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before we met, i was so afraid of dying. but if the end comes today, this will have been enough
A Softer World is ending, and what better way to celebrate it than with a ficathon?

HOW TO PROMPT:

1. Comment with a fandom, character, or pairing, and an A Softer World comic!
That's all that's required - feel free to elaborate (explanation of what you'd like to see) or to just leave it up to the author. Please include a link to the comic if you can! just so no one has to hunt around for "that one about photos and souls?"
If you like, you can link two comics, but please only do it if those comics are a sort of joint prompt - "I want to see X combined with Y for Sansa Stark" - and not as two separate prompts.

2. While you're waiting for your prompt to be filled, go fill someone else's!

HOW TO FILL:

1. Reply to the prompter's comment with a subject line stating title, characters or pairing, and rating! If there is potentially triggering content, please slap a "tw: [x]" in the subject line as well.

2. Reply to the fill thread with the same subject line and a link to your fic!

Feel free to prompt or write any fandom, any character, any pairing. Art is very welcome, as are fanmixes, poetry, or anything else you can think of.

OTHER RELEVANT INFO
1. Be nice! Have fun! Feel sad that this comic is ending D:
2. Feel free to be anonymous if you want to be, but it's not a requirement by any means!

Re: Daredevil, Matt Murdock, 1231

Date: 2015-05-07 04:00 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
all right SOMEONE got here before i did so HAVE A SECOND FILL I GUESS
xo someone too lazy to make an acct

He won't live to feel the heat of the sun rising on the city.

It's four, maybe five--among Matt's supersenses is not the ability to always know what time it is--and he's nearly killed somebody, two somebodies, left them on the hospital steps like a pair of babies at a church door. It's a chill night, and Matt places falling leaves by the whisper of the wind, the light sound against the pavement. He doesn't know what he'll do when winter comes; the armor is strong against nails and knives but it's light and thin and he'll be cold.

He's cold now.

The adrenaline is leaving him; the superheroic rush that carried him through the search, through the fight, through the aftermath with all its mess. He should sleep, now, so that when the sun comes up in a few hours he can be, if not bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, no blearier than Foggy and Karen will be. But he doesn't turn towards home, and bed--he wanders around the outside of the hospital, imagines throwing rocks at some window Claire's behind, although she isn't even working tonight.

Claire will feel it--will see it, the sunrise Matt imagines. He imagines it like heat on her skin, the new city they're creating, he and Claire, he and Foggy and Karen, he and thin red armor. Matt's never touched her skin sun-flushed, never met her by daylight, but he can imagine it, warm and welcoming and good. That's the city he's making, he knows, warm and welcoming and good. That's what he's working for when he drags fathers who don't deserve the name off of their children, when he stops men like Fisk who'd make the city cold steel and glass, when he protects his little territory like a junkyard dog.

Claire deserves a place like that, a sunrisen place; Karen does too, and Foggy, and the father--and the little girl he can hear sleep-breathing two stories above him, the teenager manning the all-night laundromat, the old man watching television and coughing shallowly. They deserve it and they'll see it and what's more they'll love it.

Matt's found himself on a street that leads toward the office, he realizes, and he keeps on that way. He can sleep there--it wouldn't be the first time, for him or any of them. For all he knows Foggy or Karen is there too, head pillowed on a stack of manila folders. Or awake; he doesn't think either of them really sleeps any better than he does.

Matt lets his mind slide off the question of what he deserves; he's too tired to face a no, too tired to face a yes. It catches as it often does on the question of what he loves. He's still cold, and he loves that, it feels mean and bracing and right. He'll feel it, when the sun rises, always does, though it's such a small change. Only a little while now, and then another day of work and then another night of it. He loves that too, the work, all of it.

Matt can't remember the last place he was in that was warm and welcoming and good. Even as a kid they always kept the thermostat down to save on the heat. He loves his city and because he loves it he's letting it go, building a new one, one that might love him back, if it was going to get the chance. One that'll love the rest of them back.

Matt won't live to feel the sunrise on the city.

Re: Daredevil, Matt Murdock, 1231

Date: 2015-05-07 04:07 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
from one terrible person to another: FUCK YOU!!! SMILING DEATH EMOJI

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