#Injury Lawyer Palm Springs

[palmdesertaccidentattorney00]

Professional Dog Bite Attorney Offers Personalized Service to Victims of Dog Attacks

Are you a victim of a dog attack? If so, you may be wondering how to find the legal representation you need to fight for compensation for your injuries. Our Dog Bite Attorney is an expert in seeking compensation for dog bites and fights. Our firm works hard to ensure that our clients receive the benefits they deserve.

A dog bite can have serious consequences on your life and should be dealt with quickly. More than half of all dog bite injuries are severe enough to require stitches or surgical intervention, so it is vital that you follow through with a qualified attorney who is capable of dealing with this type of case.

If you or a loved one has been injured by a dog, you will be well served to locate an experienced and specialized attorney to handle your case. Our law firm has recovered millions of dollars for victims of dog attacks across Palm Desert, Temecula, Palm Springs and sounding area.

There are many laws that can apply to dog attacks. All of these laws come into play when trying to obtain compensation for your injuries. It may seem like a daunting task however, we at Palm Desert Car Accident Attorneys believe we are here to help you. Our team has decades of experience handling personal injury cases and have represented clients in cities throughout California and other states as well.

Our professional Palm Springs Dog Bite Attorney will help you get the compensation that you deserve for your injuries. We accept some cases on contingency. Damages may include medical bills and lost wages, as well as other expenses sustained from the dog attack. The Dog Bite Attorneys at our law firm want to help you get fair treatment from the insurance company and the opportunity for compensation for your injuries.

If you're a victim of a dog attack, we can help. We offer personalized service and care for our clients, with each case being tailored specifically to the circumstances surrounding the incident. If you or someone you know has been injured by a dog attack, contact us today. We will listen to your story and explain how the law applies in your situation. First and foremost, we believe that all of our clients deserve to be compensated fairly for any injuries they have sustained as a result of their encounter with a dog. Don’t hesitate to call us at; (760) 325-2681 or visit our site; https://palmdesertaccident.com/

[beardedmrbean]

PORTLAND, Ore. (KOIN) — A former Portland lawyer was sentenced to more than eight years in federal prison Monday after defrauding over 100 clients out of millions of dollars in insurance proceeds, according to the U.S. District Attorney’s Office.

Lori E. Deveny, 57, was also ordered to pay over $4.5 million in restitution to her victims.

“It’s hard to overstate the extraordinary impact Ms. Deveny’s crimes had on the many innocent and vulnerable victims who trusted her. As a former attorney, she had a special responsibility to her clients and to the public, but she repeatedly abused this trust and prioritized her own needs. This is a just sentence for serious crimes,” said Ethan Knight, Chief of the Economic Crimes Unit for the U.S. Attorney’s Office.

“The cruelest thing of all is knowingly providing false hope. Having already suffered losses, Ms. Deveny’s clients deserved an attorney who represented their best interests. What they got instead was someone who inflicted more loss,” added Special Agent in Charge Bret Kressin, IRS Criminal Investigation (IRS-CI), Seattle Field Office. “Today, Ms. Deveny is receiving what she never provided her clients: a picture of reality that those who choose to defraud will face the consequences of their actions.”

Court documents say that between April 2011 and May 2019, Deveny defrauded at least 135 of her clients out of over $3.8 million in insurance proceeds by stealing clients’ identities, forging insurance checks, depositing client funds into her personal bank account and deceiving clients continually by telling them they would eventually receive compensation for their injuries. Many of her victims were particularly vulnerable due to their severe brain and bodily injuries, the U.S. Attorney’s Office said.

Deveny’s scheme also cost Oregon State Bar Client Security Fund, Wells Fargo and the IRS, according to investigators. Due to the state bar making partial restitution payments to some of Deveny’s clients, their security fund lost $1.2 million, one of the largest losses in the organization’s history. Wells Fargo reportedly lost $52,000 due to a forged check and the IRS lost over $621,000 when Deveny didn’t report the money she stole on her tax returns.

Deveny used the proceeds to pay more than $150,000 on foreign and domestic airline tickets, more than $173,000 on African safari and big game hunting trips, $35,000 on taxidermy expenses, $125,000 on home renovations, $195,000 in mortgage payments, more than $220,000 in cigars and related expenses, $58,000 on pet boarding and veterinary costs, $41,000 on recreational vehicle expenses, $50,000 for a Cadillac vehicle, and $60,000 on stays at a luxury nudist resort in Palm Springs, Calif.

“While serving as an attorney, Ms. Deveny brazenly stole money that should have gone to pay for health care for her clients for serious injuries and ailments. Instead, that money funded things like big game hunting trips to Africa and home remodeling. She took advantage of people who were physically and emotionally hurting by forging insurance checks, stealing the funds and lying to her clients about the payouts,” said Kieran L. Ramsey, Special Agent in Charge of the FBI Portland Field Office. “These actions not only got her disbarred but are now putting her behind bars. The FBI applauds our partners at IRS-CI and the U.S. Attorney’s Office, as we continue to bring to justice those who commit this kind of unconscionable financial fraud that harms the people in our shared community.”

A grand jury returned a 24-count indictment on Deveny on May 7, 2019, charging her with mail, bank, and wire fraud, as well as aggravated identity theft, money laundering and filing a false tax return. She pled guilty to one count each of mail, wire, and bank fraud, and also plead guilty to money laundering, filing a false tax return and two counts of aggravated identity theft on June 27, 2022.

[alldesertinsca]

Importance Of Business Insurance In Palm Springs and La Quinta, CA

A business is prone to multiple risks that place the business owner in financial disaster. True, one may be talented and experienced to handle the workload. Unforeseen circumstances, however, often result in financial pressure that causes the profits and even the working capital to be wiped out completely. No worries! There is a simple solution to safeguard the money and continue operating the business. Buying business insurance in Palm Springs and La Quinta, CA, can be a suitable opening for all business owners, regardless of their entity's size.

Sadly, simply looking for business or commercial insurance will not do. One has to be well informed about the extent of risks and consider buying the right types of coverage. The right way forward would be to check out the available coverage and include or discard them as needed. Some of the types of business insurance coverage deemed suitable for a small business company include the following:-

General Liability Insurance (GLI)

This coverage is essential because the carrier compensates the third party for liability claims. The company also bears the insured person's legal costs if a liability suit is filed in court. The coverage includes the following for the third party:

· Physical injury

· Property damage

· Personal injury such as libel or slander

Commercial Property

Any damage caused to the commercial property belonging to the business owner will be compensated for in the aftermath of a covered peril. It is important to understand that the insurance policy does not usually cover floods or earthquakes. One may opt for a separate policy or a rider to include the above mentioned reasons for damage.

Business Income

Many businesses have to remain shut temporarily following a natural disaster. This results in a loss of income for the business owner. Thankfully, the insurance company reimburses the lost wage up to the specified limit. Also known as business interruption insurance, this can be a Godsend opportunity for small business owners.

Professional Liability

Alternatively, it is termed errors & omissions insurance, which covers damage caused to customers by inadvertent mistakes committed by professionals. This coverage is essential for doctors, accountants, and lawyers providing independent professional services.

Workers' Compensation Insurance

The state mandates this type of insurance coverage. The business owner must carry this insurance to compensate employees who get injured or disabled when doing their designated tasks. Death benefits are paid by the insurance carrier when the concerned employee succumbs to the injuries or ailment. The carrier may also pay for therapies and continuous care of the patient. This option is based on the insurance terms & conditions.

Data Breach

The business owner may claim coverage for losing personal information due to identity theft. Also known as cyber insurance, this plan usually covers the following:

· Notification to affected individuals

· Cost of Identity Theft Monitoring Services

· Creating a public relations campaign

There are many other coverage to consider when buying business insurance in Palm Springs and La Quinta, CA. Forgoing it would be foolhardy as every business has to meet the challenges selectively.

[sokoloffweinstein]

Slip And Fall Attorneys West Palm Beach

At one level, using a trick taught to him by Joe, whose telecommunications experience proved invaluable, Chuy apparently listened in on some of the relatives’ calls. He and Gerardo additionally submitted functions for U.S. journey visas. He didn’t depart the house usually, except to get frozen yogurt. The household never once more returned to the house in Grapevine. They traveled to South Florida, where his brother lived, for spring break, and after they obtained again to Grapevine, Guerrero advised his wife to lease an apartment in her sister’s name and to cease utilizing her cellphone to name Mexico. It was purchased in cash, and Guerrero’s name didn’t appear anyplace within the county data.

Smith and Vanture Law Firm can help Royal Palm BeachFlorida accident victims with insurance claims and needed authorized motion. Whether you or the opposite driver has a history of auto accidents, license suspensions, a criminal document, and so forth. Car accidents turn individuals's lives the wrong method up every single day in West Palm Beach and all through Florida. People who survive are sometimes left with serious injuries What Can Royal Palm Beach Attorneys Do If My Accident Happened At Work? which have a serious influence on their lives. They face surgical procedure, hospitalization, remedy, medicine, and doctor appointments. I discovered, and still discover, that Ira’s agency will evaluate the case fairly and supply the consumer with a reasonably expectation of the method involved and will keep away from giving false hope where there might be none.

