the OTHERWORDLY meme.

[memetical]

Otherwordly Meme

Sometimes all you need is a word to spark off an idea.

1. Post a comment with your character's name, canon, and any preferences you may have (no shipping, no smut, etc.)

2. Leave the comment blank or post a word or two in the body.

It may also help if you list scenarios you would like to play.

3. Reply to other people, either with words you picked out, or words they posted as prompts for a thread.

( A cleanup of the previous Otherwordly Meme. )

Comments

i'm opting for word 1 and word 3, that seems adequate.

[blind]

[ Hell's Kitchen was Matt's responsibility. As far as Matt's concerned, there isn't any room or any need for interlopers, whether or not they mean to be helpful. But there's this—

Matt doesn't have a word for it, for what this new player might be. Foggy hears through Brett that there are perps being turned in wrapped up in sticky white ropes, and Matt catches brief fragments of fights punctuated by wisecracks sporadically. There's no pattern to these appearances. Matt suspects that whoever the responsible party is, Hell's Kitchen isn't meant to be a spot they typically patrol. They appear often enough to ruffle some feathers, and to pique both Matt's curiosity and his irritation. Unsurprisingly, that irritation doesn't complete dissipate upon meeting the vigilante in question. Spider-Man is stubborn, utterly incorrigible, and constantly helping. It means that every so often, he crops up in the middle of a gun fight, or literally swings through a hoard of Hand acolytes.

It means that afterwards, in spite of his own exhaustion, his own injuries, he ends up on a roof performing makeshift first aid. He doesn't know very much about the person beneath the spandex, but he sounds young, and he shouldn't be doing this, and if Matt can't make him stop, he can at least try to ease this part. ]

I told you to stay out of Hell's Kitchen the last time this happened.

[ Matt's said that every time. ]

What excuse do you have this time?

[stickysituation]

[Okay, so, admittedly that hadn't been his best thought out plan. He's running on pure sugar at this point; he's been downing bottles of sodas and otherwise subsiding mostly on mars bars, which is common enough in college students, true. But on the other hand most college students don't also moonlight as vigilantes. Or whatever you call moonlighting when you don't actually get paid but totally should - he's been meaning to look that up, not that it's important, but he's been kinda curious about it.

But right now though, what's important is this stab wound, which - he hisses through his teeth as his vigilante friend presses down on it, nice guy, he'd send him a thank you card if he knew who he was - really, he should have been able to dodge. But he can only change direction so fast when he's swinging from his webs, and it seems these people have been learning his moves. They were prepared for him. And he'd rushed because they had been about to overwhelm his mysterious friend, he's sure of it. Mostly. Probably.

Next time, though, maybe he'll disarm them from a distance. Just to change things up a bit. Or maybe he'll just work on his speed, or try to get a good night's sleep.]

Yeah, you know, I was going to listen, I was. Only, I think I left my purse here last time, and I was wondering if those guys might have seen it. You haven't, have you?

[That banter is familiar, too. They go through this every single time. Peter pushes himself up a bit, which he knows he's not supposed to do, since he's bleeding pretty badly, but he wants to see just how bad it is.]

Hey. You're hurt, too. I can web mine shut, I told you last time, it'll hold until I get home. I heal fast anyway. It's gotta be my turn to help you out with this.

[blind]

[ A good night's sleep? Matt doesn't remember what that feels like. He's also much too familiar with stab wounds of all shapes and sizes, and scoffs dismissively at the proposal. Matt's hands are steady in spite of his concern, even though he knows that later the scent of blood will linger. ]

That can't be sanitary. [ Matt tells him, judgmental. ] Can you try to stay still?

[ This is a genuine struggle for Matt. He feels responsible for the injury. Spider-Man had come to help him. All the warnings Matt had issued hadn't kept him away, and his inability to handle a street fight on his own tonight had necessitated a helping hand. Administering haphazard first aide doesn't alleviate the guilt entirely, but it's a start. ]

And I'm not the one bleeding. [ Not as much, anyway. ] When I'm bleeding more than you, then it's your turn to help out.

[ Full disclosure: this is a false promise. ]

Anyway, wasn't your first aide kit in your missing purse?

[ The joke doesn't do much to lighten Matt's mood, but maybe it'll momentarily distract Peter from squirming around. There's not much more Matt can do, especially not without getting the spandex out of the way and running bare fingers over the injury, but he suspects stitches are necessary. He might have to cave and call Claire, see if the hospital can afford a smuggled-in vigilante. ]

[stickysituation]

I'll make webs coated in an antibiotic , just for you.

