I can't imagine. I've had injuries but my spine has been relatively okay by comparison. Fucked up my pelvis something fierce when the building fell on me, a lot of broken bones and thought I was losing my hearing. That last one was my nightmare scenario.
Strangely, this might end up being the opposite of a self destructive stunt. He might be proud of you.
I know I should. The problem has always been the explanation. I got sliced to shit by a ninja a long time ago and even ten years on, the scars are still there. I can't explain that to a normal doctor. There's no surgical uniformity to them that might come from medical procedures and "fell in a woodchipper" seems like it'd prompt questions.
You need to find a way to come here at least once. I can even arrange the wedding to happen in New York but you need to meet Alfred, and Leslie - the doctor - so you can find someone closer to you to handle emergency medical scenarios and keep their mouth shut. Anything too dire, we can transport you but there's a lot of room between what you can handle yourself and 'you need surgery and an MRI'.
He will probably ultimately be proud of me and happy about it. He'll just need to see and hear that first hand. Fortunately, it's Superman. Knee jerk responses aren't typical for him. And you can probably work in teaching him a thing or two about grounding his senses at some point.
It's not that far from New York so I can manage that with a little time to figure out train schedules. I hate flying because of the pressure changes on my hearing so I tend to avoid that where possible. I feel some measure of guilt when I'm not out at night but I recognize that there are times when I can't be and I can accept that so I can travel. This is usually the part where I say I'm fine and say I have an order of nuns who can take care of me discretely but I recognize that doesn't carry a lot of weight.
That's understandable. It's kind of a big bomb to drop on someone as a surprise. I've never had to teach anyone that part before. The guy who taught me was an asshole so at least I know I'll be nicer about it.
It carries plenty of weight. It's not enough and there are gaps that I'd like to fill to the best of my ability and that you'll allow, but it's not without weight. Most of my basic medical care comes from a retired special services butler or myself. I just also have someone who can prescribe antibiotics and has hospital privileges. That's something I'd like to work out for you if I can.
We're still both going to end up bleeding to death in a gutter - if we're lucky.
He just needs some guidance in finding something that's not relying on me or his parents.
The issue was primarily a need for anonymity rather than my self destructive tendencies and not having a good lie for strangers. I can only be 'mugged' so many times or fall down so many stairs before the stories stop adding up. A friend once worried the bruises was a sex thing and even that fell apart pretty fast when the real injuries piled on. Accepting help isn't my strongest suit but I'll do my best not to bitch too much about it and take what's being offered. For the minor things, I'll retreat to my overstocked first aid kit and do my own stitches but if it's more, I'll allow it.
I always assumed it'd be in a dumpster for me. A gutter is probably a step up in the world.
I understand that. I don't know where I'd be if I had to figure out all of this on my own.
The good news is, doing your own stitches is so standard for me that even my occasionally overbearing ass isn't likely to protest. As for explanations, I've had good luck with both sex and extreme sports as an explanation - and both are true enough, and solidify my reputation.
Make-up also helps but that would be a rough one for you to pull off.
I also like to think I do good work. Straight stitches, clean. So there's that. Yeah, you can get away with the extreme sports explanation. That doesn't so much work for me; no one's going to buy that I went skydiving for the view. I can see how that would lend well to a playboy reputation though.
Yeah, that's one of those things I can't manage. People do tend to look the other way with injuries that they attribute to disability but after a while, even the innate desire of people to not be perceived as rude stops working.
If your work that's good, you should start doing my stitches. [ That's a joke. His are messy, Alfred's are messy. His because he doesn't care and can't always reach. Alfred's because Bruce is impatient and cranky about it.]
The reasons are mostly skiing and rock climbing - sky diving I stay away from. Batman's too known for heights and dropping from them.
If I get a reputation for abusing you, I'm going to be annoyed.
My dad taught me when I was a kid. When it was just him and me, he needed someone to do it because hospitals were too much money and we didn't have it. I had a lot of practice on his brows and face, which necessitates straight and as small as necessary to close the wound. He could take a punch but he paid for it.
That's a good call.
If you mean in the public eye, I'm not well known so I can just start a brand new cycle of excuses since they'll appear fresh. Also, I presume that if I'm 'mugged' then there's some way to use that. The people who were once most concerned about my bruises either know now or are dead. I think Kirsten just believes I'm in a blind underground fight club.
I'd claim I don't remember when I learned, but the nearest thing I have to a 'super power' or enhancement is my memory. I was 15 in London and actually was mugged and didn't care much then, either.
I mean the public. No one who knows either of us would believe it privately - and if they do, I have bigger problems than the press. We can use you being an apparent victim of crime very well, I think.
