#starting to realize that I probably count as disabled.
can you do one where chris has a gf who gets psychogenic fevers? thank you!
Masking
Summary: Autistic masking takes a lot out of you and leads to you running a psychogenic fever, but luckily for you, Chris is always right by your side to help you<3
Pairing: Chris x neurodivergentfem!reader
Warnings: Mentions of masking, autistic meltdown
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: Thank you for the request! I actually experience psychogenic fevers myself (related to masking and burnout), so this was a very self-indulgent request :) For those of you that don't know, psychogenic fevers are stress related and psychosomatic. You can read this article for more info<3 Hate/ableism/etc will be blocked and deleted ♡ Enjoy!!
There were very few parts, if any, of your relationship with Chris that you didn’t like. Everything was absolutely perfect. Your boyfriend spoiled you rotten, taking great care to make sure you were okay physically, mentally, and emotionally, and always made sure to both accommodate and help you accommodate your disability. Chris never made you feel wrong, bad, or different for the way your brain worked. Quite the opposite, actually. However, there were things that even he couldn’t control for you.
Like today, for example. The morning had started off rather rocky, with Matt unintentionally finishing off the milk before you’d had your bowl of cereal. Frosted Flakes was one of your safe foods, and not being able to have them, along with getting out of your routine, had left you teary-eyed and anxious. The middle triplet had apologized profusely, and although you forgave him immediately, it still put you out of whack. Then, instead of your usual afternoon snuggle and stim time with Chris, you’d both been running around the house getting ready for the movie premiere the trio had been invited to this evening.
All of those events had led you to now, standing off in the corner of the ballroom that had been used for the afterparty, nursing a sweating glass of Sprite. You adored being Chris’ girlfriend, but sometimes all the things you had to attend as a plus one became exhausting, especially when you had to mask around all the people you didn’t know. You’d been suppressing your stimming all evening, as well as small talking with a variety of people without Chris by your side, and it was beginning to wear on you. You shivered, setting your drink down on a nearby tray and rubbing your arms, both as a stim and to warm yourself up. You supposed it was the thin, silky slip dress you had on, but for some reason you felt awfully cold.
In the wake of trying to warm yourself up, you hadn’t even noticed Chris appear by your side. “Hey ma,” he smiled, sipping his own drink. “I’ve barely seen you all night.”
You hummed softly, still trying to warm yourself up. “Is your jacket in the car?” You asked softly, wincing at the ache in your joints.
Chris studied you for a moment, assessing your quiet voice and shaking frame. “Are you okay? You’re not looking too good…” After being with you for nearly two years, your boyfriend could practically read you like a book, always being in tune with your moods and feelings. He also knew that you experienced psychogenic fevers, and that the lack of routine, as well as masking around a large group, probably wasn’t doing you any favors.
“I’m cold,” You mumbled. “I feel like I’m getting the flu or something but I don’t have a stuffy nose or anything.”
Had you been able to think more clearly, you would’ve realized that you were currently going through what was unfortunately a pretty common experience for you. You had started experiencing psychogenic fevers in high school, once the stress, combined with being neurodivergent, kicked in. They were usually low grade fevers and body aches that would come on during the night due to stress and anxiety and then be gone by the next morning, but they made you feel awful nonetheless.
Chris ran his thumb across your cheek softly, noting how you leaned into his touch like he was the last source of warmth on earth. “D’ya wanna go home, ma?” he asked gently. “You’ve got a fever, babe.”
You looked up at your boyfriend as tears collected on your lash line. “Oh…I guess I should’ve realized…” You mumbled, the thought of why you were feeling terrible finally kicking in. “We don’t have to go, though. I’ll be alright. Enjoy the party.” You tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m gonna let you just sit here all stressed and burning up. This party’s shit, anyway. Stay here, ‘kay? I’m gonna go get Matt and Nick.”
You felt your heart swell as you watched Chris walk away. Despite his assurance, you knew how much your boyfriend loved parties, and the fact that he was willingly leaving one for you made you want to cry. You curled into yourself as much as possible on the small couch next to you while you waited for the triplets. All you wanted at this point was a hot bath and for Chris to hold you.
⊹ ࣪ ˖
The next thing you knew, Chris was gently shaking your shoulder, brushing your bangs off your forehead. “Ma, come on, honey. We’re going home.”
You sleepily blinked open your eyes, realizing you had fallen asleep in the time it had taken for Chris to find Matt and Nick. “Oh…I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.”
Chris smiled softly, while Nick looked on worriedly. “Matt’s getting the car.” he explained at your confusion to only seeing two-thirds of the triplets.
Your boyfriend helped you up gently, leading you by the arm towards the exit while Nick shielded you from onlookers’ eyes protectively. Had Chris had his choice, he would’ve carried you, but he didn’t want to completely embarrass you, nor did he want photos of you not feeling well circling around social media. You shivered when the three of you stepped out into the cool night air, whimpering softly.
Chris helped you into the car, where Matt was idling at the curb. You immediately grabbed his hoodie from the front seat, pulling it over your shaking frame. “I’m cold.” You whispered.
Your boyfriend caressed you in a tight hug as well as he could with his own seatbelt, holding you close so that you could feel his body heat as Matt sped home. By the time the car had pulled up outside of your shared LA home, you were practically asleep, your aches and pains making you miserable. Chris gently shuffled you inside, leading you upstairs to the bedroom.
“Do you want a hot shower, ma?” he asked you softly, helping you remove your earrings and necklaces.
You shook your head, feeling too fatigued to do much else other than cuddle under the covers. Chris seemed to understand, continuing to help you undress with a soft smile on his face. In his eyes, you always looked like a goddess, no matter how sick or tired you felt. You sighed softly once you were dressed in a much more comfortable outfit that consisted of one of your boyfriend’s soft, big shirts and some cozy pajama pants.
The brunette kissed your forehead with a soft ‘be right back’ as you snuggled up under your soft duvet. You laid across Chris’ pillow while you waited, breathing in his soft, boyish scent. Before you knew it, your boyfriend returned with a handful of medical supplies in one arm and a warm, wet rag in the other. Chris used the washcloth to gently remove your makeup, pressing kisses to your fevered skin as he did so.
“Do you know what brought this on?” Chris whispered gently, sitting beside you.
He had a pretty good idea of what had brought on this stress-induced fever, but he wanted to give you a chance to voice your feelings first. You rolled over, sniffling softly and pressing your face into his thigh as you tried to voice your concerns. Despite being home and in bed, you still felt the stress of being out of your routine and masking wearing on you.
“Not right now? I’m too tired…” You mumbled, a sniffle escaping you.
“Okay, ma. That’s okay. Let’s take your temperature, okay?” Chris gently grabbed the thermometer off the nightstand, gently sticking it under your tongue while he caressed your cheek. “100.3 (37.9 C). Not too bad, but enough to make you pretty miserable, huh?”
You just nodded sadly as Chris passed you some Tylenol and a water bottle. You downed the medicine quickly, shuddering at the bitter taste in your mouth. Your boyfriend easily helped you lay back down, pulling you into his chest as he spooned you. Instead of focusing on the pain you felt, you snuggled into Chris, realizing that this was the routine you had been craving all day.
You and Chris would always spoon at night before you went to bed, talking about everything and nothing while huddled up under the weighted blanket that had been placed on the bed at your request. Tonight, Chris didn’t pressure you to speak. Instead, he mumbled little things about how strong and beautiful you were, how he hoped you felt better soon, and how much he adored you while he traced little shapes onto the soft skin of your arm.
Despite your pain, you felt yourself becoming less tense. You knew your fever probably wouldn’t go away until tomorrow morning, and that you would need lots of routine and special interest time to get yourself back to fully normal, but for now, you enjoyed the brunette's soft hold, relishing the way it made your body feel perfectly aligned after a day of overwhelm.
It was much easier for you to fall asleep than you had anticipated, the combination of Chris’ snuggles and the medicine working its magic lulling you to sleep. By the time you woke up the next morning, your temperature was back to normal and you made sure to shower your lovely boyfriend with affection for what a great nurse he had been.
tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy
note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3
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Just the Two of Us
wednesday addams x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
summary: wednesday had her doubts about the arcade date, especially when your friends decided to tag along. but in the midst of a crowded place, she realizes that being alone with you makes all the difference.
warnings/themes: fluff, arcade date (uhh, that's all i guess.. 🏃💨)
words: 2.2k
Wednesday sat in the car, staring out the window. She couldn't help but feel annoyed by the noise all around her. She felt trapped in the middle seat, with Enid on one side and Yoko on the other.
She longed to be on the seat beside you, but, alas, Enid had claimed that spot before you had the chance. She couldn't help but begrudge Enid for taking it from you, even though it was probably an accident.
Tyler, the driver, turned on the radio, playing a pop song that the whole car started singing. Thing is tapping his fingers on top of her shoulder, trying to jam along.
Wednesday, however, remained silent, her shoulders slumped, and she looked out the window as the scenery flew by. You watched her, feeling a sense of guilt and shame. You know she wanted this date to be intimate and private, not a group outing that included your friends.
Wednesday tried to sink deeper into her seat. Enid, beside her, kept trying to talk to her, but she would barely respond. When she did, it was brief and blunt. Tyler turned off the radio, trying to get the girls to quiet down. Xavier and Eugene were sitting in the back of the car, playing a mobile game together.
You turn around to check on her, and she responds with a short, snappy, "I'm fine."
She just hopes the destination is worth it because this car ride is already making her regret coming along.
—
The car pulls up to the side of the street, and you step out, ready to open the door for your friends.
You extended your hand for Wednesday to take it, but she ignored it. You stood there with your hands still in the air for an awkward moment.
After a few uncomfortable moments, you close the door and catch up with the rest of your friends, walking towards the arcade. Enid is already running towards the arcade. "It's an arcade," she announced, like it was the greatest thing on earth.
Thing is inside the car, playing a mobile game that Eugene left behind for him. He couldn't come. Imagine a disabled hand wandering around—who would want that?
"Let's go bowling first, please?" Enid begged, and you and the others agreed to her request.
Once you gather in the bowling area, Wednesday picks up a ball and readies herself to strike the pins. As Wednesday begins to throw the ball, Bianca enters with a familiar, sarcastic tone. "Oh, look who decided to grace us with their presence."
"Wednesday and her pets," Bianca mocks, using air quotations.
"I think you mean my 'friends'," Wednesday countered, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, I don't think you have any real friends, Wednesday," Bianca taunted.
"I assure you, I have plenty of friends."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were counting your pets," Bianca sneered as she threw her head back in a laugh.
Even though you didn't hear the full conversation, it looks like it's getting more heated, so you walk up behind Wednesday, placing your hand on her back. She immediately recognizes your presence and follows your lead, allowing you to pull her away from Bianca.
You can hear Bianca's voice from afar, teasingly saying, "Bye, Wednesday!" But you ignore her and focus on leaving the scene before any more conflicts arise.
"Let's get that fiery temper of yours cooled down, shall we?" you suggested, leading Wednesday to an ice cream counter nearby.
You ordered ice cream for both of you and found a quiet corner to sit in. "My, my. I do suppose we are both alone, aren't we?" You muttered as you eyed the bustling crowd around you.
But she didn't budge, remaining quiet as she gazed upon the passersby.
You decided to let it go. Taking a bite of your ice cream, you continued munching away in silence.
And then, before you have a chance to fully process what's happening, her warm lips press against the corner of your mouth, leaving a faint taste of vanilla ice cream behind. "Don't you have any table manners?" she teases with a roll of her eyes.
"Careful now, my dear," you murmur, the corner of your mouth curling up in a small, teasing grin. "I just might eat messily if you kiss me like that again." Letting out a low chuckle, you placed a quick peck on her cheek.
She must've found your clumsy advances rather... adorable
—
You and Wednesday walk into an arcade, taking in all the flashing lights and game sounds. "Come on, let's play that one," you motion toward the basketball game, reaching for a ball, then you miss the basket... again and again.
She watches you play for a bit before rolling her eyes and muttering, "This is painful to watch."
"Help me out, babe," you coax, still taking aim. Wednesday scoffs, "Move," snatching the ball from you and effortlessly sinking the shot. You cheer her on, "Nice shot, Wednesday!"
In one smooth motion, she broke the high score, and the ticket dispenser springs to life, spitting out a string of tickets.
You move on to other games, such as skee ball, whack-a-mole, and air hockey. Both of you play for hours, and you try your hand at each game with more success than the last. Finally, you win a cute plush teddy bear from the claw machine, and you proudly present it to her, smiling.
—
Only one game remains at the arcade that you've yet to play, and that game is none other than Tekken.
The two of you sat down on the tiny chairs, and you began to explain the mechanics. "It's called Tekken, and it's a two-player game," you begin, gesturing to the screen. "We each pick a character and fight each other."
"So you're saying we get to fight each other?"
"Precisely." You nodded and gestured for her to choose a character, which she did without hesitation.
She scrolls through the roster, eventually selecting Devil Jin, the menacing-looking character that has wings and looks like it could tear you to shreds without even trying.
You select Lili since her cuteness would make Wednesday's defeat all the more satisfying.
The game began, and Wednesday was immediately on the offensive. She started throwing punches and kicks in your general direction, trying to hit you. But you were ready for her, and you easily dodged her attacks.
The game continued, and you could see Wednesday becoming more irritated by the second. She couldn't seem to lay a finger on you, and it was starting to get to her.
You, on the other hand, were having a great time. You couldn't help but tease her a bit, which only made her more frustrated.
After a particularly devastating combo, you emerged victorious. You stood up from the small chair and did a little victory dance, pointing at Wednesday and laughing. "Thank you, thank you!" as if you had just put on a great show for an imaginary audience in front of you.
"And what a battle it was! With my skills against hers, I managed to come out on top. I mean... it wasn't even close," you say with a wink, clearly mocking Wednesday's poor performance.
"You're so obnoxious," Wednesday grumbles. She wasn't used to losing, especially to somebody who was clearly just trying to make her more frustrated.
"Hey, don't be mad. I'm just better than you, that's all," you say with a smirk. You know that this is only going to make Wednesday more irritated, but you can't help yourself.
"Rematch."
Wednesday begins to figure out your plan as you keep playing and she starts to score more hits. But still, you come out on top.
"I hate you," Wednesday mutters under her breath as you take the final round.
You leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Too bad, so sad." Wednesday's eyes narrowed, and she looked at you with a glare. "Fine," she said, "but I'm not giving up yet."
"Rematch. Again."
The two of you continued playing, with Wednesday getting better and better with each round. Eventually, she finally managed to beat you.
"Not bad, not bad," you say, nodding. "But don't get too cocky. I still have ten wins under my belt, and you have only one." You give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and the game resumes.
"Whatever," she says, but her smile betrays her words.
—
You and Wednesday head to the counter to exchange your tickets for prizes. You gestured at the three pink manicure sets behind the counter, "I suggest we trade our tickets for that Barbie... manicure set over there."
Wednesday eyes the prizes with a critical gaze, "If you teach me how to play Tekken, we have a deal."
You chuckle at her response. "Very well then, let��s get that for Thing." You hand over the tickets to the attendant, who begins to count them slowly.
While you wait, you glance around the arcade and see Enid playing the dance game, Xavier and Tyler competing against each other in air hockey, and Eugene and Yoko engaged in the shooting game.
Just when you think it's going to be a long wait, you notice a photo booth in the corner of your eye.
"Look at that... it will take them forever. Come on, let's just get a quick picture." You pull Wednesday by the arm, not bothering to ask for permission, and drag her toward it.
You stood before the photo booth, eyeing it with curiosity. The black curtain was draped over the entrance, and upon closer inspection, you discovered that it only had one seat.
Without hesitation, you sat down on it and motioned for her to join you. She obliged, climbing onto your lap as if she belonged there. With her back toward you, you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist.
"What's next?"
You pulled out a ten-dollar bill from your pocket and handed it to her, pointing to the slot for inserting the money. She followed your instructions without saying a word, and the screen of the machine opened, revealing a reflection of the two of you.
With a smirk, you leaned back," Click the button when I say 'cheese.'"
You took a deep breath, preparing to say the magic word. "Cheese," you told her with a wink, grinning wildly.
She rolled her eyes and pressed the button, causing the flash to go off.
On the next one, Wednesday didn't budge an inch, but you went ahead and made a ridiculous pose, as if you were about to eat her ear. "Snap it," you demanded, and she complied, but not without an eye roll.
Determined to liven things up, you leaned over and whispered, "Make some poses." She groaned, but you weren't about to let her off so easily. "Like this," you demonstrated, holding up a peace sign.
Wednesday gave you a deadpan glance and obediently adopted the same pose, but you could tell by the twitch of her lips that she was trying to hold back a smile.
"Last one," you said, and Wednesday leaned back into you, the back of her body pressing against your chest. You planted a soft kiss on her cheek. The camera flashed once more.
The screen revealed the stickers and filters available, and Wednesday immediately pointed to the knife and skull stickers.
