#matt lieberman

[mikyapixie]

𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞: 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬! 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗.

[geekcavepodcast]

The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants Teaser Trailer

"Desperate to be a big guy, SpongeBob sets out to prove his bravery to Mr. Krabs by following The Flying Dutchman – a mysterious swashbuckling ghost pirate – on a seafaring comedy-adventure that takes him to the deepest depths of the deep sea, where no Sponge has gone before." (Paramount Pictures)

The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants stars the voice talents of Tom Kenny (SpongeBob), Mark Hamill (Flying Dutchman), Bill Fagerbakke (Patrick), Rodger Bumpass (Squidward), Clancy Brown (Mr. Krabs), Carolyn Lawrence (Sandy), Mr. Lawrence (Plankton), George Lopez, Ice Spice, Arturo Castro, Sherry Cola, and Regina Hall. Derek Drymon directs. The screenplay is by Pam Brady and Matt Lieberman. Story is by Brady, Marc Ceccarelli, and Kaz.

The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants releases to theaters on December 19, 2025.

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

The Christmas Chronicles (2018, Clay Kaytis)

31/12/2023

The Christmas Chronicles is a 2018 film directed by Clay Kaytis, starring Kurt Russell as Santa Claus.

The project was announced in December 2017, when Kurt Russell, Judah Lewis and Darby Camp were chosen as the protagonists of the Netflix film.

Filming of the film began in January 2018 in Toronto and then continued in Chicago.

The Hollywood Reporter includes the film among the thirty-six best Christmas films of all time.

The sequel, also produced and distributed by Netflix, was released in 2020 and sees the return of Kurt Russell, Goldie Hawn, Darby Camp, Kimberly Williams-Paisley and Judah Lewis to the cast, while the new faces are Julian Dennison and Jahzir Bruno; Chris Columbus is directing, and is also co-writing the screenplay with Matt Lieberman.

[charlottcharles]

[monicfever]

holding their face 𝜗𝜚 daredevil & punisher hcs

characters used ᝰ .ᐟ matt murdock / frank castle / foggy nelson / karen page / elektra / ben poindexter / billy russo / dinah madani / micro

⏜︵ MATT MURDOCK. 𐂯

your hands are gentle, like he’s made of something fragile — not bone and blood, but myth and ruin. his skin is warm beneath your palms, scraped and bruised in places he won’t talk about.

he flinches when you first touch him — not from pain, but from surprise. from the quiet ache of being held like this. you whisper his name and he doesn't pull away.

the city hums outside — always too loud, too much — but here, in this moment, it's quiet. the kind of quiet matt never gets. your thumb brushes under his eye, and his lashes flutter shut. he doesn’t open them.

your fingers slide into his curls, damp with sweat and rain. you hold him like you’re anchoring him, like you’re keeping him tethered to something good. his breathing slows. he leans into your touch like he’s starved for it.

“i’m right here.” you remind him. and for once — for just a second — matt believes you.

⏜︵ FRANK CASTLE. 𐂯

tonight, he’s tired. his eyes are downcast, jaw tight, like he’s bracing for a blow that doesn’t come.

your hands are slow, steady. one at his cheek, the other at his jaw — rough stubble under your fingers, skin too warm for how cold he always pretends to be.

he blinks once. like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “you don’t have to…” he starts. but you already are. your thumb brushes across the scar on his cheek — the one he never talks about.

he doesn't pull away, but he doesn’t lean in, either. just lets it happen. like he’s trying to figure out how this feels. he’s quiet. so quiet you can hear the weight in his breathing. the way he exhales like he’s holding a war behind his ribs.

“frank.” you whisper, and that’s the part that undoes him. not the touch — the way you say his name like it’s something worth holding. his eyes close. not because he’s calm, but because he’s overwhelmed.

your hands are shaking slightly. he notices. of course he notices. “you okay?” he murmurs. you press your forehead to his. “always.” he leans into you. it’s not surrender. it’s trust. for a man like frank castle, trust is the rarest kind of softness.

your fingers slip into his hair, and he doesn’t move. he just breathes. and in that moment — bruised, broken, holding more pain than most people can comprehend — he feels safe. with you.

only with you.

⏜︵ FOGGY NELSON. 𐂯

foggy talks a lot when he’s nervous — jokes, rambles, deflects. but when your hands find his face, everything goes quiet.

he looks at you like you just hit pause on the chaos in his head. his brows lift, his eyes soften, and he gives you that crooked little smile — the one that always means thank you, I needed this.