I've never had to float a lie to the greater public about why I have a bruise on my jaw so starting from scratch on the revolving wheel of excuses will work fine. As much as it annoys me, I recognize that I make a convenient 'victim' for those sorts of narratives if I choose to lean in.
I 'ran away' from Gotham at 14. I reappeared at 20, picked up the cowl and adopted Dick the same year at 20.
I don't like the victim narrative any more than I like pretending to be an oversexed, reckless drunk, but when the narrative is convenient it's worth keeping. Especially when it's mostly false.
And I presume all of this training happened when you were gone? I started when I was nine.
It annoys me more as part of the perception of disability but I also recognize all the ways that I use that to my advantage, so it does often feel like talking out of both sides of my mouth to complain about it. It's what it is, but sometimes it's trying to go through life having to pretend to be something you're not. As I'm sure you well know.
In any event, I'm going to start dropping the "oh, I can't make plans, I've been talking to someone" on people in the office. No names yet. Building the story. How should I say we met?
Then you're working with at least as much experience as I am, and with less support. Though I was doing a lot of martial arts from seven, in an attempt to impose some control on me and give me an acceptable outlet. I was a terrible child.
That's a good question. Where would our public lives intersect? Where does your public persona go besides work and court?
I know a thing or two about being a terrible child. I have the five year running record for Hail Mary's at St. Agnes orphanage and a discipline file that's an entertaining as hell read. Lots of fights I didn't start but that I finished on the playground.
I don't have much of a public persona in that way. I go to a local dive bar if I'm not doing the other things in my life and I can't imagine that you and I would meet there. You don't seem the type to appreciate a place where your shoes kind of stick to the floor when you take a step. But that makes me a more malleable quantity in this story. You're probably better with the sort of public storytelling. I just try cases and sometimes give quotes to the press.
Definitively finishing fights I didn't start was part of my issue. The rest was more... variable.
I actually prefer that kind of bar, but not as my public face. Let's just say I was on a business trip and ran into you at a coffee shop. "Brucie" is aggressive enough in pursuit of a pretty face that all he has to do is have seen you.
[Haha, not so cool when someone Else does it, is it Jim? Is this how his people feel every time there's a Situation??]
I can see the sign for 50th St station across the way. There's a car hanging out of a boutique front window so mind the broken glass.
[In this case cooperating means he'll be able to get Matt somewhere safe quicker too. He sure as hell doesn't know his way around the area so running off to find the blind man? Not smart.]
It's...kind of what I do. Just. You're going to have to trust me on this one.
[With this kind of chaos, Matt wouldn't have been able to sit it out anyway but now? Yeah, no chance. Sorry Jim, you're just going to have to deal with it.]
Alright, I'm on it. Just stay safe and I'll find you. I might have some explaining to do when that happens but just keep an open mind.
Not giving me much of a choice BUT to trust you in the moment.
[He just hates that feeling of his heart being jammed up into his throat trying to imagine Matt and his cane navigating out here while he's taking cover with this poor guy behind the half overturned car.
At least they managed to get out of the window finally. The webbing has the rest of the car firmly held upright.]
[Was Matt ever intending to disclose the Daredevil part of his life? Probably not. The problem is that emergencies and chaos on the streets doesn't take his social life into account and he wouldn't be able to stand by under normal circumstances. That he knows someone caught in the chaos of what sounds like yet another insane attack on New York. Spiders? He's not sure. All things considered, giant arachnids wouldn't surprise him. This fucking town.
It takes longer than he would like. There's carnage so he has to stop a few times to do quick search and rescue when he can hear a heartbeat behind rubble.
Eventually he gets street level across from the station and he picks up Jim's cologne and the smell of the soap he uses so Matt can find him and the driver hiding behind the shell of car. Well. Now or never. He approaches with heavy boots crushing across shattered glass.]
This way. You're going to have to follow me.
[The driver is thrilled; Daredevil is here to save them.]
[Citrus, a bit of cardamom, and a whole lot of anxiety right about now. The driver is looking more relieved by the moment when Daredevil appears. Jim is keeping a lookout across the street. And when Matt speaks, it's relief at first that washes over Jim's entire posture, too. He knows that voice.]
Thank fuck. You have no idea how...
[When he turns around he trails off. Blinks. Looks around then back at the guy in the outfit in front of him. The little hamster wheel upstairs is starting to smoke.]
Uh.
[No no, it's cool. He's one of the good guys, the driver is quick to explain. Jim drags his tongue along his lower lip, clearly debating on what if anything to say before he just nods.]
