#and the answer my friend is that i have worked two ten hour days within the last week and i am very tired

[astrohaterz]

i promise i still know how to draw i promise i promise i pr

[napakmahal]

I’d never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you

Pairing: Hiro Hamada/reader

Trigger warnings: heavy talks of grief and loss, depression (chat unfortunately Tadashi has died in this one)

“I don’t get why we’re driving two hours away just for therapy.” Hiro was becoming pissed off at his aunt's insistence that he go to therapy at least once a week either in person or on the phone. He liked phone therapy better, the crackling audio made it easier to hide slight twinges in his voice.

“It’s part of your plan, remember? Your doctor said that’s how we get you the best care possible and you agreed to try it, remember?” Cass pressed. Of course Hiro remembered, he remembered how bad it pissed him off. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He said he was fine, that should have been enough.

In one month Hiro had been passed around to three different therapists of different genders, nationalities, and backgrounds to try and connect with him better. None of them worked and it was becoming increasingly clearer that one-on-one therapy just wasn’t for him. He didn’t talk and when he did he lied. Plus, one-on-one with somebody twenty years older than him who’d forgotten what it was like to be fifteen or said stupid shit like “he’s in a better place now.” wasn’t super helpful.

So enter group therapy. Just a big circle of teens talking about their problems like a pubescent al-anon. Hiro may have been pissed but Cass had a right to be concerned. With him not going to school he had nothing to occupy his time. She’d wake up early to open the cafe and he’d already be up on his phone. And she knew for a fact he wasn’t getting any sleep. He’d sleep all day and eat nothing before being up all night and eating anything that was quiet enough she wouldn’t hear him.

“Just seems kinda pointless.” He sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat. “I’m fine, everyone’s just being so dramatic.”

Cass didn’t respond to that. She just leaned over and grabbed onto her nephew’s hand and kissed his palm. “Did you take your drops today?”

“Mmhm.” Hiro lied.

After the blast an EMT on sight noticed that Hiro’s right ear was bleeding from the pressure while he was taken to the hospital for possible concussion. For weeks after that all he could hear was a persistent ringing but thankfully he hadn’t lost his hearing and the fall had hurt his shoulder blades more than it’d hurt his head. After his brain scan in the hospital his doctor had told him how lucky he was. Hiro swore that if he ever got diagnosed with a stroke, he’d pray he wasn’t his doctor.

They pulled up to another branch of their hospital and parked out front and just in the truck silently.

“Can we go home now?” Hiro spoke up.

Cass let out a breathy laugh and looked over at him. “The program lasts ten weeks, if you make it to five and still want out then okay. Deal?” She held out her hand.

Hiro thought about it for a moment. Five weeks of keeping his mouth shut and letting other people talk about their problems for an hour and a half sounded like a solid enough idea. So he and his aunt shook on it.

Five weeks, just gotta make it five weeks.

They walked into the building with Cass’s arm draped over Hiro’s still healing shoulders. The second they arrived at the receptionists desk a tablet was shoved in their faces. “Sit down, fill out the online questionnaire.”

The questions were always the same:

In the past week I felt mad: sometimes, always, never, often

I worried something bad might happen: sometimes, always, never, often

I felt like I couldn’t do anything right: sometimes, always, never, often

I or people around me participated in substance abuse: I did, my friends and I did, my parents did, none of the above

Have you ever been diagnosed antidepressants: yes or no

Have you made any attempt to commit suicide or thought of commiting suicide within the past week: yes or no

It took Hiro a total of seven minutes to complete the questionnaire without putting any thought into his answers. When it was the ‘parent/guardian’ portion Cass took forever to finish.

When the questionnaire was filled out, a woman in a blue blouse and a key card walked over to them. She asked with sweetness, “Hiro?”

She introduced herself as Dr. Yang and walked Hiro and Cass all the way to her personal office. The walls were covered with older teens graduation photos, kindergarten drawings, and fidget toys on her shelves.

“I know you’re here for group, but because your previous doctors told us that you’ve never done group therapy before I just wanna give you the low down. Is that okay?” Dr. Yang looked at Hiro. He just nodded with a smile. Of course it was okay, he was here wasn’t he? She explained about how some of the kids had been doing groups with her before and how privacy in group settings worked. Hiro was all fine listening to all the foundational stuff until she started getting too personal.

Dr. Yang looked directly at him. “So, Hiro. Can we just talk a little bit about why you’re here? I was informed by one of your previous doctors that your brother just passed away recently. I’m so sorry for your loss, I’m sure it was hard.”

“It’s okay, thanks.” Hiro finally spoke up. It wasn’t okay but it made everyone less uncomfortable if he just said it was okay. “But I guess I’ve just been like- sad for a while.”

“And that’s perfectly alright.”

That was the thing that pissed Hiro off the most. How his therapists would reassure him that it was okay to be sad. No shit it was okay to be sad, somebody died! He knew that and having people say that to him made him feel like he was being treated like an idiot.

The two of them talked for a bit until Dr. Yang sent him out of the office so she could speak with Cass alone. One therapist had invited her into the room to ask her about her perspective and she ended up basically sobbing–which Hiro felt really bad about. It just went to show that she’d been spending a shit-ton of time worrying about him yet nobody was really worried about her.

Hiro walked over to the room his group would be meeting. Waiting for the pre-meeting with Dr. Yang and his aunt to be over when he saw you already sitting there. You looked up towards the door at the sound of footsteps. You two exchanged smiles but didn’t say anything to each other and Hiro took the seat two chairs away from you. It was awkward.

“Are you new?” You asked, trying to break the silence.

Hiro paused as if he was shocked you were talking to him but answered. “Yeah, this is my first group therapy session.”

“Cool, cool.” You nodded.

Awkward silence again.

This time Hiro spoke up first. “I like your shoes.”

“Oh thanks. Yours are cool too.” You pointed to his sneakers. The laces obviously didn’t come with the shoes when he bought them. He must have replaced them but they looked kinda cool. The session didn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes in that room in awkward silence sounded vile. “Do you want a lemonade pop? I know where they keep them.”

“Uhh, sure.” He agreed for the exact same reason you asked. The silence was deafening.

After you snuck your way into the first aid room and grabbed two lemonade pops from the freezer, you two sat down on the stool of one of the larger windows.

“So what are you here for?” You brought the frozen treat up to your lips.

Hiro was still trying to open his when he said, “Because I’m sad.”

“We’re all sad, you’ll fit right in.” You joked. Hiro genuinely let out a small laugh at that which felt nice. “No but pretty much everyone here is chill.”

“How many times have you done this?” He took a small scrape of the pop with his front teeth.

“This will be my second program and my last. I mostly know a lot of the other people here from school.” You shrugged. “Where do you go to school?”

He answered quickly, “I’m not in school right now.”

“Oh.”

Shit. Now you probably think he’s some kind of degenerate high school dropout.

“I just haven’t registered.” He added immediately after.

You licked the side of your pop to keep it from melting onto your clothes. “Did you move?”

“No, not exactly.” Hiro had realized he’d accidentally opened up a can of worms into his personal life for you.

Intrigued, you pressed him for more details. “What happened?”

“I got accepted somewhere, I just need to register.” Perfect, vague yet descriptive.

Damn. He must go to some kind of private school. Why else would he use the word accepted? You joked, “Damn rich people.”

Hiro nearly laughed. Rich? They were relatively low income and only saved thousands of dollars a year on car payments because he could fix their truck for free. Years ago after one of Cass’s friends paid her daughters 20,000 dollar tuition she told both Hiro and Tadashi that she would not be paying for any tuition. She’d pay for books, parking spots, and the occasional on campus meal. But never tuition. Just her luck Tadashi got his fifty-thousand dollar scholarship plus financial aid and Hiro got a full-ride. If he ever planned on using it.

“We aren’t rich, trust me.” He laughed to himself.

“Private school kids are rich to some degree.” You shrugged. Denying their richness is kind of a rich people thing to do.

His eyebrows contorted with confusion as he looked at you. “I didn’t get into a private school.”

“You said you were accepted.” Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Yeah, accepted to college.” He explained slowly.

You stared at him blankly. There was no way. “College? How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Bullshit.” You shot immediately right after. “I don’t believe you. That’s bullshit. You are bullshit.”

A smile tugged further at Hiro’s lips. “I swear I’m not lying. I got accepted to SFIT.”

“Why are you really here? Is it actually because you’re a pathological liar?” You drilled. Graduating early wasn’t super uncommon but graduating early and getting accepted to a prestigious university like SFIT was insanity. “You’re telling me you graduated at fifteen and got accepted to a top school like SFIT?”

“Well I actually graduated at thirteen.”

“You are such a liar!” You reiterated once again. If he graduated at thirteen that must have meant he was nine when he started high school. No fucking way. “Prove it to me.”

“Well my acceptance letter is at home but sure I’ll show it to you.” He finished up his lemonade pop and licked the remaining ice chunk off the stick.

You scoffed. “And give you time to print a fake one out? No, the second you get home send me a picture of it.”

Just like that you exchanged phone numbers. While typing in each other's numbers Hiro realized this was the first time he’d laughed with someone in weeks and it actually felt really nice. But it was overridden by a feeling of guilt. Why did he feel so guilty? He just laughed with someone he found funny. Why did feeling a small bit of true joy after his brother's death make him feel so obnoxious? Almost like he was rubbing it in someone's face. Or like he was doing it to purposely hurt someone.

It’s weird thinking you know loss but then life gives you the finger and proves you wrong. Hiro lost both his parents, that’s plenty of loss for anyone. But he was only three when it happened so what did he really understand about it? Hiro has always been told he’s smart and rightfully so. With an IQ of roughly 210 it’s a correct assumption to make. But if losing his brother has taught him anything, it’s that he knows nothing about shit that really matters.

Hiro really hated the waves. A brochure on grieving a doctor had given him said that the heaviness of grief episodes will wax and wane. In good there will be bad but in bad there will be good. But it will never be the same. Talking with you actually felt like something that wasn’t soul crushing numbness but a wave of guilt and overthinking immediately followed it.

Nothing would ever be the same.

While Hiro was wrestling with such a random wave of heavy feelings you looked up from typing his number into your phone. “Wait, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

He snapped out of his small daze and looked you dead in the eyes. “Hiro,” He gave you a small smile and held out his hand for you to shake. “My name’s Hiro.”

You gracefully smiled back at him and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Hiro. I’m y/n.”

[pendarling]

Approaching Exam

CW: Language, mentions of exam, studying, Math and English

I'm held hostage by the education system so here is a story revolving that.

Hero's pen clicked over and over again as the slow wind trickled in through the window.

They hated exams, and sometimes, they hated studying more than the results themselves.

Hero sat in the quiet room, a closed-off sector of the library that could be rented out for a few hours in a day, and they were lucky enough to get into one after weeks of waiting. They could see why it was so popular after all; the walls in the room allowed for complete silence, and it put Hero at ease despite the slight eerie sense of being alone. Their eyes glanced up at the sky through the window. The clouds moved so slowly, yet time seemed to go by fast. It made their stomach churn at the idea of being unable to get past the first page of the exam when it did happen, and time would slip by them before they got the chance to complete any of the answers. Their eyes flickered back down onto their page at the mathematical equations listed out in front of them.

"Fuck me." they sighed and ran their fingers through their hair. If Hero could trade their life as a student to become a full-time hero, they would, but being a hero didn't pay as well these days and eventually, as they entered adulthood further, they would need to look for a proper job.

'How annoying,' they thought.

The door knocked softly, and Hero turned in their seat as the entrance creaked slightly; their time wasn't up already, was it? They stared at the clock. About half an hour remained still, in walked what looked to be a familiar face, but Hero couldn't put where they'd seen them before. Their brows furrowed when their eyes met.

"Excuse me." The stranger spoke, "Is this room E1B?" They sheepishly laughed at the setting. "I think I'm supposed to be in here today." 

Hero pulled out their phone and checked the schedule they were emailed, "Mmm nope, it says here that this is my room."

The stranger turned their phone toward them as well, "Well, it looks like we got double-booked."

Hero leaned back on their chair, it looked like they'd be having company after all. With a small gesture of the head, Hero directed their new friend to the chair opposite the table. "Sorry." They mumbled they weren't sure why they were apologizing; it was the system's fault for scheduling two persons in the same room within the same hours.

They studied the new character as they set down their items and pulled out the chair. Hero wasn't planning on staring too much, but when someone looked this familiar to them, it was hard to look away. 

They turned their focus back onto their page, still stuck on question 6 out of 30. The practice exam had to be more challenging, and there was no way Hero would make it through tomorrow if they couldn't get this done today.

Sarah is a civil engineer working on a project to design a curved ramp for a pedestrian bridge in a city park. 

Hero ran their pencil under the words.

The ramp needs to smoothly connect two different levels of the park while adhering to safety regulations and accessibility standards. Sarah decides to use a curved shape for the ramp, represented by the function y=√x​, where y represents the height of the ramp at a given distance x along its length.

Hero sighed and ran their fingers through their hair; they were so bored. Why was Sarah even a civil engineer? With all that money to get through the education and become one, she could've instead lived comfortably and married a nice rich husband, assuming her status was at least middle class.

This scenario was so unrealistic, plus it's like ten times harder for women to get into male-dominated fields because of sexism. Hero rolled their eyes and skipped the question. They flipped their page and glanced back at the stranger now reading a book, but what caught them by surprise was their hand, idly twisting a blue highlighter they felt they recognized.

From the back of their memory, Hero recalled a similar situation. 

They sat on the floor bound by a rope. The mission of the day wasn't going as well as they had hoped, and Hero was left at the mercy of Villain while the other sat a few feet away from them on what looked to be a large desk. From their perspective, they could hardly make out what the computer screen in front of Villain was saying, but they could certainly see the way Villain effortlessly twirled the pen between each finger. They always wondered how they did that. 

As soon as their memories left them, it had become apparent. The familiar face across them was Villain.

But what could they be doing here?

There was no way Villain was seriously studying how to annotate for what looked to be an English exam. For some reason, Hero never took Villain for being a student themselves. To be fair, they sort of assumed most villains weren't necessarily part of any civilian activity, and certainly, no villain should be a student of the city they tried destroying. 

Man... if Hero could get Villain to destroy the school facility, they wouldn't be studying at all. However, seeing how diligently Villain remained focused on their work made Hero no longer interested in convincing them.