“hey,” he says, voice low, gentle. “what’s that look for?” but he knows. your thumbs brush the apples of his cheeks, warm under your hands, a little flushed because he still gets flustered when you touch him like this.

he leans in instantly. instinctively. like he’s meant to be there. you’re not just cradling his face — you’re grounding him. reminding him he doesn’t have to carry everything alone. “you’re doing too much again.” you whisper.

he sighs — busted. “someone’s gotta keep things together.” he murmurs.

you shake your head and rest your forehead against his. “someone’s gotta take care of you, too.” he melts. full-on puddles into your hands. his shoulders drop, and the tension he didn’t even realize he was holding slips away.

he reaches up, hands on your wrists, holding you like you’re the only real thing in the world.“you always know what to say.” he tells you. you don’t. not always. but you see him. and that’s enough.

sometimes he makes a joke — something like, “you’re not gonna smoosh my face, right?” but it’s a deflection. because the truth is, when you hold his face like that, foggy feels safe. loved.

and no matter how loud the world gets, your hands always bring him back to himself.

⏜︵ KAREN PAGE. 𐂯

karen carries herself like she’s fine — chin up, shoulders set, voice even. but your hands find her face, and the cracks she’s hidden so carefully start to show.

her breath catches. just a little. not because she’s scared — because she’s not used to being held like she’s something worth protecting.

you don’t say anything at first. just look at her. just see her. her eyes search yours like she’s trying to believe it’s real — that someone would choose her, softness and scars alike. your palms are warm against her cheeks, and you feel the way her jaw clenches. a reflex. a habit.

she blinks fast, like she’s trying to keep from unraveling. “hey,” you murmur. “you’re okay.” her lips press together, but they tremble at the corners. she nods — barely.

you brush your thumbs along her cheekbones, and she leans in, hesitant at first, then all at once. she closes her eyes. lets herself sink into the quiet. with you, she doesn’t have to be strong every second. she doesn’t have to fight. not right now.

you kiss her forehead, soft and slow. and when she whispers, “thank you.” it’s not just for this moment — it’s for every time you remind her that softness doesn’t make her weak.

sometimes she makes a dry little joke — “you’re not checking for bruises, right?” but it’s just her way of hiding how much it means.

for the first time in a long time, she lets herself feel safe.

⏜︵ ELEKTRA. 𐂯

she doesn’t stumble through the door — she never stumbles — but you can see the tension in the set of her shoulders, the way her jaw is locked like she’s biting back the whole night.

blood on her knuckles, maybe. maybe not hers. she doesn’t say. she doesn’t need to.

you reach for her face without a word — slowly, like you’re approaching something wild. your hands are warm. hers stay at her sides at first. she doesn’t pull away, but her body goes still — not tense. just… waiting.

no one touches her like this. not without motive. not without want. but you don’t ask anything of her in this moment — you just see her, and she doesn’t know what to do with that.

her eyes flick up to yours, unreadable — but there’s something breaking at the edges. not fear. never that. just disbelief that someone could hold her like she’s not a weapon.

like she’s allowed to be held.

she exhales, barely — a breath you wouldn’t catch if you weren’t paying attention. her jaw tightens, her lashes flutter, like she’s trying to hold herself together. your thumbs brush across her cheekbones, and for a second, her eyes close.

“hey.” you greet. her lips part like she wants to argue, to make a joke, to keep the distance safe. but she doesn’t. not this time. she leans into your touch, just slightly — then all at once.

you kiss her temple, slow and careful — not because she needs saving, but because she deserves softness. she doesn’t say thank you — not out loud. instead: “you’re not checking for battle scars, are you?” — voice low, almost amused.

but her hands find yours, fingers wrapping around your wrists like she’s anchoring herself. with you, she doesn’t have to perform strength. doesn’t have to be on guard. doesn’t have to be anything but herself.

and when she finally lets herself breathe, when she allows the silence to settle between you — it’s the closest she’s come to peace in a long, long time.

⏜︵ BEN POINDEXTER. 𐂯

he’s always in control, always trying to maintain a perfect façade. but you can see it — the cracks in the mask, the hollow look in his eyes after another brutal day, another moment where he failed to hold it together.

he doesn’t say anything — he never does when he’s breaking. just... stiff, distant, like he’s suffocating but doesn’t know how to ask for air.

you reach for him slowly, your hands finding his face — his skin cold to the touch, almost unnervingly so. he doesn’t pull away, but his whole body goes rigid — like he’s forgotten what it feels like to be touched without fear of it turning into something dark.

his eyes flick to yours, almost cold, but there’s something deeper hidden under that guard. a hint of confusion. of vulnerability. he doesn’t understand why you’d touch him like this, why you’d want to.

you don’t say anything — you just hold him. your thumbs run across the sharp lines of his cheekbones, grounding him in a way he’s not used to.

“you’re okay,” you murmur, your voice just loud enough for him to hear. his mouth twitches — the corners of it pulling up just enough to make it clear he’s trying to force a smirk, but it never quite reaches his eyes.