You went wild with the stickers and mustaches, even adding an eye patch to Wednesday's face. After you were done, the machine spat out two copies of the photo, one for each of you. You reached out for the copies, handing one to Wednesday and keeping one for yourself.
"Now let's go claim that manicure set before someone else does."
—
Wednesday's gaze remained fixed on the window, where she watched as the moon peeked in and out of the clouds. The sound of the bumps and creaks of the vehicle made it very difficult to sleep, but she wasn't planning on closing her eyes anytime soon anyway.
Tyler drove with precision, not letting the long and winding roads throw him off. Wednesday remained alert, taking note of everything he did—how he turned, how he changed lanes, how he accelerated and decelerated. She found it intriguing, the way he controlled the vehicle with such ease.
"If You Leave Me Now" by Chicago played on the radio, and Wednesday couldn't help but hum along, her fingers tapping to the rhythm. She wasn't singing or dancing, but she found herself in a sort of hypnotic trance, enjoying the feeling of your head resting on her shoulder.
Your breath stirred the air with every inhale and exhale, and she found herself listening to it, the sound of it soothing her nerves. She could tell you were tired, your breath was slow and heavy, and she was glad you could rest so peacefully on her shoulder.
With her free hand, she lightly runs her fingers over the lines in your palm and plays with your fingers. The touch feels reassuring. She quietly kisses the top of your head in a rare display of affection.
Tyler remains laser-focused on the road, oblivious to the tender moment unfolding in the back seat.
Wednesday takes out the photos from the photo booth earlier and relishes the memories of the day you spent together.
The silly poses you made in comparison to her expressionless gaze were amusing. The stickers you put on her were hilarious, especially the pirate eye patch. And who could forget that kiss on the last one?
She didn't regret coming along after all, not even a little bit.
Note: so i wrote this out at midnight bc i had to pull an all-nighter. it might sound a bit wonky or something, idk 🤷♀️ (im questioning the meaning of life right now)
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Been thinking about my experiences as a POC within fandom while also being an artist and how much that sucks sometimes. This is primarily in regards to the Redacted fandom, but could be applied to any other fandom honestly.
Proper "fussing" under the cut (for those who would rather not see):
Sometimes, I really stop and think about what it must be like to be a white person in fandom, especially when you're an artist. To see yourself reflected in the spaces you exist in all the time. There are some exceptions to this, of course. For example, lack of body diversity is just as much of a problem in my opinion (Like fat people exist. Disabled people exist. Fat, disabled people exist. You can draw them, y'know? /rhet) But generally speaking, it's not difficult to find designs that probably look like you. There will be blondes, brunettes, redheads even— It's everywhere you look.
I don't think most people realize how isolating that ends up feeling though.
Because it's not just the fact that most of the art/designs you'll stumble upon won't resemble you. It's the fact that the prevalence dictates how everyone else interacts with fandom too.
Do you know how much it sucks seeing a post saying "So we all agree that Asher's blonde, right?" and knowing that most people are thinking of a white guy and nothing else?
Or noticing how Alexis, a generally "hated" character in the fandom, is the only vampire most people are willing to make visibly brown?
How about the fact that Gavin, the "thrilling" and "sexy" incubus, has so many black and brown designs— But I can count the non-white Lasko designs I've come across on my hand?
People can do whatever they want. I've said it before, and I'll continue to repeat it when I make these rambles. If you want to make every single design you have varying shades of white and never stray from that, that's your prerogative. But for the love of god, I wish I didn't feel like I was fucking crazy for talking about how much that shit sucks to see as a person of color.
On top of that, do you know how frustrating it is to watch white artists get praised for generic diversity when POC artists have been consistently bringing forth such compelling, stunning designs to table? Like I see the kind of shit that gets praised in this fandom and what doesn't. Racial ambiguity or the slightest addition of a curl gets treated like it's revolutionary— And that's only if it's the "correct" character. It has to "make sense", right? The same way Sam has to have sun-kissed, golden skin even after he's been turned, or the way Guy has to be white because there's no way someone with that personality could be anything but.
Do you know what it's like to be filled with such a sense of joy because someone made a design where a character had your skin tone or hair texture or facial feature? Like, I genuinely have a strong reaction whenever I find a black or brown design in this fandom because they're so rare in comparison to everything else. And when I really stop to think about that, I realize how fucked up of a phenomenon that is.
I love the designs that I've made, but I've also noticed which ones "do better" comparably. I don't change much of anything with how I go about posting or promoting them. The only difference is that some of them fit what is considered widely "canon" in fandom. And the others... don't. I go out of my way to make every design POC in some regard, and you can usually tell visually even without the addition of colors. I'm not gonna stop doing that because I know why I started in the first place. But fuck, it does start to hurt seeing white artists with the same general white designs get hyped up endlessly while I internally debate if I should even make another character look like me or not. If it'll even matter to anyone but me.
Some days, I just really wish it didn't feel like shit being black in this fandom. I hate knowing that I'm gonna post this, and I'll probably get responses for other people of color primarily.
But maybe putting this out will help that pill get easier to swallow.
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Angel of God, My Guardian Dear Chapter 1: Matt
Rating: Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI)
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Story Summary: While speaking at a local school for visually impaired youth, Matt runs into his childhood best friend, with whom he lost touch almost 20 years prior.
Warnings/Tags: No real warnings thus far -- This is going to be a pretty angst-free fic.
Word Count: ~6,300
A/N: Welcome to Angel of God, My Guardian Dear! This started out as a 1-shot and quickly spiraled out of control, as my thirst for Matthew Michael Murdock could not be contained.
For the purpose of this story, Reader is Catholic and grew up at St. Agnes with Matt.
Title is from the Catholic prayer "Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide, Amen."
"All set to go to Lavelle?"
Matt Murdock turned his head as his friend and business partner, Foggy Nelson, came into his office. "Yeah, just need to finish up here and I'll be on my way."
"It was really cool of them to ask you to come speak," Foggy added.
Matt nodded. "I hope I can help these kids realize that their disabilities don't define who they are and that they can be whoever and whatever they want to be, including lawyers."
Foggy huffed out a laugh. "Or crime-fighting vigilantes?"
Matt grinned. "Well actually, there's probably only room for one blind crime-fighting vigilante in this city, so I probably won't suggest that as a potential career path."
Foggy patted Matt on the shoulder. "You're a great speaker, I'm sure you'll motivate the heck out of those kids. Have a good time, dude."
"Thanks, Fog."
Matt grabbed his briefcase, headed outside, then hailed a cab.
"Alright, where we goin'?" The cabbie asked.
"The Bronx," Matt answered. "Lavelle School for the Blind."
The cabbie tapped on a screen, presumably putting the address into his GPS. "Alrighty, just sit tight and we should be there in about half an hour."
Matt sat back as the cab began to move. Think of it like a jury, Karen had said when Matt had told her and Foggy about the opportunity over a couple of pints at Josie's a few weeks before. Just a younger, way more judgmental jury.
Matt had laughed. Not helping.
You'll do great.
He mentally practiced his speech during the ride and before he knew it, the cab was pulling up in front of the school.
"Thanks," Matt said as he paid the cabbie.
"No problem," the cabbie replied. "Enjoy the rest of your day."
"You too."
Matt headed inside.
Almost immediately, a somewhat familiar voice asked him, "Hi, may I help you?"
Matt turned towards the voice. "Hi, yes, my name is Matthew Murdock. I'm one of the speakers for today?"
"Ah, yes, Mr. Murdock, I'm Dr. Bowman, we spoke on the phone."
Matt nodded, now placing the voice. "Right, right."
"We'll be in the meeting hall, which is straight down this corridor. If you'll just come with me…"
Dr. Bowman led Matt down to the meeting hall. "We really appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to speak to our students," she said as they entered.
"It's really not a problem."
"The students and their parents will be starting to arrive in a while, but if you'd like we could have someone escort you around to the exhibitor tables once they're all set up."
"Yeah, maybe."
"We have a Braille program if you'd like one -- it lists all the speakers and exhibitors for today."
"Yeah, I'd love one."
"Okay, one second."
Dr. Bowman stepped away for a minute then returned, handing Matt a booklet printed on Braille paper. "Okay, here you go."
"Thanks." Matt pointed to a nearby table. "Is it okay if I sit over here?"
"Yes, of course. Just let us know if you need anything."
"Will do."
Matt sat at the table and began to read the program. Staff, sponsors, speakers, exhibitors…
He began to read the exhibitor list. American Council for the Blind, representative Ashley Prewitt. VISIONS, representative Clay Markham. NYC Mayor's Office for People with Disabilities, representative Barbara Franklin. Andrew Heiskell Braille and Talking Book Library, representative Y/F/N Y/L/N --
Matt froze and read it again. Could it really be the same Y/N?
Y/N, who at 8 years old had taken 9-year-old Matt, who had just arrived at the orphanage, by the hand and declared that she would be his friend. Y/N, who had giggled when Matt had asked her a few days later if she was an angel and replied, 'no, silly, I'm a girl!' . Y/N, who had been Matt's fiercest protector and had gotten into almost as many fights as Matt himself had. Y/N, who would stroke Matt's hair softly until he fell asleep on the nights when he would sneak into her room because all the stimuli flooding his senses became too overwhelming. Y/N, to whom Matt had taught Braille so they could pass secret notes to each other without anyone else being able to read them. Y/N, who 17-year-old Matt had held while she cried the day they found out that Y/N had been taken in by her long-lost aunt and would be leaving Saint Agnes… and him.
Y/N, his own personal guardian angel, the one person in the world Matt could tell everything to… except the one thing he had wanted to tell her most of all.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
"I don't want you to leave," he admitted quietly as he and Y/N stood at the entrance to St. Agnes.
"I don't want to leave either," Y/N replied. "I wish you could at least come with me."
Matt chuckled wryly. He had overheard one of the nuns talking to Ms. Y/L/N earlier that morning, warning her about 'that Murdock boy' and telling her how it was best for Y/N to be separated from him 'before he gets her into trouble'. "I don't think your aunt would go for that."
"Then can we run away together instead? We could travel the world, just you and me on the epic best friend adventure that we've always dreamed of."
God, Matt wanted to say yes. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Y/N by his side, be it as his best friend or -- as he knew deep down in his heart -- something more.
However, Sister Bernadette had been right. Y/N really was an angel sent from on high who deserved all of the goodness in the world, and Matt… Well, Murdock boys had the devil in them.
He shook his head sadly. "Your aunt's waiting. You should go."
Y/N was quiet for a few moments. Finally, she said, "Before I go… I got you something."
She took Matt's hand and dropped a thin, wiry chain into his palm. "I saved up for six months to buy it from the church's gift shop. I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but…" She trailed off. "Anyway, think of me when you wear it, okay?"
Matt picked it up with his other hand. Attached to the chain was a small cross.
He nodded. "I will. Thanks."
"I'll write to you, give you my aunt's address." Y/N pulled him into a tight hug then gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll miss you, Matty."
"I'll miss you too. Goodbye, angel."
Matt waited as half of his heart climbed into a cab and left, the note he had written to her the previous night still in his pocket.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Matt mentally shook his head. Don't get your hopes up. It may not be her.
…But deep down he knew it had to be.
He stopped someone who was walking by. "Excuse me, can you tell me if the representative from the Heiskell Library is here yet?"
"Umm…" the woman paused as she turned towards the exhibitor tables. "Yeah, actually, it looks like she's talking with Dr. Bowman at the moment."
"Okay, thank you."
"No problem."
As the woman walked away, Matt turned his head so he could listen in on the conversation.
"...So glad you could be here," Dr. Bowman was saying. "We really appreciate you taking time to come out and speak with our students and their parents."
"It's no problem, Dr. Bowman," the other voice replied. "I'm always happy to promote the library's services."
Matt sucked in a breath. It *is* her.
Even after all the years that had passed since he had last spent time with Y/N he had never forgotten the sound of her voice, the times he had sat listening to her read to him still among his favorite memories.
Y/N and Dr. Bowman were wrapping up their conversation, so Matt stood and headed over towards them.
Either Y/N didn't notice that Matt was behind her or Matt had misjudged the distance between them, but Y/N turned around and bumped into him.
"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, sir, I--" Y/N gasped. "Wait, Matty?"
"It's just 'Matt' now, but yeah. Hi, angel." Matt was surprised at how easily his old nickname for Y/N slipped from his lips.
"Oh my God, hi!" Y/N wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "How are you? What are you doing here? Are you a teacher?"
Matt chuckled as he returned her embrace. "I'm well. I don't teach here, I'm actually one of the featured speakers."
"Oh, wow, that's wonderful."
"What about you? How have you been?"
"I'm well too, yeah. Oh my God, this is so crazy. Are you still in New York?"
Matt nodded. "Yeah, still in Hell's Kitchen. You know me, I'm loyal to my city. What about you?"
"Yeah, Florida was okay, but New York is home. I'm actually in Midtown West now, so I'm not far." Y/N paused. "Hey, would you want to maybe grab dinner or a drink or something after this is done, and I dunno, like, catch up? It's totally fine if you can't, I just thought maybe --"
Matt quickly shook his head. "No, no, yeah, I'd love to."
"Great! I'll have to run back by the library to drop all of my stuff off but I can meet you wherever after that."
Matt thought for a moment. "You still like Italian?"
Y/N let out a light laugh. "Of course."
"Then how about Bellissima Italia, over on 9th and 44th? That's near there, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great."
"Will 6:00 work for you? I'll make a reservation."
"That would be perfect. Here, let me give you my number in case something unexpected comes up. It probably won't, but then again, this is New York -- you never know what kind of craziness is going to happen next."
Matt chuckled and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "That's very true."
He created a new contact and typed in Y/N's name, then added her number once Y/N recited it to him.
He hit the button to call her, hanging up after Y/N's phone began to buzz in her pocket. "There, now you have mine."
"Awesome. I have to get to my table, but I'll see you tonight?"
Matt nodded as the doors opened and people began to trickle in. "Yeah, definitely. See you tonight, Y/N."
"Bye, Matt."
Wow, what are the odds? Matt thought as Y/N walked back over to her table.
He pulled his phone back out and headed back into the hallway to make their reservation, then called Foggy.
"Yo, Matt, what's up?" Foggy said in greeting.
"Hey, Foggy, do you remember me telling you about Y/N back when we were in college?"
"Y/N, as in Y/N, your childhood friend from the orphanage who you talked about non-stop and are still hung up on 16 years later Y/N? 'The one that got away' Y/N? That Y/N?"
Matt chuckled. "Yeah, that Y/N. Well, I actually just ran into her. It turns out she's a librarian at the Heiskell Library and is here promoting their library services, so we made plans to have dinner and catch up after this is over."
"Oh, wow, that's actually really awesome, dude. You said she works at the Heiskell Library?"
Matt could hear Foggy sit down at his desk and start typing on his computer keyboard. "Yeah."
After a moment, Foggy said, "Damn it."
"What is it?"
"I knew she was gonna be hot!"
Matt huffed out a laugh. "Did you seriously just Google her?"
"I wanted to see what she looks like! You're a hot woman magnet, so of course your old childhood friend is hot. Is she single? Because if you change your mind about her…"
Matt just chuckled. "Not gonna happen. If I even remotely still have a shot with Y/N, I'm taking it."
"Eh, I was just kidding anyway. Good luck tonight, man. Hope she's everything you remember her being and more."
"Thanks, Fog. I'll talk to you later."
"'Kay. Bye, Matt."
Matt hung up and headed back inside, both excited and nervous to catch up with Y/N later that evening.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Matt smoothed down his hair for what seemed like the tenth time as he arrived at the restaurant for his catch-up dinner with Y/N.
He took a deep breath and headed inside.
"Buonasera," the seating host said. "Welcome to Bellissima Italia. How many in your party, sir?"
"Actually, I have a reservation for two at 6, under 'Murdock'," Matt replied.
"Ah, yes, sir. Your companion's already arrived. Right this way."
Matt followed the seating host to where Y/N sat.
"Matt, you made it," Y/N said, standing and giving Matt a hug.
She had changed from the blouse and slacks she had worn earlier into a silk dress that hugged her form, and underneath the subtly floral perfume she wore was her familiar natural scent that had never failed to relax Matt when he was overwhelmed. Even now he could feel his nervous energy starting to calm.
He returned her embrace. "Hi."
"Joseph will be your server tonight," the host said as they sat. "If you need anything let us know."
"Thank you."
Matt folded up his cane and stuck it in his jacket pocket. "I hope you haven't had to wait long."
"No, I just got here a few minutes ago."
Their server walked up to their table. "Good evening, my name is Joseph and I'll be taking care of you. What can I get you to drink?"
"Can I get a glass of Pinot Grigio and a water?" Y/N said.
"Certainly, ma'am. And for you, sir?"
"I'll take a glass of Merlot and a water as well, thanks."
"Okay, certainly. I'll get that taken care of for you while you get a chance to look over the menu."
"Do you know what you want, or do you want me to read the menu to you?" Y/N asked as Joseph left.