'Oh God,' Hero turned their face away from their direction, 'What if Villain recognized me and didn't say anything?!' In their bag, Hero knew they kept their dagger just in case they should ever be kidnapped by any particularly vengeful villain; they just didn't think it would be this person of all; they never seemed too fond of doing more than their work let them. Hero swallowed; in that case, they should prepare for a sudden attack if it did occur; there was just no way this was all a coincidence.

Booking two students into the same room? Are you kidding me? The system never messes up. This was clearly a ploy set up to kill Hero.

Their nervousness was felt as soon as their leg began to jump noticeably, shaking the table, much to Villain's delight.

"Excuse me," They set their eyes on them. Hero froze, "Please don't shake the table. I can't write."

"Uh-- sorry."

Hero reached down and unzipped their bag, slowly creeping the knife to their side; they would attack first; Villain wouldn't even see it coming. After unsheathing the blade from its case, Hero measured the distance between the two of them. The table really wasn't that large enough to stop Hero from jumping over it; maybe if they grabbed their arm or the collar of their shirt before throwing Villain down, they would have the upper hand. If that didn't work, maybe a kick or knocking a few items from the table for a distraction. 

Hero remained focused on Villain as their enemy remained unaware. Maybe they were aware and had already thought of all the different counterattacks they could use against them. In that case-- the element of surprise was most valuable.

"What?" Villain frowned at them. Hero shook themselves out of their head; they must've been unknowingly staring for too long. Well, no point in getting embarrassed over it now.

Hero's grip tightened on the handle of the dagger as they chuckled nervously, "Oh, I was just wondering--" They jumped from the table and shoved the blade in Villain's direction. With a calculated move, Villain swiftly moved their head, catching their wrist with their other hand but knocking themselves out of the chair. 

Hero jumped away from them, their ankle stung from accidentally hitting themselves on the edge of the table just as they moved. Villain didn't waste any time and lunged at them, quickly covering the space between them.

A solid blow to their stomach sent Hero stumbling back, and the dagger fell from them with a soft clank; they sunk to their knees, holding themselves from instinctively vomiting.

Villain grabbed the weapon and rushed to the open window, quickly locking it in place and closing its blinds. The room was a lot darker than Hero expected. Had that window always had shutters?

Hero hesitantly stood back up. The sharp metallic edge was pointed in their direction. "Don't even think about trying that again."

Their shoulder tensed at the thought of their next plan; they could run out that door, but what were the odds that Villain had already sent back up to encircle the place, and how would they keep civilians from getting hurt?

Villain licked their lips and inched closer, "Who sent you?" they demanded. 

"Huh?" Was Villain genuinely asking them that? Wait-- did Villain not recognize them?

They laughed softly at the idea of having figured out their enemy's identity before them. 

Hero, the idiot who couldn't get past question 6 on the practice math exam, could easily identify Villain. All this time, they had been under the impression that Villain was intellectually superior to them in every way, and although that may be the case, they were not one for remembering faces. It made part of Hero feel tremendous.

"No one." 

Their bag still contained a few other items of use, such as a small smoke grenade that would definitely come in handy. Hero would have to go online and do the practice exam from their computer; there was no way in hell they'd be able to collect all their things and run. 

Villain wasn't feeling very entertained with the prospect of having to forcibly recall to the best of their ability what they'd done to be assassinated during their downtime. Without letting their eyes leave the other student, they walked toward Hero's bag and reached down; Hero felt a sweat come on; did they know they were hiding more tools in there?

"Hey, don't go and steal my lunch money, alright?"

"Shut up." They pulled the tag attached to the bag and examined the student ID card intently; it looked like an actual student identification card, though the name didn't ring a bell at all. 

"Villain, I'm actually offended that you don't know who I am."

"My bad, I wasn't aware there was an exam for memorizing faces as well." They tilted their neck from side to side, examining Hero's unmoving position. 

Nothing about them stood out, but this person knew their name and must be a hero, at the least, seeing how their only sense of heroism was throwing themselves in danger-- a common feature among most heroes, but that didn't narrow down which hero, in particular, they were looking at.

"Not even my voice?" Hero glanced at them with a slight pout.

Their enemy racked their brain, still clueless about their identity, and their hands roamed around the pieces of paper Hero was working on. "Whatever, are you even a real student or did you just come here to distract me?" 

Hero didn't reply with anything other than a shrug. They didn't initially come to attack Villain, but they also couldn't let Villain live freely within their presence. 

Villain raised the practice exam questions to their face, reading the sheet as if searching for answers to help them understand who they were up against. "You didn't even do most of these right. How did you get 1.6667? It's not even listed in the multiple choice."

They threw down the booklet onto the table; Hero blushed, "I'm not good at that stuff. But don't change the topic, alright? I could've killed you if I wanted to."

"But you didn't." They smirked.

The door pushed open again, and Villain hurriedly tucked the dagger away.

"Excuse me~" A young woman and a few of her other friends stood outside, "We reserved this room for 6 pm...?"

Villain looked at the clock and then back at the group. "We'll be leaving now. Sorry about that." They looked at Hero and egged them to get to cleaning their mess. Their feet moved, albeit nearly struggling to keep themselves upright from the pain of their ankle. They should've been a lot more careful when it came to spatial awareness. Now wasn't the time to mull on that, though. 

Once they had left the library, Villain headed in the direction of their exit. "You still following me?" They spoke, almost irritated.

"You have my dagger, and I would like it back. Please." With a short flick of the wrist, Villain dismissed their request and continued on their way down the flight of stairs. Hero had momentarily wondered what would happen if they had just gotten on with it already, pushed Villain down the stairs and took back their knife. It wasn't like anyone saw it happen anyway; no one stuck around this long after hours, not even the faculty. 

Villain abruptly stopped in their tracks, still a little ahead of them. "Hero?"

"Yes?"

With a slight smile tracing their face, Villain spun their head around to look up at them. For a second, Hero was lost at what they were so happy about until it hit them, and they responded to their name at Villain's call. 

"Fuck you."