[A guy dressed as the devil showing up is probably weird enough but he hears the way Jim's heartbeat jumps as 2 and 2 are put together in an instant. It's not really the kind of conversation that he can have right now because, for one thing, there's an emergency going on and for another, they have an audience with the driver present. Secret identity and all.
Matt surveys the street around them and the sounds that map the world for him. A path comes to focus.]
I'm going to get you to the subway--
[He doesn't finish the thought before he hears something barreling down the below them, presumably in the tunnels, and it very much is not a train. Jim and the driver would hear nothing.]
Nope, reverse that. That's where the monsters headed. So. New plan. We're close to Clinton Church. It'll be safe there. Stay close to me.
[With that, Matt starts to move with his attention on the two men with him. He's going to have a lot of explaining to do but he can do that after Jim and the driver are safe in the basement of the church.]
[See the thing is, Jim's too busy noticing that this guy's mask has no possible way for visibility. What means he wasn't lying about the whole being blind thing. Which means Jim isn't crazy for recognizing Matt's voice. Or what little of his face that can be seen.
The driver might ask if Daredevil is certain given the subway entrance is Right there. But Jim just makes a soft, noncommittal sound in the affirmation and falls into step. The last half hour has been a Lot for him to take in.]
[He doesn't really have a good way of communicating 'we'll talk about this later' to Jim in the presence of the driver so he just goes with the next best option, which is to get them safe and deal with the weird fallout that monsters or aliens or...whatever this is...is going to bring to his personal life.
The streets are a maze of broken glass, destroyed cars and wreckage. Not ideal. He tries to keep them close to the buildings so they're not just walking down the middle of the street as open targets. It means dodging the occasional bits of falling debris and glass but Matt moves them to-and-fro, telling them to stop or to move to the right and left to avoid danger. When they're in what is essentially a straight shot down the block to the church, Matt hears the rumbling under the sidewalk. Shit.]
Run. As fast as you can.
[He gets the words out just before the concrete behind them buckles]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
~ knightbynight
I can't imagine. I've had injuries but my spine has been relatively okay by comparison. Fucked up my pelvis something fierce when the building fell on me, a lot of broken bones and thought I was losing my hearing. That last one was my nightmare scenario.
Strangely, this might end up being the opposite of a self destructive stunt. He might be proud of you.
I know I should. The problem has always been the explanation. I got sliced to shit by a ninja a long time ago and even ten years on, the scars are still there. I can't explain that to a normal doctor. There's no surgical uniformity to them that might come from medical procedures and "fell in a woodchipper" seems like it'd prompt questions.
Re: ~ knightbynight
He will probably ultimately be proud of me and happy about it. He'll just need to see and hear that first hand. Fortunately, it's Superman. Knee jerk responses aren't typical for him. And you can probably work in teaching him a thing or two about grounding his senses at some point.
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That's understandable. It's kind of a big bomb to drop on someone as a surprise. I've never had to teach anyone that part before. The guy who taught me was an asshole so at least I know I'll be nicer about it.
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We're still both going to end up bleeding to death in a gutter - if we're lucky.
He just needs some guidance in finding something that's not relying on me or his parents.
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I always assumed it'd be in a dumpster for me. A gutter is probably a step up in the world.
I understand that. I don't know where I'd be if I had to figure out all of this on my own.
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Make-up also helps but that would be a rough one for you to pull off.
Thank you.
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Yeah, that's one of those things I can't manage. People do tend to look the other way with injuries that they attribute to disability but after a while, even the innate desire of people to not be perceived as rude stops working.
Of course. I know the value of help with that.
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The reasons are mostly skiing and rock climbing - sky diving I stay away from. Batman's too known for heights and dropping from them.
If I get a reputation for abusing you, I'm going to be annoyed.
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That's a good call.
If you mean in the public eye, I'm not well known so I can just start a brand new cycle of excuses since they'll appear fresh. Also, I presume that if I'm 'mugged' then there's some way to use that. The people who were once most concerned about my bruises either know now or are dead. I think Kirsten just believes I'm in a blind underground fight club.
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I mean the public. No one who knows either of us would believe it privately - and if they do, I have bigger problems than the press. We can use you being an apparent victim of crime very well, I think.
Kirsten isn't entirely wrong.
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I've never had to float a lie to the greater public about why I have a bruise on my jaw so starting from scratch on the revolving wheel of excuses will work fine. As much as it annoys me, I recognize that I make a convenient 'victim' for those sorts of narratives if I choose to lean in.
Not entirely.