"Actually if you don't mind telling me what's on the menu I'd really appreciate it," Matt replied. "I didn't get a chance to check it out before I came."
"No, it's not a problem at all." Y/N picked up her menu. "Let's see…"
Matt listened intently as Y/N quickly read the menu off to him. He nodded. "Okay, thanks. I think I know what I want."
A few moments later Joseph returned with their drinks. "Okay, here you are. And are we ready to order?"
Matt nodded. "I'm ready. Y/N, you want to go ahead?"
"Yes, I'd like the gnocchi in cream sauce, please," Y/N said.
"Okay, and for you, sir?"
"I'll take the chicken parmigiana, thanks." Matt picked up his menu and handed it to Joseph.
"Okay, I'll put those in for you right away."
"Wow, I still can't believe this," Y/N said as Joseph left once again. "It's been, what, almost 20 years?"
Matt nodded with a grin. "Yeah, something like that. And even after all this time, you still look exactly the same."
Y/N laughed. "I'm glad to know that you haven't lost your sense of humor."
She took a sip of water. "So, catch me up on the past 20 years."
Matt shrugged. "Not much to tell. Left St. Agnes at 18, went to Columbia and got a law degree, opened my own practice with my college roommate, and that's about it." Except for the fact that I also became a crime-fighting vigilante, sent a mob boss to jail, and took down a secret organization of ninjas.
"Not married, no kids?"
Matt shook his head. "No, never found the right person." Because I already had found her but was too much of a coward to tell her how I felt before she left. "What about you? What have you been up to?"
"Finished high school in Florida, got my bachelor's degree in sociology, did my MLIS, and became a librarian. Did five years as a special services librarian in Florida, two in Indiana, then I managed to get on with the Heiskell Library and have been there ever since."
"No marriage or kids for you either?"
"No kids, almost got married once but it didn't work out. Wasn't anyone's fault, we just weren't right for each other."
Matt nodded. "How's your aunt?"
"Oh, she's fine. She's still in Florida so I talk to her every few days. Wait till I tell her I ran into you."
Matt gave a wry smile. "I dunno if she'll be happy about that. She didn't like me."
"What do you mean she didn't like you? She didn't even know you."
"She didn't have to. She had heard enough about me from Sister Bernadette to form an opinion."
"Ugh. Sister Bernadette. She did always seem to have it out for you."
Matt shrugged. "Well, in all fairness, I was kind of a troublemaker."
Y//N laughed. "Yeah, but I was usually right there with you in whatever trouble you were making, if not starting the trouble myself."
Matt grinned and took a sip of his wine. "You mean like the time we stole that bottle of Communion wine out of the church storeroom?"
Y/N laughed. "You know, that was the first thing I mentioned during confession after I started going to church in Florida. Seal of Confession or not, I wasn't about to confess to Father Reynolds about it."
Matt grinned. "Afraid of a harsher penance?"
"Yes! It was bad enough having to say five Acts of Contrition and three Our Fathers that time I punched Bobby Neyland in the face for tripping you in the hall. I had already gotten detention and I had to apologize to him, what more did they want?"
They were interrupted by Joseph bringing their dinners. "Alrighty, we have the gnocchi over here, and the chicken parmigiana here. Careful, those plates are hot. Is there anything else I can get you two?"
"No, I think we're fine," Y/N replied. "Matt?"
Matt shook his head. "We're good for now."
"Okay, let me know if you need anything else."
"Will do."
"Anyway," Y/N said, "we weren't always getting into trouble. Most of the time we were perfect little angels."
Matt chuckled. "I think your memory is faulty. You may have been an angel, but I certainly wasn't."
"We did have some good times together though, didn't we, Matty?"
Matt nodded, the quiet times he got to spend with Y/N floating through his mind. "Yeah, we certainly did."
The conversation continued to flow easily as Matt and Y/N reminisced about their childhood, and the next thing Matt knew dinner was over.
"Will that be one check or two?" Joseph asked as he cleared their plates.
"Just the one check, thanks," Matt said, handing Joseph his credit card before Y/N could protest.
"Next time, I'm paying," Y/N replied as Joseph went to go take care of the bill.
Matt grinned, thrilled that Y/N had even mentioned a 'next time'. "Deal."
He signed the check once Joseph returned for the last time, then unfolded his cane as he and Y/N stood. "May I walk you home?"
He could almost hear the smile in Y/N's voice as she replied. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."
Matt extended his arm. "Then shall we?"
They left the restaurant together, the ease and familiarity they once shared still there.
"So, what made you decide to become a librarian?" Matt asked as they headed towards Y/N's apartment building. "Last I knew you wanted to go out and save the world by becoming a big-time CEO of a Fortune 500 company."
Y/N huffed out a laugh. "Um, well, actually, it was you."
Matt's eyebrows raised. "Me?"
"Yeah. When it was time to start thinking about college I spoke to my guidance counselor and told her about how my best friend was visually impaired and how I'd sit and read print books to him because there weren't any Braille or audiobooks in the orphanage where we grew up, and so she told me about how there were actually special library services for people with visual impairments and that maybe I should look into special services librarianship since I seemed called to that."
"And do you like it?"
"Yeah, more than anything. Like a lot of people might think that being a librarian is boring or an obsolete job, but you should talk to some of my patrons, Matt. They're all alone with no family or friends nearby, so listening to these audiobooks are the only things that they have to do all day. It's actually kind of heartbreaking."
Matt nodded with a soft smile. Y/N really was an angel.
"And I know I'm not like, saving lives or changing the world or anything," Y/N continued, "like by being a doctor or by helping innocent people who've been wrongfully accused of crimes like you and your partner, but I feel like I'm at least helping people in my own way, you know?"
Matt turned towards Y/N as they stopped at a crosswalk. "You think you haven't saved lives? 'Angel' wasn't just a nickname, sweetheart. You befriended a lonely, scared, angry little boy with absolutely zero fucks given as to what anyone else thought, and to this day I'm still so damn grateful for whatever made you see me and decide, 'Yes, that one. I want him as my best friend'."
Y/N let out a watery laugh. "Honestly, it wasn't a tough decision. I knew from the moment I saw you that you were going to be way cooler than everyone else."
Matt smiled softly. "You were my guardian angel, Y/N. I certainly wouldn't have made it without you."
He reached up and gently swiped his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the tears that had collected there. "You okay?"
Y/N nodded. "Yeah."
Matt slipped his hand into Y/N's and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
They continued on their way to Y/N's apartment, Y/N seemingly as reluctant to let go of Matt's hand as he was to let go of hers.
"What about you?" Y/N asked. "What drew you to law?"
"I want to fight injustice and keep Hell's Kitchen safe, protect the people I care about," Matt said simply. "Going through the legal system seemed the best way to do that at the time."
"And now?"
"What?"
"You said 'at the time'. What's the best way now?"
Being Daredevil, Matt wanted to say. Protecting those I can't protect through the law.
He shook his head. "I just know that everything's not as black-and-white with the legal system as I once thought."
"Yeah, I get that." Y/N slowed down as they reached her apartment building. "This is me."
Matt nodded. "I'm really glad we found each other again."
"I am too -- I've missed you so much, Matt. I tried to write to you after I moved but all of my letters came back 'return to sender'. Eventually I realized that they were returning my letters, but by that time it was too late, and it's not like I could just call up Sister Bernadette and ask for your forwarding address."
Matt shook his head. "I knew it. I knew something weird was going on. I could tell she was lying whenever I asked her if I had any mail from you."
"I still have them."
"The letters you wrote me?"
"Yeah, they're in a box in my closet."
"Can I read them?"
"Yeah, sure. You want me to go get them or do you want to come up for a drink and we can read them together?"
Matt nodded. "A drink would be nice." More time I can spend with you.
"Okay, then. Come on in."
Y/N led Matt through the lobby to the elevator and up to her apartment. "Make yourself at home," she said as she unlocked her door. "Living room is straight ahead, just mind the coffee table when you go around the couch to sit."
Matt sat while Y/N moved around her kitchen. "What's your preference?" Y/N asked. "I have wine, hard cider, amaretto, whiskey, rum…"
"Whiskey is fine. On the rocks."
He could hear Y/N adding ice to a couple of glasses then opening a couple of bottles, then smelled the scent of sweet & sour mix. "Let me guess. Amaretto sour for yourself?"
Y/N paused in her pouring. "How'd you know?"
"I can hear the difference in the shape of the bottles, and I can smell the sweet & sour."
"You're good." Y/N closed the bottles and put the sweet & sour mix back in her refrigerator.
She handed Matt his glass before setting hers down on the coffee table. "Here you go. Give me just a second, I'll go grab the letters."
Matt took a sip of his whiskey as Y/N retreated to her bedroom.
She returned momentarily with a box. "Ok so remember, I was 16 when I started writing these, so don't judge me if they're cringy."
Matt chuckled. "I won't, I promise."
Y/N opened the box and handed him a manila envelope. "Here, start with this one. I'm pretty sure they're still in the order I wrote them."
Matt opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of Braille paper. "Can you still read Braille?" he asked.
"Yep, can still write in it too, although Braille printers make everything a lot easier these days."
Matt set the piece of paper on the coffee table and began to read aloud.
"September 30, 2002
Dear Matty,
Just got settled in at Aunt Ruth's house. My bedroom here is as big as both of ours at St. Agnes combined.
Hoping I can convince Aunt Ruth to let you come visit soon, maybe during Thanksgiving?
By the way, my address is 4685 Sandpiper Blvd., Miami, FL 33190.
Hope to hear from you soon,
Y/N"
Y/N snorted. "Yeah, 'I'm sure you'll be able to get away from the orphanage for a week or so to come hang out with your bestie in Florida!' Man, was I naive."
Matt shook his head. "You didn't know. Neither of us could've known that they'd actually try to keep us apart."
Y/N picked up the next envelope. "Here, I'll read the next one."
Matt nodded. "Okay."
"October 21, 2002," Y/N began.
Dear Matty,
I must've done something wrong with the postage on my first letter, because it came back marked return to sender. Adding double to make sure this gets to you.
Aunt Ruth wants me to join some after-school clubs, make some new friends. I don't want *new* friends, though. I just want you.
Speaking of making new friends, you know that song 'make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold'? Well, it's not true. You're way more precious to me than gold. You're more like… I don't know, the rarest and most precious substance on earth, whatever that may be.
Anyway, address is 4685 Sandpiper Blvd., Miami, FL 33190. Write me back!
Always,
Y/N"
Matt picked up the next envelope. "November 12, 2002.
Dear Matty,
Another letter came back return to sender. Don't quite know what I'm doing wrong, but hopefully this one reaches you!
School has been okay. Don't think I told you yet, but Aunt Ruth enrolled me in some fancy all-girls Catholic school. I'm really enjoying English class. We're reading The Crucible. Maybe next time we're together I'll read it to you. Think you'd like it.
Anyway, hope you're doing okay. I miss you.
Always,
Y/N"
Y/N laughed. "You know, my offer to read The Crucible to you still stands."
Matt grinned. "In that case I might have to take you up on it. You're still my favorite audiobook narrator."
He could hear the smile in Y/N's voice as she began to read her next letter.
"January 10th, 2003.
Dear Matty (or is it just Matt now that you're the big 1-8?),
Happy birthday! I wish I could be there with you to celebrate. I wanted to surprise you and come visit, but Aunt Ruth said no. (Party pooper.)
I hope your day is amazing and that you get everything you wish for, because you deserve it! *Heart*
Miss you like crazy and I really hope to hear from you soon!
Always,
Y/N"
Matt shrugged. "My 18th birthday was fine, nothing overly special." I didn't get my wish, but now I know why.
He cleared his throat. "April 6, 2003.
Dear Matt,
I don't know if I did something wrong before I left and you're mad at me or if I'm just that inept at mailing a letter, but I just got a bunch of letters back unopened again. I really hope it's the latter because if it's the first, I don't know what I did but whatever it is, I'm sorry. Just please talk to me. I want my best friend back.
Y/N"
Matt's heart broke. Damn them. Damn them all to Hell for making Y/N think she could ever do something to make me not want her in my life.
He finished his glass of whiskey before picking up the next letter.
"Want a refill?" Y/N asked.
Matt nodded. "Sure."
Y/N stood and went to make them each another drink while Matt read the next letter aloud.
"September 3, 2003
Dear Matt,
I don't even know why I'm still trying. You're 18 now, I'm sure you're not even at St. Agnes anymore. You're probably off to college and have made fancy new college friends, so even if this letter somehow reached you you probably wouldn't respond anyway, but I wanted to tell you goodbye anyway and to wish you good luck.
Y/N"
Matt's brow furrowed. "But there's more letters."
"Yeah." Y/N sounded hesitant as she set Matt's drink down on the table. "I never sent any of the rest though."
She picked up the next one. "December 9, 2003.
Dear Matt,
I'm sitting here in English class (well, not now since I'm writing this in Braille instead of standard print) and our bell assignment today was to write a letter to someone who is no longer in our lives. I'm sure the point is probably to write to someone who's dead, but whatever, I'll write to whomever the hell I want.
Aunt Ruth finally told me the truth: that St. Agnes had been returning your letters to me before you even got them. Needless to say, I'm furious. I don't understand why they would go to such lengths to keep us apart, or why Aunt Ruth would even agree to it.
I hope you don't think I never tried to get in touch with you, because the thought of you believing that I would just abandon you like that tears me up inside.
I miss you, Matt, and I hope you're doing well.
Y/N"
Matt shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N. I hate that you ever even had to think that I would ignore your letters."
Y/N reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "It wasn't your fault."
They continued reading, Y/N telling him about getting into college, the classes she was taking each semester, graduation, getting into grad school and getting her library science degree, her first job as an official librarian…
Y/N took a sip of her cocktail before starting the next letter.
"March 8, 2012
Dear Matt,
I've met someone . His name is Alex and he works in the I.T. department of the library. I think you two would get along -- you're a lot alike.
We've been dating for a few months now and things are going pretty well. I'll keep you posted as to where things lead.
Y/N"
Matt picked up the second-to-last letter.
"January 13, 2013
Dear Matt,
Alex proposed, and I said yes. We're planning a fall wedding -- nothing big, just close family and friends.
I wish you could be there. I thought about asking Alex if he could look you up on the internet to see if he could find an address for you. Could you imagine? We haven't been in contact in over 10 years and suddenly you get an invitation to my wedding.
Crazy, right?
Y/N"
Even though Matt knew that things didn't work out between Y/N and her ex-fiancé, his stomach was still in knots as Y/N began to read her final letter.
"June 29, 2013
Dear Matt,
I ended my engagement with Alex today. We were touring wedding venues over the weekend but none of them felt right, and I realized this morning that it wasn't the venues that felt wrong, it was me.
You see, I can't marry Alex, not when-- " Y/N paused and took a deep breath. "Not when I've been in love with you for most of my life."
Matt's brain screeched to a halt. What did she just say?
"God, I'm so pathetic," Y/N continued, "pining over someone to whom I haven't even spoken in years. It's not fair to Alex to marry someone who's in love with another man and it's not fair to myself to keep holding on to something that I can never have.
I guess I've kept writing to you in order to somehow hold on to you and to feel like we were still teenagers writing secret notes to each other, like maybe one day I'd have the courage to finally tell you how I feel.
I'll always love you, Matt, but maybe it's time for me to finally let you go.
Y/N"
Matt turned towards Y/N, who had picked up her drink and was currently draining it. "You were in love with me?"
Y/N remained silent, but the uptick in her heartbeat gave Matt hope.
He took her glass from her and set it down on the table before taking her hand in his. "Y/N? Please, angel, talk to me."
Y/N took a deep breath. "I still am, Matt. I still love you. I never stopped."
Oh, thank God. "I love you too," Matt murmured. "I've loved you probably since the moment I met you, it just took me a few years to figure out what it was I was feeling."
He pulled out the cross Y/N had given him out from under his shirt. "I've always kept you close to my heart, Y/N."
Y/N reached out and placed her hand on his chest, warming the metal cross pressing against Matt's shirt. "I was wondering if you still had that."
Matt nodded. "I've rarely taken it off in the past 20 years."
He paused. "I was going to tell you I loved you the day you left for Florida. I had written you a note telling you how I felt."
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
"Right before I was going to I overheard Sister Bernadette talking to your aunt about how it was best to separate us so I wouldn't ruin your life, and I realized it definitely wasn't fair for me to tell you I loved you right before you moved a thousand miles away."
"What the hell? How would you have ruined my life?"
Matt huffed out a laugh. "Well, let's see, the exact phrasing she used was 'before he gets her into trouble'."
"Before you 'got me into trouble'? Wait, did she -- did she think we were sleeping together ?" Y/N sounded both horrified and amused.
Matt shrugged. "Well, she wouldn't have technically been wrong."
"Well no, but all we ever did was literally sleep together!"
"Maybe, but it's not like I never thought about doing the other kind of sleeping together with you."
Y/N gave a playfully scandalized gasp. "Why, Matthew, I certainly hope you went to confession for that."