Villain simply hummed, satisfied, and moved on.

~~~ MASTERLIST

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[abirddogmoment]

A lot about Mav's decline and a little about how it makes me look at Rory.

I didn't talk about it very much here, but Mav was really subtle in his signs of pain when he was declining from his spine injury. Some of the things that tipped me off were changes to his gait, lower tailset, slower movement, reluctance/slowness getting on or off furniture, and needing extra cuddling. These things could easily be brushed off as him being tired or him being disinterested, and it really made me doubt what I was seeing.

I was sure Mav had something really wrong with him, but it was so hard to convince the vet of that. She said things like "are you sure you didn't just train him not to jump on the furniture?" and "sometimes dogs slow down as they age", meaning well but ultimately making things a lot harder for me. This, coupled with Mav's happiness at the vet and overall stoic personality, gaslit me into thinking I was imagining things. I googled things like "munchausen by proxy symptoms" because I needed to know if I was the real problem.

When Mav went for his OFA hips and elbow rads, I had them take spine rads as well, hoping it would answer my question and help find out what was wrong with him. When his rads came back normal, I cried. It was partly in relief that it wasn't something structural, but also partly desperation that I couldn't prove something was wrong.

I pushed my vet to refer Mav for a neuro consult. It took four months to get her to agree and then for the neuro clinic to schedule Mav in. In that time, I started tracking his decline with a special quality of life chart I made specifically for him. It showed a degeneration of his QOL, but I still thought maybe I was dramatizing things and imagining it.

When Mav went for his neuro consult, they took him back for tests for ten minutes, then came back and solemnly told me they were certain his problem was neurological. They then asked me if they could take him back and let their vet students do the (non-invasive) tests on him for practice because he was such a happy dog. Of course I said yes.

They told me he wasn't a good candidate for surgery. I could do an MRI, but it would be expensive and wouldn't add much besides a formal diagnosis. They recommended palliative care.

I sobbed while driving home. Part of it was relief that I finally knew I wasn't imagining things. Most of it was heartbreak.

I scrutinized Mav's final decline because I couldn't let him suffer. I had hard lines ("when he can't run" and "when the painkillers stop working") and he reached those, but he was still so happy. He still had so much joy in his life. I made the call anyway.

The day came. He trotted into the vet's office like he was meeting his best friend at a restaurant. The vet carried him back to get a port and he wagged his tail the whole time. He scarfed down an entire fistful of cookies.

It was still, without a single doubt, the right choice for Maverick. I have thought about it from every angle, torn apart every single decision, and there's nothing I would do differently if I could go back and do it all again.

Now Rory came to me with a weird gait. She came to me with occasional dorsal shivers (the skin thing horses do) and extremely occasionally bunny hops while running. Not enough for me to think there's something seriously wrong with her, but enough for me to send videos to her breeder. I tried to believe it was just a symptom of puppy uglies or that she just needed more time to grow gracefully.

I debated it for two months, but I finally took Rory for an assessment at a sports physio vet here in town. When I filled out the intake form, I made it clear that I could be concerned over nothing, that this could be a waste of $85 and an hour of our time.

She scheduled us in, did her hands on assessment, and found a knot in Rory's thigh. She gave us some stretches and we have a few more rechecks, but Rory should be totally fine and her gait should improved within the week. All the symptoms point towards a longterm overcompensation to reduce weight on her one leg.

I felt so stupid going into the sports vet today. I almost cancelled my appointment twice because I was sure I was imagining things. Even when she was examining Rory, I was preparing my apology for wasting her time.

Rory is going to feel better. She's going to get to grow up without the effects caused from an overcompensation from shifting her weight in a weird way. She probably would've been fine even without the appointment, but she's going to be even better now.

It's a whole lot of text to say something cliché like trust your instincts or don't overthink it, but it is what it is.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 protector: chapter sixteen

synopsis: " you were supposed to stay a crewate, just another back to watch, " he tightened his hold, " i didn't even notice the change until i woke up one day and realized i'd take a bullet for you "

cw: violence, gore, fighting, mature themes, profanity, MAJOR/MINOR ANIME SPOILERS, follows the plot of the anime, slowww burn.

a/n: reposting from another account

After talking to the princess and finding out why she went undercover within Baroque Works, she accidentally spilled the beans about the secret identity of the company's boss.

Which put you, Luffy, and Zoro at the top of Baroque Works hit list.

Igara-guy tried to buy you all some time to escape by posing as Vivi and boarding a ship on a course straight to Alabasta, but it was blown up the second it left the dock.

You, Luffy, Zoro, and Nami managed to grab everyone, including the princess and her duck, and escape from the island.

Though once you got a good ways away, a woman, who Vivi identified as Ms. All-Sunday, somehow snuck onto the Merry and tried to make a deal with an eternal pose that led to an island not too far from Alabasta.

Vivi was about to accept but Luffy didn't like how she blew up Igara-guy and crushed it, kicking her off the ship.

So now here you were, docked on an island called Little Garden.

An island that Ms. All-Sunday predicted would be the death of all of you.

"Damn! Can't get a lick of sleep around here!" you exclaimed, jolting up from your spot in the crow's nest at the 50th earthquake of the hour. 

Everyone else decided to explore Little Garden, and you just wanted to catch up on the sleep you lost from Whiskey Peak. 

But for the past two hours there was nothing but earthquakes on the stupid island.

"Whatever. Might as well do a quick fly over," you groaned, standing up and stretching your arms, unfurling your wings.

"I wonder what everyone else has been up to."

You took off flying, soaring just a little bit above the treeline.

'The air here seems so fresh.'

You smiled as you held out your arms, barrel rolling in mid-air.

Looking down, you saw that you had made it past the forest area, and where now flying over a clearing.

Which, surprisingly, had two unconscious giants laying in it, four Baroque works agents, and three of your friends trapped on this spinning wax candle-cake contraption.

'Never a dull moment.'

You noticed that the Booger Guy from Whiskey Peak was aiming on of his bombs at the giant, and quickly took action.

You dived-bombed for the man, roughly landing on his back and using your foot to pin his head to the ground.

"I try to take a nap and everything goes to hell," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"(Y/N)! We're saved!" Nami cried, relieved.

"Can someone give me a quick catch up? What's with the giants?" tou asked.

"Dorry and Broggy are warriors from an island called Elbalf and have been dueling here for over a hundred years! But Mr. 3 interfered with their duel and Broggy killed Dorry unknowingly," Vivi quickly explained.

'Wait... Elbaf?'

"We got captured and are now slowly turning into wax statues 'cause of this flaky stuff falling from the spinning thing," Zoro added, pointing up to the spinning head of the wax cake. 

"Can't you cut yourself out?" you asked, cocking a brow.

"This stuff is as hard as steel. And I can't put much power behind my swing in this stance," he answered.

"Well then—" "You think I'm just gonna let you plan your escape right in front of me?! Think again! Ten thousand kilogram press!" the Blonde woman interrupted, suddenly falling from the sky like a boulder.

You quickly rolled off the Booger man and dove out the way, allowing her to crush him instead.

"Wax Wax Lock!" a man, who you assumed to be Mr. 3, shouted, shooting wax at you from this hands.

You quickly shot into the sky, dodging the attack and turning around.

"Heavenward Stomp!" you exclaimed, dive-bombing for the creepy man.

You wound up your mace and were about to bring it down on his head when he suddenly turned into a puddle of wax, making you slam your weapon into the puddle and get it stuck.

"The hell?!" you exclaimed, yanking at the handle with all your strength.

But it wouldn't budge.

"(Y/N), LOOK OUT!" Zoro, Nami, and Vivi shouted in unison, you quickly whipping around to see the trouble.

"Wax Wax Lock!" Mr. 3 shouted, binding your wings together so you couldn't fly.

'Crap!'

You did a front handspring, using the time your feet were in the air to kick the man in the face, sending him flying back.

But not before he shot some more wax at you and bound your feet, trapping them to the ground once you landed.

'Double crap!'

"Dammit! I can't move," you hissed, trying to wriggle free.

"That is the power of the Wax Wax fruit, you impudent girl," Mr. 3 smirked, getting up from his spot laid out on the floor.

"Now you get to watch as your friends turn into wax statues right before your eyes!"

You turned to the three stuck on the wax cake, Nami and Vivi's breathing labored as they coughed through the thick cloud of wax particles that had settled around them. 

'I gotta find a way to get myself outta here!'

"Giant, you can still move, right?" Zoro called, turning to Broggy, who was all tears as he mourned the death of his friend.

The giant was surprised, and the sound of his sobs ceased.

"Good. I can, too. And I don't know about you, but I wanna bust outta here," he smirked, drawing two of his swords from their sheaths, his usual determined look in his eye.

"Zoro..." you stated, almost like warning as he held them in a swinging position.

"What the—?! What the hell are you doing?!" Nami exclaimed, eyes wide.

"He's insane," Vivi mumbled to herself, looking down.

"Quit messing around! I know you're not thinking about cutting your own legs off!" Nami shouted once more.

"I'm not messing around at all. It's the only way to get us out of this situation," he stated plainly.

"You in or out?"

"Hold it, Zoro! I can almost reach my mace! Just wait—!" you strained, trying your hardest to reach the handle of your weapon, your stretching against the wax no doubt tearing a bit of the skin on your ankles.

But you didn't care. 

Hell, you didn't even feel it.

There was no way you were gonna let that man cut off his feet.

But sadly, you still couldn't reach it. 

You were only a hair's distance away, but still not nearly close enough.

"We're running out of time," Zoro stated, winding up his swords. 

"Get ready, giant."

"Dammit!" you scolded yourself, still straining to reach.

"Zoro, no!" Nami shouted, the sound of skin slicing echoing throughout the clearing.

But it was cut off halfway by the shouts of Karoo, Luffy, and Usopp, who burst out from the jungle and crashed into a bunch of trees.

"WHEN I GET BACK I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS!" Luffy shouted as he flew, splintering the poor tree he landed on into a million pieces.

"LUFFY!" Vivi and Nami happily shouted.

"ZORO! Your feet!" you exclaimed, quickly turning to the swordsman.

"Yeah, I'd say I got about halfway through," he smiled, looking down as his blood trickled over the wax.

"THAT'S NOT SOMETHING TO SMILE ABOUT!"

Just then, Luffy ran over and got his ankles locked by the Wax guy.

He grabbed onto a horn on Broggy's helmet and swirled around so much he knocked into the wax cake, knocking off the headpiece.

Only now it landed even closer to the three.

"THAT DIDN'T HELP!" Nami and Vivi shouted.

'DAMMIT I GOTTA GET FREE!'

"One more stretch, (y/n)! C'mon!" you scolded yourself, giving one more big push. 

You made it. 

You managed to grab onto the handle of your mace.

"Yes! Now... Strength of the Gods!"

Suddenly, your strength increased tenfold and you were able to break your mace out of the wax, using your feet to break out of your own wax lock to the ground.

"Alright!" you cheered, happily.

"(Y/N)! WATCH BEHIND YOU!" Zoro warned, you responding by forward flipping without even knowing the danger.

You trusted him.

Turning around, you saw that it was some girl with a paintbrush.

"She messed with Luffy and now he won't save us!" Vivi shouted.

You took a quick glance to see that he was sitting on a picnic blanket, drinking tea and eating rice crackers.

"It's always something," you grumbled, dodging another one of her paint splatters.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Usopp exclaimed, running back into the clearing on Karoo's back.

"USOPP! I need you to help Luffy! I'll take care of the kid!" you exclaimed.

"On it!" he nodded, changing direction.

Quickly, you tossed your mace at the kid at full-speed, knocking the paint palette out of her hands.

"Huh?!" she exclaimed, wide eyed.

"Go to sleep now, kid. You've caused enough trouble," you spat, flying over and smacking her upside the head, knocking her out.

Turning around, you noticed that Usopp managed to wake up Luffy, and the both of them set the Wax Cake on fire, freeing Zoro and the girls enough so they could save Usopp from getting his head chopped off.

"That was hot! You couldn't have come up with something else!" Nami scolded.

"Can't you be at least a little bit grateful! That was hard!" Usopp fired back.

"I can't believe it. We're alive," Vivi stated, looking down at her wax-free hand.

Suddenly, the Booger guy grabbed Usopp holding him in a headlock.

"Now it's time for a full body explosion!" he shouted.

"Crap! USOPP!" you exclaimed, zipping off to try and reach him in time.

"NO! PLEASE! I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!" Usopp cried.

"FLAMING ONIGIRI!" a familiar voice shouted, bursting from the flames and cutting up the Booger guy.

And setting him on fire.

"Zoro," you smiled, the pit in your stomach finally lifting.

You were really worried for him. 

Broggy slammed his hand down on the ground, standing up with a smile.

"Hey, giant. Glad to see you're alive."

That's when you remembered.

"Zoro, your legs," you reminded, holding Zoro's shoulders still to get a good look.

"Stop worryin' about me. You messed up your feet pretty bad, too," he noticed.

You looked down to see that you tore off huge hunks of skin on your ankles and feet from your straining.

"Damn. I didn't even no—" Suddenly, your legs gave out, but the swordsman caught you easily.

"Huh. What happened?" He asked, his concern showing clearly in his tone.

"It's... Strength of the Gods. It gives me ten times my strength... for ten minutes. But when that's up... my strength in shot," you groaned.

He sighed, "Just rest for now. You've done more than enough."

"No I haven't," you quickly snapped, sniffling.

Zoro cocked a brow.

"If I had just been stronger, if I hadn't taken so long to reach my mace, you wouldn't have had to cut yourself. I was too weak when it really counted. How am I supposed to kill—" You paused, trying to wipe to glossiness from your eyes.

"How am I supposed to find Doflamingo if I'm not strong enough?"

The man paused, allowing your words to sink in before he spoke up again.

"That depends... What are you gonna do about it?" he asked.

You were surprised.

'What am I gonna do about it?'

Your face turned serious.

"I'm gonna train harder," you answered, looking up at him determinedly.

He smirked.

"Alright then. We start tomorrow," he smiled.

A strong blush managed to grow on your cheeks, spreading up to the tips of your ears.

"Yeah... tomorrow," you smiled back, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

[woniechronicles]

mystery boy

context: the same man always shows up at your job during the week. comes at the same time, leaves right before closing. he doesn’t speak much, not until your one closing shift, that is.

pairings: shy student, figure skater! sunghoon x g.n. reader

word count: 3.3k

a/n: not proofread

every thursday to sunday night was the same: doing school work behind the counter of your minimum wage job at your local ice skating rink. people came and went, some regulars, some school field trips, some who come in every now and then to hang out with their friends. but there was one man who came in, supposedly, everyday to practice his skills. on your shifts, he would come in every day at the same time: 5PM. then he would leave at closing time and come back the very next day at the same time and do it all over again. every so often he would bring a friend or two but very rarely would he do so- maybe once or twice a month at most.

every so often you would peek through the glass and scan the ice rink. he always stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the families and younger crowd, even those who you assumed were his age. the way he moved so elegantly across the ice looked effortless to him, but when you imagined yourself even attempting to pull off a move such as one of his you knew you would fall flat on your ass within a matter of seconds. but you never lingered for long, your attention moving back to your school work or one of the other customers.

according to your coworkers, he doesn’t say much. everyone’s curiosity is strong with him in particular, especially the younger women who attempt to send him flirty eyes his way but are met with blank stares. even your manager elli, who co-owns the rink with her husband, has tried sparking up conversations with him before. but from what you’ve been told, he just answers in one word or short sentences with dead ends. half of the staff think of him as an asshole while some think of him as just shy or mysterious. you, on the other hand, didn’t care much to ponder about him.

during the last hour of work, elli comes in from the manager's office in a hurry with her purse and a worried look on her face that starts to match yours. “my granddaughter is in the hospital, i have to leave for the night.” she says in a rush, quickly looking around to make sure shes gathered all her items.

“will she be okay?” you ask, eyes widened with concern.

she nods, getting out from behind the counter and standing in front of you as she rummages through her purse for her car keys. “she’s fine, just a broken arm. but i’m still worried.” finally finding her keys, she turns to look at you. “would you mind closing up for the night?”

you shake your head, motioning for her to leave. “not at all, i got it covered. now go, i got everything covered, don't worry.” you smile at her reassuringly as she mouths a ‘thank you’, rushing out the door and leaving to her duties as a grandmother.