“i don’t need comforting,” he mutters, but it’s a weak defense, a habit he’s clinging to more than an actual belief. you don’t respond to his words. instead, you press your forehead against his, slow and deliberate.

he doesn’t push you away, but his breath catches — a shallow thing, like he’s been holding it in too long. in that moment he doesn’t know whether to be ashamed or relieved that someone could want him like this — raw, unmasked, vulnerable in a way that feels dangerous to him.

he tenses, like the idea itself is a threat — but his fingers twitch just barely, as if fighting the urge to touch you back. “you... don’t know who i am,” he argues,, but there’s something in his voice — something close to needy.

“i know you,” you reply, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip, letting the silence stretch for a beat. he doesn’t say thank you. but when he looks at you this time, when he lets you hold him like this, he believes he could be more than the mess he’s convinced himself to be.

⏜︵ BILLY RUSSO. 𐂯

it's quiet, the kind of day where words don't feel necessary — just the hum of the room, the weight of his body next to yours. he’s leaning into you, but there's still that tension in his posture, like he’s holding back a part of himself.

you don’t say anything — you reach up slowly, hand finding the line of his jaw. his skin is warm, you can feel the way his muscles tighten at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. he doesn’t need to be told anything — you’re not trying to fix anything.

your thumb brushes across the curve of his cheekbone. he looks at you, eyes dark but not distant — something in him softens when you touch him like this, for a second, he doesn’t have to be the guy who’s been through too much. he just lets you hold him

“you’re pretty.” you praise. he exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for too long, and his head tilts slightly into your touch.

he doesn’t pull away. doesn’t need to. not right now, at least.

⏜︵ DINAH MADANI. 𐂯

she doesn’t fall apart. not ever.

she comes home late, tension still riding her shoulders, eyes sharp but tired. kicks off her boots, shrugs off the day like it’s something she can peel away — but it still lingers in the set of her mouth, the way her fingers twitch like they’re still reaching for a gun.

you’re both on the couch, legs tangled. it’s quiet. a movie’s playing, something you’ve both stopped pretending to pay attention to. her head is resting near your shoulder, and you feel the weight of her — present but somewhere else, too.

you don’t say anything. just shift, turn toward her, and gently cradle her face in your hands.

she blinks, once — like she wasn’t expecting it. but she doesn’t move. your fingers trace along the edge of her jaw, slow and careful, like you’re handling something you don’t want to break.

she holds your gaze — guarded at first, like she’s trying to read what this means. then it softens. just a little. enough. her lips press together, for a second, you can tell she’s thinking too hard — about control, about vulnerability, about being seen.

she closes her eyes. leans in, just slightly, and you let her, no pressure, no words. you keep holding her like that, fingertips brushing behind her ear, thumb tracing the edge of her cheek; like she’s allowed to rest. like she’s allowed to be soft.

just for a while.

⏜︵ MICRO / DAVID. 𐂯

it’s late. he’s hunched over his desk, screen glow painting shadows under his eyes. there’s a half-empty mug by his hand, something playing softly on the speakers — white noise he probably hasn’t noticed in hours.

he doesn’t hear you come in. his mind’s still spinning, still running loops — old memories, what-ifs, the kind of guilt that lingers even when you tell him it doesn’t have to.

you walk up behind him, say his name softly, he finally looks up; gives you a tired smile — the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, like he’s trying to convince you he’s fine so you won’t worry.

you don’t say anything. you just kneel down beside his chair and gently take his face in your hands his breath catches. tenderness always seems to catch him off guard, like he still doesn’t believe he’s allowed to have it.

your thumbs brush along the edges of his jaw, where the scruff’s gone a little longer than usual. he leans into it without meaning to, eyes fluttering shut like the weight of the day finally gets permission to settle.

he murmurs something — maybe your name, maybe just a sigh — and lets you hold him there, like that’s all he needs right now.

he whispers, “i’m okay,” like he’s trying to believe it, and maybe, with you there, he can. he opens his eyes after a second, looks at you like you’re something steady in a world that won’t stop shifting. he doesn’t say thank you — he just reaches up and covers your hand with his, fingers curling over yours like he doesn’t want you to let go

and you don’t.

★ a / n : mid tier effort tbh might take this down at some point

started 4.23.2025. finished 4.24.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[xxdrixx]

❥ Countdown to Daredevil: Born Again - 8 days left Frank being harsh vs soft with someone

for @ohdrey89 💕

[daredevilexchange]

Do you like Daredevil, The Defenders, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Iron Fist, the Punisher, and/or Team Red, in their comics or TV (or, in some cases, cinema!) versions?

Then, get ready for the Daredevil and Defenders 2025 Exchange! Sign up here until July 7!

Works revealed on AO3 on September 19, and submissions posted on Tumblr from that day onwards.

Still with the Remix Option: ou can say you’re open to getting a gift created from one of your own fanworks!!

How? Sign up here! You will be able to give several prompts (different types of prompts, too! Music, scenarios, one word prompts) and you will, of course, receive several prompts.