They turned engaged in March 1992, and were married in a civil ceremony by Judge A. David Mazzone on July 3, 1992, at Kennedy's home in McLean, Virginia. She would gain credit score with stabilizing his private life and serving to him resume a productive profession What Can Royal Palm Beach Attorneys Do If My Accident Happened At Work? in the Senate. On Easter weekend 1991, Kennedy was at a get-together at the family's Palm Beach, Florida, estate. After reminiscing about his brother-in-law, Kennedy was restless and maudlin when he left for a late-night visit to a neighborhood bar.

Wasn't positive how it will work with me being in one city and lawyer in another but it all worked out in the long run thanks for all of your exhausting work. When you name our workplace, we are going to give you a no-obligation, no-cost session to review the main points of your case and decide should you need our assist. These are generally prices What Can Royal Palm Beach Attorneys Do If My Accident Happened At Work? for tangible expenses or companies immediately related to your harm. The roads and highways in Royal Palm Beach and throughout Palm Beach County are congested and service a high volume of every day travelers. Not surprisingly, Palm Beach County had the 5th most accidents within the State of Florida in 2017 behind Miami-Dade, Broward, Orange and Hillsborough counties. Bone fractures – A broken bone can equal ache and inconvenience.

Proper and well timed notification to the proper people must happen within a interval of 30 days after the accident occurred, or your declare goes to be denied. At Hollander Law Firm, our legal group has more than 28 years of experience. We’ve recovered tens of millions of dollars for purchasers in South Florida, including a quantity of awards over $1 Million. We’ve recovered tens of millions of dollars for our purchasers over the past 28+ years. We work tirelessly to struggle for the rights of injured employees to help them get the compensation they want after an accident. If you're feeling any pain, instantly make your method to a local hospital emergency room .

Most defendants and insurance coverage companies will attempt to shift blame. For that purpose, it is essential to hire an skilled lawyer so that you simply receive the maximum compensation for the harm you suffered. Punitive damages usually are not compensatory damages given to the Plaintiff. Punitive damages punish the Defendant in a private injury case for gross negligence or intentional misconduct. Punitive damages are given to the plaintiff in these cases and never held by the federal government.

Most Americans are used to casting their ballot for a single individual for each office. Family members of 32-year-old Jordan Hall mourned the student pilot killed when the airplane he and his flight teacher were piloting crashed right into a Miramar neighborhood Monday. Indonesia has discovered contaminated medicines which are suspected of being linked to the deaths of ninety nine kids this 12 months due to acute kidney injury. Please fill out the shape below and considered one of our attorneys will contact you. In 1962 environmental scientist Rachel Carson published “Silent Spring,” a bestselling e-book that asserted that overuse of pesticides was harming the surroundings and threatening human well being.

[aytrust]

Centurion boat girl

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Call Now to schedule your free consultation: 72 or Toll-Free Statewide 86.Motor Vehicles, Tags & Titles Renew or Replace Your Registration Motor Vehicle Information Check Fraud Fees Emergency Contact Information Liens & Titles PINELLAS COUNTY, Fla. We urge you to contact the Law Offices of Whittel & Melton, LLC immediately if you have lost a loved one due to the negligent actions of another party. Accidents in Pinellas County are a major cause of property damage, injury, and death each year In Pinellas County, statistics from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration show that traffic crashes remain a primary public safety issue.Contact a Pinellas County, Florida Lawyer Who Handles Wrongful Death Cases. The Largo Police Department responded to the scene of a three-car crash that left one man dead Saturday morning, a news release reports.

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TSPD said no officers were injured in the.Police: Drunk driver causes 3 car crash killing 1, injuring others in Largo | WFLA A Pinellas County man was charged with vehicular homicide after police say he caused a three-car crash that left. The Florida Highway Patrol said a woman from Tampa died early Tuesday morning after she crashed into a Tarpon Springs Police SUV. The driver was arrested for DUI.TARPON SPRINGS, Fla. Edward Feist lost his life on Sunday when the car he was a passenger in crashed in St. ST PETERSBURG, FL, (October 17, 2021) - Edward Feist, age 35, of Seminole, died Sunday morning when the vehicle he was a passenger in crashed in St. The incident occurred at 8:44 a.m., early in the morning.The crash was Sunday morning along 49th Street N. According to accounts, the accident happened at mile marker 33 on Interstate 275. Pinellas Co, FL (August 26, 2021) - An vehicle collision in Pinellas County on Thursday, August 26 resulted in injuries, according to the police department. A carjacking suspect told relatives he wanted a "nice shootout" with police the day before Pinellas deputies fatally shot him, according to investigators. Home electric car charges make it life easy.One in 10 fatal car crashes are caused by distracted driving in Enjoy great rates and the extra benefits you deserve as an AARP member In Tampa, Florida, security cameras outside a business captured an accident: an SUV "slammed" into a car Woman Dies In 3-Vehicle Crash On Tampa Road In Palm Harbor - Palm Harbor, FL - A 43-year-old Palm Harbor woman has died following a crash Friday on Tampa. Fatal Car Accident Pinellas County 2020 - Facing charges after allegedly causing a fatal car accident on ehrlich road were closed as investigators. 2295 Accident Reports County Office is not affiliated with any government agency. Collier County Sheriff's Office, Central Records Bureau. Investigators from the Pinellas County Sheriff's Office Major Accident Investigation Team are currently on-scene of fatal pedestrian crash on 66th Street and Marlberry Way Car, truck, bicycle, pedestrian, and motorcycle accidents are all a common occurrence, despite improvements in vehicle safety Car, truck.Petersburg man died on Tuesday after a truck hit him on his scooter on 66th Street North, Florida Highway Patrol said. Georgetown, Tennessee - Survivor of fatal ambulance accident speaks out.ST.

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Press Release Fatal Crash Wakulla County FHPH12OFF022072 - freeload as PDF File (. Police say it appears the man was thrown from the vehicle after it veered off the road, struck a drain and rolled several times. A 64-year-old Palm Bay motorist was killed late Tuesday after the vehicle he was in veered off of Interstate 95 and slammed into several trees, the Florida Highway Patrol reported.Car Accident In Bladen County 2020. The crash occurred in the southbound lanes of.Hamilton NJ Car Accident Lawyers | Mercer County Wrongful. (WFLA) - A 24-year-old woman died Tuesday morning after her vehicle rear-ended a police officer's cruiser on U.S. Pinellas County mother grieving soldier son killed in Kabul airport attack WPTV West Palm Beach, FL TAMPA, Fla. Lake Worth Beach fatal car crash under investigation WPTV West Palm Beach, FL.

[idealeaf18riverside]

Are Motorcycle Accidents Increasing in Riverside?

Are you wondering if there's a greater number of motorcycle accidents in Riverside? You're not alone looking for more motorcycle accidents in Riverside. Many motorcycle accident victims aren't aware of the process of determining liability and how to navigate legal procedures. An experienced Riverside civil court attorney can be a valuable resource, helping you calculate the damages you can claim and guide you through the complicated legal procedure. If you're asking, "Are motorcycle accidents increasing in Riverside? " Continue reading to learn more about the causes behind this sad trend. Distracted driving Although a lot of people are familiar with the roads and roads in their neighborhood, they don't realize that distracted drivers increase the chance of being in an accident.

Driving distracted causes a variety of accidents, including fatal ones and injuries. To avoid this kind of accident, you should learn how to prevent yourself from making these common mistakes. If you're in an accident and you are unable to pay for medical bills then you should think about hiring a Riverside car accident lawyer to help you receive a fair settlement for your motorcycle accident. Road conditions that could prove to be dangerous The Pomona Freeway (also known as State Route 60) is one of California's most dangerous freeways. It connects Los Angeles with Palm Springs, Phoenix, San Diego and San Diego. Motorcyclists are frequently pushed into other vehicles along the freeway. The high accident rate along this freeway is among the major causes of Riverside motorcycle accidents. As a result, motorcyclists must exercise extra caution when traveling on this stretch of Interstate 15. Interlocks for ignition A device to interlock the ignition prevents drivers from drinking alcohol prior to when they begin driving. It is becoming increasingly employed in motorbike accidents. The report, commissioned by the California Office of Traffic Safety, examined the effectiveness of ignition interlocks as a tool to prevent motorcycle accidents. Clifford J. Helander directed the Research and Development Branch of California Department of Motor Vehicles to create the report. Drivers who operate their vehicles more recklessly The Law Office of Gary G. Goldberg is a Riverside motorcycle accident lawyer who is aware of the responsibilities of a motorcycle driver. Motorcyclists in California face a myriad of dangers on the roads. Moreover, drivers use their vehicles more recklessly and put innocent people in danger. Drivers should adhere to the rules of the road, including signalling their intentions to change lanes. Additionally they should not be distracted when driving. At-fault driver Riverside, California is home to a variety of highways that bikers can enjoy while traveling. Riverside is also home to many bikers, making riding on the roads an integral part of the city's culture. Accidents occur, despite the safety precautions you take. If you require legal assistance if are involved in an Riverside motorcycle accident, call Wilshire Law Firm.

[baumlawfirm]

Hemet Car Accident Lawyer

The Baum Law Firm is the most well-known and skilled Indio and Hemet car accident attorney.  We will not charge fees unless and until we obtain money for your case through a legal decision.