the next hour was slow, people were leaving and no new customers came within the last hour. every so often people would come to the counter next to for free hot chocolate as they left and said goodnight, but that was about it. five minutes before closing, you noticed the mystery skater still trying to nail a spin he’s been attempting for the past thirty minutes. normally he would be getting ready to leave by now, but he was still stuck on the move. being the only two in the rink, you decide to start locking the doors of the lobby and putting away any skates laying around as you allow him the extra time. by the time you finish cleaning up the lobby, it’s ten minutes after closing and he’s still going at it.

you quickly move into the manager's office and turn off the music to signal him it’s time to wrap up. once the music stops, he snaps back into reality and realizes that it’s probably closing time. walking off the rink, he moves towards the lobby and his eyes catch the time. he looks over at you with an apologetic look, rushing to take everything off so as to not inconvenience you.

chuckling, you start to pack your items up as you speak to him. “it’s okay, you don’t have to hurry.” you glance up at him, realizing he was already putting his sneakers on. “i gave you extra time since you looked like you needed some. it’s okay.”

you hear him mumble a quick ‘thank you’ before grabbing his bag and walking towards the door. before you could warn him that the doors were locked, you see him walk straight into the door as they don’t open for him. quickly covering your hand with your mouth with a gasp, you begin to walk towards him.

“are you okay?” you ask concerned, his head tilted downwards in embarrassment. “i was going to warn you but you walk really fast.”

he nods as he rubs his forehead. “i’m okay, sorry about that.”

shaking your head, you rush to grab your bag from the counter and the keys to lock up. “it’s fine, don’t apologize. as long as you’re okay that’s what matters.” you unlock the door and motion for him to walk out, following behind him as he does so.

as you lock up the doors you expect to hear him walk away, but in the corner of your eye you can see him standing still. as you finish locking every door, you turn around and see him looking at you blankly.

quickly realizing how creepy he was seeming, he speaks up for him. “sorry, i just realized it’s dark out and since it seems to be only you i didn’t want you to walk through the parking lot by yourself.”

you nod, smiling politely at him as you make your way towards your car. sure this man seemed harmless, just an awkward person, but you also were cautious. looking around the lot, you notice only one car in the lot. “where’s your car?”

he points at the bus stop across the lot, then realized you probably couldn’t see him motion towards it and mentally slapped himself. “i take the bus. my car is in the shop right now.” noticing his bus in the distance, he starts jogging to catch it but not before yelling to get some safe.

you watch as he gets on the bus, taking a seat in the back near the window. he takes his headphones out of his bag and slips them on, turning to his phone as the bus pulls off. from inside your car, you start to wonder about the awkward guy more.

xxxx

the next day is the same. you arrive at three, clock in, and begin doing your everyday tasks before sitting behind the counter and checking people in in between your class work. at five is when a taller figure approaches the counter, the voice deep and familiar.

“sorry again about yesterday.” he says, his deep voice causing your head to shoot up.

it’s him again, like clockwork. you shake your head in disagreement, taking the money that he slid on the counter and getting ready to give him his change back. “don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.” taking the change from the drawer, you start to count it over to make sure it’s the right amount. “i’m just glad you’re okay. and thank you for walking me to my car, i appreciate it.”

he holds out his hand for the change, taking it as you place the quarters and dimes in his rather large hands. you notice a shy smile on his face as he says ‘anytime’, a dimple popping out as he makes his way towards his signature locker and slips on his skates. you didn’t notice, but as you continued on with your work he kept glancing at you. he was curious about you, more than you were curious about him.

throughout the night, you would glance the mystery man’s way at times to see him practicing the same move as last night. occasionally he would move onto a different one, but not spending more than a couple of minutes on it and then going back to the previous one. as the last hour closed in, almost everyone seemed to leave except for him. just like the previous night, you allowed him to stay past time. you allowed him to finish up his move until you cleaned everything up, then turning off the music at fifteen minutes past closing to signal him it’s time to leave.

you see him let out a sigh, walking off of the ice and to the lobby to change back into his sneakers. as you shove your books into your bag, he goes to grab the lobby door until he realizes it’s locked again. looking up at the clock, he realizes the time and looks at you as you close everything up.

“you didn’t have to do that again, i-“

“feel bad?” you interrupt, turning around from locking up the skates to unlock the lobby door and let him through. “it’s fine, really. you get extra time to practice and i’m able to clean up everything. it’s a win-win situation.”

as he steps out, he sees his bus pull away and lets out a sigh. looking in his direction, you see a bus pull away and look at him. “was that your bus?” you question. when he nods, you automatically feel terrible. “i’m so sorry, i can give you a ride home? if you’d like? or does that make you uncomfortable? i’m so sorry that wasn’t my intention-“

he lets out laughter as he runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “it’s okay, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. i can just call an uber or something-“

“no no! let me drive you, it’s okay. just don’t kill me or anything and there won’t be an issue.” locking up the doors, you make sure it’s all secure and grab your car keys. as you look up at him apologetically, you start to plead more. “i’m so sorry i swear i was just trying-“

“it’s okay, it’s okay. if i accept your ride offer will you feel better?” seeing you nod, he smiles and agrees to the ride. the smile on your face makes his heart flutter, following beside you to your car.

the walk to the car is quiet as you rush to open the doors. you don’t know if he has a curfew or if his parents are expecting him so you don’t want to be the reason he gets in trouble. or if he even had plans and he could be missing or be late to them- that was your main worry. he notices you became quiet but says nothing, just slips into the passenger side and puts on the seatbelt as you begin to pull away.

as you wait for your turn onto the street, you ask him where he lives. “i’ll guide you.” is all he says as he tells you where and when to turn. the entire time you’re praying he doesn't take you to some creepy road with a malicious plan but as you turn down a road with large houses accompanied by even bigger pools with waterfalls, that negative cloud dissipates. when he says “here”, you pull into an empty driveway of a large home. it wasn’t a mansion, but it was definitely bigger than the studio apartment you were renting and even bigger than your childhood home. through the metal fence you can see a pool and a hot tub, both empty but very obvious.

noticing your awe expression, he chuckles and unbuckles his seatbelt. “thanks for the ride- i’m sorry i don’t know your name, i feel like i should.”

breaking out of your curiosity daze, you turn to him. “y/n. what’s yours, rich boy?” you tease, the smile on your lips playful.

his nose scrunches as he smiles, opening the door as he throws his legs over the door frame. “sunghoon. it’s nice to officially meet.”

xxxx

for the next week, a routine builds up between you two. he comes in at five, stays till after closing, and you drive him home. gradually you begin to learn more of each other. you learn how he’s practicing to become a professional figure skater while also taking a few college courses at the university across town to earn a degree in radiology. although still soft spoken, you can tell he’s opened his shell to you a bit.

during the week you can’t help but wonder how he is. while in classes, your mind wanders on how his classes are and if he’s learned this new spin he recently told you he wanted to learn. once thursday finally arrives again, you happily wait around for 5PM and smile up at sunghoon as he enters with his one friend you see every so often.

“long time, no see.” he speaks first, smiling at you as his friend just watches the interaction.

you greet his friend as well with a smile, taking his payment and giving him the remainder of the change. “you don’t need a ride tonight?”

he shakes his head as he puts the change in his wallet, telling his friend to start getting ready with his skates. “not tonight. but hey,” he looks around as he builds up courage for his next sentence. “i got my car back from the shop the other day and wanted to offer you a ride home tomorrow, if you’re okay with that. just, as a thank you for the past week.”

you nod, your smile widening. “sure, i don’t mind. thanks, sunghoon.”

throughout the night, whenever you looked over at sunghoon he was already looking over at you. when your eyes locked, he’d look away with a shy smile before following his friend around the rink. at the end of the night, sunghoon and his friend left right as elli was closing for the night and he waved goodbye to you.

when elli locked the doors, she turned to you with a curious grin. “what?” you said, holding back a smile from her. you knew where she was headed, but you didn’t want to give her the details just yet.

“are you seeing the mystery boy?” she asks in a teasing tone as she cleans up the empty cups and sprawled about napkins off the floor.

you shake your head, stuffing your items in your bag quickly before doing your closing routine. “not really. i’ve just been giving him rides and we’ve been bonding, i guess. just friendly stuff.”

she scoffs, making you turn your head to her direction. “not with the way he looks at you.” you raise a brow at her, motioning for her to continue her sentence. “the way he smiles at you from across the rink is telling enough. take it from me, i would know.”

you take her word for it but don’t ponder on it until your drive home. does he really look at you a certain way? does he really smile a lot around you? regardless, you try to not think too much about it but can’t help but imagine his face when you close your eyes. as you’re drifting to sleep, you can’t help but look forward to tomorrow.

xxxx

today you even finished your coursework early, meaning all you did was study and occasionally procrastinate. when five o’clock rolled around, in strolled sunghoon with his skates by himself this time. his face lit up upon seeing you, his nose scrunching up in this adorable way that causes his dimples to pop out at you. you would be lying if you said it didn’t cause a butterfly to flutter around in your stomach, especially after your conversation with elli last night.

“hey stranger.” you say, returning his smile. “fancy meeting you here.”

he hands you his money, chuckling at your greeting. “yeah the outside caught my attention so figured why not.” as you hand him his change, you lock eyes for a few moments before he continues. “the cutie behind the counter drew me in a bit, too.”

the blush spreading across your cheeks catch his attention, mentally making a note to flirt with you more. “just a bit?” you retort, catching him off guard.

“more than a bit, actually.” is the last thing he says before walking over to his locker and getting ready for the evening.

as the night comes to a close, elli leaves early again to attend to her granddaughter again since she is still healing from her injury. five minutes before closing and everyone is gone except you two, so you close up the lobby again and begin cleaning. but before you can turn off the music, sunghoon walks in and begins helping you clean up the empty cups and trash around the waste bin. when you notice this, you begin to protest but he shoo’s you away, insisting he helps you since you help him. you let him continue because at the end of the day, who are you to object to extra help? you both take your time cleaning, just talking with one another.

“how’s your routine coming along?” you ask as you clean up the last of the lobby, putting away the skates as sunghoon finally changes out of his own. “from what i saw it looks like it’s coming along great.”

“you’re watching me skate while at work?” he asks, making you glance at him with a grin. “how creepy.”

you laugh, throwing an empty paper cup at him as you come out from behind the counter with your bag on your shoulder. “and you stare too much.”

leaning against the counter, you watch as he grabs his bag and starts walking towards you. “it’s not my fault you’re so pretty.” he comments, making you roll your eyes with a tint of blush appearing on your cheeks.

you both are just mere inches apart, eyes staring into one another’s as the silence drowns out the world around you. his hand brushes against yours for a moment, sending a shiver up your spine as his eyes gaze from your eyes to your lips then back to eyes once more. taking this into notice, you do the same as to reciprocate his feelings. and luckily enough, he understands. bringing his hand up to your cheek, he cups it with a shy grin and leans his forehead against yours. bodies pressed together, he snakes his arm around your waist to pull you closer. for a few seconds you stay like this, waiting for someone to make the first move as your arm rests on his bicep and the other on his neck.

“so can you kiss me already?” you break the silence, laughter filling the room before his lips meets yours.

and once they do, you can feel those previous butterflies erupt into a zoo. it’s not long before you both are smiling into the kiss, lips molding perfectly together as they move in unison. as the kids deepens, you glide your tongue across his bottom lip for access and he happily allows you in. sunghoon tastes just like vanilla, making you want more of him. it isn’t until you momentarily snap back into reality when you realize where you are: at your job.

you pull away from sunghoon’s lips, both of you attempting to catch your breath as his thumb grazes the apples of your cheek. once you pull away from his forehead to take a look at him, you smile at the sight. his lips are plump, saliva at the corners of his mouth. you swipe away at them, cleaning it up with your thumb with a genuine smile. he watches you intently, catching you off guard by pecking your lips before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the exit.

you stop him in his tracks, making him turn around to face you. “so are we dating now?” you ask, taking a step forward.

he chuckles, pulling you towards him to press a small kiss to your forehead. “let me treat you to dinner first and then we can make it official.”

[stonerskinny]

story time! beware the tale of The Great OD of 2024

on the evening of march 26, 2024, i attempted to take my own life. that day, i had attended PHP as normal, as i had just been discharged from residential 10 days earlier. when i arrived home in the afternoon, i found an email from my dad questioning me about my finances. this was a huge point of stress in my life at that point in particular because my first month in residential was as a self-pay patient. aka i had to come up with roughly $25k that i did not have to pay back this treatment center. this email from him was the cherry on top of an already shit situation: i didn’t like my new therapist at PHP, i was having a terrible fucking time readjusting to life outside of res, i’d already relapsed in my ed and my roommate/best friend (now ex) was basically not speaking to me. i was a ticking time bomb. so when i saw this email, my mind was immediately made up. i had been thinking about doing it ever since my aborted attempt in december. it was my perfect chance.

i got to work writing my note right away. it was an email, going to be sent to a specific selection of people who i felt most indebted to. mostly people from treatment, or my therapist. my mentor from high school. my roommate. the people i felt the worst about leaving behind. after i wrote the email i decided that my method would be an OD. then, i binged, as was standard for me when processing any type of feeling or decision. as the evening went on, my roommate got home from work and went directly downstairs upon seeing my bedroom door closed. this was ideal as it meant she would not be able to tell something was wrong. i rested for a while, probably texted friends or scrolled on tiktok. and then at around 10:30pm i decided it was time. i was on a lot of meds, but my targets were my 150mg trazodones and my 300mg lithiums. all in all, i took 7 trazodone and 25 lithium, or 1050mg and 7500mg respectively. my normal daily doses were 100mg and 900mg. in the grand scheme of things, it was not a very large overdose, but it certainly wasn’t nothing.

at around 11pm, i posted on my finsta that i had “taken too many meds”. this raised concern from one person within minutes, whom i told i had simply gotten too high. she believed me. no one else saw the post for three hours. i then got up and locked my bedroom door, got back in bed, and sent the email. within a few minutes of that, i received a call from an unknown number, which i declined. they called again, and i answered to find my therapist from PHP on the other end. she had seen my email and wanted to know if what i’d said was true — if i’d actually taken an OD. i said yes, mentally kicking myself because it was a last second decision to even add her to the email. she didn’t even get her own paragraph, i just tacked her onto the end of the list of people i was sending it to so that they’d know why i wasn’t showing up anymore. no one was supposed to see that email yet. it was after 11pm. but she was up, and on her computer, and she watched it come in. what are the odds of that?

she told me, very simply, that i had two options: i could go wake up my roommate and tell her what was happening while my therapist called 911, or i could call 911 and my therapist would call my roommate until she woke up. i opted for the latter. she started telling me everything was going to be okay and i was going to be fine, and i hung up on her. i sobbed for probably 30 seconds before i called the police. i informed the operator of the situation and what i had taken and she told me that EMS were en route and to unlock my doors so they could come in. i hung up with her and laid in bed for probably ten minutes before i heard them knocking at my front door. i didn’t get up. i was falling asleep at this point; whether that was due to the sheer dose of sleeping meds in my system or whether i was legitimately losing consciousness, i don’t know. they stopped knocking and i felt a twinge of hope that they were going to leave. i was, of course, wrong. at this point my roommate started calling my name, so i got up and unlocked my door to answer her as EMS knocked on my back door. she asked me what was going on and i just said “everything’s fine, im sorry” and opened the door. the folks came in and started asking her questions as she put me back on the phone with my therapist, who continued repeating to me that everything was going to be okay. i shushed her and told her i had to go because the paramedics were there. then i hung up on her again. i didn’t give a fuck what she had to say because i had sat in a room with her that very afternoon and cried about how i felt like i was drowning and she hadn’t had shit to say about it but now suddenly she cared. i remember being upset about that. i grabbed my phone and gave my roommate hers, apologized again, and left with the paramedics.