[No, he won't. He's not really sure how that would work, although maybe he should at least start carrying around bandages, considering how often this happens lately. If only he'd thought to make a suit that came with pockets. He doesn't think he could add them now, it would ruin the look.

He settles back down, for the moment.]

I'd bet half the money I get from this gig that that's a lie.

[He gets no money from this gig, as established. He would, however, insist on being the one providing first aid in that case, and he's very good at being difficult when he wants to be. For example he could refuse to stay still and receive help. Sort of like now; 'settling down' didn't last very long at all. ]

Man, you're right. I really do need to get that back. Might have to start coming here more often if I don't find it soon.

[Translation: He wants to make sure his vigilante friend is safe.]

[blind]

[ As useful as that sounds, it's not really enough to warm Matt to the idea of webbing. It all strikes him as showy in a way that he doesn't trust, something that belonged uptown with the Avengers, maybe. But that's an argument for another night. ]

That's a sweet offer. [ Matt relents, amusement flickering across his face, curving the corners of his mouth as he presses down hard over the wound on Peter's side. ] But if you can't hold on to your purse, I wouldn't bet half of anything.

[ There's a tense pause, and then Matt shakes his head. How many times is he going to chase this kid out of Hell's Kitchen? ]

I can't examine this here without making you take off...whatever it is you're wearing. [ It's lightweight, thin, no protection. Matt's reminded of the early incarnations of his suit. ] We don't have to do that up here. I can take you to a hospital.

[ Because that's what vigilantes love. Hospitals. ]

[stickysituation]

[Peter grins broadly in response to that amusement, and it's only a little strained from the pain. If Matt's amused, then that's a victory - it had been a tough crowd in Hell's Kitchen the first few times they'd bumped into each other, probably because of the territorial posturing they were both doing.

The grin can be easily heard in Peter's voice.]

Yeah. You're probably right. If I find it again, though, you can have half of whatever's left.

[The pressure Matt's applying to the wound is at least having the double effect of keeping him mostly still, though at the mention of a hospital he also tenses noticeably.]

Can you imagine how that would go? 'And do you have insurance, Mr Spider?' And I'd say yeah, yeah, I do, except I kinda left my ID at home, and they'd say, could you go and get that for us? And I'd have to point out that no, I kinda can't, 'cause I have this thing called a secret identity.

You know, Gordon, it's strange, but no one ever gets the concept of a secret identity.

[Which is why he reaches down to find the hem of his suit - then stops, because he can't pull it up with Matt's hands pressing down on his side. Instead he reaches for one of his hands, guides it down to show him.]

You can just pull it up above the wound.

[blind]

[ Whatever Peter does to hide his face, it muffles his voice just slightly. Just enough for Matt to be aware, and all in all, it's probably for the best. One of the few things Matt hasn't had the urge to nitpick and lecture over is Peter's diligence to keeping whoever he is during daylight hours to himself.

That being said, Matt's trying to think of a way to take him back to his apartment that doesn't end in being identified. And worse, dropped in on at all hours. Spider-Man seems the type for unannounced visits. But Matt has a first aid kit at home, with everything he'd need for stitches, with real bandages, with disinfectant. There's no ring of a lie to the claim that Peter heals quickly, but Matt's responsible. He should do more than haphazardly tending to Peter on a rooftop. ]

Gordon? [ Matt asks, as if that's what he should be objection to as he works off one glove and tucks it carefully into his belt. ] Do I sound like a Gordon?

[ There's a seam. Matt's fingers find it, briskly following it downwards towards the hip, where he can start working the fabric gently upwards. ]

I know someone at the hospital. [ He explains, tone sobering, softening as he thinks of Claire. ] She might be willing to help.

[ Assuming this is beyond Matt. Or assuming Matt doesn't decide to crazily invite Peter into his home. ]

[stickysituation]

Yeah, you're definitely kind of a Gordon. [pause.] Actually, you don't sound like a Gordon at all. You don't even look like a Gordon. I mean, from what little I can see at least. Maybe a Gregory? Stephen? No, wait, don't tell me-- Alonso.

[It could be argued that he's rambling because he's in pain, but anyone who's known him for more than five seconds will have caught on to the fact it's his default state of being. He's studying Matt a bit more carefully now, though, because he is curious, too. He won't ask who he really is, he respects his secret, but it's not like he's got anything better to do right at this moment than ponder the possibilities of his daytime identity.

He lifts his hips up, to allow Matt to slide his suit up his ribs, although his arms are shaking just from holding himself like that. He must be hurt worse than he thought.]