Contact Us: Address:     777 E. Tahquitz Canyon Way, Suite 200-100, Palm Springs, CA 92262, United States Phone:       (760) 325-2681 Website:     https://baumlawfirm.com/

[palmdesertaccidentblog]

Hire Skilled Injury Attorneys For Personal Injuries & Personal Services

The Baum Law Firm is a recognized law firm that has been offering complete legal services to accident victims to represent their accident and injury claims since 1959. We are capable, experienced and highly qualified Palm Springs Accident Attorneys and Personal Injury Lawyers for all types of accidents and personal injuries claims as well as give a first-class and successful experience.

The Baum Law Firm has been providing successful and world-class legal representation to injury victims in Palm Desert, Indio, Desert Hot Springs, Cathedral City, Thousand Palms, Palm Springs and all Desert Cities since 1959 to protect client legal rights. Our Palm Desert Auto Accident Lawyers are committed to presenting praiseworthy legal services that you must expect from a large law firm with reliability built on among four decades of getting tens of millions of dollars for our clients.  

Injured in truck accident and any kind of motor vehicle accident? It is an important to take immediate take action to secure your rights to compensation. At The Baum Law Firm, our highly skilled and talented Truck Accident Lawyers offer dependable, accredited and professional client service throughout Palm Desert and all Desert cities.

If you are seeking for Palm Desert Abogados that provide the best and sophisticated legal advice to move forward and get the best compensation possible, you have come to the right place. Our professional and highly skilled Accident Lawyers and Injury Lawyers afford responsive, reliable, accessible and dedicated client service to preserve their rights and options at the most competitive prices. Our extensive range of legal services include Car Accidents, Wrongful Death, Motorcycle Accidents, Truck Accidents, Dog Bites/Dog Attacks, Children’s Injuries, Intentional Injuries, Bus Accidents, Premises Liability and All Vehicle Accidents and personal injuries. We provide free telephone consultations to discuss your injuries as well as your exemptions. Call us today at 760 325 2681 to schedule your consultation!!

[palmdesertaccidentattorney00]

Recovering from Injuries: Let Our Personal Injury and Accident Attorneys Help you

If you are hurt in a car accident, or injured in any type of vehicle accident in Palm Desert or Palm Springs, then you need an experienced Palm Desert Car Accident Attorney to protect your legal rights.

At Palm Desert Car Accident Attorneys, we are one of the most successful and recognized personal injury law firms in Palm Springs, Palm Desert, and beyond. Since 1959, we have helped thousands of people throughout Palm Springs and Palm Desert get back on their feet after being injured in all types of accidents, including car accidents, personal injury, dog bites, and many others.

Our dedicated Palm Springs Personal Injury Attorneys and Car Accident Attorneys believe that all injury and accident victims have the right to be fully and fairly compensated for all of their loss and damage after the accident, and there are no legal fees we will take unless we recover money in your case. Our team of personal injury attorneys and car accident lawyers handle all types of vehicle accidents and injury claims in Palm Desert, Indio, and Palm Springs.

Our Palm Desert Car Accident Attorneys also offer expert services as Palm Springs Dog Bite Attorneys. If you have suffered a dog bite, it is essential to seek medical attention promptly to prevent any lasting damage. Our personal dog bite lawyer can check your dog bite claim and ensure you get the compensation you are deserve for your injuries.

In addition, our experienced dog bite lawyers know that any damages and loss must include the cost of therapy and counseling. Even what seems like a minor dog bite can cause the victim to experience flashbacks, nightmares and even, symptoms of PTSD. The dog bite attorneys at Palm Desert Car Accident Attorneys have many years of experience handling dog bite cases and we make sure you get the compensation you deserve. For more info, you can contact us at (760) 325-2681 or visit:- www.palmdesertaccident.com!

[thebaumlawfirm]

Get the Compensation You Deserve with The Baum Law Firm, Serving Palm Springs and Beyond

The Baum Law Firm is a trusted and reputable law firm specializing in personal injury cases. With a team of experienced and dedicated lawyers, we have been serving clients in Desert Hot Springs, Palm Springs, and Palm Desert for years. Our goal is to help clients get the compensation they rightfully deserve for their injuries and losses.

At The Baum Law Firm, we understand the physical, emotional, and financial impact that a personal injury can have on an individual and their loved ones. That's why we are committed to providing personalized and compassionate legal representation for each and every one of our clients. We know that every case is unique and we take the time to understand the specifics of each situation in order to build a strong case on behalf of our clients.

Our team of Personal Injury Lawyers in Desert Hot Springs is highly experienced and knowledgeable in handling a wide range of cases, including car accidents, slips and falls, workplace injuries, and more. We have a thorough understanding of personal injury laws and we use this to our advantage in fighting for our client’s rights. Our goal is to make the legal process as smooth and stress-free as possible for our clients, so they can focus on their recovery.

If you have been injured in an accident in Palm Springs, our team of dedicated lawyers is here to help. We have years of experience representing clients in a variety of personal injury cases, including those involving car accidents. Our Palm Springs Accident Lawyer is well-versed in the state's laws and regulations related to car accidents and we use this knowledge to build a strong case on behalf of our clients. We will handle all communication and negotiations with insurance companies so our clients can focus on their recovery.

If you have suffered a personal injury in Palm Desert, we have you covered as well. Our Palm Desert Personal Injury Attorney has a deep understanding of the local court system and we have a track record of successfully representing clients in a variety of cases. We know how to negotiate with insurance companies and we are not afraid to take a case to trial if necessary. Our ultimate goal is to help our clients get the compensation they rightfully deserve for their injuries and losses.

If you have been injured in Desert Hot Springs, Palm Springs, or Palm Desert, don’t hesitate to contact The Baum Law Firm. Our team is ready to provide you with a free consultation and answer any questions you may have about your case. We work on a contingency basis, which means you don't pay us unless we win your case. Trust us to handle your personal injury case with the utmost care and commitment. For more info give us a call at (760) 325-2681 or visit us at:- https://baumlawfirm.com/!

[logicalbookthief]

ʌ: for clown movie

^: comfort after a nightmare

Wow this took a lot longer than I thought, I apologize! Work has been blegh lately and my writer’s block was strong. Nevertheless, I thank you for the prompt and hope you enjoy!

It’s a sort of sequel to my fic “Placebo” that isn’t necessary to read before this but would definitely help. All you really need to know is that it takes place in a universe where Eddie is Carrie White’s cousin and has the same telekinetic powers. 

*

*

"I'm not afraid." 

For once, it’s the truth. Eddie has never felt more powerful than he does here, among the ruins of It’s hiding place, where It lurked for centuries, millennia, gnawing on the bones of children, biding its time for the day It would feed again. The memory of this place terrified him for years-- even when he couldn’t remember, the fear was embedded in his mind. 

Now it’s shattering under the strength of Eddie’s will, destroyed by the sheer force of his mind, and the feeling is-- he can’t describe--

The weak, shriveled form of the clown tries to rally. Eddie squares his jaw, focuses on pinning It down, harder, merciless, refusing to give an inch. "I’m not afraid,” he repeats, the taste of blood in his mouth, hot as it slips down his face. “Not of you." 

The clown laughs-- it’s a raspy, death rattle. Still, Eddie tenses, a sense of doubt creeping past the smolder of anger, the self-righteous flaring through his whole body. 

"Even now I can feel it, that delicious reek of fear,” It smirks, a lopsided grimace turned smug. “Not of me, no. I already know what you are.” 

Gulping, Eddie falters. Only for a moment, the flare dousing to a mere spark. 

"I’ve always known,” It croaks, hoarse and almost unheard above the sound of the cavern as it crumbles. “But do they know, Eddie?” 

Carrie, her hair a tangled mass of flames, her dress a flowing wave of red. Her eyes are nearly electric, a frenzied flash of light that-- and, suddenly, Eddie’s staring at a reflection of himself, manic and panting, bathed in the blood of his tormentor.

“Do they know what you are?”

Eddie springs up, dislodging the sheets curled around his body, gasping for the air caught in his throat. His heart jackhammers against his ribcage, trying to claw out from under the heavy weight atop his chest.

Beside of him in bed, Richie stirs with a low, drowsy groan. Ridiculously long legs disentangle under the blanket. He’s amazed they manage to fit together most nights, what with how much of Richie there is to fit, and how Eddie tends to sprawl if not contained by his boyfriend's octopus-like embrace.

His boyfriend. Now there’s a word he never thought he’d be able to use sincerely. However, there’s no mistaking the realness of Richie as he shifts closer in search of Eddie, even in his half-asleep state.  

"Eds?" he calls in that scratchy voice reserved for the early hours of the morning. Frankly, a freshly-woken Richie is a sight to behold. Even as kids waking up in the Denbroughs’ den, Eddie’s guilty pleasure was waking before his best friend so as to catch a glimpse of Richie as he roused. 

With his glasses askew, his tousled hair a mess, his mouth slightly parted in the memory of a snore. As an adult, the sight’s no less appealing -- if anything, that half-lidded gaze staggers him more, now that he’s aware of the soft, unguarded affection that lingers behind it.

"You okay?" Richie persists, squinting without his glasses.