Your job? Use at least one of these prompts to create at least one fanwork! You can combine several prompts in one work, use the same prompt for several works... The one hard and fast rule is to respect your giftee's squicks!

Please get in touch with your giftee anonymously if only to let them know someone is creating something for them, and of course if you have any question :-)

What types of fanwork? Here's what you can do: Gifsets (6 gifs min), Fanfic (1,000 words min), Fanmix (6 songs + cover min), Fanvid (1 minute long min), Graphics / Fanart, needle art, podfic.

What's the timeline? Signups until July 7 (your time zone is fine), prompts sent around a day or two after that (depending on your time zone), fanworks due SEPTEMBER 10 in the AO3 collection if you're using AO3, and be submitted to Tumblr. If you have a scheduling issue please get in touch with the blog, we can probably work something out. And you will be able to post on the dedicated AO3 collection earlier since it will be kept unrevealed until D-Day !

Where to post? Tumblr, AO3 (Exchange collection name: dde2025 / Daredevil and Defenders Exchange 2025)… let us know where you're posting so we can share it on our two blogs, DW and Tumblr. AO3 can't host video or graphics, but you can still put them up on the Archive as long as they’re already online somewhere else like Instagram, DeviantArt, YouTube, Squidge hosting, etc. Get in touch if you have questions about posting !

Posting guidelines are here (this link should be opened in a separate browser tab, NOT the app) or here, please take the time to read them! You will find more important information there. If you do not have an AO3 account and want one, please get in touch with the blog.

Spread the word!

@fanwork-exchange-promos @thebigbangblogproject @daredevil-podfic-community @hells-kitchen-discord

A winning banner by @nkeiiin ! Detailed ID under the cut

Digital illustration of The Defenders and Punisher. From left to right is Frank Castle, Jessica Jones, Matt Murdock, Luke Cage and Danny Rand. A close up shot of all the characters stands very close together on a plain dark grey background. Their faces have few bruises and two or more small bandages, except Luke Cage doesn’t have any injuries. The whole fanart is in darker shades of brownish colour tone. The title “Daredevil / Defenders Exchange 2025” is coloured in white and placed on top of the fan art. “daredevilexchange.tumblr.com” url is on the bottom left corner of the banner.

[molotovgrifter]

give me micro or give me death!

+ images that shook me to my core

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

I’ll write more on this when I get back home. Based on the most recent episode of Daredevil Born Again, I think I’m starting to get why Foggy and Karen weren’t part of this season’s storyline. It looks like the focus of the show is Matt, Fisk, and now Frank figuring out what they want their legacies to be. Matt gave up being Daredevil because he felt he crossed a line, Fisk is trying to repair his image, and now Frank has to deal with the fact that he’s become an idol to the public. It also looks like the writers wanted Matt, Fisk, and Frank to go on this journey of self-discovery on their own. Not only did Foggy and Karen get written out, Fisk is no longer on good terms with Vanessa and Maya Lopez.

Based on where we’re at with the show, I can see the logic behind that. Matt’s always had Foggy and Karen to turn to if he was lost. Frank is a loner, but he did have Karen, Micro, and Amy Bendix. Fisk, even though he’s a magnificent bastard, had Vanessa and Maya. So it looks like the writers wanted to see where they can take the three men if they didn’t have their support.

It fits with the theme of being “born again”. Who are Matt Murdock, Wilson Fisk, and Frank Castle if you strip away what made them Daredevil, Kingpin, and The Punisher, respectively? Now, instead of someone telling them what they should be and helping them along the way, the three of them have to figure it out on their own. It’s obviously going to be a messy journey, especially with how emotionally volatile the three of them are. But I feel like that’s the whole point of the show, to see these men either self-destruct or climb out of the hole they’re in and be “born again”.

You can already see how the three of them are without their support. Matt, without Foggy and Karen, is becoming more open to the idea of punishment and retribution (aka he’s becoming like Frank Castle). He also thinks he’s become unworthy of grace since he can’t even bring himself to attend church. Fisk, without Vanessa and Maya, is making a sincere attempt at rehabilitating his image in order to win them back. However, you can already see him start to relapse with him blackmailing the police commissioner. And now, it looks like Frank will have to learn how to live with the fact that he’s the “bad guy”. Because it doesn’t matter how much he justifies his actions, the fact that regular people now want to be him makes him a toxic figure.

Matt’s gonna have to learn how to forgive himself, Fisk is gonna self-destruct since he can’t change his ways, and Frank is gonna have to accept he’s the villain while making it clear that people should instead be aspiring to be like Captain America or Daredevil (the Cap example is from the comics).

TL;DR: DDBA is the superhero equivalent of a mid-life crisis.

[belalugosiseyebrows]

My favorite movie Punisher and Movie!DD

[pagemurdockandnelson]

"See, last time I did a team-up, he turned out to be an Altar Boy..."

