for a fic called something along the lines of i don’t need an invisibility suit, i’m asexual! by @puffins-studio for the 2020 team red pride bang!! FUCK y’all it is so good. i’m still cryin over it
@deniigi‘s kingpin foggy fic is an absolute delight in that it is absolutely devastating and doesn’t care about the seams it’s pulling from your soul, but also i just think it’s SO funny that frank foggy can’t decide if he wants to kill or use peter bc he’s more spider-y than he bargained for lmaooalksdflkdfj;dfjk
going into the mike murdock tag means inflicting both a blessing and a curse on urself. on one hand u get to see mike murdock, absolute blessing of a bastard. on the other hand,
Wahoo, saw some of @deniigi‘s lightening prompts and the little impulse gremlin in my head yanked my chain and here we are, let’s go wahoo!!! I did go a little hamwild with it though so big oopsies there but also I regret nothing and so I will not apologize! Very long though, so I’mma slam dunk some of this under a read more.
-
“Foggy,” he nudged lightly. “Foggy. Foggy, Foggy.”
The accused raised his brow.
“What?”
“Take it back, Foggy.”
And back down the brow goes. Up went the corners of his lip.
“Naahhh.”
This guy. Ugh.
“You’re disgracing me, Foggy,” he said, without even a little bit of pouting. Not even draping himself over a door frame or anything. Certainly no theatrics. “Slandering my name.”
“Denial is just the beginning, Mattias Murdock,” Foggy said into his cup, as if covering his smile would work on a blind man’s perception.
“My name is not Mattias.” A pause. “And I’m not old. Take it back.”
“Okay, Matteo. I believe you.”
That wasn’t taking it back. That was active disbelief and dismissal. These were things he could not have; not on his dignity, and certainly not on what little was left of his life.
He had little life left to live, not because he was old, but because he was going to die young, burning out fast and dancing forever. Probably in the river somewhere, actually, but his poor life choices weren’t the issue here. The issue here was Foggy’s refusal to withdraw his poor opinions, despite the stellar counterpoints Matt had beautifully presented just now.
It’s whatever, though. It’s fine. If his word wasn’t enough for this argument, then he’ll just find someone else to support him. It can’t be any harder than finding a witness for court.
-
Spidey was doing a wonderful job. Great work, really. He didn’t know what was going on, since he came with zero context and bags of ulterior motive, but it sounded like general crime fighting with a hint of reptile. It also sounded like he was just wrapping up.
He did something that was probably a salute. He couldn’t keep track, nowadays. Spidey was constantly trying out different salutes from a list he’d compiled from all four corners of the world wide web. He was on a quest to find the ones best suited to make him look cool and respectable, he explained when Daredevil asked what all the hand waving was about. He tried out a different one every week because he was weighing the public’s reactions to them.
The public was confused but charmed by it. Matt, being part of the public by day, was not immune to this effect. Apparently nobody was.
“I love you, officer.”
He pumped his chest twice and did the salute of the week again.
“I… sure, you too.”
The officer awkwardly imitated him. Spidey’s heart beamed with joy.
“Well, I gotta go now. Take care, ¡adios!” He saluted again before he left. The officer’s responding heartbeat indicated surprise. Spidey had likely literally disappeared again.
“Why are you here?” he whispered, without really whispering at all. He was awful at it, despite attempts to teach him otherwise. He’d get the hang of it sooner or later, regardless.
“Just conducting a private survey,” he said, turning around, cane rhythmically tapping against the sidewalk.
“If this is about your costume, you look like if Shadow was designed to imitate Knuckles instead of Sonic.”
Matt had no idea what any of those words meant in that order. He made no plans to understand or pretend to understand. There were more important things at hand.
“Spider-Man,” he started. “What was your first impression of me?”
“Honestly? Cool but scary. I thought you were gonna accuse me of murder and I’d be, like, yessir that sounds about right.”
“And now?”
“Uh, can I say something first?”
“Go ahead.”
He paused in thought, carefully chewing on the offered silence that was to fuel his thought process. That was good. Thoughtfulness and honesty was important for testimonies. They were also important in general, but right now, he was looking for a testimony, so whatever.
Spidey’s heart beat steadily.
“I know it’s easier said than done, but you shouldn’t care too much about what other people think. I mean, obviously it’s important, but I think being able to back yourself up is just as important. Like, it’s great if other people believe in you, but you gotta do it too. Self esteem, you know?”
Aww.
Useless for what he came for, but.
Aww.
“That’s great,” he said. “But not what I’m looking for.”
Spidey sighed something tired.
“Well?” Matt pushed.
“Honestly, you’re a grumpy old man.”
That was worse than useless. That was actively detrimental to his case.
“Wish you weren’t grumpy, though, but maybe old people are just like that.”
Said the kid who put way too much research into salutes. And also, he’s not old. Goodbye.
-
“The fuck are you asking me for?”
The younger the individual, the more valuable their opinion to how old he wasn’t. If he asked someone older than him, of course they wouldn’t call him old out of bias. If he asked someone of the same age, he would sacrifice what little was left of his dignity between them. It had to be one of the wee ones.
“I’m conducting a private survey.”
Wade squinted. Matt pretended not to notice.