"Mhm," Eddie replies, muffled by his fingers as they scrub at his face, clearing the remnants of the nightmare.

Unconvinced, Richie struggles into a sitting position. Propped against the headboard, he sizes up Eddie far too easily for someone who can barely see. "Bad dream?" 

Too exhausted to form an answer, Eddie slumps backwards, colliding with Richie’s chest. Flush against each other, he can hear Richie’s breath stutter over the shell of his ear. Six months since Eddie moved in to Richie’s sunny LA apartment, the Derry hospital discharge band still around his wrist and Bev’s divorce lawyer saved to his phone, and sometimes they forget that this is allowed -- this closeness. This idea they can finally have what they want and not be hurt by it, by anyone.

Loving Richie is muscle memory, so natural it may as well be encoded in his DNA. Knowing that he has Richie, and can love Richie freely without hiding who he is, well-- that’s still a wonder, no matter how often Richie whispers the words against his skin. 

Eddie knows this, not only in his mind but in his heart, and yet... He’s perplexed. Besides the Losers, he’s never known a love without conditions. A love that wasn’t dependent on his willingness, his obedience. It’s easy with Richie and harder for the same reason. 

Once it registers that he’s got an lapful of a boyfriend, Richie winds an arm around Eddie and crushes him to the broad expanse of his chest. Hooks his chin over his shoulder and nuzzles his cheek like an over-excited dog. 

“Baby, you’re kind of warm,” he murmurs, two-days worth of stubble scraping fondly over Eddie’s cheek.

The attention sends a shiver down his spine, but it ends in a shudder as Eddie remembers the heat of the flames as they licked his face, smoke curling into his lungs. Was it his face -- or hers? -- the fire a distant heat compared to the warm blood soaking her dress, her clothes, eyes listless as they carnage rages around her, the destruction she -- or he, was it him? -- the cavern collapsing around him as It huffed out its last, dismal breath--

His lungs expand, vainly searching for space to breathe. Eddie wriggles out of Richie’s hold, trying to hide the desperate beat of his pulse. “Fucking California heat,” he mumbles, evasively. “Has me all.. Sweaty.”

New York contains many, many years worth of bad memories, but if there’s one thing he misses, it’s the cold nights. Though if he had to choose between the lonely dark of the guestroom where he slept instead of aside his wife or the comfort of Richie’s bed -- well, that’s hardly even a question.

“Did you wanna, ah..."  Flummoxed, Richie wavers over his next words. "Talk?"

It's a song and dance they've done before. A sliver of guilt pierces Eddie through the shields he’s barricaded around this particular issue. How many times has he startled awake and dragged Richie out of sleep -- and then, to add insult to injury, decline the invitation to talk?  

After Richie barred his soul and revealed the initials he carved into the Kissing Bridge, despite the threat of bullies and rejection, it seems hypocritical to keeps his darkest secrets under lock and key. 

Not for the first time, Eddie aches for his pills. He’s kicked the habit, endured the worst of the withdrawal, bears the occasional migraine with no complaint. But in moments like these the urge is almost too much to ignore. 

You’ll feel better, Dr. Silas cajoles, a venomous promise in his ear. Don’t you want to be normal?

It triggers a memory-- the pills in his palm, his mouth parted to swallow, but the desperation of Richie’s screams, the horror in the eyes of his friends. No, Eddie snaps. Of course he wants to be normal. Wants to have a normal life with his boyfriend. 

But he wants it to be real. No more placebos.

"Oh-kay. If you’re sure," Richie sounds uncertain, but he’s unwilling to cross the boundaries Eddie has firmly set. Eddie falls a little bit more in love with him for that. "Then it’s back to bed with you, guvnah!”

Usually the British voice anywhere near the vicinity of their bed drew a protest from Eddie -- it catches in his throat when Richie him swings him flat on his back, the bulk of his body sprawled between Eddie’s legs. He blushes to the roots of his hair, clutching at the wide expanse of Richie’s shoulders, fingers digging into soft skin and the tendons of muscle underneath. 

If he scowls, it’s a dismal attempt to hide how hopelessly turned on he is by every aspect of this ridiculous man.

"Otherwise, you'll be bitchy as fuck for the flight tomorrow.” His sigh blows against Eddie's hair. "And you know how much that turns me on."

Eddie sputters.

"God, you ever travel for upwards of six hours with a boner? Would not recommend, 0/10."

"Rich!" he scolds, which is hard to do when you're spasming with laughter.

"Unless," Richie continues, slyly, "Eds, you minx. You want to join the Mile-High club with me?"

"Richie," Eddie coughs, truly on his way to a ruptured lung. Hopelessly fond as he orders, "Shut up and go to sleep."

He waits until the chuckles peter out, eventually replaced by soft, even breaths. Carefully, Eddie twists out of Richie’s embrace. The soles of his slippers drag along the carpet as he shuffles to the kitchen.

The piles of dishes Richie convinced him to leave for later in favor of more amorous activities -- and to be perfectly honest, Eddie was easy to convince -- sits in the sink. Picking up the dish soap, Eddie figures he may as well be proactive in his insomnia.

Aunt Margaret used to say, Idle hands are the devil’s playthings. It was maybe the single coherent, non-hateful advice she ever gave. 

He’s halfway through the mess and elbow deep in sudsy water when Richie wanders in, stretching. “I thought we had an agreement,” he yawns. “Whoever isn’t accosted by trauma-fueled nightmares gets to make breakfast.”

Ducking his head around a smile, Eddie shrugs. “Too restless to sleep. The thought of you forgetting to pack underwear on this trip haunted my dreams.”

"Ooh, say that again," Richie moans, slotting their hips together from behind. Despite his playful tone, Eddie feels the half-stir of morning wood. "Slower this time."

Eddie shoves playfully at his chin. "Seriously," he huffs. "Our flight's only in a couple of hours and I know you haven't finished packing!"

"Our flight's in eight hours," Richie points out, which is met by a dubious eyebrow raise. "That is plenty of--"

"How many pairs of underwear do you currently have in your suitcase?"

There’s a long, unconscionable pause. 

"Fuck!" Richie snaps his fingers. "Knew there was something I forgot."

One of those rare instances where he isn't joking.

"You're pushing me toward an asthma attack," Eddie deadpans. "Please go pack."

Richie leaves a wet, slobbering kiss on his cheek that Eddie only half-pretends to hate. “Anything you say, darling."

Once he’s gone, Eddie can focus at the task at hand. He glances sidelong at a coffee mug that’s slightly out of reach. Retrieving it isn’t a hassle so much as an inconvenience, since his hands are damp with dishwater and the closest rag is across the room. 

You could do it another way, reminds the quiet voice in back of his head that Eddie’s spent the last twenty-years trying to suppress. Long before that, really. Since the day his mother told him what his cousin-- what Eddie was. 

Do you know what you are?

Eddie bristles. Fuck that clown. Fuck the idea that It has any lingering sway over his life. His mother, too. And those doctors, all those doctors and their tests, their experiments, their pills. Nobody can choose for him anymore. He’s in control of his life. 

Despite this conviction, Eddie dawdles. Strains his ears. He can hear Richie clunking around in their bedroom, a safe distance away. I’m alone, he thinks bracingly. I’m alone, so there’s no harm in...

He shuts his eyes, concentrating. The mug rattles, as though gently prodded by an unseen force. Slowly, carefully, Eddie relinquishes the vice-like grip of the leash wrapped tight around his mind, bit by bit. 

The mug slides along the counter, until it hovers over the edge. It does not fall. Eddie feels a prick of satisfaction tingle at the base of his neck.

I’m not afraid, Eddie thinks with a rush of spite. Remembering his dream, the clown’s laughter a fresh in his memory, he pushes the mug faster. I am not--

"Hey, Eds, did you-?"

The mug smashes against the ground, shattering. Pieces fly out, scattering across the floor. All sharp edges.

"Shit!" Eddie panics. "Don't step over here, the shards–"

Hastily, he reaches for a handful of glass, as if cleaning up the evidence will hide what he’s done.

What were you thinking, you freak? You could've hurt him or--

"Eddie.” That’s Richie's voice calling to him, soft and urgent. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'll--” He’s babbling, the words choked, constricted, while sweat pools at the base of his neck and his hands shake with the effort to shove it all down, deep, deep down where nobody can see-- 

"Eddie!" Richie shouts. His face comes into focus near inches from his, eyes, wild with worry. "Calm down, it's okay. It's okay, see? Just a stupid mess.”

A mess you made, Eddie thinks viciously. Now he's seen, he's seen and he'll run, he'll leave, because you're a–

"C'mon, Eds,” Richie murmurs, both a plea and a demand. Trembling fingers tangle with his own, the bite of Richie’s knuckles as he presses their palms against his ribcage steadying Eddie in the present. “You've got to breathe for me.”

Only then does Eddie realize how rapidly it’s rising, and how difficult it is to inhale. Buoyed by the constant stream of Richie’s assurances, Eddie begins to count his breaths, focuses on the movement of his and Richie’s hands as he breathes once twice, in and out. He judges his success by the tightness of Richie’s frown. 

"Sorry," Eddie croaks once he can speak again. It feels as if the shards are lodged in his throat.