Man, those thugs must have been grinding hard for experience lately. [His suit is up far enough now, right? Good, he can drop back down, then.] I'm kinda embarrassed now. Are you embarrassed? It definitely won't go the same way next time, I can tell you right now I'm gonna make sure of that.

[Kind of. Laughing at himself a little awkwardly, over the pain. Until Matt mentions the hospital again.]

I told you, I'll be fine. It will heal by morning, probably. All I gotta do is swing home.

[blind]

[ The refusal isn't completely unexpected. Matt makes an irritated noise in answer, fingers fretfully mapping the blood-slick skin around the wound. Peter's chatter is distracting, but Matt can't afford to let it skew his focus. His head tips, listening hard to Peter's body, trying to sense whether or not there's internal bleeding. If there was Matt might have hypocritically deposited Peter at the hospital for appropriate medical attention, regardless of protest.

But gentle inspection leads Matt to believe it's a surface wound, if a gaping one. It needs stitches. Not webbing. Which limits Matt's options; he doubts Claire would meet them on this rooftop. ]

You're not calling me Alonso. [ He protests, absently. ] And if we don't do something about this, you won't be calling anyone anything.

[ Peter's flippancy is stressing Matt out. He's more worried about Peter bleeding out in the way home at this point. ]

I can take care of this, if you won't let me take you to a hospital.

[ Because Matt's apartment is next on the list of potential venues for makeshift surgeries. ]

[stickysituation]

I won't let you take me to a hospital.

[There's no room for argument there, no matter how much the pain now is seeping into his voice. He's been hurt worse before, he's really not worried about it. Not very worried about it, at least. Admittedly he'd be a lot more worried if he was doing this alone.

Matt is actually very reassuring in that way.]

You know how to treat this? Where did you learn that? [Wait-] You don't have to answer that. Secret identity, I know, but my current theory is that you're a chef and chefs don't treat wounds as part of their job description.

[This time he actually stops himself before he can derail himself completely. He shrugs, shoulders shifting against the rooftop beneath him.]

Yeah, I'll let you take care of it. I don't see why not. You don't need my insurance details, right?

[Although that means he has to get up again. He grits his teeth before starting to push himself up slightly, slowly, allowing Matt to control the wound while he does.]

[blind]

[ Of course he won't let Matt take him to the hospital. It would have made Matt's life easier if he could have just lent the kid a hooded sweatshirt and dropped him off at Metro General. He's uncomfortably reminded of the pain-muddled argument that's become commonplace with Foggy, refusing anything that can't be administered on Matt's couch. ]

So I'm a chef named Alonso? That's what you've come up with based off our very limited interactions?

[ Arguing over who gets to apprehend which criminal and what Peter should and shouldn't be doing in Hell's Kitchen isn't exactly a breeding ground for familiarity. Helping Peter to his feet is though; Matt keeps his hand tight against the stab wound in question, trying to ignore the fluttering of panic in his chest. Peter's confidence in his healing ability seems misplaced, but Matt will have to keep himself from worrying about it until he's in a better position to help.

Other things Matt isn't letting himself think about: how he's inviting this kid into his apartment and what that's going to open him up to in the future. One crisis at a time. ]

I'm not going to ask for your insurance card. Just for you to be quiet while we're moving.

[ He'd carry Peter if he thought he could get away with it. But Matt recognizes this particular brand of stubborn, ill-timed pride. The most he can do is let Peter stick webbing everywhere and stay well within arm's reach in case of...well, in case of more immediate emergency. The roof access door is unlocked, and he hustles Peter inside without waiting for whatever snappy commentary is most likely incoming. ]

[stickysituation]

I thought you said I couldn't call you Alonso.

[Because he can come up with something... worse, probably. Or go back to an old suggestion, because now that he's pushing himself to his feet, pain is shooting from his wound and all the way through him, and he can't think at all. He staggers and reflexively grabs onto Matt's shoulder, and still barely manages to keep from falling over.

He presses his own hands to the wound, squeezes his eyes shut while he waits out the worst of the pain. Then he webs over it before he can think about it too much. It's sticky enough to work almost like glue. It's not ideal, and getting it off won't be fun, but that's definitely a problem for later.]

See? I told you the wound wasn't that bad. So where exactly are we going?

[Yes, he's still going to walk entirely unaided. He'd still suggest swinging there if he didn't already know Matt would say no. At least he's managed to stop staggering, although it's obvious walking hurts, even if he's doing his best to hide the signs.

He's trying to listen for anyone else in the building, too. He's not used to just walking around like this in his spider-man outfit, on the ground like a normal person, and it's already making him more than a little on edge.]

Sure. I can do quiet. Quiet's not a problem.

[It's. A whisper.]