when we got to the ambulance they asked me again what i had taken, and then asked me why. i told them i wanted to die. they told me the drive was bumpy and that id get a barf bag once we got going. i said i needed it immediately. i will never, ever forget how sick i was. i though i would never purge again (i was fucking stupid). i will never eat cookie butter again, or ghirardelli chocolate bunnies, because that was what i was binging on right before. i think i went through three bags in the ambulance alone and the ride was maybe 10 minutes. they stuck an IV in while we were driving, except they tried in both arms and couldn’t get anything so they had to put it in my hand. i felt like sobbing but i couldn’t. once we got to the er, they lifted me off the bed and plopped me into a wheelchair. i got sick again. i then had to be wheeled to the bathroom and was so ill that they though i had collapsed because i was taking so long. i still get chills thinking about it LMAO. they wheeled me into a room and got me into bed somehow and i was just shaking like a leaf so they kept piling warm blankets on me. i remember i was so thirsty but i think i wasn’t allowed to have any water for the first like 12 hours.

things were fine besides the fact that i was gagging every five minutes. they drew a lot of blood and hooked me up to an IV and checked my vitals every few minutes. everything was low, but fine. and then the machine started screaming. i will never forget being barely conscious at like 2:30am and looking over at the monitor to see that my blood pressure read 40/10. in that moment i understood that i was going to die. i pressed the nurses call button, laid back, and closed my eyes. he came bounding in and asked if i was okay and i just said “my blood pressure, the machine is beeping”. apparently some part of that interaction got things moving and by the time he checked my blood pressure again manually it was more like 70/40. he said he would keep an eye on it. i said i was worried it was really low. he said i would be fine, adjusted my blankets, and left. for the next hour, that machine took my blood pressure every ten minutes, and every ten minutes it screamed. i was in and out of consciousness at this point, aroused from my miserable slumber every ten minutes like clockwork. i didn’t push the button again, and no one came in to check.

the next thing i remember, i woke up and i was moving. i must have made a noise because a nurse told me that i was being admitted to the ICU. she said they would take good care of me there. she was very calm, but they were running to the elevator.

the following 48 hours are a blur. i would be woken up for meals, take a few bites, and then i was out again. if i was awake at all in between that i don’t remember it. my best guess is that i was sleeping like a fucking baby because i’d taken more than a week’s worth of sleeping pills, but who knows. i remember on the morning of my second day in that room, a nurse came in and told me that it was time for me to pee. based on the concern in her voice i’m guessing i hadn’t pissed in two fucking days, so i begrudgingly got up. she had to loop her arm through mine to basically carry me to the pull-out toilet in the corner. i hated every second of that. i slept through lunch. when i woke next i was told that they were going to do one last check of my vitals, and if everything was fine, i was being transferred to inpatient. i cried when i realized that i was not going home anytime soon. i cried harder when it finally sank in that i had not succeeded. i was still here.

i was transferred that afternoon to an inpatient unit that had opened three days beforehand. we had programming every day from 7am to 8pm without breaks except meals. i relapsed in purging while i was there.

to this day, i do not understand how i walked away from that completely unscathed. that amount of lithium should have done something to my kidneys, maybe my liver. when i told the doctor in inpatient how much i had taken, she told me that i had no idea how lucky i was. that was not the first time i’d heard that sentiment from a doctor since i was admitted. perhaps the worst part of it all is that i still don’t know how lucky i was, not really. i still contemplate trying again almost every day. i dream of not being here and cry when i wake up and realize it wasn’t real. but i am trying. more than i was back then. and that has to count for something.

i’m going to go look around online and see if i can find some sort of patient portal for the hospital i was at. i want to read my notes.

[baelpenrose]

Nihilus Rex 39: Wash Away the Blood

Nils attempts to assuage his guilt and desperately attempts to get in contact with Lash following the events of the massacre. co-written by @canyouhearthelight. Pay attention to Nils and Lash's dynamic from here on out. We had a lot of fun figuring it out.

Nils

“Oh, Nils, you aren’t actually, really, solving anything. You aren’t really smarter than everyone else. If this was fixable, someone would have found the answer by now.” I mocked the noises that stupid people made as I bounced the trail of money around the world. It was funny - there were around a dozen shell companies that much, much wealthier people than I used for money laundering, and it was easy to move the money through them once you figured out their passwords. 

And I helped myself to some of their money as I rolled mine through. Or, you know. “Mine.” 

A million ways to complain about the ways that the rich got away with their bullshit; but, boy, if it didn’t make it easier for me to rob them for my own purposes. And it also let me find out just a few things here and there.

There was a techie in India I was familiar with, and an orphanage in El Salvador. Both of them got cash that I could bounce around. Tens of thousands of US dollars went much, much further in the Global South than they went in America. 

I’d tried texting Lash a few hours ago to see if she was alright after the incident. I wasn’t totally fine myself. But ultimately, we hadn’t had any better options, and finishing our goals was going to mean blood on our hands before the thing was done. I was trying to steel myself against that inevitability, and trying to follow Bishop’s advice: try to minimize collateral damage by setting as many people up to survive as I could.

So, that orphanage in El Salvador. I had the money I could use, but you didn’t just drop money into anywhere in El Salvador - not these days. The CIA well and truly fucked that up back in the 80s. You gave people assets, and the problem with that was that I didn’t speak Spanish, and Google Translate was, to put it mildly, unreliable. Yeah, an actual Spanish-English dictionary would work, but the problem with that was that I’d need to trust that the orphanage had digitized their inventory, which was a HUGE ‘if.’ 

So, no. 

Which meant, to my great and lasting frustration, I was going to be doing my least favorite thing. Talking to a priest who wasn’t Rivera.

I called the orphanage, and when the phone was picked up and spoken into by what was very obviously a child, I said one of the very few actual Spanish phrases I knew. 

“Puedo hablo con el sacerdote?” Can I talk to the priest? 

The child on the other end answered in the affirmative, I heard a shout. An older voice picked up the phone, and began speaking to me in Spanish, and I quickly interjected, “Tu loquerisne Latine?” Do you speak Latin?

“Sic.” Yes.

Who says it’s a dead language? Any priest, anywhere on Earth.

“I want to make a donation to your orphanage - is there anything the children need?” 

“Vaccines, if you can get them. Laundry detergent. Books - for the older children, especially. All Spanish.”

“Any necessities?”

“The Church can actually manage to provide most of the necessities. The things that keep the children happy are harder. If I may, Senor, how are you managing this?” 

I felt myself smile. “The Lord provides. I have ways, and I want to help. No harm will come to you as a result of my donations. The supplies will be delivered to you by means of non-profits operated through the United States.”

“I see. Are you associated with the Church?”

“I have friends in it.” Sort of true, though I wondered, offhand, if Rivera would be pleased to know that a Catholic orphanage was now benefiting from me money laundering. 

“Ah. Thank you, then. When should we expect them?”

“Within two months. Thank you for telling me what you need. Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment. Is there somewhere I can contact you?”

“Reach out to Father Paolo Rivera of the Parish of Immaculate Conception, in Seattle, and say that a mysterious benefactor gave you supplies and that you need something more, and he will know who to reach.” He would at that. “You priests do have channels for how to reach each other, right?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Okay, great. You can reach me.” 

They and I let each other go, and I started trying to reach out to my Indian friend - though first, I had to look at the text. Lash still hadn’t responded.

I texted her again. I was really starting to worry about her. I hadn’t slept since the thing happened, but it was okay. We were going to be fine. 

The pills weren’t helping, probably. I needed to start going off the Adderall again. Okay, so I did know that that area mostly needed stuff for monsoon season, water purifiers, purification tabs or filters, mostly. 

I wanted to call, though. 

I dialed up Ayanti - really? that screen name? - fuck it, she was probably like 14 and God knew my screen name hadn’t always had style. “Hey, this is Nothing - uh…Nihilus. I’m calling about supplies. You said you needed some?”

“Yeah. Monsoon season. Filters. Purifying tabs, if they’ve got them. Also, because of a whole...thing. I know your reputation…”

That was never a great sign. “Yeah?”

“So, a few people I know have this problem where they have to do gold farming in MMORPGs, and…?

“You need some bot that you can run on a simpler rig and worse internet connection that allows you to do…less work during this process? So that you can just fire it and forget while you pretend to work and actually have a life during those hours?”

“That would be helpful. Do I owe you anything?” 

“No. How and where should I deliver the filters?”

“Daravi.”

“Got it. Anything else?” 

She paused, then abruptly burst out, “Hey, Nothing. Are you the Nihilus that works with the Phoenix Queen?”

I blinked. “Maybe. Why?”

“Can I join up with you both?”

“Real talk - you’re a teenager, aren’t you?”

“I’m old enough to be working full time, I should be old enough to do something that’s actually helpful. If I gotta work like an adult, I should get to choose like one.”

I wanted to argue with that. “I…for obvious reasons I need to actually speak to the Phoenix Queen about whether or not we’re allowing this.” 

I texted Lash. Situation, situation. I need to talk to you.

I was actually getting annoyed at this point. We all had emotions, but here I was trying to do my job, actually dealing with them and doing what we were supposed to be doing, while she hid her head in the sand and had a breakdown. 

“That said, you seem to be looking after your community, which is a good sign. Do you actually understand what our general…goals are?”

“I know you’re going to make the world less shitty.” 

Accurate enough. “I mean. True. Ish. For you, at least.” Your boss, on the other hand…

“That sounded ominous.”

“Don’t worry.” If I wasn’t talking to a child I’d have been more of a dick. “Seriously though, anything else you need coming your way in convenient, clean crates from American non-profits?” 

“Vaccines?”

“Done. I’m just assuming you want cholera vaccines, is there anything else I should put on the list?” Monsoons, plus it was India, a country known for…having that happen frequently. 

“Malaria and MMR if you can do it.” 

“Cool.” 

Lash, seriously. Pick up. I texted her again. There’s someone who needs to talk to you.

Fuck’s sake. Where was she? 

“So, what is it that drew you to us?”

“I just saw some of the stuff the Phoenix Queen has made, and I know some of the stuff you guys have done. The Phoenix Queen says you guys are on the side of the poor, the hated, the untouchables, and you say you are the King of those who can expect nothing.”

“I don’t say that, I call myself Nihilus Rex because I pathologically hate the idea of kings as a concept, but I see your point.”

“I’m a Dalit.”

I blinked. “Ah. So…”

“So. I want to talk to the person like me. And then if you guys are real, I want to join you.” 

I dialed Lash. “Lash. I need you to pick up. This is real.” 

Still no response. 

“Okay. I’ll get her to contact you as soon as I can.” 

“Got it.” 

Why the fuck was she out of contact? This was important. Breakdowns could wait. Unless she’d really, really freaked out over all this. 

Had the guilt gotten to her? Had I been too cynical and hard nosed about all this while Lash was hurting herself? 

A sudden image popped into my head, Jessie and Lash interposed over each other, two people I had failed by not reaching out, not making sure they were okay. Taking care of my own bullshit first and ignoring what they needed. Not knowing them well enough, a treasonous voice reminded me. 

I called Lash again. “Lash. Are you okay? I know it’s been rough for…” I checked the calendar. “A few days. I just…I really need to know that you’re alright. You’ve been out of contact since the incident at the theater - “ that made sense, people could believe something strange had happened at a movie theater - “And I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

There was no response, and I called my mother. “Mom. Question. Lash has been out of contact for a while. Some stuff…happened…”

“Nils. What happened, specifically? Because you’re talking like you did something and you don’t want to say it?”

“We did something, actually. Together. Something that we both regretted. Not sex, not a fight. Just…we did something together, and I think it’s getting to her.” 

“Give her space. She’ll either call you back in a few days, or she won’t. She doesn’t seem the kind to ghost you, so I’d give her a couple days to let you know if whatever it is ruined the relationship. I expect you to know what I expect if it’s the latter.” 

“Yeah, no, her breaking up with me is fine.” It wasn’t, but it was the kind of not-fine I’d get over, where Lash hurting herself very much was not. I pondered telling my mother that, but I realized if I did, she’d ask what the hell we’d done that that was a concern and that was not a question I could answer. She was one of two people who’d ever figured out how to consistently tell when I was lying, and the other had been buried the day I met Lash.

“Then give her time. She’ll get back in contact.”

“She hasn’t yet and it’s been a few days.”

“A couple days? As in two? A few days? As in three? Several days, as in more than that but less than a week?” 

“Uh…a few. Specifically.” Goddamnit my mother the lawyer.

“Give her. A couple. More. Specifically. A couple. THEN. Call again. Oh, and Nils? Myself and Sahar are going out for tea tomorrow night and discuss the case. I’m going to call her to confirm details. I’ll drop a question about how things are going with Lash.” There was an unspoken threat there - my mother would be exceedingly unhappy if I’d gotten Lash into trouble or mistreated her. 

I’d done the former, possibly. 

[kjs-s]

A familiar stranger

Pairing: Marc Spector x reader platonic

Steve Grant x reader platonic

Summary: The reader meets Marc again after years but he acts strange

 Word Count: 2130

Warnings: none I can think of

Prompt: “Are we still friends?”

A/N This is my third and last entry for @caplanbuckybarnes's  foreverwriting challenge. This is set after the show that's why I had Steven work in a different museum.

A/N Special thanks to @girl-next-door-writes who inspired the reader's job with this great post with the cutect HC i have ever read. Gif is mine

''Does everyone remember the rules we talked about yesterday?'' You heard your best friend Jessica who was also the teacher of the class ask the kids. She had spent the whole week previous to that day planning the field trip to the Petrie Museum of Egyptian archaeology. And being the teaching assistant you had made sure everything was set. You would accompany the class to the museum and hap planned some of the activities the kids would take part in during the field trip.

The school was within a walking distance from the museum so you pitched the idea of just walking there and not taking a bus. Jessica led the way and you walked behind the kids to make sure nobody will stay behind. Field trips were always fun for you and you loved them more now considering you could hear hilarious conversations among the kids. Some of them were wondering whether the things in the museum would be asleep or able to talk to them. Another kid had asked you to keep his lunchbox safe while you were in the museum so he wouldn't lose it. He pointed out that not only it was his favorite lunchbox but that his mom had put in his favorite sandwich as well. Reassuring him that his lunch would be safe in an empty museum was not the right thing to say. It triggered a million questions about why would the museum be empty. Gladly Jessica explained to the kids that the reason was for them to have as much fun as possible.

You made it there just five minutes before ten o'clock and you were immediately let inside. A polite elderly man approached you and introduced himself as Joseph, your tour guide. He led everyone to the lockers so you could put your things away for safekeeping and because food wasn't allowed in the museum.

''We won't eat our lunch here?'' The same kid from earlier asked you while close to whining.

''Not inside the museum. We have set some tables in our garden at the back for you to have lunch after the tour.'' Joseph explained and questioned if everyone was ready to begin the tour.

After half an hour of looking at the exhibits, you were led to the last part of the museum tour. Joseph quizzed the group on a few things and answered all the questions the kids had. One of the girls came to you for help with tying her shoelaces when you heard Joseph say something about one of his coworkers.

''I can ask Steven over there for verification on everything I just told you. He is brilliant and knows a lot about Egypt. Almost as much as I do. I am about to train him to become my replacement for when I want to work less.''

That's when all the kids turned to look at Steven. He noticed them and felt embarrassed about interrupting the tour. He didn't want to get reprimanded for leaving the gift shop to hear the tour. That's why he turned around to leave just as you finished helping the girl. That resulted in you only seeing the back of his head. However, you couldn't place the faint feeling of him being vaguely familiar. You were sure it would come to you on the off chance you would see him again. But the thing that didn't cross your mind was that the person you almost saw was one that you used to call your best friend some years ago.