"Don't apologize," says Richie, a furrow nestling between his brows. He keeps his tone level, likely more worried than he lets on, but the lack of panic is what’s grounding Eddie and he’s appreciates it more than words will convey. "Do you need me to-- What do you need?”

Eddie shakes his head. Tears prick at his eyes and he bites down on the tide of pleas that threaten to overwhelm him. You, I need you. I need you not to leave me once you figure out what I am.

"You know I don't care if you use your Matilda whammy." Richie makes a show of squinting his eyes. Eddie chokes on a stilted laugh. Richie seems to sag in relief 

"It doesn’t change a thing for me,” he reminds, nudging Eddie softly. “You understand, right?" 

Eddie swallows, thickly. He doesn't trust his voice, so he nods, the reply burrowed into Richie's chest. He kisses his clavicle once, twice in gratitude.

"What were you going to ask before?"

"Uh," Richie hedges. "Do you know where all my clean underwear is?"

Again, Eddie laughs. Helplessly. "Fucking Christ, Rich, I told you: a man needs more than seven pairs of underwear."

"I resent that. I have more," Richie sniffs. "They're just not as sexy as my gluteus maximoose pair. Which, as you know, I reserve for all special occasions."

"You're fucking ridiculous, is what you are," Eddie chuckles. "I'll fold the laundry after I clean this up."

"Let me do that,” Richie insists, shooing him toward the bedroom. “You can shower first.”

Chewing his lip, Eddie hesitates.

"Are you wearing shoes?" Richie gestures impatiently at his moccasins. "Alright... Just be careful with the glass."

“Like you were?” Catching Eddie by the wrist, Richie frowns down at his palm. A thin slice below his thumb, the blood a steady ooze. 

"Oh," says Eddie, woozily. The prick of pain didn't even register. "I'll go, um. Wash this in the bathroom."

He ignores the feeling of Richie’s eyes on his back as he hustles the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him. He’s ignored a lot of things, lately. 

The familiar yet nameless numbers on the cellphone he ultimately chucked. The decreasing amount of frantic calls from his ex-wife. The urge to tell Richie and the Losers every awful truth Eddie’s spent his entire adult life burying so deep that not even he has to confront it, ever.

At the sink, Eddie avoids his own reflection. Under the spray of water, the blood washes off effortlessly. As if it never happened. Wash your hands, Eddie. Like a good boy. His mother always repeated the order, ad nauseam. Like if he scrubbed hard enough, it would be as if the all the dirty, unclean parts of him she feared had never existed. 

For all her lies, Eddie wishes it was that easy. 

[penelope-darcy]

Name: Penelope “Penny” Victoria Darcy Birthday: May 11, 1990 Hometown: Los Angeles, California Career: Assistant District Attorney Relationship Status: Widowed

Bio

TW: car accident, death

.Penelope Victoria Nelson was born on a warm spring day to two people who are CEOs of a jet company. It made Penelope become a trust fund baby, getting anything and everything she wanted with a blink of an eye. However, Penny didn’t like being that kind of child. She spent her time helping at a senior center and different shelters. She always felt she was meant to help people instead of following her parents’ footsteps. As much as she loved her parents and who they were, she felt that their attention was never truly on her. She felt as though she had the nanny raised her, and it showed when she could call her nanny “mom.” With her nanny telling her that she didn’t have to follow her parents into their field, Penny felt a slight freedom to do what she wants with her own life.

So, that’s what she did. Besides volunteering, she donated her own money to different fundraisers. Even thought people assumed that she was stuck up by the private school uniform and fancy clothes/bags, she was truly outgoing and caring to people. Penny’s goals were to become a lawyer, hoping in prosecution, to help people out and getting the justice that she deserved. Especially after seeing the things she did when she volunteered. She truly wanted to make the world better and she wanted to do whatever she could to make that happen.

Penny went to USC to study criminology and psychology, letting herself get into the pre law program. She had her mind set and made the Dean’s list each semester, dedicating herself to her schooling, only partying or having fun when she didn’t have schoolwork to do. Graduating with a 4.0, Penny went into the law school program at USC to study criminal law. While she was getting her bachelor’s, she met a man named Michael Darcy. Michael was also in the pre law program and they hit it off almost immediately. They started dating a week after they met and in their first year of law school, he proposed to her. Although, waiting till they finished law school was not something they wanted to do, which led them to elope and have a wedding when they were done with school.

One day as they were driving to Palm Springs for a nice weekend together, a car plowed into the side of their car, Penny being the driver. While she got away with minor injuries, Michael died immediately on impact. That day changed her life completely and a void filled into her as she realized he was dead. It also led to survivor’s guilt, not really wanting to live for a period of time. However, she knew that he would want her to keep going and be happy, so she finished law school and passed the board. She is now in therapy for PTSD to help her handle what happened and try to live as normal of a life as possible.

Not wanting to live in LA anymore, due to the memories, Penny decided to pick up and move to Catalina Island where she felt she could start fresh. She got a job as an assistant district attorney at twenty seven and she loves her job to the core. As she made this town her home, she bought a house last year, where she lives with her Yorkie mix, Janis. She still keeps a part of Michael with her, wearing their wedding rings around her neck as a necklace. She is slowly working to move on and try to be happy with someone else, but it scares her at the same time.

Personality

When you first see Penny, you automatically think she’s a stuck up woman with her name brand clothes and accessories. However, once you get to know her, she’s really friendly, smart and cares about everyone around her. She tries to not take life too seriously, knowing that her late husband would want her to relax and have fun. Penny does have a wall up because of the car accident and goes to therapy for PTSD. She still blames herself to this day.

[cykelops]

sharing a WIP of my frank/matt fic because. i want to. this is unedited so theres definitely funny grammar stuff i dont want u to point out aslkdhskaldja

Matt stands on a water-logged plastic mat, protecting his feet from the moldy bathroom tiles, waiting hopelessly for the hot water to return. He's been forced into late showers, well past midnight, because the showerhead spits ice if anyone in the building so much as turns their faucet a fraction to wash the dishes or flush the toilet. Matt's senses helpfully provide him some perspective to diagnose the problem. In the apartment below him, it is the latter. He called his landlord when it first happened three weeks ago and the man has built a rap sheet of excuses for not fixing it ever since. Maybe Matt needs to remind him he's got a lawyer for a tenant. 

The cold water pricks him, little needles battering his skin. He grows numb to the feeling, focused instead on running the soft washcloth with purpose over his soapy skin. His training allows him to differentiate between important and irrelevant stimuli, blocking out anything that might overload his system. It is a useful alternative to curling up and crying because the shower is too loud and too cold as a man of his abilities might do without adequate control. 

Matt tilts his head back. Water hangs heavy on his thick lashes and drips down the curve of his cheek, following a trail to his collar and disappearing down to his hip. Despite the shivers rocking his body in subtle variation, the cold water feels good where he is sore and bruised. His body hurts in souvenirs of tonight's exertion-- from his mask-chafed scalp to the angry purple mark on his thigh that throbs every time his legs press together. It was a long one. Dawn can't find him on the streets, not today, but it was hard to tear himself away. A client needs him in the morning and he cannot fail them. Lack of sleep will do him in as quickly as a gunshot wound. Daredevil and Matt Murdock, both at their best. 

He shuts off the water. Best to call the landlord again in the morning and throw his weight behind it this time. With caution. Matt has a reputation for suing landlords and, while well-deserved, if he gets evicted he's going to have a hard time finding anyone in Hell's Kitchen that will take him. He slides open the shower curtain, shimmies out into the fuzzy placemat, and quickly dries off with one of three fluffy towels on the rack. The cold is worse out here, biting. He hangs his wet towel to dry over the curtain, tucks a fresh one around his waist, and wraps another over his hair. Matt sleeps in the nude and it's a short walk from his bathroom to his bed. 

The bathroom exits into the bedroom and the bedroom continues unobstructed by walls into the living room and kitchen. The open concept and massive windows facing the street bring to mind an artist's studio rather than a lawyer's apartment, but any art Matt gets up to is a collaboration effort held within the perimeter of his bed for about forty-five minutes repeated two or three times a month. He snickers quietly. 

Rarely does he go to bed alone and in a good mood. That should have been his first sign something was about to take a turn. 

His next sign is the sound of rubber against metal and metal against brick coming from outside his apartment building. Matt is sitting at the end of his bed running one towel over his hair when he hears the first frantic scrape. The towel slips through his fingers and lands on the floor, forgotten. Matt attentively faces forward, then tilts one ear in the direction of the fire escape just outside his window where someone is laboriously making their way up. He can hear their ragged breaths and abnormally high heart rate, not like exertion but like injury. Their hand slips on the railing and they fall down to their knees. The fire escape clangs and as it makes Matt flinch it rouses people without his super hearing. Three lights click on almost simultaneously, the most inquisitive and nosy minds in the block on full alert. One phone comes off the receiver. Matt places the kneeling heartbeat again. It is a familiar vibration, like marching feet. Like a gun salute. 

"Frank?" He asks his apartment. 

Frank slaps his hand against the window. He took the remaining flight on his knees while Matt sat static. 

"Choir boy." He calls. The hand on the glass turns into a fist. "Sanctuary." 