"More than once." Matt chuckled. "I mean, I was a hormonal teenage boy who was hopelessly in love with my best friend, of course my thoughts drifted there from time to time."
Y/N was quiet for a moment. "I wonder if maybe someone saw you sneaking out of my room one morning and reported us, and that's why Sister Bernadette thought something was going on. She could've confronted us though instead of just shipping me off and keeping us apart for almost 20 years. So much wasted time, and over what was probably a complete misunderstanding."
Matt shook his head. "Angel?"
"Yeah, Matty?"
"I'm going to kiss you now."
Y/N sucked in a breath. "Uh huh, yeah, okay."
Matt reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, then -- after over 20 years of longing -- gently pressed his lips to hers.
He leaned back, a smile spreading on his face as he caressed the matching smile on Y/N's with his thumb. "So, how about dinner again tomorrow night?"
Y/N hummed. "What, you don't want to lose touch for another 20 years and hope we randomly run into each other again?"
Matt shook his head with a laugh at Y/N's teasing tone. "No way, angel. I spent almost 20 years without you, so now that I've got you back in my life I'm not letting go."
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Can you do a companions react to a sole with poor fine motor skills that is really skilled in battle but can't do stuff like open can tabs or walk in a straight line or has trouble lile tying their shoes?
- Leaf anon 🌱
Cait; Wouldn't think much of it. She was an addict, she's known lots of other addicts, she's known raiders. People who's heads get messed with, either with substance or by getting hit too much. Fighting and shit like grabbing a door handle are different. Her worry is that they'd need their motor skills in a fight, or in a retreat...Cait would gripe about helping them with anything if they ask, but she can respect someone who's useful when it matters.
Codsworth; Would offer a hand whenever they looked like they needed it, but otherwise wouldn't comment or acknowledge it. It would feel very improper. They've got things handled most of the time, and if they aren't in pain, he doesn't need to worry. Would consult wasteland doctors if he felt they were legit, get their opinion, but Codsworth isn't the type to micromanage.
Curie; Worried mama hen. Curie would hover and possibly overstep. She means well, but if you don't want help with something, and don't need it, someone insisting they help is very 🙃🙃🙃. This is the first time I've used emojis in a react, only because I cannot describe the emotion those ones convey. Anyway. Curie would look into motor skills disabilities/in general in hopes of finding a way to remedy their struggles, make things easier. Some people might appreciate it, others would feel really patronized.
Danse; Would send them to Cade every time they returned to the Prydwen, just to check up on things. Obviously can't so that post BB. Danse has probably seen this before as well, but since he'd be traveling with them, he'd see it more and in different ways. Small corridor and they can't walk straight? His power armor is huge and lacks agility. They're bumping into each other. This would be an exercise in spacial awareness for him.
Deacon; one of the more worried ones. They're both spies. They need to be sneaking. You need to be able to move straight, pick locks, quickly type on keyboards. He's pleasantly surprised to see that Sole is still good at what they do, but there's always a little part of him waiting for that Chekov's Gun to go off. Also tends to hover around them, especially in hostile areas.
Gage; Don't let anyone know they have this issue and Gage is fine. Raiders will sniff that kind of thing out and get dollar signs for eyes. Walk straight the best you can, or play it off as a personality eccentricity. Don't say shit, don't go for soda in public. Very confused how they beat the Gaunlet. Very confused how they have such a high kill count. Will only help them out if its time-sensitive.
Hancock; Takes him...so long to notice. Not because he's high, he just fully doesn't realize it. He spends time around alcoholics and chemheads. Like Cait, that's just...normal for him? Hancock will offer help with some things, and still not notice what kind of help he's actually providing. He'll realize out of the blue one day and barge into the room asking if they have problems, just to make sure he's right.
MacCready; As long as he's the sniper, there's no reason to worry. If they start eyeing scopes to add to their guns, he might sweat a little. If they're a pickpocket type, he's just sweating. Pickpocket, sweating bullets. This would turn MacCready off crime, watching them try to sneak whatever from someone's pocket, when just three minutes ago, they had to bite their bag's zipper. Leave the precision stuff to him. Please. Please for the love of god.
Nick; Look at either of his hands. He probably doesn't have such great motor skills there, either, purely because he's just so old and banged up. This is a major source of bonding. Nick is the least likely to have any worry or concern for them; he gets around fine, so can they.
Preston; Second longest to notice. Faster than Hancock, but it still long enough for him to wonder if they were always like that, or if they're injured in some way. His concern comes before combat—they fight just fine, its the getting ready. Flicking their safety off, getting the gun out, reloading. Preston tends to go in front, so they have some time to prepare before they get into the action.
Piper; Like Preston, worries about transitional periods. Downtime, they're fine, firefight, they're fine. But those little moments in between, oooh, does Piper worry. Piper will keep count of how many bullets they use and let them know to reload, switch to something else, etc. Basically tracks all the info around, gets it to them so they have a few extra seconds to think and fiddle with whatever they have to.
X6-88; They are forbidden from heights. They are to remain at least ten feet away from more than a three-foot drop. Area too small? Understood, we're not going there, we're leaving. No, I don't care who asked for what. X6-88 hates heights as is. Someone pirouetteing their way off an edge is not happening. He truly does not care about anything else. Can't open things? Whatever. Bad with precision? Whatever. You can't walk straight, you are not going near ladders, bridges, scaffolding, cliffs, maybe even stairs if he thinks they're too tall.
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hello! can you do headcanons for the veterans with a deaf/mute s/o? if so, thank you! :)
Veteran Trio With Deaf/Mute S/O
Author's Note: I loved writing this! As someone who was recently diagnosed epileptic, I've found a shocking lack of x readers where the reader IS disabled. Especially in aot so I knew I needed to get it right. Thank you for the request and I hope I did it justice!
Warnings: fluff, mention of ableism in Levi's part with deaf s/o
Pairings: Erwin Smith x gender neutral reader, Hanji Zoe x gender neutral reader, Levi Ackerman x gender neutral reader
Word Count: 0.6k
Mute S/O
Erwin Smith
Erwin picked up that you were mute and couldn't talk very quickly
He also picked up on sign language even faster
Erwin cares for you extremely deeply. He tries his best to understand how it feels, not being able to talk
As such, he translates for you. When he can't?
Well he taught one of the cadets sign language and gave them the task of following you during the day, translating for those who can't understand you when you sign
He wants to accomodate you best he can
Which includes asking you questions, letting your voice be heard as to how best he could accomodate you
Erwin just wants to help you however possible
Hanji Zoe
Hanji didn't notice at first, to be honest
They just thought you were unnaturally quiet
You had to explain to them via writing on paper
Which was after you realized they didn't know sign language either
But thats okay because you teach them and you two bonded over that
Hanji then decides to bring it up to Erwin
They talk Erwin into making it mandatory to learn sign language
Hanji cherishes and loves you, reminding you daily that your disability does not make you unlovable or unworthy
Sometimes they end up forgetting to make sure your voice is heard
They're trying :(
Hanji just loves you so so much
Levi Ackerman
Levi is the middle ground, really
He doesn't pick it up as quickly as Erwin but faster than Hanji
He and you are hardly ever apart once you two start dating so he translates for you more often than not
But Levi also got you a notebook and pen on a chain so you can talk with those who don't know sign language
One day you ask him where he learned it
Levi, for once, answered a question about his past
His answer was one of the people he had in his little outfit back in the Underground taught him
Who knew that a group of people who went unchecked by the government would actually collect those struggling and help them, even if in tiny ways
Deaf S/O
Erwin Smith
Not much changes honestly
Except that he works on making sure you're always on a squad with at least one translator
Probably Miche's squad tbh
Namely because Miche is second to only Levi and doesn't have to hear to know whats going on
Erwin also just wants you really safe
Really, it gets annoying at times
Erwin always makes sure you know he's coming up
Mans does not even dream of approaching you from behind if he can help it
Hanji Zoe
Hanji is the BEST at science
So when they meet you, they decide to fashion hearing aids in hopes they work to help you
They want to make sure you are as accommodated as you can be
Hanji will stop at nothing to make you happy
And they love talking with you. So. Much.
Although when they get excited, their signing gets sloppy and nearly unreadable
If you're good at reading lips, that just might be the preferable choice with Hanji
Hanji just has so much they struggle to contain :(
Levi Ackerman
Levi, again, already knew how to sign before he met you
He just uses it instead of only reading it with a deaf s/o
Levi will beat the shit out of anyone who he sees being ableist towards you
Whether you can hear them or not
He cares about you more than anyone knows
Levi would probably kill for you
He has accidentally startled you a few times
Mans is already pretty quiet but when you can't hear him in the first place??
Absolute chaos
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Some thoughts on cleaning
As an adult, I’ve never really known how to figure out what kind of cleaning I needed to be doing, and the advice that’s out there on the internet has never been very helpful to me. It feels like most of the advice I’ve seen has had one of two assumptions: 1.) your space is extremely messy (in a somewhat specific way), or 2.) you care a lot about having a clean home and are willing and able to invest a lot of time and energy into making that a reality (in an even more specific way).
Neither of these assumptions really fits me. I’m not the sort of person to leave mugs all over my apartment, keep lots of dirty dishes in the sink, or have piles of laundry lying around, and I never have been, so a lot of the advice aimed at mentally ill/disabled people hasn’t been helpful or resonant, even though I am mentally ill and disabled. But I also have never been the sort of person to vacuum, dust, etc. on a regular basis, nor have I felt like I’ve had the energy for that. I’m somewhere in the middle, falling through the cracks between the two prevalent types of advice.
And then this week, for the first time in years, I cleaned my apartment somewhat thoroughly. I didn’t do everything, but I did a lot. And I’ve been stunned in the past few days to realize how good it feels to live in a space that’s cleaner and less cluttered. It honestly feels amazing. I’ve loved my apartment for most of the time that I’ve lived here, but this is on a different level. So here are some thoughts about how you can maybe get a taste of this too.
You get to decide what your goal is. Do you want to vacuum? Do you want to go through the piles of papers sitting on every flat surface that have been accumulating for months or years? Do you want to throw out the broken stuff that you’ve replaced but haven’t gotten rid of? Do you want to recycle the boxes you’ve been compulsively hoarding? You don’t have to want a picture-perfect living space. You don’t have to shoot for the sort of house or apartment you’d see in a cleaning-supply commercial. (In fact, that’s probably aiming too high.) You don’t have to do what you’re “supposed” to do. You get to pick what “clean” looks like to you. You get to pick what will make the biggest difference for you. (Obviously, if you share a living space, you probably need to negotiate these things. But in spaces that are yours, this is your call, and even in shared spaces, it can still be worth questioning received notions of cleanliness.)
Start with something achievable. Vacuum one room, or sort through one stack of papers, or fill one bag of trash, or break down one box. If you complete that task, or even if you get halfway through it and then stop, great! Your space is cleaner than it was before! Every increment counts.
If you finish your first goal and still have energy, keep going. Ride that momentum as far as it’ll take you. It’s often easier to keep doing something than to start doing it, so if you can continue cleaning (and “can” here means that it’s both physically and mentally possible), then continue cleaning! You may find it easier to maintain momentum if you don’t sit down or take breaks, but also, if sitting or breaks are good disability accommodations for you, then use them.
Make it easier on yourself. If vacuums are distressingly loud for you, try earplugs or noise-canceling headphones. If rewards help keep you motivated, give yourself a treat when you finish, or even midway through! If you’re doing a cleaning task that can be done while listening to music or calling a friend, do that if you want. There is no virtue in misery, and in fact the best thing you can do is make cleaning not suck so that you can do it again sometime.
I hope this helps someone. I don’t think there are any universal rules about this stuff, especially in the specific, but I do think that picking a goal that’s meaningful to you, starting small, riding momentum when possible, accommodating your needs, and trying to find ways to reward yourself for cleaning are probably good ideas in most circumstances. Here’s wishing you the energy to clean!
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Red Peafowl - Assumptions and Theories
Now that I am semi-confident that there won't be any more important announcement for Red Peafowl until the 25th (because I think the last two mystery announcement were the Main Character and Main Love Interest) I am ready to write up my Red Peafowl assumptions/theories/wishes post.
Edit: There has been another update with the plot and some images of either the pilot trailer or the actual series link here. Once again thanks to @mysterygrl20 for putting the post with the google trnaslation here on tumbrl.
Going to use as basis for my information @blmpff post here; @mysterygrl20 individual posts tag here; and the mdl plot synopsis here; along with the synopsis I read on cast announcment articles that goes like this: The drama tells the story of Lu Yi Peng, a former police officer who decides to live with Shuai on an island, raising birds. However, he realizes that the person he once had a relationship with is a powerful mafia boss.
Also going to tag @respectthepetty for helping me narrowing down the leads (YinWar/MossBank) and for sharing my madness over this crazy ass BL already.
Going to start by saying that I think the three mystery characters are the villain, the hero and the love interest. I am also going to work under the assumption that while the last two will be revealed on the 25th (I am leaning on YinWar at the present thanks to a comment made by @amos-reviews-main [hope you don't mind the tag] under the last announcment) the third one our villain will stay a mystery.
Let's beging
ASSUMPTION N#1
Given that there seems to be a significant event in the past we are either getting two timelines (similar to kiseki dear to me but more evenly split between past and present) or the events from the past will be a mystery to the viewers to be slowly revealed using flashbacks.
Both of the plots hint at this, the character description for the hero and the fact that some of the stuff in other character description also seem to hint that they were part of what happen in the past.
If the second non mdl plot is more accurate something brings our hero back to town and into dealing with the mafia. Which leads me to
ASSUMPTION N#2
Cooheart character will be intrumental to bringing his brother our hero back into the fold. His character description hints at him being the biggest point of the contention between our main couple and that he has some kind of accident.
Another character that has an accident is Gun's character.
Also there is a doctor nurse in the cast list.
Edit: Cooheart's character accident is the past, and it has left him with a disability. I do still believe that he will get someone involved in all of this.
Either Gun's accident involves Cooheart's character (not on purpouse) in the present or Cooheart's character had an accident in the past and is now seeing a doctor regularly.
ASSUMPTION N#3
Like I mention earlier I think our third mystery character is the villain. His body dissapeared = No body no murder = he is still alive. That is just the biggest writing rule ever.
If the actor for that character doesn't get revelead it means that one of the other actor is actually that character pretending to be someone else (probably one of the cops or a character that doesn't interact with the love interest for obvious reasons). If they do have a seperate actor that probably means that at least one if not more of our big cast is secretely working for him.
ASSUMPTION N#4
There are only two genres that benift from having such a big cast and making sure they all have identifiable characteristics and fan anticipation: Mysteries or Something with a high body count.
It means that our cast of characters are either Suspects or Victims or Both.
EDIT: It's a mystery. I do still believe some of the people from the big cast are going to die.
Either way I do think that a lot of the new people will end up dying at some point during the series.
ASSUMPTION N#5
Themes. If this show has decent writing I can already ID 3 themes.
The new tendency in bl fandom to romanticize the mafia. See Lee's character being a human trafficker and our lead being potentially not that great either.
The cops, and how they are not there to protect and serve and how much the crime fight is really a sham. See Frank's character being an undercover cop (a plot line that usually has a the undercover cop come out on the other side with a semi-broken relationship to his job)
Toxic Ships (a la: Kinnporsche, Hannibal and Interview with the Vampire)
About the last one: I have a personal metric on wether or not I enjoy a toxic "problematic" ship
Do you get the sense/vibe from the writing that the creator/writers of the show knows this is fucked. And I don't mean a lampshade comment with someone saying "This is not healty" and everything resuming as normal.
Is there a point in which the dynamic becomes more equal. As in no matter which character is objectively "worse" is there a point where it feels like the characters are on equal footing, on the same side, Hannibal does this really well for example.
Some ships that don't pass the test are: Twilight, 50 Shades, R*ylo; TharnType and every ship on Love Syndrome (do not ever watch that BL I am serious)
ASSUMPTION N#6
Ships.
FrankLee are obviously our second couple. They are both super relevant to the potential themes, they are obviously trying to pair braind (this is their third BL) and they were also announced first.
Boun and the Doctor are giving me crumbs ship vibe. They are both potentially important chartacters. But I feel like with all of this their relationship might have the least ammount of dedicated screen time.
Now the last one is less of an assumption and more of a wish really.
Max-Coohearth > now listen I know that Cooheart has a love interest already, Rome one of the first new guys announced in the cast. But Listen the fact they are already dating doesn't bode well for them. Cooheart is a super important character and it makes sense that his "proper" love interest would be someone in the mafia proper.
Plus Cooheart deserves it ok. I loved both of his major roles (uwma and my only 12%), but he wasn't allowed to be a proper sexy queer guy in either of them. Have you seen his instagram feed? It's picture after picture of him in sexy outfits. Let this man be in a high heat realtionship, put in a skirt. He deserves it and so do we.
Also Max from iconic pair MaxTul pair with Cooheart will heal people. It would totally fix me. And if they give this to me I will forgive anything and everything this show does wrong seriously I will be like: I was wrong on everything and the plot is not that good, but they give me MaxCooheart so 10/10.