After the tour, you and Jessica took the kids to the area in which the staff had provided you with activities. It was cute to see every child excited about drawing and playing games. They were given two drawing sheets, a true or false quiz, and an activity with Egyptian gods and goddesses. Everyone had fun during those and afterward, the kids got a little tired. So you and Jessica asked them if they wanted to do the scavenger hunt that was the last activity before lunch. Of course, they loved the idea and formed groups of three to look around the museum for the exhibition they were assigned to search. During the hunt, you took the chance to visit the gift shop in order to buy a souvenir for the classroom.

You looked around for a moment before a soft-spoken voice sounded behind you.

''Do you need assistance with anything?''

You turned to look at the person hoping he would help you choose something appropriate for a classroom. However, before you could muster a word you froze. You stared at the man in front of you with wide eyes and your mouth stayed open for a few seconds. You snapped out of your daze and whispered the first thing that came to your mind.

''Marc is it really you?''

Steven looked at you with narrow eyes and tilted his head. He had no idea who you were and how you apparently knew Marc. You took a step toward him and you noticed a slight change in his demeanor before he took off. You went after him but couldn't see where he went. Not wanting to leave Jessica alone with the kids any longer you purchased a small statue of Tawaret and returned to the class.

You ran into one of the groups of kids still looking around for the exhibit they had been assigned. It was a bronze statue of a cat sitting upright. The exhibit was near the stairs and since you remembered having seen it earlier you helped them finish the hunt. But you couldn't get Marc out of your mind and why he looked so confused when he saw you.

After all the activities were over, you all took your things out of the lockers and went to the garden to have your lunch before returning to school. There you spotted Joseph and approached him to thank him for the tour.

''I hope our kids didn't tire you too much.''

''Not at all. I enjoy it when people ask me questions. And kids always are so eager to learn new things. Their excitement made me happy to do this job, they were lovely.''

''Could I ask you something? When I was at the gift shop I saw someone I recognized. I think his name was Marc. Good looking guy around this height.'' You showed him Marc's height with your hand.

''We don't have anyone with that name working here. Although your description sounds like you're talking about Steven who works at the gift shop.''

''I must have been mistaken then. Thank you again and sorry to bother you.'' You went back to your class hoping Steven would still be at the gift shop when you were to return to the museum later so you could talk to him.

And that's exactly what you did after the field trip was over. You went back to the museum looking for Steven.

You were certain he was your friend and that he had changed his name after being discharged from the military. Your superiors hadn't offered any explanations for Marc's discharge but you only cared about what happened to him after that. Or if he had changed at all during those years.

You found him at the gift shop and approached him slowly hoping he wouldn't flee again.

''Excuse me, can I talk to you? Please Marc don't leave again. I just want to ask you one question considering you remember who I am. Are we still friends?''

He looked down and asked his supervisor if he could step away for a moment. She noticed the time and that they would close in twenty minutes. So she let him leave early to have a word with you.

You left the museum and took a seat on a bench on Gordon Square Part to talk.

''So apparently you are or were friends with Marc. I am not Marc, my name is Steven.''

''I'm (Y/N). I was in the marines with Marc. Are you two twins? I don't recall him mentioning anything about having a brother. And a British one at that.''

''We are not twins. How much information do you know about the reason Marc left the marines?''

''Nothing at all. The higher-ups told us nothing afterward. They shot down any questions we had about the subject. I was devastated about him leaving. You see he was my mentor. I quit almost a month after he left due to the pressure and not having him there to help and support me. I even looked for him after I left but it was like he disappeared.'' You started tearing up and Steven begged Marc to take his place to explain everything to you. Marc refused due to feeling guilty about what had happened to you.

''I am sorry (Y/N). The reason Marc was discharged what that he has DID. I am his other personality. And if it makes you feel a little bit better he feels awful you had to go through all of this because of him.''

''He can hear me?'' Steve nodded at you and you pointed out that you still wanted your earlier question about whether you were still friends answered. Also, you mentioned that you didn't want Marc to feel bad about what had happened to you since it wasn't his fault.

''He says yes if you want to. You seem like a nice person so I wouldn't mind getting to know you better as well.''

You smiled at him and then took moment to study Steven. His demeanor looked nothing like the way you remembered Marc. Marc was always more serious and not so open about his feelings. The person in front of you seemed more introverted than that, sweet and cute. You felt like he was someone you would like to know more about.

Steven noticed your silence and got worried about what he had said.

''I don't mean that in a creepy way. I just felt like we could talk about things. Maybe about how the kids liked the tour today. Or something else.''

''They loved it. And the statue I bought of Tawaret. The one you didn't help me pick since you ran away. She took her place on the desk to watch over the kids.'' Steven laughed a little at the comment since he was surprised Marc had run away from you.

''I am sure Layla would love t hear that.''

''Who's Layla, if I'm allowed to ask.''

''Right you don't know her. She is Marc's wife.''

''Marc is married?'' You raised your voice due to how surprised you were. When the two of you were in the marines Marc was adamant he would never get married and you were happily surprised to hear how much he had changed on the topic.

''Yes, he is. And Layla is great. I enjoy talking to her about Egypt since it's her home and she is also able to read hieroglyphics.''

''She sounds perfect. If Marc is ok with it I would love to meet her. And I am really happy I met you, Steven, I am sure we will become friends. I just hope Marc will decide to speak to me soon as well. We used to enjoy talking about our hobbies and I was trying to get back into drawing. Maybe I can convince one of you or maybe Layla to model for me in the future.''

Steven looked a little flustered at the thought so you decided to save him from the embarrassment.

''You don't have to say yes if you don't want to. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.''

''Thank you and I promise to tell Layla about you soon so we will arrange for you two to meet.''

''Sounds great. I just hope I'm not imposing on you. I only wanted to see Marc again. I have missed him for such a long time. But I get it if he doesn't want to. At least I got my answers about what happened to him.'' You checked your phone because you received a notification about an errand you had totally forgotten about. ''He wants you to be friends again. And I want that too. It will be good for him to have someone that knew him for as long as you have beside me. I will let you go to your appointment.''

You thanked him for his kind words and you exchanged numbers promising to contact each other soon.

You left feeling happy about not only finding Marc again but also meeting Steven.

Steven on the other hand stayed there a little more wondering if you would react that calmly to finding out about all the adventures they had been on.

[hollandorks]

saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter ten

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: Oh look some actual plot in this chapter! (P.S. how does this fic have so many words already??)

Series Masterlist 

word count: 3657

Grace’s heart pounded as she realized that Daredevil might be the solution she needed.

Grace’s POV 

The problem was that Grace had no idea how to contact Daredevil short of attempting to get herself attacked again. While she entertained the thought briefly, she knew that she couldn’t count on him saving her at the last moment like before. 

Saturday night she waited until after midnight to creep out of the apartment and onto the roof. Matt was already asleep on the couch so she used the outer door to the roof so as not to wake him. If he asked where she’d gone, she’d make up some story about needing emergency tampons or something, she decided. 

It was cold up on the roof, but she’d brought a throw blanket with her. She leaned against the cold bricks and scanned the rooftops for even a hint of a moving shadow. 

Maybe she could leave a note? 

Grace started pacing as time ticked by. He’d stopped once when he’d seen her on the roof, so maybe he’d do it again. The rooftops are kind of my thing, he’d said. 

She scanned the rooftops as she paced the small space and shivered. Autumn had started to sink into the bones of the city, erasing summer’s heat slowly but surely. 

An hour went by. 

Okay, maybe she’d leave a note. 

Grace went back inside, tiptoeing past Matt, and dug out a notebook from her bag. She scrawled a note and took it back up to the roof, using a brick to weigh it down. There wasn’t any rain on the forecast, but she would check each night and rewrite it if she had to. 

As she finally settled into bed, she thought maybe she was going a little crazy. 

But she couldn’t just sit with what she knew, couldn’t sit back and do nothing. She had done nothing for too long, and all it had gotten her was more bruises and a few broken bones. She might as well get hurt trying to do something. 

Grace idly wondered what had gotten into herself as she fell asleep. When had she stopped being content with how things were and started aching to change them? 

–

“What are you working so hard on?” Matt asked as Grace typed on her laptop at the kitchen table. She had one foot balanced on the chair and the other on the floor, her elbow resting on her knee as she leaned over her keyboard. 

She blinked. “Uh–just a personal project.” 

She’d been compiling everything she knew and things she thought she might be able to prove in a document. Then she’d searched news headlines and things about Dean and his company and was methodically adding them together into the lists of can prove, might be able to prove, and absolutely no way in hell anyone will believe me. So far the first list was empty, a couple of items were in the second, and the third was getting longer the more she worked. 

Matt seemed to be waiting for more of an answer. Grace rubbed at her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been at it, but it was now approaching evening and she was pretty sure she’d missed lunch. Matt had been gone most of the day–or at least, she thought he had. 

“I’m also apartment hunting,” she said, which was partially true. That morning she’d heard back about touring two of the most promising listings. “I actually found a couple of places to look at. Only two, though.” She was constrained by both her limited budget and the need to stay within walking distance to work. She’d already figured she’d need to sell her car to get any kind of furniture she needed, along with paying security deposits and the first month of rent.

“Anything promising?” Matt asked, but there was an odd note to his voice. 

“Maybe.” She chewed her lip. “I’ve got an appointment to look tomorrow after work. I’m not holding my breath though. My luck hasn’t been the greatest lately.” 

Though, now that she was thinking about it, her luck had been…good, actually. She’d found a perfect job, a place to stay for free, and three incredibly kind people to surround herself with, to become friends with. 

“Want me to come with you?” 

A wave of anxiety rose within her. She didn’t want Matt to see just how inexperienced she was with, well, life. “No, that’s okay. It shouldn’t take too long.” 

Matt bobbed his head in a nod.

Grace’s laptop pinged with a search alert and her attention was immediately diverted back to her research. She barely noticed as Matt walked away. She was sucked right back into her lists and the world around her ceased to exist. 

Matt placed a pizza in front of her later and she ate without hardly looking up to thank him. He ate too, content to sit in silence, and then was gone again. 

“I’m headed to the gym,” Matt said an indeterminate amount of time later. Grace blinked and realized her entire body had gone stiff. 

Sure enough, Matt was in a tight t-shirt and sweats, duffel bag in one hand and cane in the other. It was dark outside now, the trash from the pizza cleared away without her having noticed. 

Grace stretched. Several joints popped from disuse. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Thanks again for the pizza.” 

Matt smiled softly. “You’re welcome. See you later.” 

“Bye,” she said. It was probably time to take a break anyway, she decided. She would shower and get ready for bed, then continue her research somewhere more comfortable than the kitchen table. 

And then it would be time to see if the devil had decided to meet with her, if he’d seen her note. 

Matt’s POV

Matt had taken to using the gym as an excuse to leave and take his suit with him. It had been Foggy’s idea when Matt had bemoaned the difficulty in keeping his nighttime activities secret with someone else in the apartment. The gym was somewhere he did go frequently, and the suit fit perfectly into his gym bag. 

Sometimes he did use Fogwell’s to warm up. Most of the time he simply went up to a rooftop–his own or one that was blocks away, depending on the night–and changed in the dark before stowing the bag. He always listened to make sure Grace was asleep before coming back, or to change and come back inside the front door of the apartment as if everything were normal. 

That night, he had been itching to go out, to follow a few leads in a string of recent disappearances. 

Impatient as he was, he snuck up to the roof using the door outside his apartment instead of the one inside. No one was around, and Grace was still immersed in her mysterious project. 

Immediately he scented Grace on the air, likely from the night before. He cocked his head and tried to focus. When had she come up? He’d had an early night the night before, asleep on the couch much sooner than usual because he’d been exhausted beyond belief. Two nights in a row he’d been out close to dawn and it had caught up with him. 

There was something else, too. Matt stalked forward slowly, letting his senses ghost over his surroundings. A brick out of place and–a paper? 

Matt moved the brick and picked up the paper. He ran his fingers over it. Grace’s scent was all over it. She’d written it and left it up there. Why? 

Her hand had been quick and light as she’d written, the indentations too soft for him to make out most of the letters with his fingertips. 

He grit his teeth in frustration. 

Should he ask Foggy what it said? What if it was something…personal? Grace might now want them both to know what was on the paper.

Matt started to place the note back under the brick but his curiosity got the better of him. With a soft growl of irritation, he changed quickly and stowed the duffel bag with his gym clothes in a hidden alcove the next building over. 

Then he called Foggy. 

“Is Marci home?” he asked without preamble. The note was practically burning a hole in the pocket of his suit. 

He could almost hear Foggy narrowing his eyes. “No, why?” 

“I just–need you to read something for me,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay?” Foggy said, but he was used to Matt by now and didn’t question it any further. 

Matt hung up and took off at a run. 

Not too much later, he dropped onto the fire escape that led to Foggy and Marci’s bedroom. He took a moment to focus his hearing on the apartment within to make sure Foggy was in fact alone. Then he knocked lightly on the window. 

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t use the door like a normal person,” Foggy grumbled at him as he came to open the window. It gave a slight screech of protest as it was shoved open, making Matt wince. 

“Hey, Fog,” Matt said as if he weren’t dressed like the devil and hanging out on the fire escape. “I…found this. Can you read it for me?” He held out the note. 

“Found where?” Foggy asked as the paper rustled when he unfolded it. 

“My roof.” 

“You–huh.” More rustling. Foggy hummed.

Matt bit back his impatience. “What’s it say?” He snapped the words more harshly than he meant to, but Foggy paid him no mind. 

“It’s from Grace,” Foggy said instead of answering. Matt wanted to grab him and shake him. 

“I gathered that much.” 

“How–Nevermind. It says, Dear Daredevil. You might remember saving me from three attackers a couple of weeks ago, for which I’m still really thankful. We also met briefly up here one night. You seem like a busy man, so I’ll get straight to the point. I need your help again, and there’s no one else I can ask. If you even see this and if you can help me, I’ll wait up here at twelve-thirty each night for thirty minutes for the next week. Unless you’d rather leave me your phone number, because now that I’m writing it, it seems kind of weird to wait on a roof every night. But I’m out of options and I need help. Your friend, Grace.” 

They both paused.

Foggy was the first to break the silence. “What does she need help with, you think?” 

Matt was still as he considered it. There’s no one else I can ask. 

“I don’t know,” he said softly. He leaned one hand against the building as the wind picked up and threatened to make him unsteady where he crouched. 

Foggy’s heart picked up unexpectedly. “What if she knows?” he said.

“There’s no way,” Matt said, but then he wasn’t so sure. He had been lying pretty obviously when he’d told her about sleepwalking. But then again, she’d had a pretty high fever at that point. Though maybe she’d realized she recognized his voice from the two times she’d met him as Daredevil. They did live together, after all, and she was becoming familiar with him whether he liked it or not. “I don’t…think so, at least.” 

“Maybe if you don’t show up for a week she’ll leave you another note,” Foggy said helpfully. The paper crinkled more as he held it back out to Matt. He took it and pocketed it again. “Oh! Or you could leave her the phone number for your burner phone. Duh.” 

Matt made a face. “I can’t read it if she texts me, either.” 

“Yeah but if she calls you…” 

“And what if she calls and hears it when I’m Matt in front of her? Or if I forget it in the suit, and she calls and hears it in the closet?” Matt’s mind conjured a thousand other possibilities of ways things could go wrong even after he stopped speaking. 