Matt kicks into high gear and runs to the window. The fire escape comes just past his bedroom. He runs his fingers over the sill and opens the latch. Frank's rectangular build forms as the window rises. Matt has to do a double-take before he understands what's wrong with his silhouette. He's never been around the man when there weren't at least three guns on his person to distort his shape. 

"Frank?" He asks again, this time to the man himself. 

The Punisher takes the open window like an invitation and throws himself over onto Matt's floor. He is bleeding from somewhere, likely the spot his hand is hugging so tightly. Matt holds his hands in front of himself, unsure whether to help him in or push him out. After the decision has been made for him, the closes the window and hopes no one calls the police or knows where to send them to. 

"Murdock," Frank says almost amiably. He leans against the wall and kicks his legs out from under him. Moving jostles his wounds and the air out of him like a whistle. "Place lookin' about as nice as I remember it." 

"Thank you," Matt replies reflexively but perturbed. "Did you come to die here?" 

"You're about as nice as I remember you, too." 

Frank leans forward and groans. The pain is centered around his ribs. He keeps reaching for them, then dropping his hand when he remembers it would be worse on contact. Matt has been there. Not that Frank would know that. 

"I haven't seen you since the trial last year."

Lie. Matt Murdock hasn't seen Frank Castle in a year, but the Devil has. They bump into each other on the same jobs more often than Daredevil actually hunts for the Punisher, but they've had their share of scraps. He doesn't make the distinction between the man and the demon for Frank. In his case, they are one and the same. 

Last year Matt stuck his neck out for the Punisher. They jailed him. It didn't take. Punisher got out, made a name for himself in other neighborhoods. To his understanding, Frank is damn near untouchable and untraceable. Daredevil gave him a wide berth, warned him to stay out of Hell's Kitchen, and prayed for the souls he took outside the comfort of his twenty blocks. 

He is not responsible for the Punisher's current predicament and suspects if he asks Frank will refuse to tell him who is. For his protection.

"I meant to call." Frank jokes. 

"Why are you here, Frank?" Matt presses. "Why shouldn't I call the police right this minute?"

"I need a place to lie low and patch up. I looked through your cabinets when I stayed here after posting bail and know you got everything I need." Asshole. But Matt already knew that. "As for the other thing-- because you hate cops." 

"I do not hate cops. I hate dirty cops." Matt corrects, much to Frank's mirth. His ribs hurt him when he laughs. They both know most of the police in the area are bought or for sale. He bluffs. "I can't patch you up. I'll have to call… Karen."

That puts an end to Frank's good humor quickly. His pulse quivers. Fiercely protective, even the suggestion of Karen's is offensive. He grunts. "No Karen. I can do it myself. Just bring me the kit." 

"You need to go to a hospital." 

He's already on his way to the bathroom when he says it. It's meaningless talk that will just bang through one of Frank's ears and shoot straight out the other without due contemplation, but it makes him feel better to get the obvious out of the way. One minute too long around the Punisher and even common sense starts to leave the room. It's good to stay grounded. 

Matt drops his heavy first-aid kit in front of his unwelcome guest. It holds more than a first-aid kit should. Cuts, scrapes, burns, the standard. Stuff to disinfect, anesthetize, and suture. There are over one-hundred-fifty items, each in their own divider, on their own floor, and the kit springs up three stories tall when you press the right spot. Matt's face is perfectly blank. Frank has already seen this case and he's had over a year to consider its contents, but still hasn't connected the dots. Perhaps he thinks Matt is clumsy, or more likely concerned about mob orders with his name on them. He is not Daredevil and he can't be.

Daredevil's body would be battered with signs of struggle. Like the palm-sized bruise on his thigh, beneath the towel-- the only thing he's wearing at the moment. He could have any other number of bruises along his chest, arms, and legs. He barely feels them sometimes. Matt hugs himself. 

"Don't get shy on me now, Murdock. The All-Mighty won't fault you for a bit of pre-marital nudity." 

Frank's dug out a bottle of alcohol to wash his hands and the wound. He grabs wads of cotton and holds them between his knuckles, using them one at a time and dropping them on a steel tray after. By the pattern his hands follow, there are three large cuts connecting his right pectoral to his hip bone. Not too deep, won't even leave a scar. They are the first thing Frank thought to address, so they must be the worst of his injuries. He doesn't reach for the suture kit after the wound is clean, but cream and bandages. 

"What happened to you?"

Frank Castle is in his apartment invoking sanctuary--and, yes, Matt gets the joke-- without his guns, with strange cuts in his chest, bruised ribs, and good humor. He sounded much worse for wear coming up the stairs than he did reclined between Matt's floor and wall. Maybe the paranoid doomsday prepper got caught with his guard down. Yet Matt would bet his right pinky that the Punisher has at least two safe houses in Hell's Kitchen and he's got his own overstocked first-aid kits in them. The only thing unique about Matt's apartment... is Matt.

"What do you want?" He scowls. 

"I already have what I want." Frank motions around his apartment. "A place to lie low."

"You will get me killed." 

Guilt is a dirty game to play with the Punisher. It's also a test, of sorts. Frank would never actually put a civilian in danger if there were other options. If he leaves, something is on his trail. If he remains, the danger is long gone. Frank shuts the kit after he's applied bandages around his chest and over his shoulder. He stands up. They're the same height, roughly the same weight. Frank's just a little thicker around his middle. He doesn't rely on lean strength and acrobatics, just solid aim and cover. 

"That's a chance I'm willing to take with your life, choir boy." 

Matt's blood freezes over. A muscle clenches in his jaw. He doesn't know if he's preparing to swing at Frank or whatever is bound to follow him through the fire escape. 

"Whoa, whoa. I forgot." Frank raises his arms in an unpracticed gesture of surrender. "I winked. I promise no one's tailin' me." 

Matt sighs, but the tension runs out of him all the same, replaced by a weariness he thought he shook off in the shower. He runs a hand over his stinging eyes and remembers he needed to be asleep thirty minutes ago. If there is no immediate danger… Frank can stay. On the couch, where Matt preferably won't find him when he gets back from the office. 

"You." Matt points. His hand takes a 45-degree turn towards the living room. "Couch." 

To his credit, Frank goes without argument… Or pillows and a blanket. It can get cold in his apartment, heat and water are the least reliable necessities in the building. Matt is morally obligated to go into his bedroom closet and pick through his least favorite blankets to find something for the Punisher. If worst comes to worst, Matt doesn't want the man on his couch catching a cold. God only knows how long he'll stay then.  He takes from the 60% polyester pile back to Frank who's already made himself at home with his feet on the coffee table. If Matt had his white cane he would hit him behind the knees. He puts the blankets and a cushion in place of a pillow at the head of the couch. 

"Are your wounds okay?"

"They're clean and dressed." Frank helpfully replies. 

"Then I want you gone tomorrow." 

He doesn't stay to gauge Frank's intention to follow through on that demand. His plans to sleep in the nude as God made him are no longer viable and it's an ordeal to find a pair of pajamas that still fit him. Foggy got him a full set a couple of years ago for his birthday. Pink silk with black lining, he described them, composed of a button-up and pair of shorts with matching slippers (which he does actually use). Upon running his fingers over the tag, the threads pushed the words Victoria's Secret into the pads of his fingers. It was a gag gift more than anything. Foggy was his roommate for four glamorous years and no one has seen him go commando for longer. 

For something he was never meant to wear it fits him surprisingly well. The bedsheet in direct contact with his skin is always silk, and this creates a similar barrier between him and his duvet. It is not as unpleasant as he thought it would be. 

Sleep won't come with the Punisher twenty feet away, but he can at least lie horizontally and hope that rest lifts the lead off his limbs.

Matt tucks his body under the sheets. He listens for Frank doing the same. All the excitement has thrown off Matt's heartbeat. It is a thunderous presence in his ear, stuttered in palpitations. He only notices when his breath comes hot on the pillow that he's been holding it in intermittently since he first heard Frank's rattling. How long has he been keeping his chest still, afraid even the slightest movement might set off the Punisher or whatever danger nips at his heels like a disloyal dog. Sweat pools in the arch of his feet. What the hell is he doing opening his doors to Frank as easily as he might Jessica, or Luke, Danny, or-- Elektra? It is a bit of the old Catholic anxiety that God will take him quietly in his sleep and he will go without repenting. Matt is not exactly hoping for assumption, but one generally wants to reach the Kingdom without the charges of aiding and abetting on their conscience. 

Aiding and abetting is the law of man, Father Lantom might say, judge not lest he be judged is the law of God.

The things Matt tells himself to sleep at night.

Matt turns in his restless sleep. It is the sound of his hand hitting the bed anew that sends a pulse of his senses across the room, and every built-in alarm in his body sounds off as his radar hits a blip standing on his bedroom rug, watching over him. 

"Frank?" Matt asks the darkness dryly, once the angel Gabriel fades from the possible suspect map his mind draws for him. 

"I was--" Frank grinds his teeth. He holds his fists next to his body. "There were Purifiers--beating on some kids and their teacher. I didn't want to kill anyone in front of the kids, but-- White on black, my costume, reinforcements got confused, saw me standing over the slim one, and I--"

"Frank, slow down." Matt sits up, he draws the sheets around his chest like a lady protecting her virtue. "What are you saying?"

