workers, a figure approached her from behind. She turned her head to look at who it was and her blood suddenly ran cold.

Sutton recognized the man.

Before she left, she’d only gotten to see one season of Daredevil, but it was more than enough to leave Wilson Fisk imprinted on her memory. Even worse, he was looking directly at her. Approaching her on purpose. He smiled politely as he stood next to her. Sutton might have attempted to politely smile back, but she couldn’t be sure.

“It’s a lovely piece, isn’t it?” Wilson said, nodding to the art. “A celebration of what many consider mundane. An acknowledgement of the people who keep our civilization running.”

Sutton swallowed thickly, her throat dry.

“Yeah.” She said weakly. “It, uh, it has nice… flow.”

Her thoughts and anxiety spiraled as Wilson nodded in agreement and the room settled back into an awkward silence.

Was he just making awkward small talk? Was this the art gallery in Hell’s Kitchen?! Maybe, then, he was just biding time before meeting up with Vanessa. Or, did he know who she was; where she was actually from? Were there men posted at all the exits to stop her if she tried to leave?

Would Nick Fury consider this an emergency worthy of a phone call?

Sutton swallowed again as Wilson cleared his throat, clearly not done talking. He shifted on his feet and fiddled with his cuff links.

“Forgive my forwardness,” Wilson said, “but I have to admit I’m aware of who you are Ms. Regan.”

Sutton’s heart dropped to her toes and her skin went clammy.

“You are?” She managed to squeak.

“Your name has spread through… certain circles.” He said.

Wilson slamming a car door over and over and over replayed in her mind's eye. Sutton twisted away slightly, trying to be subtle, and eyed him, but he looked rather uncomfortable himself.

“I’ve heard that you’re rather adept at-” he paused as if he were wrestling with how to get the sentence out, “matchmaking.” He finally relented.

Sutton’s lips parted in confusion as she tried to jump three steps ahead of what he might be planning. Did he want to get the names of superhero love interests ahead of time to use them for blackmail? Did he think she had knowledge of secret identities? Which, she did, but she really hoped he didn’t know that.

“Uh,” Sutton replied.

Wilson pressed on before she had to think of something else as if he were wary of her response.

“I understand up to this point you’ve exclusively done work for a… certain clientele, however I’m willing to more than compensate you for your services.”

Of all the things he could have said next, that wasn’t one Sutton considered. Her brain momentarily short-circuited as she tried to process it.

“You want me,” she said slowly, “ to find you a potential significant other?”

Wilson’s chin tipped up and he held his hands behind his back.

“You can name your own price.”

This time Sutton actually shook her head and clenched her eyes briefly. Some small relief of him not truly knowing who she was mingled with her lingering confusion.

“But-” Sutton squinted. “What aboutVaness-?”

She cut herself off abruptly. She’d gotten herself into this mess in the first place by making assumptions and she still managed to put her foot in her mouth over and over. A look up at Wilson said it was too late to take it back. His sights were zeroed in on her and his brows furrowed in a confused concentration.

“Vanessa?” He said.

Dang. He even figured out the ‘a’.

“Yes?” A new voice responded.

Heels clicked on the floor and both looked over to see a woman in professional dress heading their way. It was her.

Vanessa smiled amicably at both of them; her gaze lingered a bit longer over Wilson.

“How can I help you?”

Wilson looked at Sutton again, and what was she supposed to do?

She grit her teeth and gave a measly close lipped smile.

“On the house,” she said. Wilson’s eyes widened in surprise.

Eager to be far away, Sutton excused herself and legged it away from the art gallery cursing her luck and her stupid mouth the entire way out of Hell’s Kitchen. Figures, figures, figures she’d set up the two craziest people in the city.

Of freaking course.

#ink tag #friends oc #my writing #heather fisk #sutton regan #matt gets involved after this yes #rip sutton #edit: it disappeared a word for me??? the most important one??#hopefully and extra space fixes it

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