𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞.

From her original 2015-2018 handle itsdarkcorners, Karen has always been important to me. I rebooted her twice, moved her to my mm batcloak and now here.

✧ 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✧ 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 ✧ 𝐛𝐢𝐨 ✧ disco for mutuals only

I go by 𝕯 ! Karen is a multi-verse, multi-ship, private blog based on K. Page from both the netfl!x, DD/BA show and marvel com!cs. 21+ only. I do NOT acknowledge Miller’s 1986’s decision of Karen outing Matt based on her addiction. She would never – as she stated and proved multiple times – give up his identity, especially in the scenarios written.

Enough with the dodgy bullshit. 𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 what’s going on with you two. With you.

Deborah Ann Woll as Amanda Harper in Escape Room (2019)

@devilletting from here

(Continuing from asks always irritates my ADHD mind me since I can’t cut the original ask box so I always make it a new thread 😌)

He already heard the relaxing of Karen’s muscles before she agreed verbally–Matt’s already getting to his feet, brushing off his pants with light flicks of his wrist while she stretches besides him. “Yeah. You’re telling me.” He’s usually pretty good about shutting himself off–he had to be–but today the thing he calls ‘good enough to be silence’ seems to be eluding him as well. Oh well. Sometimes you just have to throw yourself into it. That’s something the Jedi didn’t…appreciate… about Matt Murdock’s approach to his training.

He takes a second to tilt his head towards the sun, eyes closing, basking in the warm flush of light that drags itself across his cheekbones and down his scalp. Underneath his eyelids and on his retinas it’s all pure crimson thanks to the light hitting him directly, red, pure red: red, his favorite color. Red, the only color. “Mm. You know, it actually wasn’t that bad. Honestly, kind of uneventful. Mostly I helped Foggy draft some statements.” He turns back to face Karen after a few moments of appreciating Coruscant’s sunset and starts making his way down the relatively empty bridge they’re standing on towards one of the more busier streets with the hope of guiding them to one of Coruscant’s artificial parks. It’ll be dark soon but the hush of the plants pumped with oxygen and nursed by grow lights will give them enough of an environment to feel, hopefully, at peace. Even without the sun’s eye beating down on them.

Trying to ignore that shadowy feeling doesn’t seem to be working. They don’t get very far in their walk when Matt suddenly steps off to the side beneath some shop’s overhang, hands tightening on his leading cane. “Something’s wrong today,” he admits suddenly, voice lowered, chin slightly ducked as if sharing a secret. It’s like the Force is beckoning to him in all its entirety, long waves of concern undulating in the air around him. He knows Karen can feel it too, they’ve talked about their sensitivities a bit. “We should stay on our guard.” He frowns; his apartment is quite a ways away and that’s even by speeder. Hopefully he’ll be able to find a sorry excuse for a mask if he needs to become Daredevil for a few hours.

They haven’t walked far before he steps off the path. Karen follows like a magnet, by now attuned to his directional shifts catalyzed by something she may not see. As long as Matt isn’t jumping off a building or moving with Jedi reflexes, she catches up. Stepping under the awning, Karen leans against the storefront with crossed arms to play off their stop as casual.

“You feel it too?” It’s rhetorical as he just confirmed fellow awareness. Her lips barely move, voice hushed like his.

“There’s clouds off west – I think they’ll drop into the underground as low-bearing fog by tonight.” Growing up on in the countryside of her planet had its weather-knowledge advantages. She learned to appreciate rain at a young age and the life it gave the crops, the trees and her. Anytime there was a complain about a downpour, someone else chided, ‘there are people dying on those desert planets who’d be happy to have this rain!’

Fog as thick as the diner’s soup becomes a playground of problems in the underground. It’s already teetering between deadly or chaotic and the simplest push can plummet it either way. Eventually peacekeepers and law enforcement alike are sent in to handle the deadlier months and wrangle the tenements back into working shape.

“The senate’s annual conference isn’t helping the feeling.” She looks in the general direction of governmental buildings. This week’s meeting of the minds differs from usual voting or representation. “There was an ambassador’s bodyguard at the counter today talking to a security head. He said ‘the figureheads are worried about an attack’.”

Karen holds her hand out flat from under the awning, but feels no rain. The clouds are still far off and the sun’s final golden rays twinkle off the tinted lens of Matt’s glasses. “But from what? It felt… like more than just arguing over treaties.”

Glori: “I’ve a little something for you… in the spirit of the season.”

Matt: “You shouldn’t have–”

Glori: “Shush. ‘Tis for your sculpture room.”

Matt: “The Kiss– by Auguste Rodin.”

Daredevil vol. 1 #206 by Denny O’Neil, David Mazzucchelli, and Christie Scheele

    In which Glori gives Matt (whom she is not yet dating) an extremely subtle Christmas present. 

“Sometimes I do stupid things that turn out OK. One year I broke-up with my boyfriend a few days before Christmas, and when that festive day came, I had nowhere to go. I was living in Chelsea in New York City, not far from Billy’s Topless, a pub known for its strippers and knife fights. On Christmas Day, I watched the world pass by my window, everyone loaded down with food and presents to bring to Christmas dinners. What an alienating feeling, to have nowhere to go! I was going to hide all day, pretend Christmas never happened that year, but there was no food in the fridge. Or rather, there was the usual dregs of what consisted of my idea of cooking in my early 20s – six packs and cold pizza. So, I took a walk. Nothing was open but Billy’s. What the hell, I thought. Why not go in? They had some pathetic tinsel hung in the window that looked downright festive, as compared to the black lump of coal in my heart that day.

“I had one of the best Christmases of my life in that pub. I met other unfortunate souls like myself that had nowhere to go on Christmas. A lovely elegant woman who kept lying to us all, claiming a limo was about to arrive with her gentleman date, like Blanche DuBois. Two brothers that fought bitterly about the implosion of their family. A few blind men from School for the Blind housing around the corner. As I drank rounds with these strangers, I thought of the comic I was currently writing, Daredevil. I was planning a story arc that was going to blow up Matt Murdock’s life. I thought, damn, he could end up here at the end of that arc.

“So, in the spirit of the camaraderie of that day, I wrote a little tale for a Daredevil story that came out a year later called, ‘A Beer with the Devil’.”

    The story behind Ann Nocenti’s iconic Daredevil vol. 1 #266 (”A Beer with the Devil”), a.k.a. The One Where Matt Makes Out With Mephisto.