"There was a woman. Redhead." Frank growls the descriptor as if redheads are the very bane of his existence. "She got a hold of me. She said--"

Frank grips his hair. The memory itself is pain. He feels things he shouldn't. Electricity and meat. Neurons firing. His pulse, a ticking time bomb waiting to go off between his temples. The liquid in his head, a thousand pounds heavier. He was not supposed to remember quite so soon. He is on his knees again and this time Murdock is over him. He crawled through his bedsheets with his hair in his eyes, hand in front of himself while he searches for Frank. Frank grabs Matt's forearm and locks them together like gladiators. He thinks for a moment if they held each other just right, all the little scrapes and scratches marking their bodies in thin, raised scars would align and he might understand something, this thing better.  He remembers the lady redhead's words. Do you have someone you care about? She didn't wait for his voice. She took the answer from his head. The first face that came to mind. Good. Find him. Watch over him.

"Frank? Frank! Listen to me." Matt puts his other hand on his shoulder and shakes him until Frank lifts his head. Matt's billboard-lit figure brings relief to this senseless compulsion inside him. "I think you met the X-Men. It would certainly explain the claw marks."

"Yes." Frank agrees. He is feverish, disoriented, and whatever Matt sounds are coming out of Matt's mouth are the rightest thing in his world. 

"I think one of their telepaths might have cooked your brain a little." Matt winces. His hand moves from his shoulder to his back in a soothing swipe. "I'm sure they didn't mean to. The X-Men can be very protective of their people. They only wanted you out of their way, which to be fair is understandable given your track record... Let's get you back on the couch."

"No!" Frank grabs more of his arm, claiming his bicep and pulling him down. This frenzy overcame him on the couch. The same impulse that drove him across Manhattan searching for Matt Murdock's apartment grew more intense in his vicinity. This thing the redhead put in him will not be satisfied by anything but contact-- or perhaps this is not her doing at all, just Frank's brain conflating an order to protect with the desire to consume. He whispers, quieter, not demanding but pleading. "No. Please, Red."

After a pause, Matt's hand comes to his face. His fingers touch between his brows and separate over the shape of his nose, searching. He is a woodcut of his mental state. Distress is as clear as the lines around his mouth, the tight clench of his jaw. Matt ends the brief exploration with the back of his hand against his forehead. He doesn't need to touch him to know his heart, but it grounds him with certainty. Everything Frank has said to him is the truth, and none more apparent that being separated from his side will kill him.

[ravenvsfox]

Hey there 😊 would you write the actual fight neil had w breckenridge players in the parking lot from your other prompt? (The 47 one)

(hello my darling please accept this brand new prequel to one of my oldest tfc fics ever MWAH)

He’s mid-shout when Matt grabs him, pins him by the elbows and struggles to walk them both backwards towards the stands. They have only a couple of steady feet between them, and their progress is a strange half-time waltz.

The referee whistles in blistering, repetitive bursts and Neil, overwhelmed, wrestles free from Matt’s grip. He veers downwards as soon as he’s supporting his own weight, barely getting a leg and hasty arm underneath him before he hits the floor.

“Easy Neil, Christ alive.” He claps a hand on the back of Neil’s neck, which irritates him enough to send him ricocheting even farther away, jumpy and unpredictable as a pinball.

He slaps a sweaty palm into the plexiglass to heave himself out of the court, leaving a tacky handprint behind.

“They can’t even play,” Neil pants, tearing off his helmet. “This has gotta be a sick joke, they can’t—play.” He hunkers down, both hands on his knees, breathing deep and violent.

“Yeah, I’m really laughing,” Matt drawls, tucking his own helmet under his arm. He gulps down water and then shakes his head like a dog under a stream of it, setting the soaked spikes of his hair on an angle.

“Here.” He offers Neil the water bottle but Neil waves him off, already scanning the court for the place that he would be if he were on it. Matt wiggles the bottle in front of his field of vision though, and Neil swipes it just to stop him.

When he tips his head back to take a swig from the bottle, his view of the court shivers, orange going brown, and he’s hyper-aware of his knee popping, an overworked injury.

“They’re vicious as fuck,” Matt says, sniffing thickly, maybe through blood. “Their defence thinks we’re punching bags.”

“They’re overcompensating because they don’t know any of the rules,” Neil says. “If I see one more dirty check I’m going to slit either their throats or mine.”

“And here I thought there wouldn’t be any knife play tonight,” Matt jokes, and Neil snaps him a dead-eyed look. “Not that I don’t appreciate Andrew and his menagerie of deadly weapons.”

Neil looks away, but he doesn’t say anything. Andrew’s absence is sitting right on his shoulders where it hurts to stand up straight. Renee in goal is the flavour you choose when your top three aren’t in stock. Andrew’s a loaded pistol and she’s a curled fist.

“I refuse to let fucking Breckenridge get to semis just because our numbers are off,” Neil says narrowly. “They don’t deserve to pick up a racquet, let alone win a game, and Nicky and Aaron aren’t strong enough players for us to be suffering this badly without them.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Matt says, but he’s smiling, a little. “You do know we’re winning, huh Josten?”

“Not by much.”

“And what, you think that point gap would be a point gulf if Andrew were in goal?”

Neil’s mouth quirks. “I know it would.”

“Right,” Matt replies, really smiling now. “And do you ever think maybe that’s all your mushy feelings talking and not your brain?” He jabs Neil in the ribs and Neil steps backwards unevenly.

“I don’t have mushy feelings on the court.”

“Oh please, that’s all you have. You look at centre court like its at the end of a trail of rose petals, it’s super gross.”

Neil shrugs, taking another long pull of water, and Matt laughs. He catches sight of Wymack gesturing angrily at them from the end of the bench, and he tugs his helmet back on, wincing at the humidity and the still tender pulse of his knee when he moves.

“Sub in,” Neil tells Matt, checking the straps on his gloves and shaking his head to try and replace frustration with the fizz of white static. Matt hums acknowledgement, propping his shoe up on the bench to retie the laces.

“Hey Neil,” he says, and Neil peers over the grate of his helmet to catch his eye. “I’m sure they’re fine. Nicky’s got them.”

It’s weird to think of Nicky as the thing that’s going to keep them stable, but Neil’s been thinking it all day. He saw the look on Andrew’s face this morning, like someone spilled water on his usual expression and everything went sideways. Aaron had been so brooding that he was almost indistinguishable from Andrew. It was Nicky who got them in the car and rubbed Neil’s shoulder goodbye and sent him hourly updates on the court proceedings.

Last night he had watched Andrew’s profile across the darkness of their bed and listened to his laboured breathing. He could see his mouth tightening to suppress noise, even in unconsciousness. He’s heard Aaron’s nightmares too, louder and quicker to ease.

Neil keeps thinking of some lawyer clipping evidence up like washing, and some audience deciding whether or not it looks dry, like it hasn’t been kept wet in the well of Andrew’s memory, like it’s not dripping blood.

“Yeah,” Neil says. “Fine.”

Matt frowns, patting his own helmet down. “Poor word choice. You know what I mean.”

Neil bobs his head, eyes streaking out to the court, to the scoreboard and the time that’s left, feeling for the first time that he’d rather not be here at all.

Matt mentioned the court case like it wasn’t taking all of Neil’s willpower to tear his mind away from it. Talking about his fear of the thing lurking outside didn’t kill it, it just opened the door and let it inside with him.

They step heavily back out into the action, and Neil sees it all as if he’s at home watching practice tapes, the predetermined smallness of it all.

He’s never liked how it felt to play without the whole team beside him, like going on family vacation a few siblings short. This is much worse. He scans his teammates’ faces, as keenly familiar through the grill of helmets and sheens of sweat as they are when they’re composed and made up off-court. The determination in them is stretched too thin, and they have this old, hungry look like they’re all fighting with one broken hand.

Kevin keeps tossing his racquet between his hands like he’s trying to find the right fit, Renee is half-slumped in goal, and Neil can see fresh hair dye snaking down her neck in rivulets of sweat. Breckenridge is tumbling through different line-ups, keeping their fresh, un-bloodied fists up, keeping the threat sharp. One grinning striker mimes a heavy limp to her friends, throwing one arm out to gesture towards Neil’s unsteady gait.

“Fuck that,” Matt says, with feeling. “Let’s kill ‘em.” They crack their racquets together, electric, before they spring back into the mob.

_____

They win by three points, half of them crying with rage or vindication when they meet by the goal and grip each other, bare their teeth, hold their victory up to the glow of their heat-wrecked faces.

They clutch their sides and brush blood out of their teeth when they finally find their way to the change rooms, and Kevin tries to lecture them but ends up insulting the other team, hands shaking from rare overexertion.

Wymack pretends he doesn’t notice that they’re passing around a bottle of whiskey, and Neil checks his phone in the corner of the room, waiting for everyone to change out, frowning at the two hour-old message from Andrew that just says “home late”.

The use of the word home is making his heart race, despite everything. Andrew thinking of Neil and Fox tower at the end of the day instead of battered, bruised Columbia is more than he could have hoped for.

He breathes through the full-body ache from the game, relieved to find the kind of feeling that he knows will go away. He clutches the little phone in his fist, knowing that some feelings do not.