Also the character description for Max's character makes me think that catchphrase they mention might be something similar to the English phrase: "Who's Your Daddy?" and [this is @respectthepetty's fault, I didn't use to have such glee about a possibly daddy kink] seeing Max Nattapol uttering the phrase Who's Your Daddy and potentially having a DaddyKink relationship with Cooheart is something I didn't know I needed but now I desperately desire.
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Works in Progress
Okay, this is literally every single work in progress that I currently have on my drafts!
I am the worst at summaries so I put the literal request underneath each one of them 😊 If it's not here, I didn't get the requests, loves so, let me know 😁
I know it's a lot and I really hope to get all of them up soon, it's gonna take me a while, but they are coming! if you'd like to request a preview of one, go ahead 😊 polls might come back in the future since they seem to be working somehow! I'll also be updating my Masterlists
I would like to thank you all again so much for yyour requests, love and patience!
Steve Harrington
Drabble (Untitled) [Mixing 2 requests]
1. wishingtobeforeveryoung1019 - Hey can I get a Steve and reader imagine where she works with Steve and they both like each other but they don’t realize it. They both think each other are way out of each other’s league. Can be Scoops Ahoy or Family Video, whichever you prefer. Fluffy please
2. Anonymous - Could you write a dialogue for Steve Harrington where the reader works at Scoops Ahoy and Steve and Dustin are in the back talking and Steve tells Dustin how much he likes the reader. Steve says "I really love y/n." and the reader opens the little window and says something like "you know I heard that whole conversation, right?" Steve and Dustin are both really shocked and Dustin runs out the back door, and Steve gets really flustered. And it ends with something really fluffy and cute, and they kiss. You totally don't have to write this, it was just an idea I had.
Ongoing Series - How Will I Know
You have walked the halls of Hawkins High unseen. If it wasn’t because Eddie Munson and his Hellfire Club had found you, you probably wouldn’t even have any friends. You knew someone like your all-time crush Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington wouldn’t notice you in a million years. Until you get paired up for a project and he finally learns your name.
Eddie Munson
One-Shot - Alone Together [Mixing 2 requests]
1. mycobrakai1972 - Hello love, me again 😁 but instead of Charlie I have a Eddie request (even through they closed, so if you have to much just keep it for later or if you don’t want to, just ignore my request). So I thought about the reader is to shy to play with the Hellfire Club but she really wants too. And Eddie is thinking about a campaign that he can play only with her like a D&D date night and that has a romantic twist in it? Love your writhing, and look forward to everything that is coming soon. 💗💗💗
2. lunamadhatter99 - Oohhh let me go with Eddie and a shy one😍 Reader is a shy, quiet one, she's always seen (IF she is seen) at the library and there is where our boy notices her, reading basically a book a day. He's a little shy himself, at first, more because he's worried his reputation would scare her, but one day he tries sitting at the same table and... oh boy, when she smiles at him, he's done. He would start slowly: small talk, little glances in the hallway too, making jokes every now and then. To make her feel comfortable, first thing, always. He would start to flirt, careful not to cross any line, but he made her feel so at ease that she. Flirts. Back! But that only means that he need to try try harder to see that sweet blush he loves so much😏
Ongoing Series - There Are Worse Things I Could Do
[Harrington!Reader] Your senior year was supposed to be the best one in your life. But when Jason broke up with you and turned the entire school against you by spreading rumors about you, you can count with your hand the people that talk to you. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Nancy, and Robin. But there might be a new one you can add to the list. One you never thought possible. Eddie Munson.
Argyle
One-Shot - A Kind of Magic (might become a drabble)
Anonymous - Heyo! I’m the anon who requested the learning disability imagine! Talking specifics, I’ve got major dyscalculia & a bit of dyslexia. Social anxiety also didn’t help being called on in class, but yea 😅 thanks for asking!! 🥹🥹🥹
Dialogue (Untitled)
Anonymous - So I saw your post about shy!reader x anyone and I was wondering if you could do shy!reader x argyle where he introduces you to his friends in Hawkins (the older teens) and reader doesn't have like the best experience meeting new people so their scared and wants to like not see them because they have social anxiety and like he cuddles then I'm the end ( I always need Argyle cuddles)
One-Shot - Cielito Lindo
Not requested - [Byers!Reader] Argyle is staying with your family when his parents are out of town. You know he’s been feeling down because he has to celebrate his birthday without them. So, you try to do something to cheer him up. (Sequel to Build Me Up, Buttercup)
Ongoing Series - (500 Miles)
[Hopper!Reader] After moving to California with your sister and your new family, you think maybe you’ll finally get some peace. But, of course, you are now driving across the country in your boyfriend’s pizza van, on your way back to Hawkins.
Billy Hargrove
One-Shot - Highway To Hell [Munson!Reader]
itslaqueefababy - Hey Idk if you’re taking request but since you have writers block, Maybe a Munson!reader x Billy Hargrove? Eddie and Billy hate each other and there’s a lot of drama and tension whenever they get around each other. It’s gets really annoying and out of control that reader eventually gets fed up and upset that they don’t care how she feels. She gives them the cold shoulder and silent treatment then eventually comes up with the idea to runaway on purpose for them to get along by searching for her and all? Something funny and angsty?
One-Shot - A Little Death [Mixing 2 requests] [This might be Hartington!Reader]
1. Anonymous - Where the reader breaks up with Billy because he has been toxic and Billy goes and tries to find love in other women. But he gets frustrated because they don't touch him (physically and mentally) the way the reader always did. He gets angry trying to teach them but none come close to the actual thing until he gets so frustrated that he crawls back to her and tries everything to fix it.
2. Anonymous - “I feel like I’m falling apart.” with Billy Hargrove?
One-Shot - RIP, Love [Munson!Reader]
Anonymous - Where the reader is known to break hearts. Not because its fun for her but she does it to protect herself and the person. She is convinced that whoever gets close to her heart either ends up hurting her or she ends up hurting them so she always ends it by leaving them - ultimately hurting them before they can hurt her. When Billy starts getting interested in her and she suddenly leaves just when he thought things were going good, he doesn't back down to find out why and once he does he makes it his mission to show her that he is there to stay and protect, despite being known for leaving and destroying.
2. Anonymous - since you are taking requests, could i request a Billy fic with the following prompts from the prompt list you talked about in your latest post ? "Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me." "Just, please don't leave me." "I don't want you to die for me. I want you to live for me." + "As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you."
Steddie (Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson)
One-Shot - Running Up That Hill (I keep renaming it 😂)
Anonymous - I know you have many request and this one can definitely wait, but maybe Steddie x cursed!reader?? I need some angst and idk if this would help :/ but I understand if you don’t want to! Maybe one where reader bones end up snapping in the attic? It’s like Instead of max being cursed it’s the reader :)
Drabble - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now
plk-18 asked - OK first of all i love your work!!! So I don’t know if your requests are still open and I’m really sorry if you already did something like that and I just forgot. But I would love a steddie one-shot, maybe they are not together yet but there is some sexual tension and we have a ‘only-one-bed’ situation👀🤍🤍
One-Shot - A Sunday Kind Of Love
Not requested - For six months, you had been fine with having a secret relationship with Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. But that changes when a very special day for you approaches and you want them both by your side and for that to happen, a few rules might get broken.
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Sirius Black
One-Shot - Out of The Woods [Lupin!Reader] (the request focuses more on Remus and the reader so I put it under Remus for now)
Anonymous - ahh your requests are open!! I love that!! but anyway, I could make a request where Remus has a younger sister who is a year or two below him and she discovers the way the Marauders found to help him deal with his problems during the full moons and decides what she wants to do the same for her brother but Remus doesn't allow it and they just fight about it until one night she decides to follow them anyway but ends up getting hurt because she's not an animagus like the rest of the boys? If you can make her be in an established relationship with Sirius I would appreciate it and sorry if I said something wrong this is not my first language
Drabble (Untitled)
oursilversoul - Heyy❤️ could yo write a Sirius black x slytherin reader where they somehow end up dancing together in the Yule ball with an enemies to lovers undertone? Thank you I love you soo much :)
Ongoing Series - Just Give Me A Reason
[Snape!Reader] Coming back for another year in Hogwarts meant you and your brother were away from your worst tormentor. But when your school tormentor finds out about it, things are about to change and you are not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (Warning: mentions of abuse)
Remus Lupin
Dialogue (Untitled)
Anonymous - Hiii i don’t know if u are writing now but i’d love to read your take on remus being unconscious for a prolonged amount of time after transformation and fem!reader taking care of him and talking to him. fast forward to him waking up and confessing he heard everything she said while he was sleeping. i just love the way you write and it would be fun to read it!!
Drabble (Untitled for now)
2. Anonymous - HI! Could you do the prompt “We’ve been by each other’s sides for years, you think I’m gonna leave now?” With Remus Lupin where they're still in school and someone really close to the reader (like someone in their immediate family) died and the reader is miserable and asks Remus not to leave her too? Btw your work is amazing!
Ongoing Series - Too Good At Goodbyes
Twelve years ago, Lily and James Potter were brutally murdered. Twelve years ago, Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban for a crime he did not commit. Twelve years ago Remus Lupin left you to take care of a one-year-old Harry on your own. Twelve years ago Severus Snape was the only person who was there for you. And now, Remus is back to teach at Hogwarts with you, as Harry courses his third year, and Sirius Black escaped Azkaban.
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Charlie Weasley
She Is Love (One-Shot) [Mixing 2 requests]
1. Anonymous - something about a shy reader, who's friends with the twins. Charlie and the reader have a crush on each other and he loves to see her blush and get all nervous, so it's like his mission to make her blush a lot, she kinda likes it though. But when someone else does try to tease the reader, not in a comfortable way, unfortunately, Charlie comes to the rescue and later on confesses his feelings.
2. Anonymous - I am begging for Charlie kissing shy!reader for the first time please
One-Shot - I'm Yours [Mixing 2 requests]
1. Anonymous - One where he gets jealous because of how close you’ve always been to Fred and George, even though Charlie really has nothing to worry about.
2. Anonymous - I have a dialogue request for Charlie Weasley and “Pay attention to me” where maybe the reader is friends with the twins and she’s having a ‘situation’ with charlie that no one knows about?
Drabble (Untitled)
Anonymous - Hi friend! Can I interest you in a dialog prompt for Charlie Weasley and “I’m sorry but I love you and I’m not going anywhere?”
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Evan Buckley
Drabble or One-Shot (Untitled)
Anonymous - Could I request a Buck x plussize reader? One where someone says something mean about the reader and buck defends her and comforts her after? Idk I just feel like I need some buck fluff in my life 😂
Drabble or One-Shot - Late Night Talking
Anonymous - Can you write a Buck x reader fic where they both work at the 118 and are really good friends. They both have a crush on each other. One night reader comes to visit him at his apartment because she doesn't want to go home(she still lives with her parents and they have a argument or something) Buck is happy to see her but also knows that something is wrong. They spend some time together and maybe there is a love confession at the end.
Eddie Diaz
Drabble or One-Shot - Cramps
Anonymous - One being eddie and the reader are going about they're day. Reader feels unwell but thinks nothing of it until they get back from a call/at the end of one and reader has appendicitis so they rush her to the hospital? Eddie is there when she wakes up and looks after her.
Drabble or One-Shot - Proposal
Anonymous - eddie is planning to propose to reader and he's all fluffy and cute about it?? Maybe gets Chris involved and the team are congratulating them? All fluffy and cute again.
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GETTING TO KNOW YOU.
respond to the following prompts out of character. then, tag others that you'd like to get to know a little bit better!
ROLEPLAYER NAME: serabellym (sera is fine!)
ROLEPLAYER PRONOUNS: she/her
MUSE NAME: multi-muse, so too many to list.
PREFERRED COMMUNICATION: discord if you have it, IMs if not. I tend to answer Discord more regularly & IMs I sometimes leave the notification until I have the mental capacity to respond as it's usually about plotting, so I have to be in the right mindset!
EXPERIENCE: on tumblr, about 2 years now? In general, well over 10 years.
PREFERRED ROLEPLAY TYPE: some angst or a dab of hurt/comfort is always a soft spot for me. I don't mind fluff once in a while, but it does become dry and repetitive after a while. Realistically, what I want is plots/threads that are dynamic and have a flow; maybe it starts off hurt-comfort, and as replies go on (and we're talking 10, 20, 30 replies in, so long-standing threads) it turns to fluff. Maybe there's a dabble of smut somewhere in there. Either way, dynamic threads is what I crave.
PET PEEVES & DEALBREAKERS:
If you constantly drop threads/forget about threads/threads never go past 1 or 2 replies & we never plot, I'm less likely to interact, period. Taking your time is a very different thing; having multiple threads that are 2-3 replies that constantly get dropped are a motivation killer for me.
If you remake your blog more than once every 6-8 months, I get exhausted. For context, in 2 years I've moved blogs only 3 times. The first was to move from a side blog to a main blog (so it wasn't like I could clean up my blog and make it a main blog); the second was to move from multiple single-muse blogs to one multi-muse blog (I had a lot of content across 4 blogs, it was easier to combine it into one fresh/new blog).
PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO TAG FOR EYESTRAIN. It aggravates me to no end when asking for a tag is a problem. I often get the impression that people don't take the request for eyestrain to be tagged seriously, not realizing that the things I ask to be tagged trigger chronic headaches when it's missed.
Not filling out my interest tracker. I'm very clear why this is a requirement. It's actually detailed & coded on my end to organize it for my own sake well beyond what's asked for in the tracker. It makes it easier for me as someone with a disability to keep track of things, & it alleviates my anxiety to have those tools at my disposal, tools that I've taken the time to create for myself to make my life easier.
PLOTS OR MEMES: both! Generally, memes are good icebreakers, but I'm of the opinion that memes and plots go hand-in-hand. Memes are a great way to trigger a starter for something you've been plotting with a writing partner; conversely, memes can also serve to open the door for plot ideas to form when you discuss with people. I operate on the basis that memes are a way to start threads, and are generally not treated as one-off interactions on my blog. If you send a meme, it's going to be answered in a way that it can serve as a starter. In this case, anyone is welcome to continue memes that I sent if they'd like. I will not be upset.
LONG REPLIES OR SHORT REPLIES: Long replies. Shorter replies are more difficult for me to write and work with in most cases. I can rip through a long reply faster than I can a short reply, because with long replies there's enough content that it gets the creative juices going, and it's a matter of just letting the flow roll. If you give me a short reply, you'll probably be waiting 2-3 times as long for a response than a long reply. (& for those of you thinking "but a long reply is more words to write"--I type around 100-120 words per minute. It's not about the word count or typing speed. It's about my ability to think of a response. Longer replies come easier from a creative standpoint for me.)
BEST TIME TO WRITE: Late at night for me, usually. I need to get more into daytime writing, but it's hard. I'm the kind of person who throws together half a reply while I'm laying in bed about to crash, lol.
ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSES: As a whole? No. There are likely reasons I'm drawn to certain characters because I relate to them or empathize with them/what they've been through, but I am not like my muses. Often, my own experience influences how I interpret the muse's experience.
tagged by: stolen lmao
tagging: @inufangs @smokedanced @hopegained @missallanea @stardustedstories @tenebriism @talesofourworlds @sailingtempest @primitiveside @bloodiedbiotic @altosk & anyone who'd like to steal!
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thank you for your time Jamie :3
hi i really appreciate these posts [1, 2] and your tags.
i’ve been stuck in baby bat limbo for about a decade now (oof) [born in the early 2000s introduced to alt subcultures in 2010, tried to be more authentically me as the years went on, took stock and solidified my values in 2013 [redacted hell world] and now we are here!]
i feel like the lack of community is why i can’t ‘grow up’ to bat kid. when i tried to find other like me— sorry dollskill hauling influencers i didn’t count you but i was looking for a more of a community feel versus social media mutuals
i was expose to a). ‘vampire elders’ who teach and recreate spaces for all the culture that us poor zoomers missed out on— but suspiciously only wants to take young girls under his wing, something about auras. [35+ y/o men who want a harem of succubi] or b). 28+ y/o men that have the whole ‘nu-metalhead’ thing going on [not as in ‘nu-metal’ (the genre) as in a specific wave of ‘alt guys’. long hair, tatted, mirror selfies, wants you to call him daddy, ghosts you when he realizes you’re not going to have sex with him on the first meet up]
and man, it is disheartening! i don’t have the funds to go concerts or festivals and a lot of them aren’t accessible, so i can’t meet anyone through there (plus people hardly talk to new people at those events nowadays— i say nowadays even though i wasn’t even there for those days lol). i’ve been invited to goth clubs by people who fall onto the vampire elder side of the spectrum… so possible but no likely because i don’t want be ‘thrown to the wolves’ so to speak and clubs are literally so inaccessible— the noise for one.
this whole summer i’ve debating if i should download bumble etc and say ‘hey i’m looking for alt FRIENDS’
i think the community aspect is so important to me because i am a lgbt disabled person of colour. i look at beautiful photography from the 70s to about the 90s (sprinkles of the 2000s). the photos are so diverse and feel real (so much trans people, dreamworld). and now the representation of the scene is pale e-girls (usually cisgender) decked out in killstar and dollskill with perfectly propped bedroom (a black skull there, coffin rug here product placement over there) etc
this not a question— though maybe there is a question hidden in this brain dump… your posts just turned a specific gear in my brain and i had to say something about it!
this can’t be the legacy of alt in the 2010s and 2020s what happened to the ‘rawring 20s’ (covid, capitalism). maybe i’ll be the change i want to see in the world…(thank you for allowing me to send this i appreciate your time a bunch, uhmmmm yeehaw!)