Foggy sighed and leaned against the wall beside the window. Matt cast his awareness outward out of habit to make sure no one was watching them converse and tying Foggy to him. The coast was clear, at least for the moment. But Matt needed to hurry the conversation up. 

“What if she recognizes your voice if she sees you in person?” Foggy countered. “Or your face? You do have a very unmistakable jawline, my friend.” 

Matt scoffed a laugh. “At least in person I can stick to the shadows. And I need to know if she’s lying about anything, which I can only do in person.” 

Foggy hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay. Good point. Well, it’s only ten thirty right now so you’ve got two hours to decide if you want to meet her.” 

Matt almost sighed. Two hours wasn’t quite long enough to chase down the leads like he’d been hoping but…maybe, for once, he’d get lucky and Grace would somehow be able to shed light on his current investigation. He doubted it, though. He was never that lucky. 

“I’ll see you later,” Matt said, then darted away and up the fire escape. 

“Hey!” Foggy called after him–too quietly for others to hear, but it might as well have been a shout to Matt’s ears. “Are you meeting her or what?” 

The problem was that Matt hadn’t decided yet. He’d tell Foggy about it if he did meet her. But he’d already stayed too long at his friend’s window. Just because he hadn’t noticed anyone noticing them didn’t mean they hadn’t. He always tried to err on the side of caution, especially where his friends were concerned. 

Two hours later, Matt found himself a block away from his apartment listening for the rooftop door to open. 

Within a minute, the familiar creak of the door into his apartment reached his ears. It had a different, quieter sound than the one into the building’s hallway. 

Even from a block away he knew it was Grace. He’d become completely tuned into her in the past few weeks. He could pick her heartbeat out of a crowd, recognize her breathing from long distances, could detect even a trace of her scent. 

He started moving closer as silently as possible, crossing from roof to roof easily. He was at the next building over as she started pacing for a moment, no doubt looking for him. 

Then a scrape as she lifted the brick the note had been under. He heard her heart pick up speed and a rustle as she started to look around. The wind blew her soft, feminine scent right towards him. 

He crept closer and dropped down on silent feet behind her. From the angle of the nearest lights, he was pretty sure he was in the darkest shadows on the rooftop, but just in case, he would keep his head angled down and away. 

Grace sighed when she didn’t catch sight of him. 

Then she turned. Her heart took off like a rocket in her chest. 

“Fuck!” she said, halfway to a shriek. She took a deep breath as soon as she noticed it was him and her heart rate almost immediately started to calm. Matt wanted to frown. He’d noticed that, like Foggy, she seemed almost exceptionally good at calming herself. Except for Foggy it was because his default was carefree, happy. He calmed himself because he hated being agitated and because he was just naturally happy. For Grace, he wasn’t sure what it meant. 

“You got my note,” she said softly, a thrill of something in her words. Excitement? Worry? He didn’t scent the telltale smells of adrenaline and cortisol that would tell him that she was afraid, that her body was debating fight versus flight. She wasn’t scared of him, even though he’d startled her. 

He inclined his head in a nod but said nothing else. He was suddenly incredibly worried that she either had recognized him already or would after this conversation. He had to be careful, more so than usual. 

“Sorry if it’s…weird,” she said uncertainly. A scrape as she shifted from foot to foot. He could feel the rise in temperature as she blushed, could scent it on her skin. “I just…I know something, but I can’t prove it, and I need help.” 

“What is it?” he asked, pitching his voice a little lower than usual. 

“There’s a warehouse,” she said. “Not in Hell’s Kitchen. I think it’s where Harry Spencer was killed.” 

Matt froze. He’d heard that name–a body found in the Hudson. Mahoney had even asked him about it when their paths had crossed last. Another in a string of disappearances, though this one seemed unrelated to the rest. 

“Where?” The demand was a growl as adrenaline surged in his veins. 

She gave him an address. So far, she hadn’t lied. 

“How do you know this?” he asked, more demanding that he probably should have been. He wanted to protect Grace, to be kind to her. But that was for Matt Murdock, not the devil of Hell’s Kitchen. His kindness might be what gave him away. 

“I can’t tell you.” She shivered a little and–there. There was the fear. She wasn’t lying though, as far as he could tell. “I really, really can’t. But if you…maybe if you took a look around, you could prove that’s where he died? Then I might be able to…help more.” The fear was almost tangible in the air. Matt could taste it heavy on his tongue as he breathed. 

Something about this man’s death had her utterly terrified. 

His heart and mind raced in tandem. How did she know about a man’s death? Why? 

Maybe that was why she’d left her life behind, he thought suddenly. 

A lot of things started to make sense the longer he thought about it. 

The reason she hadn’t wanted them to tell her job references where they were calling from. The payphone call to her mother. The hints to starting over, to leaving her old life behind, the fear and nervousness he heard in her sometimes. Even the nightmares. 

He’d been quiet for too long. Grace hurried to say, “I just–I can’t prove anything. I don’t want to cause trouble for myself over nothing. But I can’t just sit by.” A note of steel in her voice that he recognized. 

Matt remembered more of the story he’d heard about the man she’d named. His body had been found a couple weeks before. He’d been missing for six months, but his family hadn’t reported it. And Grace–Grace had said someone she had known had died. He remembered that day, the way she’d reacted to something on her phone so sharply he’d had to ask about it. 

“Why now?” he finally asked. 

Grace blew out a breath and started pacing in front of him. “Because I can’t do nothing. Not anymore.” 

That wasn’t a lie either. In fact, it rang more true than anything else she’d said thus far. 

“I’ll look into it,” he said. And without another word, he leapt to the next rooftop and into the shadows. 

“How do I contact you?” she called after him, but he didn’t look back. He would figure it out if her lead panned out. 

But the longer he was near her, the more chances he had to give himself away. 

He decided to go ahead and check out the warehouse. It was still early in the night yet, and it might lead to more information on the other disappearances. 

It was a bit far for his liking–outside of Hell’s Kitchen though not by much. 

As he made his way closer, he thought about Grace. Something had scared her–something that had led to the death of Harry Spencer. Something that had likely led to her leaving an entire life behind. Something that had scared her into living in her car. 

Instead of assuming she was lying, that she was bad like he normally would have, Matt instead felt a surge of protectiveness. It was plain that Grace was deathly afraid of something. And she was seeking help the only way she knew how–through him. 

When Matt got to the warehouse…it was empty. 

He paused on the closest rooftop. 

Had Grace lied to him? Led him astray with a half-truth? 

He focused on the building, mapping it out, listening for any signs of life. 

There was nothing inside, not even equipment or goods of any kind. 

Matt dropped to the ground. 

It was easy enough to get past the locked doors–one of the window locks was broken, allowing him to let himself into the first floor through what must have been an officer. There was a desk in the room but nothing else. 

Matt hesitated with his hand on the doorknob before stepping into the large open space. 

Still no one. Not even electricity. Everything was dark, empty, and silent. 

Something in Matt’s gut prickled with alarm. 

He swept the place methodically. Nothing. 

But there was very little dust. It was almost too clean.

He made his way up to the second floor and–

He jerked to a stop. 

Blood–lots of it. Old and covered up by bleach, likely without proof the normal eye could see. But it was there. Lots of blood. There were rooms on the second floor, all empty, but there was the scent of blood in each. 

What was this place used for? 

He wasn’t sure he could prove Harry Spencer had died in the building, but someone had lost a lot of blood there. Likely several someones. 

Though Matt went over every inch of the place, he couldn’t find anything else other than the scent of blood that someone had gone to great lengths to cover up. 

He left with more questions than answers. 

He needed to find out who owned that building and where they had gone and when they might come back. 

And he had to find out what their connection to Grace was.

Next Chapter 

taglist: 

@zaminoo​​��​​ @yanna-banana​​​​​ @bellal1 @thetrinitytest​​​​​ @harry-bowie-mercury​​ @lorosette​ @feliciab1990

[circesoracle]

3, 13, 46

3. Do you share your fic ideas, or do you keep them to yourself?

The latter but only because when I get an idea for a fic I either immediately write it or know I can't and simply shelve it. Every single one-shot on my AO3 was written within minutes of getting the idea except By Freya's Hand She's Fair and Eternity's Embrace. The former was bounced back and forth with someone I don't talk to anymore, left for months, then one day I just wrote it and posted it because I got the urge.

I've talked about Eternity's Embrace and the different versions of it before, and those I kind of batted around by myself, from the much darker version to dragon!Liara, before finally brainstorming the version that was posted with a friend.

For everything else though I just write on an impulse and don't even have time to tell people until the thing is done and posted lmao.

13. Do you listen to music while you write?  If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

Answered this one previously but I'll post what I said there here as well!

Yes and no, it depends what I'm writing, and by that I mean it varies project to project. I don't listen to music while writing Eternity's Embrace, for example, but I do for my novel (especially for my novel) and a few one-shots I had music on while writing.

It's not fic but I've been working on my novel a bit and I have two specific playlists for that. One is Japanese city pop, because it kinda fits the vibe and doesn't distract me, and the other is only for when I'm writing the car scenes, and that's pure eurobeat with Deja Vu specifically in there like four or five times and I blast it as loud as is feasible the whole time I'm writing the racing scenes.

When I'm writing or studying for school, I play a ten hour loop of Coconut Mall on max volume in headphones.

46. If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be?

This question is so evil to me personally 😩 I basically only write AUs how can I pick just one...

If you're being generous and this can be as broad as possible, (Sci-)Fantasy AU easily. I love taking girls not meant for fantasy situations and sticking them in there just to see what they'll do. That's the fun of an AU, and the contorting a setting to fit fantasy tropes, obviously.

If you're being less generous and far more mean and it has to be more specific, arranged marriage AU. There's simply so many possibilities and one day I will write my Marika x Rennala semi-canon compliant arranged marriage fic (<- she is lying, she will write another clown!Marika fic that will never see the light of day)

tysm (even if that last one was rather mean 🥺)

[ciaossu-imagines]

hey, it's nix! thanks for this wonderful event! for day 20, can you do number 30 from prompt 11? ⋆｡ʚ🍓ɞ˚

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also, while i’m at it, i just wanna chat for a bit. i did mention to you before about being shy when it comes to public performances, but yesterday, i was assigned to work at a psychiatric institution for our related learning experience as a student nurse, and a patient & i bonded over our love for “don’t look back in anger” by oasis. she had asked me to play it on the piano in the main hall, and we ended up singing together. surprisingly, everyone, even other patients, joined in listening. i’m not sure how i feel about my clinical instructor and classmates discovering my musical ability 😂 (because i initially wanted keep a low profile and stay out of the spotlight), but playing for that patient helped me get more comfortable performing. now, every time i listen to that song, i think of her. it’s a small step, but i’m hoping to improve even more. i just know that sho-chan would be proud! haha

Hey Nix! It’s so nice to hear from you (especially since I needed to reach out to you anyway about an ask you sent in, just to clarify I don’t keep anyone’s match-up send in after it’s done, so I would really appreciate you resending that in, please and thank you!!) But onto the ask! I’m so, so glad that you and the others seemed to enjoy the event this time! The response I got for asks was amazing and it makes me really happy! Also, I loved hearing about your experience at the learning experience! You are right, Sho-chan would be so very, very proud of you! Heck, I (and I am sure the other readers) are very proud of you too! That’s an amazing thing you did, both overcoming a slight fear of public performances and making that patient’s day, as I am sure you did. Just as you think about her now listening to the song, I’m sure she’s always going to remember you when she hears the song now. As someone else who doesn’t really like to draw attention to themselves, I personally find what you did very inspiring 😊 Anyway, I’ll move onto answering the question you asked and again, thank you for sending in a question and for sharing such a lovely experience with me and the other readers!

What is your favourite thing to do?

As with everything else, I really do struggle to pick favourites. It’s hard to say ‘this one thing is better than anything else’ for me, because there’s so many things that bring me joy. Some of the things that really make me happy doing them are:

Of course, writing ranks pretty high up on this list. It’s therapeutic and fun to get out of my life for a bit and fall into characters and other worlds and on top of that, because of the nature of this particular blog, there’s a really pleasant social aspect to it that helps me feel like I’ve found my people, even if just online.

The library is my safe place and I visit it at least once a week. I love just browsing the stacks, taking the time to pick my ten books for the month, as well as talking and catching up with the librarian’s and their lives, plus any cool events the library is hosting in the upcoming weeks. On top of that, my library is really cool in that they do up mystery bags they sell where you get several used books in a particular genre, and I treat myself to one of those and some discounted coffee from a local coffee company when I go! I also love reading manga and books I already own. Again, falling into another world for a little bit – it’s the most wonderful escape.

 I love crafting. I do diamond art and I sew, embroider, and cross-stitch. I recently got news that a friend is pregnant, so I’m working on a cross-stitched baby blanket top that I’ll quilt up for the couple and I enjoy zoning out and doing it.

I’m a house (architecture and interior design) nerd, I admit it. I love looking at the online listings and I have a couple of dorky friends who get together with me and we go to open houses within an hour or two of us. It’s fun to scope out houses and we have fun discussing how we’d change, fix up, and decorate the places after we act like nosey Nellies.

I also love getting outside. I’m a pretty big hiker and throwing on some music or a podcast and even just getting out for a couple hours on the nature trails is lovely.

[tastesoftamriel]

Need your work edited and proofread? Can't seem to break out of those nasty writing habits? Just looking to add some oomph to that pesky fanfic that's been sitting in your drafts for two years? I'm here to help! Message me for more information and let's make 2023 the year you hit all your writing goals! ~Tal

Editing FAQ:

*Why are your prices so high?

-I am a trained social anthropologist who holds a BA with First Class Honours, and an MA with Distinction (top grades in the UK university system). I am a published author, and edit professionally for The Three Little Sisters LLC. Academic writers for those within my education range make at least £125 an hour, which make my rates significantly cheaper than other freelancers you might find out there.

*How do you organise your rates?

-Depending on the project, I tend to work at about six to ten pages per hour, as I go through meticulously and tidy up spelling and grammatical errors, suggest rewrites, and even do backup research. My rates will therefore vary from project to project; for example, a 60 page novella ranges from £300-400, shorter stories from £120, and academic essays from £180-250. Of course, I negotiate all my prices with my clients beforehand, to make sure that this is something that they can afford. On request, I'm also happy to negotiate payment plans to something more affordable and suited to my clients' needs.

*What won't you edit?

-I am happy to take on most projects, including those containing NSFW content, but will not touch graded academic work (like school and university essays and theses unless they have already been submitted and graded). For personal reasons, I am also unable to work with any graphic content that focuses on child and/or sexual abuse.

*How do you accept payment?

-I take all payment through PayPal. I generally ask for a 50% deposit before I begin, and the other 50% on delivery of the final work. Due to the ridiculous interest, I kindly ask that payments are made for 'family and friends' (I will be your best friend by the end of the editing process, so don't worry). 

*What is your work process like?

-I firstly discuss with clients what they would like from me and what they hope to achieve from my services. When we have reached an agreement, I will create a folder in Google Docs that both the client and I have access to. During the editing process, clients can look at, but not make any changes to the documents (this disrupts my workflow and makes things confusing as I go through every document at least twice).

Over the editing period, I will make detailed timestamped comments with explanations. Every day, I will make a new document copied from the previous one to track my progress. Once I'm done, I will send through a final copy that the client can download and edit freely, and accept the final payment. I am available for further advice and questions after this final payment at no additional cost.

*How long does it take for you to edit?

-To avoid burnout, I tend to work between one to three hours a day (give or take, depending on my energy levels as I suffer from mental conditions that make concentration difficult at times). As such, I can knock over a 175 page novel in about a week to ten days, an essay in two days, and a short story in one day. These are approximations, and I keep clients updated every step of the way about my progress!