“Hitching a ride with us?” Dan asks, brushing into his space as gracefully and invasively as always.

“I can walk,” Neil shrugs.

He feels a jab at the back of his knee and he barely catches himself on the handle of a locker. “Can you?” Allison taunts.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dan says calmly.

“Oh, be realistic,” Allison snaps. Neil turns to confront her but now she’s crouched at Renee’s side, holding an ice pack to the nape of her neck and pursing her lips with concern. For some reason it makes the hollow of his stomach throb and contort.

“Neil. Ride?” Dan prompts, and Neil nods distractedly. Wymack’s directing Kevin and Allison into helping Renee to the couch, Matt’s bickering with Jack and one of the other new recruits. The room seems small but the feelings seem big, like an under-filled audience for a show-stopping number, like actors are gutting themselves for the benefit of only a handful of nervous eyes.

“Yeah, I just gotta, um, shower… still,” he says lamely, and Dan smiles.

“We’ll be outside drinking that game away, okay?”

“Okay,” Neil confirms. The room is filtering and he doesn’t want to be alone. The thought of nursing his knee without Andrew to manhandle recovery out of him is completely unappealing.

He changes out, steps into the spray of the shower gingerly, eager to get the almost-loss out from where it almost made it under his skin.

He wraps a stray tensor bandage snugly around his knee and steps into sweatpants and runners, tossing on the jersey he’d scooped off the dorm floor and pretended he didn’t know was Andrew’s.

When he finally makes his way out into the humid night air, the fight is already happening.

The door is almost jammed back into his body when he pushes it open, and his awareness trips instantly to high alert. He can hear Dan cursing, and Kevin shouting over the din of dull laughter and violent threats. He kicks the door hard enough to make contact with whatever was in front of it, and the person makes a gutted sound as they topple over.

All eyes swing to him, and he folds his arms over the number three screaming across his chest, taking stupid comfort in the splash of black armbands against Andrew’s number. He imagines the warmth of a knife holstered along his forearm and finds that he doesn’t miss it.

He glances backwards to see the Breckenridge goalie doubled over from contact with the door. That mocking striker from before has Dan by the hair, and the big one, Hawking, is trying hard to wrestle the whiskey from Matt’s hand.

“Playing dirty wasn’t enough, you’ve gotta fight that way too?” Neil asks coolly. “I don’t know what I expected from fucking Breckenridge Jackasses.”

“Jackals,” Leverett corrects. “Your betters.”

“Disgraceful and delusional,” Neil says. “That’s sad.”

Hawking steps towards him and Neil looks dully in his direction. “You’re pretty brave considering your watchdog isn’t here.”

Neil feigns surprise. “I didn’t know you knew how to speak. Or do anything except break things and lose games.” Hawking paces forward furiously.

“You’re not really helping, Neil,” Matt calls cheerfully.

“You shouldn’t have come out here,” someone says darkly. Feet scuff against the pavement, faraway birds titter, and Neil finds himself watching Kevin’s face, drained of colour, shaking almost imperceptibly at him.

“Why, because you’re allergic to an even fight?” Some dynamic shifts again, and Hawking is suddenly much, much closer.

“Who says you can fight? Isn’t that what your itty bitty boyfriend is for?” He mocks, leaning all the way down into Neil’s space. “Oh, wait! Shit! I forgot that he was too busy bending over to fight back.”

His fist is in screaming agony before he’s registered that he’s punched Hawking, clawed him in by the neck, and sideswiped him so hard in the jaw that he collapsed.

“Fuck you,” he spits. He gears up to kick him in the ribs, but it’s sloppy, and Hawking catches his ankle.

His teeth are bloody when he grins and rips his leg out from under him. Neil lands hard on his back, breath ripping out of him. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Defending your girlfriend’s honour.”

“That was dumb,” Matt says.

“I’ll kill you,” Neil promises, rolling in the dust and feeling tiny rocks raking his skin raw.

“Jesus, Neil,” Dan calls. “You can’t win against him, he’s a monster.”

Hearing her call anyone a monster gets into his heart and tears blood out of it, and he feels his chest ruined with rage. Neil whirls and knees his groin, throwing a gritty handful of dirt into his eyes and briefly gaining the upper hand. Hawking spits and blinks and his eyes stream, and Neil punches him in the throat, deadly fast.

“You really think he’s worth it, huh?” he wheezes. “I bet the only thing easier than scoring on that psychopath on court is scoring on him off of it—“

Neil swings his arm back but its too lethargic, it wobbles in the air. He can scarcely believe that it’s his punch that’s going so badly until Hawking grabs his wrist. It’s in that tilting moment that he realizes he was much too tired for this fight from the beginning, and that he’s not going to win it.

Hawking’s hand closes around his throat, holding all of Neil’s weight so he feels strange and light on his knees. The air in his lungs was already cracked and shouted out of him, and his vision goes very spotty very quickly.

He hears the others calling his name, but there’s a sharp ringing in his ears over top of everything else, so loud that it feels like an embodied thing. All that he knows is real is the rush of sound and the terrible pain of suffocation and the other version of himself, the one made of anger. His throat is being so effectively crushed that he feels like his flesh is tearing, like Hawking’s hand is serrated or maybe his throat is paper.

He’s let suddenly go, and he keels over on the pavement, coughing himself from his knees down onto his stomach. He touches his own neck and expects to feel bone. It’s not the first time he’s been choked, but it might be the longest, and he doesn’t think he could speak if he tried.

His vision is blurry, but he can see Kevin’s foot pinning Hawking’s neck, and the rest of them struggling weakly with players who seem more rattled than angry.

Neil dips one foot into unconsciousness, and falls accidentally thigh-deep before yanking himself back up.

“Neil,” someone says. “Fuck fuck fuck. Neil? Fuck.” He nods, not trusting his voice. Matt’s face ebbs into focus.“That motherfucker was beyond out of line.”

Neil nods.

“Never thought I’d wish Andrew was here to shank a guy,” Matt mutters, and Neil cracks a smile.

“He’s okay?” Kevin asks nervously from somewhere beyond Matt’s close, concerned face.

“Yeah, I think,” he responds.

“I’m sure he wishes there was a round two,” Kevin says icily.

“I’m right here,” Neil croaks, grateful to hear his voice coming out more or less intact.

“I know,” Kevin says. “And I’m leaving.”

“Don’t mind him,” Dan says, leaning into view, brow furrowed but mouth upturned. “He just loves you and hates to see your pretty neck get hurt.”

Neil grabs hold of Matt’s offered hands and hoists himself to standing, staggering a little when blood and oxygen swirl to his head again.

“Home, please,” Neil says hoarsely, thinking of Andrew’s text. He breathes through the shredding pain in his throat, part of the tally of miseries from a day against Breckenridge and his own loopy loneliness.

Dan and Matt grip his shoulders and keep him strung up between them, but he’s barely aware of their halting progress, too deep in thoughts of Allison’s hands on Renee’s throat, Kevin’s bruised neck, Andrew choking Allison to the ground, getting choked himself, getting held down, the word psychopath looping and meeting up with the word monster, the last blinking red seconds of the match sparking weird nervy panic in his guts.

He has to roll the window down on the way back to Fox Tower, has to swallow lungfuls of cold air and let the wind whip his tears away. He thinks of Hawkins being pinned to the ground, face welling, eyes raw, and satisfaction holds him together.

_____

He crawls into bed, light on his injured knee, pulling at the collar of Andrew’s jersey until it swallows his neck.

He’d tried to ice it, looking vacantly into the mirror and seeing his terrible neck, the rings of pink then shadow around his eyes. His hands were shaking too badly to keep the ice pack in place. He kept thinking about the heft of Andrew’s bravery, of that metaphorical clothing line, the lies and truth and villains and heroes and the impossible crisscrossing lines between them.

The rumours of the court case had clearly made it far enough to climb inside the taunts of opposing teams, or Hawking had made cruel and specific guesses and waited for something to bowl Neil over, and now he’s only been proven right. Both options are so awful that he has to swallow and swallow and swallow to get rid of the taste of bile.

Neil’s used to people prying his wounds open, but the idea of someone looking at Andrew and seeing monstrosity or weakness is impossible, it doesn’t fit in his head, it travels down his body and stiffens his hands and stirs his heart to the kind of rage that he thought he was forgetting.

He settles onto Andrew’s side of the mattress and fists the sheets, breathing cigarettes and sugar, trying to stabilize something that leapt and stumbled to Columbia and now no longer fits inside him.

He can’t imagine what Andrew will say when he sees him, if the tenderness of his body will register after a day at court, if anything matters except the justice that no one seems to have a full grip on, if his injury is just another cruelty in the current of cruelties that washes ceaselessly through Andrew’s life.

It seems unfair that Andrew should fix one leak and come home to another. It seems unfair that people can say whatever they like about you without ever having seen the gorgeous, murderous defiance in your eyes.

Neil rolls onto his side and holds the covers close to his chest, hands sweating, throat burning.

The door scuffs opens behind him, brushes soft against the carpet, and Andrew’s presence in the room is so enormous that he forgets to feign sleep.

Fists still clenched, throat barely able to support his shallow breath, Neil thinks, no matter what, I will not be another thing that hurts him.

(Original fic is a short little thing right heeeere and it’s very very old)

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