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I don't like the victim narrative any more than I like pretending to be an oversexed, reckless drunk, but when the narrative is convenient it's worth keeping. Especially when it's mostly false.
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It annoys me more as part of the perception of disability but I also recognize all the ways that I use that to my advantage, so it does often feel like talking out of both sides of my mouth to complain about it. It's what it is, but sometimes it's trying to go through life having to pretend to be something you're not. As I'm sure you well know.
In any event, I'm going to start dropping the "oh, I can't make plans, I've been talking to someone" on people in the office. No names yet. Building the story. How should I say we met?
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That's a good question. Where would our public lives intersect? Where does your public persona go besides work and court?
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I don't have much of a public persona in that way. I go to a local dive bar if I'm not doing the other things in my life and I can't imagine that you and I would meet there. You don't seem the type to appreciate a place where your shoes kind of stick to the floor when you take a step. But that makes me a more malleable quantity in this story. You're probably better with the sort of public storytelling. I just try cases and sometimes give quotes to the press.
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I actually prefer that kind of bar, but not as my public face. Let's just say I was on a business trip and ran into you at a coffee shop. "Brucie" is aggressive enough in pursuit of a pretty face that all he has to do is have seen you.
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Do you want to move this to action/meeting?
I would love that. Feel free to just keep the thread going if you don't want to make a new one
DONE
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Wrong thread entirely, sorry!
no problem it happens!
Re: no problem it happens!
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Yes, I am very much figuring out just how insane it is right now. Which is my way of telling you that I'm obviously not in my apartment anymore.
Just give me a cross-street at least.
Lost this one in my inbox but DW's inbox had it!
[Haha, not so cool when someone Else does it, is it Jim? Is this how his people feel every time there's a Situation??]
I can see the sign for 50th St station across the way. There's a car hanging out of a boutique front window so mind the broken glass.
[In this case cooperating means he'll be able to get Matt somewhere safe quicker too. He sure as hell doesn't know his way around the area so running off to find the blind man? Not smart.]
stupid inbox!
[With this kind of chaos, Matt wouldn't have been able to sit it out anyway but now? Yeah, no chance. Sorry Jim, you're just going to have to deal with it.]
Alright, I'm on it. Just stay safe and I'll find you. I might have some explaining to do when that happens but just keep an open mind.
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[He just hates that feeling of his heart being jammed up into his throat trying to imagine Matt and his cane navigating out here while he's taking cover with this poor guy behind the half overturned car.
At least they managed to get out of the window finally. The webbing has the rest of the car firmly held upright.]
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It takes longer than he would like. There's carnage so he has to stop a few times to do quick search and rescue when he can hear a heartbeat behind rubble.
Eventually he gets street level across from the station and he picks up Jim's cologne and the smell of the soap he uses so Matt can find him and the driver hiding behind the shell of car. Well. Now or never. He approaches with heavy boots crushing across shattered glass.]
This way. You're going to have to follow me.
[The driver is thrilled; Daredevil is here to save them.]
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Thank fuck. You have no idea how...
[When he turns around he trails off. Blinks. Looks around then back at the guy in the outfit in front of him. The little hamster wheel upstairs is starting to smoke.]
Uh.
[No no, it's cool. He's one of the good guys, the driver is quick to explain. Jim drags his tongue along his lower lip, clearly debating on what if anything to say before he just nods.]
Right. Sorry. Lead the way.
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Matt surveys the street around them and the sounds that map the world for him. A path comes to focus.]
I'm going to get you to the subway--
[He doesn't finish the thought before he hears something barreling down the below them, presumably in the tunnels, and it very much is not a train. Jim and the driver would hear nothing.]
Nope, reverse that. That's where the monsters headed. So. New plan. We're close to Clinton Church. It'll be safe there. Stay close to me.
[With that, Matt starts to move with his attention on the two men with him. He's going to have a lot of explaining to do but he can do that after Jim and the driver are safe in the basement of the church.]
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The driver might ask if Daredevil is certain given the subway entrance is Right there. But Jim just makes a soft, noncommittal sound in the affirmation and falls into step. The last half hour has been a Lot for him to take in.]
We're with you. Uh. Sir.
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The streets are a maze of broken glass, destroyed cars and wreckage. Not ideal. He tries to keep them close to the buildings so they're not just walking down the middle of the street as open targets. It means dodging the occasional bits of falling debris and glass but Matt moves them to-and-fro, telling them to stop or to move to the right and left to avoid danger. When they're in what is essentially a straight shot down the block to the church, Matt hears the rumbling under the sidewalk. Shit.]
Run. As fast as you can.
[He gets the words out just before the concrete behind them buckles]