So you're probably not gonna like what I have to say simply because I don't like what I have to say here. I'll just start with the older guys. I find that there's a bit of a... How do I put this... Our community is made up of new blood that wants to be much older and more jaded than they are, and old blood who remembers being like that and is inclined to let them, which makes the scene a bit less dangerous for predators than it probably should be. Like I remember being in highschool and all my goth friends having fake IDs and lying about doing drugs and having older boyfriends, and I certainly don't begrudge any teenager that behavior because I've been there. Goth kids and young adults are very worried about breaking rules and being hard core, basically, and that is a known fact to opportunistic creeps. That being said other scenes also absolutely have problems with this sort of thing as well, I don't want to portray it as an alt scene exclusive thing partially because it's simply not true and partially because there are religious extremists and also just run of the mill conservative normies who absolutely have an interest in portraying our scene as exceptionally degenerate for whatever reason. I don't have a problem with age gaps either as long as everyone is legal and there's no other exploitation going on. If you want something like that having an older, better established squeeze when you're 19 can be as much of a status symbol as having a younger person who wants you when you're in your 30s is an ego boost imo. If you don't want something like that these guys are annoying. The guys who want a succubus harem are weird and gross tho ngl. Cult leader kink lookin ass.
Anyway now that that's out of the way onto the more difficult realities of the scene. By more difficult I mean entrenched problems that are more specific to our scene than the standard "disgusting individuals using the scene to try to ingratiate themselves to potential victims" that you find in literally any sufficiently large group of people.
Punk has never really been accessable. I don't like it, but it's true.
And by that I don't mean punk clothes or punk music has never really been accessable I mean punk events have never really been accessable. Punk originated in the 1970s in dinky little music clubs in major metropolitan areas. The original punks were mostly poor that's true but they were also the sort of people who were going to hang out at places like CBGB in NYC. Ever since then all of the culture basically happens in night clubs and concerts and the like. There was sort of a boom with the Emo movement on myspace when being alt got a little more accessible to people outside of major metro areas but we've never really left the night life behind. I would argue that this is also a problem that faces mainstream culture. Everything either costs money or is 21+ and everyone is drunk.
That being said, my experience has been really good so far. Everyone I meet at the club has been nice. I get asked for pronouns at the goth club more often than I get asked for pronouns at the gay club. The club I go to the people who work there and the regulars whom I've met with one exception all seem to be some flavor of queer. idk how old you are or what disabilities you have, but I will say the last time I went to Ground Zero (the goth club in Minneapolis) there was a group of people with blind canes there and the place is definitely wheel chair accessable. I also went to a Meet Me @ The Altar concert and there was ada seating right near the stage. If you're autistic my recommendation would be to get ear plugs. I'm autistic and went to When We We're Young in Vegas. I loved it. I moshed, I crowd surfed it was amazing. I saw my fav bands. I didn't get overstimulated once. And then I headed out and as I was leaving I took my earplugs out and put them in my pocket before I was fully clear of the venue and immediately the noise was overstimulating and I realized that my whole experience would have been completely sour if I hadn't had those babies in.
I also always see PoC every time I go out. I know thats just tangential experience and not all places are gonna be the same, but I'm getting the vibe that the reason the scene seems overwhelmingly white is because the guys with the cameras are a lil racist and only approach skinny white girls they want to fuck for modeling. I will say tho I see a few PoC every time I go to the club, and at WWWY the crowd was mixed but largely white. The crowd at the Meet Me @ The Altar concert (a pop-punk band which is made up of three WoC, here they are with two guitarists I don't recognize)
The crowd at their concert was by far the most mixed crowd I've seen at these sorts of events. So I guess what I'm saying is that I would guess based on what I've seen and what I've heard that there are a lot more PoC who want to go these things but only come out to events where they know they aren't gonna be the only one than who actually go to these things consistently. Which makes perfect sense, you probably don't need me to tell you that you're not the only person with those concerns, but what I can tell you is that there's enough of y'all that I feel comfortable saying the scene isnt all white and that the more people who come out the more people who are going to feel comfortable coming out.
Now the money thing. I would seriously recommend finding out where your local clubs are and who the local nobody bands are, because you're not getting into fall out boy and you're probably not getting into in this moment either. But there's always garage bands charging 5 bucks at the door for their first gigs, and that's the kind of concert where you meet people who are deep into the scene. I know Meet Me @ The Altar are touring right now. They've got a band called Kid Sister and a chick named Chloe Lilac opening for them. All three are pop-punk. And it cost me 25$ to get into their show. When I went to the show I discovered that the bar they were playing at has a whole room dedicated to shows like this and they have a lot of pop punk and punk bands that play there for not a lot. They serve food, you don't have to be an adult to get in. I assume that they're gonna be doing that sort of venue wherever they go so just check out where they're touring. If they've already passed you get on Google see what else you can find. I've met people who don't drink at the goth club but there's a 10 dollar door charge so it is what it is.
Personally I would not be afraid to do this stuff alone. Granted I'm white and able bodied, so your milage on going alone might vary. But I promise you once you get in the door the scene is not full of creeps. The creeps are just the ones seeking out the young girls who don't know where to start. There's people there who watched out for me with no benefit to themselves when I got out there the first time. And don't be afraid to talk to people. You make some acquaintances and hopefully you get invited to a house party or something and you become friends. I've mostly got one night stands so far but I've also shown up high off my ass a few times so I wasn't very conversational. There's people who want to be your friend. You just have to come out of the shell a little. And there might be some dicks. Fuck em. If they make fun of your vibe it's because they're insecure because the death hawk is their only personality trait.
TL;DR: unfortunately 90% of the goth scene is in bars and night clubs. But if you can get into one of those I promise it's not like being thrown to the wolves. My experience has been overwhelmingly positive. I won't pretend that the scene isn't largely white, but I'm also confident in saying you're probably not gonna be the only one there. And accomodations can totally be made for a lot of disabilities.
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Cress Book Quote Rp Meme
book three in the LC series by Marissa Meyer- feel free to edit quotes or change pronouns for rp purposes
“I promise, I will not let you die without being kissed.”
“Don’t tell me it took you two whole days to realize that you are in love with me. I must be losing my touch.”
“You can help me pick out a tiara when we’re done saving the world.”
“Right. I’m sure that poor etiquette is the number one reason for most failed revolutions.”
"I know you can hear me. I'm sorry my friend is such a wing nut. You can just ignore him."
"Do you think it was destiny that brought us together?"
"It starts with kidnapping the groom."
"The sky is gorgeous, intense blue color."
“Have you given any thought to your wedding vows?”
“Delete anything that has to do with love, respect, or joy, and I’ll sign on the dotted line.”
“I believe it is the mark of a great leader to question the decisions that came before him.”
“It turns out you are worth a lot of money on the black market.”
"Do you ever think before you speak?"
“Maybe great, epic romances don't just happen. We have to make them ourselves.”
“Wow, when you research, you really research, don't you?”
“So I’m going there, and I’m going to start a revolution.”
“If you honestly believe that then you really don't recognize true value when you see it.”
"Oh. Um. In a constellation, the brightest star is called the alpha. I thought maybe you meant that she's…like…your brightest star.
“Maybe there isn’t such a thing as fate. Maybe it’s just the opportunities we’re given, and what we do with them. I’m beginning to think that maybe great, epic romances don’t just happen. We have to make them ourselves.”
“You know, when I was a kid, I was tricked into thinking that princesses wore tiaras and hosted tea parties. Now that I've met a real princess, I must say, I'm kind of disappointed.”
"Is she blushing? She sounds like she's blushing."
"That is the best idea ever. Count me in.”
"Can we get back to these soldiers that are being rounded up, please?"
“Could you describe all those threats again because I feel like I missed something.”
"Very wanted criminal of me too.”
"Are you having a mental breakdown right now?”
"Maybe there's a little bit of a hero in me after all. But… really. Only a little.”
“Yeah, hold that thought while I go disable the speaker system.”
“Oh, for all the stars."
“Never underestimate the stealth of a criminal mastermind.”
"I prefer damsel in distress,"
“You’re not looking.”
“We are experiencing a level-one security breach and all elevators have been temporarily shut down. Please enjoy a hot cup of tea while we wait for clearance.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s great. I mean, half the people in the world want to kill her and the other half want to chain her to a throne on the moon, which is just what she’s always wanted. So she’s fantastic.”
“You know, if it was a bad kiss, you can just say so.”
“Everyone is trying to impress everyone else. Trying to make themselves out to be smarter or more confident than they actually are.”
I hate to break this to you, but I am sweaty and itchy and haven't brush my teeth in two days. This just isn't a good time for romance.”
“I like to maintain an air of mystery.”
“That’s not at all what I … Wait. Did you think it was a bad kiss?”
“We were going to die, you know.”
“Because the palace walls have been bleeding for years, and no one else sees it.”
“Don't try to push your swoony psychodrama on me.”
“It would be like those epic love affairs that exploded into existence and burned white hot for all eternity. The type of love that time and distance and death couldn't seperate”
“All right, damsel. Send over those coordinates.”
"I think I am in love with you."
“Maybe there isn’t such a thing as fate. Maybe it’s just the opportunities we’re given, and what we do with them.”
“We are obviously soul mates. Now please, stand up.”
“You’ve probably told lots of girls you loved them.”
“Well, yeah, but I would have reconsidered if I’d known you were going to hold it against me.”
“It was kind of nice to know that they were both wrong."
“For my next trick, I will win a staring contest with the moron in orange sunglasses.”
“Good. Because I need you. And those are not words that I throw around every day.”
“Although. . . somehow, I always pictured the princess . . . I don't know. In a dress.”
“She was a girl. A living girl, smart and sweet and awkward and unusual, and she was worth far more than they could ever realize.”
“I serve my princess. No one else.”
“I am not happy with this turn of events."
“Well, it’s annoying and we’re running out of time. Come on.”
"You'd rather take your chances with her?"
“Then stop going comatose on me!”
“He’s just gone inside to be heroic. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know you’re here. I believe he’s under the impression that you’re out in space somewhere.”
“It always came back to love. More than freedom, more than acceptance—love. True love, like they sang about in the second era. The kind that filled up a person's soul. The kind that lent itself to dramatic gestures and sacrifices. The kind that was irresistible and all-encompassing.”
“I just needed some time to figure out who I was … am.”
"Because if I'd ruined that for you, I was going to feel like such a cad.”
“I can’t let anyone else die,”
“What do you suggest? You clearly know all about this political revolution stuff, so please enlighten me, O wrinkled one.”
“The only way through this is to fight.”
“She deserved it, the snake. After keeping my little golden bird locked up in her cage for so long.”
“I just think I’m not the best person to demonstrate all the goodness humanity has to offer. I don’t want you to be too disappointed when you realize that.”
“That you’re lonely, and I’m irresistible?”
“He did, in fact, look like a romance hero, all muscles and edges and chiseled bone structure. He also looked miserable.”
“Our country was built on a foundation of equality and togetherness, not prejudice and hatred.”
“When Rapunzel saw the prince, she fell over him and began to weep, and her tears dropped into his eyes”
No more secrets. I don't know if I can survive any more big reveals from you, so if you have anything else to tell me, out with it. Right now."
this is sweet, but aren’t I the first guy you’ve ever met? Come on, up you go.”
“She would have freedom, and friendships, and purpose. And she would be with him.”
“Because if there was one thing she knew about heroes, it was that they could not resist a damsel in distress. And she was nothing if not in distress.”
“Love. It always came back to love. More than freedom, more than acceptance—love. True love, like they sang about in the second era. The kind that filled up a person’s soul. The kind that lent itself to dramatic gestures and sacrifices. The kind that was irresistible and all-encompassing.”
I'm almost afraid to ask, Your Majesty."
“As it turned out, being human was every bit as much fun as she'd always thought it would be.”
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A/N: New here? Start at First Impressions, part 1!
Lockdown, part 1
Trapped alone with Echo, Asha faces a severe test of her resolve.
Read Part 2
Characters: TBB, OC (Asha Kurr)
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, dissociation/out-of-body experience, two close calls with falling from a high place. Minor callback to The Mission.
Word count: 3,640
-----------------------------------------------
“Tell me the plan again.”
Asha stood across from Hunter, the sergeant standing with his arms crossed as Asha stood at full attention. Being just a civilian, he outranked her by a mile and a half, and… well, Asha respected him. She respected him as a leader, she respected his authority. But damn, he was intimidating.
“The six of us will split up into twos at the outskirts of the encampment,” Asha began, reciting from memory. “You and Wrecker will circle to weapons storage to set charges. Tech and Crosshair will head for the central security tower, so Tech can disable the facility’s prime systems and so Crosshair can have a bird’s-eye view of the encampment. And…”
Asha hesitated.
“And?” Hunter pressed.
“...a-and Echo and I will head for the central compound to download all the intel we can find on the dealers. Echo will perform the download and I’ll watch his back. When the weapons are destroyed and we have the intel, we all regroup before they can get security back up, and make our way back to the ship.”
Hunter gave a curt nod, and immediately, Asha untensed. “Good. We’ll be landing soon. Get your gear together and we’ll head off as soon as we’re certain we’re hidden.”
“Yessir,” Asha replied with a quick salute, and she was off to the gunner loft to gather her things.
They didn’t exactly make buckets for togrutas – so for Asha, a montreal-mounted visor and protective covering was what they had best to work with. When she had first learned that gear had been commissioned for her, she had to admit, it was the last thing she was expecting. But it gave her a strange sort of elation to see it laid out for her, rudimentary as it was – the stark white plastoid, not a full trooper’s armaments by any stretch, but enough to mark her as someone fighting for the GAR. The montral-visor, a set of shoulder-bells and vambraces, and shinguards; obviously Asha wasn’t going to be on the front lines at any given moment, but she was happy to have at least some protection. What was better, too, was that the visor came with a short-range commlink, while the vambrace came equipped with a long-range one. Just like trooper armor.
She really was a part of the team whether they liked it or not, huh?
The approach was quiet, tense. Everyone already knew their roles, but Asha was far from a soldier – her head was constantly on a swivel, and she knew with a bitter awareness that Hunter could hear her heart pounding. Just stay calm. It’s an in-and-out. They know what they’re doing. You won’t be alone. You’ll be with Echo. He’s an ARC trooper. He’ll keep you safe.
When the six of them made it just to the edge of the encampment, they all stopped on Hunter’s order, to which Tech lowered his analysis visor to assess the situation. Several guards were stationed around the encampment, as expected – a whole platoon of mercenaries for a weapon dealing group that was providing arms to the Separatist Army. They were here to destroy the weapon stores, gain intel on the group, and then get the hell out.
Asha swallowed thickly, a thrum of anxiety building in her chest as she stared out towards the encampment. But before she could even blink – they were off. Tech and Crosshair were already gone, swift and silent; Hunter and Wrecker were making their way down the incline, startlingly stealthy for men of their stature. And when Asha realized that Echo was already on the move, she scrambled to follow, being as silent as she could as the two began to skirt their way past the mercenary patrols.
This was probably the tensest Asha had ever felt. The hand closest to her blaster was on a constant twitch, and she had to double and triple-check to make sure her toolbelt was secure so that they wouldn’t make any noise. As the two neared the central compound, Echo quickly stuck his arm out to stop her – Asha skidded to a halt, and they watched as two mercenaries ambled past, blissfully unaware of the trooper and mechanic mere feet away. Asha let out a low, shaky breath, as quietly as she could, but Echo must’ve heard – his helmeted gaze met her visor, and he gave her the smallest of nods. His vocoded voice came from their in-mask comms, as quiet as can be.
“You’re doing great. Just a little farther.”
Just a little farther. Asha scurried after Echo the moment he began to move, and together, the two of them finally made it to the central compound, pressed flush to its side. Asha looked around anxiously – she could see the security tower, and she would’ve sworn she could see a familiar silhouette already near its top.
She and Echo moved in silence. It was an easy crack to get inside – thanks to the hacking module that Tech had been so kind to outfit Asha’s datapad with for this particular mission – and when they were in the cover of its darkened halls, the two set out to try and make their way to the primary office. Hopefully, Tech should have all security measures down by the time they make it in…
Upon arrival, Asha immediately went to guard the door. She found a spot behind the central desk to have full view of the doorway, and as soon as they were in the clear, Echo began his search. Plugging his scomp into the primary terminal, it was silent work for all of about 30 seconds.