“I’m not asking you. I’m asking Eleanor.”
“You know everyone’s old to her, right?”
What--
How did he--
Whatever, it’s not important. His opinion doesn’t matter right now, he’s not a wee one.
“Knock yourself out, dude.”
Eleanor Camacho had too much brutal honesty in her. It was borderline rude. His heart was bruised and she didn’t even give a shit. She had an elaborate, extravagant torture system thinly disguised as a training regimen for her small brigand of action figures. Little did they know, they were not saviors, but puppets meant to wreak havoc for their small, merciless god. Anything or anyone who interrupted her was the scum of the earth, and was treated as such.
Of course her opinion was skewed. She was upset. People generally don’t say the nicest of truths when they’re upset.
This wasn’t working. He needed to find someone in a good mood.
-
MILES: hey, did i say something wrong??
MILES: whatever it is i’m sorry
MILES: nevermind, foggy just told me you’re having an aging crisis
MILES: good to know you’re okay though!!
MATT: I am not having an aging crisis and Foggy is a liar. And yes I am perfectly okay thank you for noticing.
MILES: don’t worry dude, you’ll get over it!
MATT: Miles I just said I’m okay.
MILES: i freak out every birthday because growing means more responsibilities, but that’s a crisis that just runs out after i have some cake
MILES: and like, you’re done growing, so that’s it! these are all the responsibilities you have and you already know how to handle them. so i guess my advice is to get some cake
MILES: or something that is not cake, i don’t know what your tastebuds like. maybe you like to eat raw fish i don’t know
MATT: Miles, I appreciate what you are saying, but that is not the problem and you are not helping.
MILES: what’s the problem then?
MILES: is it because foggy said you’re old? because i’m sorry but he’s right
MILES: actually i’m not apologizing for telling the truth. you’re old, man
MATT: I’m going to block you.
MILES: you always say that but you never do it and honestly i don’t think you know how
MILES: you know why that is? it’s because you’re old and that means you’re technologyphobic
MILES: don’t worry, peter is old too but he’s not technologyphobic because he’s a nerd. you can ask him how to block me, i won’t mind! i just hope you can figure out how to unblock me on your own lol
MILES: i won’t judge if you have to ask peter how to unblock me too, you old people gotta stick together
MILES: no response? gone to ask peter how to use the youth gadgets your old man brain cannot comprehend i see
-
MATT: Miles is becoming too bold for his own good.
PETER: did he call you old? That’s okay he calls me old too, it’s like the opposite of making fun of how young he is.
PETER: also i heard about your aging crisis from him and honestly? Good luck dude
That was a private survey. It was supposed to be private. He remembered saying it was a private survey.
PETER: may says that you can defeat feeling old by acknowledging that time passes and figuring out why being old feels like a personal attack to your emotional security
This was the worst. This was exactly why that survey was private. He made a silent pact to himself not to ask Miles anything ever again.
MATT: I see where Miles gets his bad influence from.
PETER: don’t blame me when miles gets all his advice from may
PETER: he says mine is faulty and full of holes which i guess is fair but like ouch you know?
MATT: No, I don’t.
MATT: Also, while I have you here, what was your first impression of me?
PETER: i’m not participating in this bye feel better soon
MATT: Peter answer the question
MATT: Peter hey
MATT: PETER
-
He was mourning the ongoing death of his youth and vitality.
“Are… Are you okay?”
SAM. SAMUEL. DEAREST SAMUEL BLINDSPOT CHUNG. FINALLY, A YOUTH HE CAN TRUST.
He immediately abandoned his mourning activities.
“Sam,” he said, with much urgency, leaning his weight against his palms on the desk. Sam’s spine straightened to attention.
“Yeah?”
“What was your first impression of me?”
“Uh. I don’t know, mostly just scared shitless? But also really, really excited.” A pause. “And then mostly respect after that.”
Good, good. No mention of old age.
“And now?” he continued eagerly.
“Uhhhhhhhhhhh.” Sam creeped backwards. “Uhhhhhhh. You know what? I’m just gonna. Go. Think about my answer. And then come back later when I have it.”
NO. SAM. COME BACK. UGH.
Matt sunk in his chair again, stuffing his face into his desk to hide his misery from the world.
Foggy came in. Sam did a little dance with his head bouncing around behind Foggy’s back, trying to discreetly figure out what was going on. He was failing at both.
The root of the problem leaned on the doorframe. The man who watered that root was covering his smile with a mug, like it actually hid anything.
“You okay, buddy?”
“Fuck,” Matt bemoaned to the wood. “I’m old.”
"That's what this is about?" Sam muttered to himself in the background.
“If it makes you feel any better, so am I.”
It didn’t, but it would if Foggy knew how to block people.
-
Thanks for reading <333
Also, clarification: old age is mattphobic on account of the fact that having crunchy bones makes it hard to break other people’s not-crunchy bones. Dementia? Ain’t ever heard of her, that a new baddie or something?
Also also, I think Matty here has communication skills but like, he’s not good at using them when he’s being fueled by spite and selfish deeds or whatever lmao.
Anyways, have a good one !! (This is also on the ao3 btw, if you wanna go check that out for whatever reason)