[anna-hawk]

I've been rewatching both daredevil and the punisher, and I just love them both so much. I need the 4 of them in a room and make a competition of who's the most sarcastic asshole 😂

[bunnyhugs22]

[lapseinrecs]

With Flying Colors

By serpentinefiend @plumedpenn

On Archive of Our Own

Status: Complete; Oneshot; 4,850 words

Summary: Assembled to disarm four bombs simultaneously, the Defenders (plus Frank) certainly have a lot of responsibility resting on their shoulders. Luckily, all they need to do is cut the yellow wire, then the blue. Matt would have appreciated a little more consideration in the planning process. Prior to count down, preferably.

My thoughts: Yeah, they really should take his disability more seriously. Fun fic. Accomodations are always great.

[missizzy]

Habeas for Superheroes, Part 12: Saving the Liebermans(Daredevil, Matt/Foggy)

Read full work on AO3

It was late in the evening when Foggy headed out to Queens for the second time that day. Sarah, as she'd told Foggy to call her, was waiting outside. "I managed to get my father to look after the kids," she said, "but they're all three of them wondering what's going on. My son got aggressive about it." She sighed at that. "I don't know what we're going to tell them."

"We'll figure it out," said Foggy. "Situations like this, you always have to figure out things like that as you go along. You can try preparing things beforehand, but whatever you're planning, it won't work out. Trust me."

She, for instance, didn't yet know exactly what she was going to say to Matt when he met them in Manhattan to lead them to where David Lieberman was hiding. They had only communicated by email since her first visit to Queens that morning. She was determined not to apologize, because she wasn't sorry. But she was aware that just telling him why she'd done it would probably lead to the kind of argument they did not want to have in front of a stranger.

Maybe Matt himself realized, that, though. When Foggy and Sarah emerged onto the street to find him waiting there, as soon as Foggy had called out his name he was stepping forward and offering his hand, saying, "Good evening, Mrs. Lieberman. My name is Matt Murdock. I'm Ms. Nelson's husband. Your husband is staying near the river. This way." Then he just turned and walked off, making a show of using the cane, but not taking Foggy's arm. Or getting anywhere near her, even though she'd worn shoes more than loud enough to avert any suspicions.

Sarah threw Foggy a concerned look at this. Foggy looked away, just saying, "Come on, let's get this over with."

They kept close to him as they reached the river, walking through the dark corners of New York that they'd both avoided before now, even as those they loved had plunged into them. It wasn't a cold night, but Sarah was shivering anyway, and at least looked distracted enough she might have not noticed the ease with which Matt made his way, even though there wasn't much to mark the route for a blind man. Not much for even a seeing one, honestly. The buildings all looked the same in the dark, at least until they saw the one with a light in its entrance.

David Lieberman was waiting for them there. He was a fairly tall man with dirty blonde hair and beard, extremely disheveled at the moment, and his clothes were in worse shape. The minute his wife laid eyes on him, she strode up to him and shoved him into the door. Which wasn't very stable; it gave way behind him and sent him stumbling further back. Sarah didn't even seem to notice. She just moved forward into the broken doorframe and shoved him again, and again.

Foggy couldn't make out all of her words. There was "What did you do?" and "We saw you die!" (that one was loud and she yelled it multiple times) and something about months.

As Matt moved forward to intervene, Foggy quietly said, "I think you should let her have it out with him, Matt. In fact, I think we should move out of earshot. Or at least far enough away. Unless you think there's anyone dangerous around."

"We're the only people in the immediate area," said Matt. "Back to the river and I won't even catch their voices without concentrating." They didn't have to worry about being overheard by the Liebermans; they could hear enough from inside the building to know that.

They walked back to the river in silence. Foggy could feel the tension rising, but she also felt their surroundings, despite Matt's belief they were safe for the moment. She might refrain from yelling at him just for that, lucky him.

When they got there, and Foggy was staring out at water barely visibly in the darkness, Matt spoke first, his voice very cool as he asked, "You are aware you may have just gotten all four of them killed?"

A harsh cut, but one Foggy had anticipated. "I admit I didn't anticipate her taking matters into her own hands like that. I made it pretty clear I wasn't planning for anyone to do anything in response to my telling her."

"I think her husband did. I think he had a pretty damn good reason for keeping her in the dark, that being he knew her and he knew she might react like this."

Probably neither of them anticipated the nerve that one touched. "So you're just assuming men like you two know what's best for your wives? I thought I told you what I thought of that nonsense back in college!" It was very hard not to yell. "We wives are not just pets to be protected from our own foolish impulses."

Matt looked a little hangdog and like he wanted to protest that whole thing, but a moment later he instead said, "But you're not like Mrs. Lieberman. You're not incapable of taking care of yourself, and you actually have some idea of what you're up against, and anyway, the people who would go after you can't so long as they don't know I'm Daredevil, so we've never quite been in their current situation."