Then the alarms began.
Asha gasped as, with a quickness that had her scrambling to react, the door to the central office slammed shut with reinforced, shielded doors that certainly had no business being so sturdy. She quickly stood from her position, looking around frantically before turning back towards Echo – just as her comms sprang to life.
“Tech, what’s happening out there?!” Hunter. Tech’s voice was quick to respond.
“Uncertain,” he began, sounding deeply frustrated. “My attempts to disable the encampment’s security system triggered some sort of failsafe. All entrances, exits, and mechanical devices are on lockdown, from what I can gather. I will work on overriding the failsafe. Have the weapons been destroyed yet?”
“Working on it,” Hunter continued as Asha began looking around the room for any sort of way they could get out before the dealers were alerted to their presence within the office. “Echo, Asha, how are you doing? Are you two alright?”
“We’re fine, but– the doors to the central compound are all locked down,” Asha replied, running her hands along the reinforced steel doors. “My tools can’t cut through doors this thick. Echo and I will try and find a way out before anyone realizes we’re here, alright?”
“Alright. Be careful.” Hunter sounded… well, stressed would be an understatement. As Asha finally closed her comms, she looked back at Echo – and what she saw made her breath catch. His scomp was still plugged into the central terminal, and from the way he stood, the tenseness of his shoulder…
“Echo?” Asha asked as she stepped closer, coming up to his side. “Echo, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he responded far too quickly, “I just- give me a moment. I just need to…”
A system-wide lockdown that shut down all technology within the compound… the moment Asha saw his body language, and the way he was still plugged in, she knew immediately what was going on. She didn’t need to see Echo’s face to know it was twisted into something closer to terror rather than irritation. She saw the way his shoulder tensed, untensed, re-tensed, as he tried as subtly as he could to pull his arm away.
Wordlessly, Asha reached out, and she rested a hand upon his metal arm. Echo’s breaths hitched, and his expressionless helm snapped towards her as her eyes bored into that thin visor.
“...Echo… I'm gonna walk you through what I'm gonna do, just like usual, okay?” Asha had to really work to keep her voice as level as she could, to help him remain calm. She didn’t say his predicament out loud – how could she? Acknowledging it like this would only serve to make his panic even worse, and she knew deep in her heart that the last thing he wanted was for somebody to see him lose his cool. Echo’s only response to her, after several long moments of deliberation, was a small, slow nod. It’s my job to help you, Asha thought as she reached down to grab her toolbelt. Alarms blared in a muffled symphony outside the compound. It was only a matter of time before the dealers realized there was somebody in their central office. Time was of the essence, and she had to move fast. “Just like normal. Just focus on my voice... I'm gonna turn off the prosthetic now..."
Echo was painfully tense as Asha’s deft fingers worked his prosthetic arm, and he could feel the cold limb go numb, like once again, another part of himself was lost. It ached. He was glad she couldn’t see his face, for the way he gnawed on his lip, struggled to stay looking at her rather than at his arm that was still plugged into the locked outlet. There was no way that scomp was coming out of the wall unless they cut it out around it.
“Okay… I want you to listen to me very carefully, Echo,” Asha spoke softly as she looked up into his visor, “I’m going to disconnect the scomp from your arm. It’s stuck in the outlet, and– and we don’t have time to cut it out of the wall, nor wait for Tech to try and bypass the failsafe. Disconnecting the scomp and replacing it later is our best option… so just… focus on my voice, okay?”
His breaths were quick, he felt a flash of discomforting warmth rattle up his spine like a grenade going off, and it was taking all of his willpower not to make any sound of terror at the very idea that he was stuck. Trapped. It hurt too much to think about, he could hardly stand it, he could hardly breathe, he could–
“I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Asha’s voice, controlled and soft, cut through the panic addling his mind. Slowly and deliberately, he turned his head to watch her, to try and focus on her face rather than her hands. Her voice spoke of every minute motion she was performing – disconnecting each delicate wire, twisting the metal components apart from one another. He could see, in his peripheral vision, the scomp come loose from the rest of him – it felt almost like some sort of other, like… it wasn’t his own body that he was looking at. With the prosthetic deactivated, he couldn’t feel a thing. He was watching himself from elsewhere, watching Asha dismantle a droid that he didn’t know. He could feel his own heartbeat.
“Echo, look at me,” Asha said quickly as she reached a hand up to cup the side of his bucket, turning his head to face her, and not his arm. “The scomp is disconnected. I’m going to reactivate your prosthetic, and then we need to get moving. Can you focus on me? You still with me?”
“Y– yes,” Echo spoke on reflex, giving a curt nod of his head. A vague semblance of feeling returned to his arm – the same kind of feeling he’d spent so long getting used to – and he bent his elbow upwards and forwards just to ensure that the limb was mobile again. It felt so much shorter without the scomp attached – but Asha knew there was no time to waste. She had to take charge. She stood and pointed up towards the ceiling, where an air vent was positioned up the wall, large enough for a person to squeeze through.
“We’re gonna head through there and get ourselves outside, alright?” Asha quickly instructed, but she could tell that Echo was still out of it. He hardly moved in time with her words, and truthfully, he was unable to stop staring at the disconnected scomp still sticking out of the wall. That was him? That was a part of his body?
“...Echo, stay with me. We need to–”
Asha could hardly finish her sentence before a groundshaking boom sent the foundations rumbling, and she quickly reached out to grab onto Echo for support as he stumbled as well. “Damn– okay, they definitely heard that. We need to move, now. Stand clear."
Asha didn't hesitate, pulling her blaster pistol from its holster and taking aim at the vent grate. A few well-placed shots at its edges seared away what held it in place, and the metal clattered to the floor with such a cacophony that it made Asha flinch. No, focus. Help Echo up.
Asha had to get a running start, but she managed to bump herself up the wall and cling to the edge of the vent - from there it was a rather ungraceful scramble inside, and she managed to maneuver her way around just enough to extend a hand down to Echo.
"Come on, we need to move-" she began, but was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. Voices. Panic seized her chest, but she had to keep going. If she and Echo got caught in here…
She was yanked out of her thoughts by a larger, stronger hand than her own, clutching onto her arm. She glanced down into Echo's stoic visor, and with a mighty heave, she managed to help him scramble up into the vent, his boots leaving skids on the wall as the two finally made their way up, in, and forward. Navigating the vents in such close quarters was… tense, at best. She pinged the comm of her visor.
"Echo and I are en route out of the compound," Asha spoke quickly and quietly. "We had to… improvise an exit plan. Are you guys okay?"
"We-" Tech's voice was quickly cut off on his end by the resounding crack of what Asha recognized as Crosshair's rifle, "-are currently pinned down in the security tower. A distraction would prove sufficient to draw fire away from us, I almost have the failsafe bypassed."
"Wrecker, with me. Draw fire away from Tech and Crosshair - Echo, Asha, get out of the compound and meet us at the rendezvous point. Wrecker - go cause a distraction." Hunter's voice was ever-level, as Wrecker's gruff, booming laugh echoed through their comms.
"Thought you'd never ask!!" he bellowed, nearly earning a laugh from Asha - part of her wondered if Hunter could hear the tentative waver in her voice when she first spoke up. Whatever the case, they had their next objective. She glanced over her shoulder at Echo, and her heart yanked as she watched him crawling along behind her with one arm, the other clutched tight to his chestplate.
"We're almost there, Echo," she said softly, as another explosion rocked the foundations. "I think I hear outside - we must be nearing the ventilation exit. Just a little farther, okay?"
Echo only nodded in response, and the two continued to make their way forward. It was there that Asha could see the exiting grate, and her eyes widened as she hurried forward, spun around to sit, and braced herself. With a quick, solid kick of both feet, she managed to punt the grate free of its holdings, but winced at the loud clatter of it hitting… something. She could hear gunfire, and another explosion - followed by loud, booming laughter like she had never heard before. Climbing out and stooping to help Echo out just behind, the two stood - they were on the rooftop of the compound, and they watched as mercenaries scattered like insects to try and take out the intruders. They were, of course, utterly failing, and Asha and Echo could both hear Wrecker’s utter delight as another charge went off, shaking the compound. The glow of flames licked their faces and Asha, for a brief second, smiled at the sight.
…they were still on the roof, though. And the route to the rendezvous was currently being overrun by mercenaries. Asha looked to Echo, and for a brief moment, the two of them shared a look, before Asha nodded once and pinged her comms.
“Wrecker? You read me?” Asha spoke up, a bit loudly so he could actually hear her over the carnage.
“Ah-?! Asha? You alright?!” Wrecker called back over comms, much to Asha’s relief. She’d hoped he wasn’t too in-the-zone to answer.
“We’re fine! But Echo and I are on the roof of the compound, and the route out is too open, too many eyes on it. Think you can send a charge or two towards this way to–”
“Ya don’t gotta tell me twice!!” came Wrecker’s overenthusiastic reply, and Asha quickly regretted that she didn’t get much instruction out before everything rattled. How many charges did he bring?!
“Echo, you still with me?” she called back, reaching out a hand. “We need to scale down – come on, before-!”
As Asha stepped up onto the roof’s ledge, another explosion rocked the place, and everything felt slowed. Her eyes widened as she met Echo’s gaze, her stance faltering. Her arm still extended, she felt something slip, and everything was moving. She barely had time to blink, barely had time to think. Everything was falling.
A strong hand gripped Asha’s wrist as she plummeted and her body slammed against the side of the compound, earning a pained grunt from her as a barely-taken breath was forced out of her lungs. She looked up, sunset eyes wide and frantic, her gaze meeting the thin strip of Echo’s visor as he braced his boots and hooked his shorter, half-together prosthetic arm against the ledge of the roof. His breaths came in quick bursts, and his grip on her wrist was tight, solid, unyielding.
“I’ve got you-!” he spoke through obviously gritted teeth, “I’ve got you, I’ve… just hang onto me, Asha, I’m not letting you go. Just hang on… just…”
“Echo, it’s– it’s not far–” Asha gasped out, quickly glancing downwards. They were two stories up. Not terrible. She looked back up at him, scraping her boots against the wall for purchase, panic quickly seizing her chest, but Echo didn’t relent.
“No– land wrong and you won’t be able to walk back to the rendezvous on your own, just hold onto me and I’ll– I’m going to pull you up, alright?!”
“I’m already on my way down-!! Just- just let me go, I can take it-!”
“No, Asha, I’m not letting you hurt yourself for my sake again!”
Asha couldn’t argue, not as Echo began to haul her up the rooftop without another word. And honestly, all the better for it – she couldn’t hang like that for much longer, and she could already tell that she had pulled something in her shoulder from the harsh stop… but that could wait. Right now, they had a limited amount of time before they were spotted, and they needed to get down, fast. As Echo heaved her up the rest of the way, she stumbled forward against him and her breath hitched as he caught her without so much as a flinch. He was solid, sturdy – his hand steadied against her back, but that was all. Within a moment, the contact was gone, and she stood alone once again.
Peering over the ledge, Asha scanned the side of the building – small ledges ridged the side of the wall, small and narrow, but enough to use as tentative foot and hand holds. “We’ll use those– scale down the side, and– and make our way to the rendezvous. I’ll go first…”
Mainly because if she had to be up here any longer, she was going to scream.
Shadows of flame danced on the wall as she slung one leg over the ledge, then the other, and she carefully found herself perched on the first ridge. Slowly and carefully, she began her descent – keeping an eye on her footing, doing her best not to slip, her boots scraping the side of the building as she descended. It didn’t take nearly as long as it seemed like it would, and she leapt down the last few feet, landing with a solid thud against the ground. She didn’t even have to say anything before Echo was following her lead, using his hand to steady himself before inching his way down the footholds. Down and down, step by careful step… Asha hovered near the bottom, positioned underneath him, just in case. She had a feeling that something was about to happen, she could feel it in her gut, see it in the way his hand shook whenever he tried to reach out with his prosthetic to brace himself where his scomp would usually be.
Sure enough, her fears were given credence. His hand lost its hold so quickly she barely had time to react – but react she did, arms out, as Echo swiftly dropped the last several feet of the wall and slammed rather unceremoniously right on top of Asha’s barely-braced form. The two of them now lay in the dirt, Asha all manner of disoriented as she was pinned underneath. It was a struggle to will herself to move – even as Echo swiftly removed himself from her, as his hand reached down to yank her up by the arm. She hardly heard his thanks as he pulled her along, but they were moving now – and together, the two of them sprinted for the incline, Echo’s hand never once leaving her wrist as the glow of the flames sent their shadows dancing.
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Ahaha we just realized that our sense of our own personhood didn't develop fully until well until high school and probably didn't start until well into middle school.
The ways in which autism and early life trauma truly were profoundly developmentally disabling continue to shock and surprise us TT
And just like... I wonder how much of our depression in high school started from (while the actual process was gradual) feeling like we were suddenly aware of our Self/ves while in the middle of the roughest years of life for many people.
How much of our lack of concrete sense of identity now is because, even if we don't count baby/early-toddler-hood since no one has self-awareness then, I am a decade "younger" than my peers.
And no, this is not me "misinterpreting" what self-awareness means in a developmental context. I do know it's actually normal for teens to become more aware of their social standing and selves in relation to their peers at that age. It's... major aspects of that part actually took me about a decade longer too. I did compare myself to others in an abstract sense, but essentially at the same extremely simplistic level that a toddler was.
Until then, I vaguely understood that if I said "I want/need/am going to..." etc, that it would cause people to respond in ways that affected me. "I statements" were little more than crying using language for food, water, and attention.
I did not actually conceptualize myself as a person, as someone with an identity and thoughts and feelings and complexities beyond a very basic animalistic* awareness of strong reactions to events and stimuli until I was a teen!
(*Note here that I am consensually using this word to describe my own individual experiences, and not any other autistic person on the planet, because I know that to do so would be deeply harmful. It is not harmful here because that is the closest word to describe my own experiences.)
And honestly, this explains so much of my childhood! How I acted. How I felt. My much more severe inability to process that the future existed and followed in a causal relationship from the present, and my more significant impulsivity as a result of it. The way that even in clear memories, including clear of emotional amnesia, there is a strong sense of the emotions and thoughts feeling detached from any self-awareness or internal identity.
Do you know that in late high school or early college, we had an intellectual epiphany that our brother was actually a person with a complex inner narrative and thoughts and feelings and views on the world and an identity? Do you know we didn't actually internalize and understand that at a fundamental level for YEARS longer?
Honestly, I'm not sure our sense of personhood actually even developed until our plurality did. If we don't feel we became a person until that point, does that make us some origin vaguely related to protogenesis? Not exactly that, of course, given that we had a body that was processing and storing experiences until that point, and a vague awareness of the world around the body and the things happening to it and being caused by it but like...
How were we even able to appear so normal to people like this? I mean... we didn't, actually. People knew we were abnormal, they just didn't know enough about autism to label it anything other than "weird", "bratty", and so on.
(I wonder... would Kalyn feel differently? Am I mixing up my own sense of personhood with the system's? I don't think so.)
But like... we just were so naturally good at and inclined to parroting that we managed to make people think we had a similar internal experience to them, at least. And the thing is, we weren't even that good! We just absorbed use of language! Hyperverbality was a survival mechanism that we were forced into relying on without even realizing. We/the person in the body at the time was BAD at masking. We didn't even become halfway decent at it until probably a couple of years ago, and only after having it literally abused into us for years.
How can you learn to do things that make "you" appear palatable, when you don't even have the ability to conceptualize "you" in the first place? Then once you do, you're plunged into worse and worse trauma and dissociation until you lose most of that little concept except for the bits you've convinced yourself that if you hate and use to destroy yourself first, other people can't use them to hurt you?
Is that why high school is a slightly clearer blur in a sea of nothingness dotted by memories here and there for most of us?
When you go from not being a "you" that you can understand, to "suddenly" being one as that final sense of self locks into place and makes the whole picture accessible, then spend the next decade spiraling into a focus on a twisted and warped self-image and self-destruction all while a dissociative cloud of smoke descends to try and soften and choke the burning, what little scraps of how others see "you", when you barely even have a concept of "others" as people for less than half that, can you pick up?
For years, "masking" was simply a combination of "don't be yourself" and a messy and incomplete small set of mental notecards of "ask people about themselves" and "look at people's eyes while having a conversation but look away every few seconds too". The awareness of the body and conversational rules came first. Stuff beyond that - about body language, "appropriate" levels of familiarity, and more complex abstracted social stuff, came later. Some of it is still coming.
(Don't get me started on the ways we were failed in terms of being taught consent and respecting other people's boundaries. Between our lack of recognition of others as people for so long, media, and people egging us on, we honestly were not good about that as a kid. We slapped people's butts in middle school as what we legitimately thought was a joke because we neither understood it was sexual - we didn't learn was sex was until eighth grade health class - nor that touching someone without their permission or in ways that they objected to was upsetting or wrong. We quite literally didn't understand that it could be. Now that we do... we regret it. A lot. Even being a result of a mix of being failed by the adults in our life and having a developmental disability that literally made us behind our peers who were "old enough to know better"... we're still massively uncomfortable with the fact we did those things in the first place, even with butt - and face in ninth grade - slapping being the worst that it got.)