*Sounds great! How do we get started?

-You can contact me directly via DM, or email me at Natalia.L.academic@gmail.com for more information. I'm happy to answer all your questions and work on YOUR terms!

[drysaladandketchup]

Writing Meme

Tagged by my dear @irrelevanttous <3

RULES: go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason

first fic you ever published on Ao3: Spirit of Champions, for the Supernatural/Destiel fandom. I don't even know why I'm linking the fic, it was ten years ago I'd like to think my writing has improved a lot since then so... maybe don't read it lol. I actually have another fic that says it was posted on the same date but I think that's because I moved them both over from livejournal at the same time, so whatever

last fic you published: Acts of Devotion for the Hockey/Mattdrai fandom. Much prouder of this fic haha, though I was still getting a feel for hockey and these guys during it's construction. It hopefully won't be my last mattdrai fic though. Got a few ideas and WIPs sitting in my drafts

a fic you wrote for a fandom/ship only once: I don't think I've ever written just one fic for a fandom. Though I certainly have many abandoned WIP's and a few unpublished fics from days gone by. Also due to a lack of ideas or energy, I often end up publishing nothing for a fandom, despite my love for it. But I'll go with the fandom I only published two fics for. After Life's Fitful Fever, He Sleeps Well for The Terror. It's actually a platonic ship (if that counts? Depends on your definition of 'ship' I suppose), but it's still one I'm quite fond of overall

favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship with the most works: well I already mentioned Supernatural, so that would be the obvious answer lol. But I already did that, so I'm going to go with a fic from the next biggest fandom I've published for. Which I would say is String Theory for Final Fantasy XV. The only FF game I've ever played, but I had a grand old time, made a lot of friends and had a lot of growth in that community

fic you wish more people read: Can I say any of my fics from the Dunkirk fandom? No? Boo. It's a tiny fandom so I don't expect a tonne of interaction haha. But it is the fandom I've written the most for. Ideas just kept on coming (probably because I love history and angst). So I'd say... Where You Were, Where You're Needed. My first for the fandom, and one I still love dearly

fic you agonized over the most: Skybound, for Dunkirk. It's the only novel-length fic I've written, and it took me two years. I also didn't publish it until it was completely finished, edited, re-drafted, and remodelled within an inch of it's life so... yeah that one. Plus all the history research and story planning that went into it was a lot more than I usually do. It was fun, I'm glad I finished it, but fuck I don't know how people write novels regularly. Stephen King tell me your secret

fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort: For The Glory, for the Hockey/Mattdrai fandom. Maybe the fastest I've written anything. Basically wrote it from start to finish within a couple hours, not including food and sleep. Not a monumental fic, no, but for someone with chronic fatigue and adhd... astounding. It was very much a result of conversations with M. and her determination to drag me into hockey and mattdrai. Successfully, clearly haha

work you are proud of: I'm going to say Skybound again. Small fandom, but a huge fic for me. One I could probably turn into an original piece with minimal finagling if I wanted. I would also like to think one could enjoy the fic without having seen Dunkirk. That being said, now that it's been over a year a half since I finished it, I'm already looking at it thinking 'I could have written this differently. I could have removed this or tweaked that.' Editor hell. But I'm leaving it as is, using it as a benchmark for my (hopefully) continued improvement as a writer. I think I improved over the course of writing it, even. A lot changed from inception to publication. But I'm no less proud of it, as a written work or as a story. I did what I wanted, and I wrote the exact story I wanted to read. So I'm happy :)

Thank you for the tag, M.! <3

[inamanicpixiedream]

2023

I've answered these questions on various platforms for over ten years now, I think? That's wild. There's better questions out there but tradition is tradition.

1. What did you do this year that you’d never done before?

Put on a mother-fucking Fringe show. Bought a Lego advent calendar. Got divorced lol.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions?

I don't really make them any more, but I feel like I set out what I wanted to do.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yeah, a few of my good friends from work.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No.

5. What cities/states/countries did you visit?

My partner finally moved here from Brisbane, but I did a couple of final trips there and we went back for a wedding. I did a whirlwind trip to Melbourne and while it was fun I found out I am not the kind of person who thrives on flying somewhere for less than 24 hours.

6. What would you like to have next year that you lacked this year?

Money. God, I hate this is the answer, but my rent got super jacked up and my partner hasn't found a job here yet and everything is find but it's tight as fuck and I hate working so goddamn hard and feeling like I have nothing to show for it.

7. What date(s) from this year will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

February my show was performed. April my partner moved here. Two of the biggest days of my life honestly.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

The show was huge. I wrote and performed something I had written, with my own financial backing and organisation and steam, and it's something I have always wanted to do. And I just did it. I then started making more and more moves to make this my life, like asking to go part-time at work and starting my podcast again and putting together a Patreon.

9. What was your biggest failure?

I actually can't think of anything which is kind of wild. After leaving my husband last year I really grabbed a hold of my agency in my life. It's been pretty incredible.

10. What other hardships did you face?

I had a lot to grieve and process about the separation and I am very thankful to my therapist for all the work she did there.

My current relationship is wonderful but being two adults coming together is going to have more baggage and things to work through. It's so absolutely worth it.

11. Did you suffer illness or injury?

In July I was diagnosed with polycystic-ovary syndrome, which is yet another nail in the coffin of my ever being able to have children.

Along with that came a further investigation into my blood sugar and I was told I had pre-diabetes. This scared the shit out of me, cause I was really fucking close. I was also terrified about doing the work to try and reverse it, because I didn't want to get back into disordered eating territory. But I had incredible help from a dietician and I read really tempered, reasonable information, and I managed to make small, sustainable changes and turn that entire shit around. Within six months my levels were completely back to normal and all my other negative health markers were reversed. Honestly, this was another huge achievement.

12. What was the best thing you bought?

I just bought a new guitar that has become a huge joy in my life. I also got into beading when I went to see the Eras tour movie to make bracelets and I've kept it up and I absolutely love it as a hobby. Otherwise, I didn't really make a lot of big purchases. Contributing financially to helping my boyfriend move was pretty great to get him here.

13. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

I am often resisting the urge to come on here and write a very gushy post about my boyfriend, but god he is great. I wrote last year that I highly recommend falling in love in your thirties. My mum commented at Christmas that it's clear how happy he makes me, but it's beyond happy - he makes me calm. Even when things are hard and messy he is such a solid presence in my life, and he is so, so bloody nice to me, and I keep waiting for it to stop feeling like a crush and exciting every time I see him but it's been almost two years and that just has never gone away. He is so ridiculously supportive of me and has worked so hard on himself and I'm so proud of him.

14. Whose behaviour made you appalled?

No names, but a few people at work made me feel like I was banging my head against the wall.

Also, fuck everyone who has been supporting Israel's attack on Palestine.

15. Where did most of your money go?

Rent and household expenses is the very boring but realistic answer.

16. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

My show. My boyfriend finally moving here. Seeing Barbie.

17. What song will always remind you of this year?

I was so terrible at listening to new music this year. The songs that were written for my show, I guess. I listened to Peach Prc and Tessa Violet a lot, but I don't know if those songs will remind me of the year. Maybe Kitchen Song.

18. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. Happier or sadder? Happier, happier, happier!

ii. Thinner or fatter? No comment!

iii. Richer or poorer? Poorer. But I have complete control of my finances and can still cover everything and then some. Have to remind myself I'll be okay.

19. What do you wish you’d done more of? Reading! This is something I have to work on.

20. What do you wish you’d done less of? Last year I said sleeping, which is very funny to me. Mindless scrolling is the answer this year for sure.

21. How did you spend Christmas? My extended family did out potluck on the Saturday before which was lovely, and my boyfriend was nervous cause he hadn't met half of them before, and he'd never been to a big Christmas before, but it was really great. My granny is pretty far gone with her Alzheimer's though which was a cloud that hung over everything

My boyfriend's mum then flew down on Christmas Eve, and we had lunch on the day with just us and our mums, cause we're both only children of single parents, and I was a bit concerned it'd be awkward, but it wasn't, it was really nice. We cooked an amazing meal together and both our mums bought the dogs presents. and we watched Fantasia and it was great.

22. Did you fall in love this year? 

I did not know it was possible to be in love the way we are. I sold myself short for years. It feels like a waste of time, but god, I cannot believe how lucky I am to have it now.

This is what I wrote last year, at the end of a much more extended answer, since 2022 was pretty big for us. But this is still absolutely true, and I can't get over it still.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I don’t think so.

24. What was your favorite show? God, I didn't watch much that was new, but we rewatched 30 Rock because my boyfriend had never seen it and that was great.

25. What was the best book you read? The Bookbinder of Jericho by Pip Williams. Little Weirds by Jenny Slate. What You Are Looking for is in the Library by Michiko Aoyama.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery of the year? I went to see Stop Making Sense and it got me very into The Talking Heads. Loved finding corook's music as well.

27. What was your favorite film? 

Films that came out this year - Barbie, Oppenheimer, Across the Spiderverse,

 Films I watched for the first time - Amadeus, Stop Making Sense, Best In Show, The Great Escape, Glass Onion.

I also went to a cinema event where we marathoned all five Twilight movies in a row, and that ruled.

28. What was your favorite meal?

We've been doing a roast chicken every Sunday together which has been great.

It's what we did on Christmas too and I made a kickass pavlova. Think that's definitely been the best meal of the year.

29. What did you want and get?

For my partner to move here.

30. What did you want and not get?

To win the fucking lottery.

31. What did you do on your birthday and how old did you turn?

I turned 35. I had a work event that night so did nothing special. That was fine.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Said it before, but having more financial stability and freedom sure would be nice.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept of the year?

Comfortable. Embracing my body. Showing my tattoos. As sustainable as possible.

Wrote this last year. Stand by it.

34. What kept you sane?

My dogs. My friends. My boyfriend. Writing. Podcasts. Taylor Swift's music. Going to the movies.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you admire the most?

Caroline Klidonas is an actor I follow on TikTok whose work I just adore. I also love Pip Williams' writing so much, especially after seeing the play of A Dictionary of Lost Words.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? The genocide in Gaza.

37. Who did you miss? Sometimes I miss the family I lost in the divorce.

But mostly not.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

I honestly don't feel like I've met many new people? Which is weird.

39. What valuable life lesson did you learn this year?

Go after what you want.

40. What is a quote or song lyric that sums up your year?

On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "What a mind" This happens all the time

'Cause they said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was nothing

- Sweet Nothing, Taylor Swift

We live in hope--that life will get better, and more importantly that it will go on, that love will survive even though we will not. As Emily Dickinson put it, hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all. And we are here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here. Sing it with me, wherever you are. Think of those across the broad and roaring seas, and sing with me. You won’t be more offtune than I am. We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here. We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here.

- The Anthropocene Reviewed, John Green

[indecentpause]

Find the Word Tag

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea to find january, sleep, ice, lantern, and blizzard! I’m going to have to go through all three of my wips because I know for certain I don’t have them all in one. thank you for the tag!

(everything I’m writing at the moment is in the summer, so I had to find some replacements for January and blizzard)

January month (from The Most Beautiful Puzzle):

You keep pushing out resumes and filling out applications. You’re not worried yet, but if you don’t find something within the month, you’re definitely going to be.

Then, late one night, while you’re in the living room watching old TV shows on Netflix, Josselin’s phone rings in his room. Weird. He usually turns the ringer off when he’s sleeping. Maybe an emergency contact? Is Frankie okay?

The ringing ends abruptly. Josselin’s door is cracked but not open, so you can’t hear anything he’s saying. Not that it’s your business.

You’ve gotten so much nosier since you moved in. Josselin’s rubbing off on you.

You go back to the TV, and the volume is so low and the apartment so quiet, when Josselin slams his door open, you jump what feels like ten feet out of your seat. Familiar zooms out of the room to hide under your bed, and Crackerjack and Grandpa both skitter under the couch.

You whirl toward him to ask what’s going on, but his face is pale and his eyes are wild, and the question shrivels on your lips.

“Get your laptop and phone. And your meds and wallet. I’ll get the cats. We have to go.”

sleep (from The Black & Blues):

Sara clears her throat. “We’re together. The three of us. But not like. In a sexual way. Or even a romantic way. We… we’re all aroace. And we just. It’s not like siblings but it’s closer than best friends. It’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t get it.”

You push your coffee to the side and rest your elbows on the table.

“Explain it to me, then,” you say gently. “We have all night.”

So they do.

Apparently being ace means no sexual attraction, and being aro means no romantic attraction, and being aroace means both. You don’t really get it, but they’re happy, and they clearly care about each other, and it’s not your business anyway. But you can see why they were so hesitant to talk about it, especially when Sara says,

“Like, everyone expects you to grow up and get into a monogamous marriage and sleep with your spouse and pop out babies and like. I don’t want any of those things. I want an apartment or a house with my two guys, and we can foster cats and dogs, and take each other to the doctor or the airport, or pick each other up from work, or go grocery shopping together, or help each other file taxes, or volunteer with the park district.”

And you’ve never heard anything more reasonable than that. Just because you can’t imagine yourself without romance or sex for the rest of your life doesn’t mean that’s what everyone has to want.

ice (from The Black & Blues):

By the time you arrive at Danny’s door, you’re breathless and sobbing. You knock and ring the bell and knock again, and his dad answers the door. He has a newspaper curled in one hand. He always has the newspaper nearby. Important to keep up with current events, he says.

“Meara?” he asks, surprised but concerned. “What–?”

But then his eyes narrow and his hand shoots out and you flinch oh god he’s going to hit you too–

But he doesn’t. He gently puts his thumb under your chin and guides your head to turn to the side.

“Meara, what happened? No, come in, come inside, I will get you an ice pack for your face. And I will get Danesh.”

lantern (from The Princess and The Pirate):

Rakhee flinched back when the electric lamps went on, humming softly in the still, silent air. Savitri helped em up and said, “Captain Daoyun wants to get moving before the sun rises. It’s supposed to be hotter today than the past two days, and the next town is about a two hour walk. She wants to get there as early as possible. If we’re lucky, we can find a place to take a bath and sleep on something more comfortable for a few hours. If Captain Daoyun permits, maybe we can take the train the rest of the way to Hongnan.”

“I hope so,” Rakhee mumbled. E yawned and rubbed at eir eyes and nose with eir knuckles. “I’m tired of walking. And I miss sleeping in a bed.”

“Me too,” Savitri said. She pulled Rakhee into a gentle side-hug, then let go as Mama Bear handed her one of the lanterns.

blizzard cold (from The Most Beautiful Puzzle):

“All right,” you say. “So… what happens next?”

Josselin finishes off his food and stands, gathering all his trash. “Next, I get coffee, and then I take a closer look at these files.”

You shuffle the papers he left on the table around a little. Josselin’s footsteps stop in the kitchen, and he calls out, “Is this tea yours?”

You jump to your feet and join him in the kitchen. “Oh, yeah, thanks.” You remove and trash the teabag and take a sip as Josselin rummages through the fridge.

“Oh, it’s cold.” You slide past him to get to the microwave to heat it back up, and, once he grabs a can of espresso, you follow him back to the living room.

Tagging @drippingmoon @kaiusvnoir @magic-is-something-we-create to find the words lonely, clear, flower, and oil!