"And if we were?" Foggy asked, because that was an important question, and this might be her best chance to get it answered.

Matt fell silent. After half a minute or so, Foggy gave up on an immediate answer, and continued, "While you're chewing on that, let me also point out that if David had slipped up-and do remember he had no experience with anything even remotely like this-Sarah would've had no way to know they were coming for her or their children."

"I'm pretty sure he could've called her very fast, if it came to that. The kids, too, even if they'd been at school or otherwise out of the house. I couldn't tell everything about the set-up he's got in there-and I don't think anyone who wasn't an IT professional could've either-but I know enough about his activities that it would shock me if he couldn't."

Maybe that was true. But Foggy still went on, "She's told me a bit more about what the past months have been like for her, too. She's been very alone, you know. Most of the friends she and her husband had snubbed her after he was condemned as a traitor. And the kids have suffered similar in school, and the son, Zach, has basically become a problem kid in response. And she truly was devastated to lose him. I don't usually believe traditional claptrap about women and men, but I am becoming convinced that a woman absolutely can get herself so invested in her husband that losing him can break her."

"Foggy," Matt's stricken response to this wasn't a surprise. She was a little more caught off guard by just how hard seeing him that way still got to her. It took her time to pull her thoughts or feelings together enough to say anything more.

Too much time. First, Matt said, "Everything he did in there was for them, you know. What he did to get them in this predicament might not have been, but he's no noble crusader wanting to dedicate even half of his life to this. His main goal now is finding a way home he can live with."

There was a romanticism to that, Foggy acknowledged. But if there was one thing she had learned over the past year and a half, it was that romance didn't really get you anything in the end, not even emotional comfort.

But the pause in the argument had made her realize she was tired, and didn't want to get off onto that tangent with Matt. She seemed to get tired more easily than she had even a year ago.

She found herself asking, "So, what are we doing anyway? Do we want to get the Avengers involved in this?"

"Perhaps," said Matt. "They could even conceivably get the entire Lieberman family out of the country if they're willing to go, and even if we shouldn't involve Stark right now, they could get the incriminating documents leaked probably within days. And that's if they even bother trying to not be connected to it. It would probably be a stronger case if they weren't, but I'm not sure Rogers has ever cared about such things."

"Either way, that probably would solve the current dilemma, if Lieberman didn't know anything the world hadn't heard about, too, and his getting killed again would only make them look worse." As Foggy said this, she observed her husband's reaction. She would've liked him to be a lot more pleased by this.

He only said, "We don't know how much he knows, not really, especially when he's had half a year to do nothing but hack into all the government's systems. It would be safer for him and his family if we handled this more quietly. Romanov could probably think of some way to do it."

"I can guess the real reason you don't want to go public, you know," Foggy snapped, because she already had. "You just don't want to feel responsible when Frank finds out and of course he's probably going to want to kill everyone involved, and ultimately, he's only likely to hold back for the sake of our cases for so long. But I don't know if he'd even succeed, Matt. He's never gone after anyone truly powerful."

"That's not my only reason," Matt sighed, which probably was true enough. "But I think he probably would succeed, at least for one of them. Possibly get himself killed in the process, which of course he doesn't care about, but Karen would."

"And she wouldn't be the only one, would she?" Foggy asked, because Karen was the one more obviously emotionally entangled with Frank, but she had already thought Matt was, too, in a weird way. Though really, if she was being extremely honest, she wasn't indifferent to his fate herself.

Matt might have even looked embarrassed for a second. Then he said, "Either way, we still need to get the Liebermans out. Do you think they'll refuse to be evacuated?"

"I hope not," said Foggy. "Though maybe we'd better go check in on them, make sure Sarah hasn't stormed off alone in the dark part of town in the middle of the night."

She hadn't; when Matt and Foggy returned to the building, they found both Liebermans standing together in front of the entrance. "So," Foggy asked them, "do you two have any idea what you want to do now?"

"Only that we want to be fully reunited as a family," said Sarah, "in any way that's relatively safe for us."

"So you would be willing to leave the country?" Matt asked.

The two of them looked at each other. "Is the situation really that hopeless?" David Lieberman asked.

Foggy saw Matt consider it, as she did the same. "Anything we attempt to do that's legal will inevitably take time," she said, "and we'd definitely have to hide you somewhere to keep you from getting killed, I'm afraid."

"And probably you and your children as well," said Matt, "because as soon as the people responsible for this realize you're still working against them, well, if they can't get to you, they'll get to anyone you care about that they can reach. In fact, do you two have anyone else who might need protecting?"

"My father," said Sarah. Looking at her husband, she added, "Maybe your sister, too? Even if I'm not sure anyone's heard from her since the sit shiva. I sure haven't."

"It might not have to be forever, though," Foggy offered. "You might be able to come back when everything is resolved."

"I think we both know enough to know that's going to take a long time," said David. "Thanks for offering the hope of us returning eventually, though."

"Very well, then," said Matt. "There are people who can help you, and I expect to be in contact with them next week. Until then, Mrs. Lieberman, we have to decide where you and your children will stay. We have other friends who can take you in, or can even watch over them if you choose to stay in your own house, though I would advise against that."

"We'll have to go back there, though," said Sarah. "The kids and my father are there." Foggy heard the terror when it first came into her voice, when it at last hit her just how much danger her entire family was now in.

"I've seen no signs of them paying any more attention to the three of you at the moment," said David. "Even if we did anything today that might change that, surely there'll be at least a few hours' lag."

"Probably," Matt agreed. "Foggy and I should both take you home. I'll call one of my friends to try to meet us there."

The friend he had in mind turned out to be Danny Rand. That made sense; Luke Cage was far too high profile to work for this, and Jessica Jones might refuse to help. Foggy was happy to leave Matt to deal with him and keep nearer to Sarah.

She spent a few minutes debating with herself whether to ask it, but when they were almost out of the deserted area, she did: "Should I not have told you?"

"Absolutely you should have," said Sarah. "I mean, I suppose you really should ask me that in a few more days...but I think my answer will be the same. Whatever happens to the four of us now...at least provided we all survive it, we'll probably all four be better off."

"Wow," said Foggy, because while Sarah had told her about her various woes, she hadn't realized it was *that* bad.

Matt finished his phone call with the news that Danny hoped to reach Queens in one or two hours. "Maybe longer, if what he's dealing with right now takes more time than he's expecting."

They couldn't talk as much on the train, but when they emerged into the Liebermans' neighborhood, Matt said, "I think you'll like Danny. He'd a good guy, very nice."

She, Foggy thought, probably would. On the other hand, she wasn't looking forward to how her son was likely to deal with him.

Very early the next morning

After it was decided they should stagger their departures from the Liebermans' house, Foggy left first. Not caring to travel too far alone in the dark, she called a cab to pick up her from a few blocks away, arriving back in Hell's Kitchen as the sun was just starting to peek out from between the buildings.

She headed up the stairs, trying to figure out, in her exhausted state, exactly how late to work she could get away with being that day. When she took as glance at her email as she walked into the apartment, she did so with the thought that hopefully there wouldn't be anything important.

Instead, she found herself reading an email from Jessica, asking her to call as soon as she could, regardless of the late/early hour. Foggy spent a good two minutes trying to mentally stretch the definition of the word "could," before sighing and calling.

The third ring had come and gone, and Foggy was a split second from sighing in relief and disconnecting, when she heard Jessica's, "Oh, now you're answering, Ms. Nelson?"

"I only saw your email now. It's been a very busy night. What have you got?"

"Some real dirt on our friend Carson Wolf. Turns out along with everything else, he's been dealing in heroin. Not only that, he's been smuggling it out of Afghanistan with the bodies of military personnel killed in action. I haven't found how he's been selling it yet, or what he's then doing with the money, since it doesn't look like he's been keeping most of it-which in itself probably means more dirt, and I can think of one possibility."

Foggy, too, had a pretty good idea of just what that money had been spent on, and a guess on who'd sold the heroin as well. Her first impulse was to tell Jessica that, but not only was it way too dangerous to do that over the phone, but Matt had mentioned he'd left out Lieberman's still being alive in what he told her, and she thought perhaps it would be better if they moved him and his family to safety first.

Still, if the government had tried to murder at least two people who had both only known part of what was going on, she couldn't keep silent completely. "Listen," she said, after thinking over her words for a few moments. "I'd like you to actually sit on this information for possibly a few days, and just leave everything be; suspend the investigation. I hope I'll be able to explain why eventually, but I don't think I can yet."

"Really?" Jessica did not sound at all impressed. "If Wolf or any of his friends determines for sure that they've been snooped on-and they are almost certainly prepared for that possibility already-it's going to get way harder to find out anything else."

"I trust you to handle all that," said Foggy. "I'll get back to you later, I promise."

"Have it you way, then. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't. Good..." she glanced at the clock, and just sighed, "Goodbye, then."

There was nothing else important in her emails. Foggy stayed awake just long enough to send a few of her own, notifying everyone she would probably be in late that day. Then she crawled between the sheets with her blouse still on and was asleep within seconds.

She didn't think it was long after that when she was woken by a second body collapsing onto the bed. She might have made some vague, bleary noises in response to this, before she felt a familiar hand stroke her head, and her husband's voice murmur, "Go back to sleep, Foggy."

When she woke again, late in the morning, she found Matt asleep on top of the bed, still in most of his clothes, though he had at least taken his shoes off. She pulled his socks off as well; the smell was already going to linger on his feet and pester him for probably a day or so as it was.

He stirred slightly when Foggy was in the shower; she came out to find he'd spread himself out, his head moved to where hers had been, before falling back asleep. He'd probably been drawn to her scent. Even now, she couldn't help but smile.

It was late enough she was definitely taking a cab to the office. For most of the walk down the stairs, she contemplated exactly what she was going to tell Karen and when, but, she then realized, there were probably only reasons not to tell her at the moment. She could cite them to her friend if she ever had to defend herself to her over it. And she absolutely, positively, should not feel like she was letting her down, not telling her.

She would, on the other hand, have to tell Marci and Jennifer everything that both Jessica and David had found out about Wolf. Although she couldn't tell Jennifer until she came back to New York again, and Foggy wasn't even sure when she was going to do so. Hell, even when she did, it might be Matt who ended up talking with her.

Marci, on the other hand, she could tell today. And then she would have to tell her, too, to sit on it without explaining why. She wasn't looking forward to that. Especially since she would also want to leave Frank's still being alive out of it, too, and that might be a little tricky.

It filled her with enough dread that when her phone rang just after she got into the cab, she nearly jumped. But it wasn't Marci, or Karen. It was Cheryl. Foggy would probably have to tell her a few things, too, but at the moment she had no idea how much.

When she answered the phone, Cheryl said to her, "Hey, Foggy, I think you picked the wrong morning to sleep in. Stark announced something like twenty minutes ago he's holding a press conference, in which, the announcement says, 'he will address general recent unfortunate events related to the Avengers,' although he also said he's going to talk about Colonel Rhodes' condition."

Rhodes still hadn't been seen publicly since he'd been shot down during the fight in Germany. All else aside, she was genuinely very curious to see how he was doing. The way things were going, it might just prove relevant to their activities.

She wanted to believe the rest at least wouldn't prove too bad for them. Were he a sensible person, he might have realized by now he couldn't just trust Ross's latest claims that they'd be doing everything legally and properly from there in. But of course, it was well known he was not, and Foggy did not quite trust him to not hide behind the government's current front.

"So how long do I have to get there?" Foggy asked, trying to gauge the current traffic. She was late enough the worst of it might have passed, at least.

"Officially it starts in about half an hour. You can always hope he'll be late."

Foggy wasn't going to rely on that. She went through the news websites after ending the call. Several had already started up their liveblogs, none of which yet had much to tell. There were also a lot of reports of people claiming they'd spotted Rogers or another one of his rogue Avengers near where they lived, none of which Foggy believed, but too many newly published news articles were reiterating them all.

Perhaps a little more interesting were a couple of them also listing a couple of reports of Hank Pym possibly being spotted in a bus station in Oakland. Ross and the government's other representatives hadn't ever mentioned their names when talking to the press. Even Lang's indictment hadn't mentioned them too much, and none of the other indictments had. Presumably they'd been worried about the populace's reaction to noticing that someone who had reportedly denounced the Avengers was getting charged just because they'd used his technology. That was a dangerous step to take, after all.

If the mainstream media was, at last, noticing the existence of these two people, that was probably good for their cause. Even if none of them were yet asking if they should've been charged, instead treating them as more normal fugitives from actual justice who needed to be found.

They were maybe about ten minutes away from the office, with the press conference scheduled to start in five, when she got the text from Karen. I'd say sorry in advance, but... She actually didn't groan. She was too resigned for that.

[elen-tari2]

After

(Text edit from Pinterest, please claim if you made it—it’s a fave of mine!)

I really disagree with the idea that Karen and Frank could have no future together. That they would have to run away, live in hiding, or that Karen would have to give up her career.

All the components for Frank to have an After are well established in the show. He has a government certified false identity with clean fingerprints. (Even the murders he committed at the bar and at the jail in s2, the sheriff and Madani both agree to keep off his record.) He has some unseemly amount of money from David Lieberman. He has a standing job offer open at the CIA with Madani. Or he could go back to working construction or something else with his hands. He could do security, like Billy, or work with veterans, like Curtis. He could have a life with Karen—-all IF he chooses to end his war. He just needs to grow out his beard and he’s Pete Castiglione in public and Frank Castle in private. The only people I think he’d need to convince not to turn him in are Brett Mahoney and Ellison, and after saving Brett and having saved Karen multiple times, I think both would eventually be open to seeing the good in him.

This would all hinge on Frank retiring from being the Punisher, or perhaps only doing vigilante shit when absolutely necessary (no one’s expecting Matt to retire, right?). But I will always believe Frank deserves peace.

So I will just headcanon all the soft, domestic fluff with Karen and their pit bull rescue dog(s), while she either continues to work at NM&P or (my preference) works as a successful investigative reporter, because writing is so important to me as part of Karen’s character. Frank can tag along as back up when she’s poking around where she shouldn’t or meeting sources who are a bit too sketchy. They don’t have to stop being themselves to be together.

Karen wants there to be an After for Frank. And if he ever chooses one—you know it would be with her. :)