I dunno. It's just a lot. It took us so long to realize that for years we weren't masking, and for years more only very minimally at beyond a basic level, and that "not appearing autistic because of ignorance of autism despite actively exhibiting stereotypes of behavior" is not the same "consciously or even unintentionally working to purposefully appear neurotypical".
As a kid, we were extremely obviously autistic! But we were just "weird" and "had issues" because no one knew what that meant! Basically the ONLY reason we ended up not in "special ed" was because we could memorize and parrot numbers, letters, language, and formulas, because at a social level we were very obviously "off" in exactly the way that gets kids labeled as the r-slur (like we were by our peers and some teachers!!).
As a teen, it was very slightly less obvious, but quite frankly mostly as a result of chameleoning instinctively. The first time we started actively considering our behaviors and modifying them to try and achieve a specific result was well into high school! The first time we even attempted to mask, even while it was still mostly subconscious, we probably were at least 16 or 17 bodily.
I just... this is shaking up our whole sense of self/ves yet again and it's just so... like it feels like we were told that we were normal in all these ways and what our experiences must have had to been because that's what "normal people" experience until we finally believed it. Having literally been gaslit by multiple abusers, as in made to question our own sense of reality to the point we consider videotaping everything via lying and manipulation, it feels we were gaslit on a nearly-universal level about what "we" experienced because that's what "people" experience.
(Tbh, we feel that way about the expectations of singlecy to the exclusion of all else that are placed on people as well.)
I dunno. This is as much a journal entry as anything, though on Tumblr because sometimes people find my experiences meaningful or enlightening or relatable or that they put into words experiences they've also had but could never describe. And while I'm not specifically seeking or denying any kind of feedback here, sometimes the dialogue with others very much does open up new revelations and stuff.
I just... I still spend so much of my time in that unaware, dissociated state. It's caused no end of grief, but I haven't been able to be In Myself or Aware of Us for more than short, exhausting periods of conscious effort for a long time now. It causes problems! I can only be aware of my headmates, for example, when I am even aware of myself, because otherwise they're just howling at a dissociative void or dissociative barriers within the singular consciousness of the fronter that cut of themself/ves from their own self/ves-awareness and from everyone else's awareness too.
Well, if we ever needed any reassurance that we were actually a disordered system, and not simply a nondisordered system or singlet with ADHD memory issues and trauma...
Anyway. Not sure how to end this. Lol
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The Medicated Series: features OC's with medical issues such as depression, anxiety, physical disabilities such as MS or Rheumatoid Arthritis as well as any other autoimmune disease such as Crohn's, endometriosis, infertility, etc. (not an autoimmune but you get it).
I feel, as a person with a physical disability, that there is a lack of representation and have always wanted to see myself in y/n stories. Always have and always will.
In my writing, it will have inclusivity, not exclusivity.
Love you all, stay healthy and safe.
I'm starting off with rheumatoid arthritis since this is what I have, and have so much to say ! haha. Enjoy xx
Links for information regarding rheumatoid arthritis:
https://www.cdc.gov/arthritis/basics/rheumatoid-arthritis.html
https://www.arthritis.org/diseases/rheumatoid-arthritis
triggers/warnings: medications, disformity, and talks of depression/anxiety.
Cale Makar Medicated Series Master post:
Original Character: Eliza Nicole James, 23 years old. Brunette Hair, Blue Eyes, short and curvy.
Word count: 4k.
——
Today was like any normal day. My hands are stiff, my knees unable to properly move, probably shouldn't have had that Chinese food last night but alas, here we are. When I have something like Chinese, Mexican food, or pizza, my body goes into overdrive, and well, it wants to stop working even more so than it already does. I'll wake up with night sweats which is exactly what happened this morning, and now I am walking like a penguin trying to make coffee in my kitchen as well as some toast.
“Bad morning?” my best friend/godsend/caregiver Becca smiled from her computer in the little breakfast nook. I nodded, holding onto the counter with whatever strength I had. “Fuck.” I rasped, realizing I didn't grab my coffee creamer, “Here.” Becca said getting up and bringing me my coffee creamer and giving me a hug. Today was a rough one. My rheumatoid arthritis hasn't been this bad in a while. I go through periods where I'm up and then others are down and today I was down. I’ll need a shit ton of Tylenol to get through. Maybe the full 6 before 4 pm today when I get off of work.
It is currently 7:30 in the morning and i have to get to work by 10, since i have a physical disability, i am allowed to work 10-4 every day - most days. Some days I work less and others I can work a full 8 hours. But today might be only 6 if i can manage. But wait no, today we were having this hockey team come in and visit kids that had terminal illness’. I am a social worker working with kids who are like me or similar, where we will never get better. Never. Go figure.
Becca helped me back to my room to help me get started on my morning routine since she could see I was having a day.
“Okay pretty girl, what pants and shirt today?” she asked, looking in my closet as I sat down on my bed. I bit my cheek before responding, “anything that looks good. I don’t really have the energy or ability to decide right now.” I breathed , realizing that the brain fog was kicking in. When that happens, I tend to get dizzy, the inability to concentrate and sound a bit drunk due to my words slurring.
—
As soon as I walked in, I noticed a bunch of people with microphones and cameras and I groaned internally as I walked down the hall. Eric noticed me as soon as I walked past him and a huge group of guys, the hockey team I believe.
"Eliza!” Eric called after me, and I continued to trudge towards my office and once I walked in I noticed a Trenta iced coffee waiting for me and I smiled, I could cry happy tears right now. My body always could use so much caffeine at one time. I never did not have enough energy. Eric walked in and gave me a sad smile behind me, “Eliza, you should have told me how bad it was today. You didn't need to come in.” he said looking at my cane that i was sporting. I waved him off, taking a big gulp of my coffee as I sat down.
“Thankyou ric, i appreciate it so much.” I murmured and rested my eyes for a second. The energy to get from the outpatient pavilion doors to my office seemed like nothing to a ‘healthy’ person but for me, it was like climbing up mount everest sometimes. Eric sat down across from me, speaking into the walkie he sported sometimes for events. “We should be able to start in 15 minutes. Our star speaker should be ready then.” he said, talking about me and I groaned out loud. Eric took notice and leaned forward on his knees, inspecting me.
“I'll be fine, even if I stumble over a few of my words and they think I'm drunk.” I sipped some more coffee, preparing myself for the day ahead. eric gave me a hearty laugh, knowing full well the extent of my comments.
—
“Now, I would like to introduce you to our very own warrior, miss Eliza James.” Eric announced looking at me at the side of the stage and I smiled, handing him my cane as he met me. He gave me an inquisitive look and I shook my head, smiling. I began to walk towards the podium, walking almost perfectly now that the 3 Tylenol I popped in the car ride over were kicking in.
I looked out over the crowd that was filled with hockey players, media, doctors, therapists, and so many of the warriors themselves.
I smiled before speaking, “good morning and welcome to the Denver Medical Center, Hillside outpatient pavilion for our little warriors. Who, like me, face an uphill battle day in and day out. We are incredibly grateful for your support, especially during these trying times.” I paused, taking a shaky breath.
“I first came here when I was 12, not understanding what my body was going through. I remember the first day I woke up with the inability to move. I could not get out of bed for a month after that, barely functioning to be able to eat and sleep well. I did not know why my body was giving up on me, I was angry, I was sad, I was confused. How could a little girl who did everything right- be dealt this card in life? I went through many weeks not understanding what was happening until I came here, after a long few days of testing and blood work. It was the day after I turned 12 that the incredibly kind and understanding Dr. Hart - who is here today - told me what I had. And told me that I was not alone, that I'd never be alone. And she was right, after many months of fighting through pain and virtually relearning how to walk every morning again, how to hold a spoon, a pen or how to properly sleep, I came to this hospital and met people just like me. I met people like Martha, Phillip, James, and Piper who are all here today. Who I am so very fortunate to work with every day.” I paused, smiling at them in the crowd. “Without the help that I received many years ago, I wouldn't be standing here today. I wouldn’t be who I am, doing what I love. Without the many years of physical, occupational, and talk therapy that took up my youth.” I paused taking in a breath. “And finally, many people ask us, “how do we do it?” “How are you so resilient?” and I always respond, what other choice do we have? What other options do we have? And every day with the little warriors in front of us, people witness that being in pain and living with it is possible and maybe just maybe, we won’t have to be so resilient. Thank you.” I finished smiling a grateful smile.
What I didn't notice was how moved some of the hockey players were, and the tears that brimmed their eyes over the unimaginable. Yeah, it's unimaginable until you wake up one day with it.
I walked back towards Eric, with a smile on my face as he clapped happily for me. “You did so well!” he grinned before walking past me to finish the opening and then we could get around to the hockey players meeting the patients. As soon as he was finished, I walked over to the kiddos and said good morning to them.
Martha, my favorite little Irish dancer, jumped up and gave me a big hug, “How are we doing today M?” I asked bending over a little bit to face her and be on her level. “It's okay! I can bend my fingers more today than yesterday and my hand’s aren’t as puffy.” the 7-year-old beamed. “And oh my god that's makar!!!” she said in a smaller voice, and i peered over to look to see who she was looking at and not realizing who was who. I smiled, looked back at Martha and grinned, “Wanna go color?” I asked and she nodded excitedly as her mom laughed. “Always down to color anytime, any day.” she mused and I giggled understanding her excitement. I took her hand and began to walk with her towards the play area as well as the ‘playroom’ that was used for music therapy and art therapy. Which I help facilitate and run. Five minutes later the players all shuffled in and began to walk toward different kids and began to hang out with them. I was sitting at the coloring table with Martha rubbing circles on my deformed knee. Let’s just say it was bumpy and had no cartilage left, so I was literally joint on bone.
“Hi. is this seat taken?” a young voice asked to the side of me, Martha eyed me. That nervous little chick. I shook my head, “no not at all.” I said with a small smile, taking in the hazel-eyed dark blonde-haired boy. He smiled and sat down in between Martha and I. “So what are you drawing?” the hockey player asked. Martha didn't say anything. “She's a bit shy, give her some time.” I said getting a bit closer to the guy and he nodded looking back at me.
“My name is Cale, what’s yours?” he asked after a few minutes of coloring. cale. “Mar-martha.” the young girl said and Cale smiled. “You have a pretty name, Martha.” Cale mused and Martha blushed. So did cale. “And you are Eliza right?” Cale asked, facing me a bit and I nodded.
“Hey Shelley, I'll be back. I need to go speak to Dr.hart for a few minutes.” I said to Martha's mom and she nodded. Okay, you can do this. No falling now. I pushed back the chair a bit to give myself some room, hoisting myself up and putting my weight on the table. Cale and Martha eyed me, making sure I was ok.
I stood up, flexing my knees a bit and sighing. “You ok Eliza?” Cale asked concerned and I looked down at him for a second before nodding, “Just another day with these old knees.” I half-joked before turning on my heel and walking towards the hallway. Dr. Hart looked up from her desk, before getting up and meeting me halfway. “Bad day?” she asked and I nodded. She nodded, walking over to her desk and grabbing a doctor’s script. “10 mg prednisone. Now.'' She said handing me a doctor's order and I thanked her before heading down to the pharmacy, not without letting a social worker know and having them tell Martha that if I could - I'd be back.
It was a few hours later as I was sitting at my desk, going through some paperwork before I heard a knock on my door. I looked up and saw Cale and I motioned for him to come in.
“Hey- you forgot this.” he said moving the cane closer to me and my eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh! I will never go anywhere without this thing.” I said standing up to grab it. “Thankyou.” I said smiling as I reached for it and he nodded, “Here sit down.” I motioned toward the two seats in front of my desk. “How was Martha? Did she come out of her shell?” I asked and he nodded, grinning. “She's funny and spunky for a 7-year-old. She chirps like a pro.” he said and I laughed. “Oh yeah- keeps you on your toes.” I said and he laughed.
“But that's good. Things like this-” I said referencing the event, “make things sometimes less stressful. Even though when you grow up and don’t have the opportunity to do things like this, as a kid it’s what you look forward to. It takes your mind away from everything, even just for a little bit.” I said rambling before catching myself. “Sorry, didn’t mean to talk that much.” I said with my cheeks going red. He gave a smile, one that I couldn’t read. “All good, I like hearing you talk.” he said before catching himself, “I mean, I like hearing what you have to say. It’s eye-opening and raw. Which I think the dads in the group needed to hear. That things could change one morning and have it not be the same.” he said honestly and I nodded. “It still doesn’t get better, even 11 years later- my dad still gets upset and how he can’t help me in the way he wants to or ‘protect’ me.” I confessed. “13 years? Wow.” Cable said dumbfounded. “Yep, I'm still so young and it's daunting and honestly depressing thinking about the rest of my life. I never thought I'd get to 18 let alone 21. But here I am at 23.” I added and he took that in like a sponge. “Well I'm glad you’re here, it seems as though you are making an impact. And mean so much to these people. Is it true you helped start this wing of the hospital?” he asked very curiously. I nodded, “Yep, there was a room in the hospital next store where we would meet 2 times a week. Here, we meet every day if possible or we have rotating kids that come for therapy and to simply be a kid with others who are going through the exact same thing.” Cale nodded in awe.
Like yeah, it's one thing to be passionate, but it's another to feel the joy come after putting in the time and effort to help kids just like you. It’s more than rewarding.
“You ok?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Ye-yeah, brain fog is bad today and I also got some steroids so I’m in a funk.” I laughed and he did too. “I hate to be forward- but could I possibly get your number? Take you to coffee or whatever you feel comfortable with?” Cale asked and I froze. I looked him in the eyes, not registering what he was saying. “Uh- wait what?” I asked before realizing what I had said. “Could I possibly get your number?” he asked, feeling nervous. “Um, hmmm. That's a first.'' I said, chuckling and closing my eyes as I leaned back in my chair. “Nobody has ever asked me for my number before.” I said, reopening my eyes. Cale was taken back by that. She was gorgeous, down to-earth, and friendly, how could somebody not like her? “Here.” I said handing him my card with my email and work cell number there. “I just want to let you know, there is a very real possibility that I will cancel like I could wake up one morning feeling fine- and then bam as soon as I’m heading out the door, I have to go back to sleep or stay in because of something. '' I said, hoping he’d understand.
“If you do, there will always be another day. I promise.” he smiled a genuine smile that made my bad knees crumble as I stood up. “That's a very sweet cale, but you might be thinking differently when the time comes.” I said hoping he’d understand and I wouldn’t have get my hopes up. “Again- they’ll be another day. Or if you feel comfortable, I could always bring food or coffee over and we can hang out that way. I just want you to feel comfortable.” he said, hoping she’d get the message that he wouldn’t leave or ignore her. I nodded, “thanks cale.” and smiled.
“Now, if you don't mind- I'm outta here for the day.” I said, grabbing my laptop bag and cane, and heading out the door. “Wait, do you want me to help you?” He asked me as he followed me out. I shook my head, “I might look like I’m fragile but I can do a lot by myself.'' I said confidently and he nodded sporting red cheeks. We came up to the pavilion doors, meeting some of the hockey players that were waiting around. As soon as Cale walked up, they noticed me and smiled.
“Thank you guys again for coming out today, I assure you the kiddos won’t stop talking about this for months. It made their year.” I said smiling and they nodded. “Of Course! We had a really good time, I believe we are coming back in a few weeks to do this again.” a tall blonde and beautiful man said. mental note: gabriel landeskog. I nodded, “We will see you guys then.” I said before walking out the electric sliding doors.
“Bye James! Please don’t fall!” Eric joked/yelled from the counter, as Becca pulled up. I opened the door, and waved back to Eric, chuckling a bit. “I’ll try my very best for you, Ric!” I mused before getting in the seat.
“You wouldn’t believe what just happened.” I said as I sat down in the car.
“Ouuu tell me!!!” Becca said as we pulled away. “A hockey player asked for my number.” I said shyly. “Wait!!!!” Becca said, looking over and screaming at me. “Oh my god oh my god!!!! This is the best news!!” Becca exclaimed, causing me to laugh.
“Uh huh, just wait until he sees how many issues I have and then he’ll start running for the hills.” I remarked and she gave me a frown. “No, don't think that. He talked to you after hearing what you had to say spoonie. (autoimmune nickname) Don’t doubt yourself. You don’t realize how much of an enigma you are sweetie.” she said, grabbing ahold of my hand.
“Yeah right.” I said starting to get even more defeated. My phone buzzed in my lap, and I looked down to see a text from an unknown number.
“Text me a time and place, and I'll be there. No rush, just let me know whenever :)” the text read.
“He even put on a smiley face!!” Becca pointed out making a turn at the light.
Maybe just maybe, cale was giving her the time of day, that she deserved so very much.
—
It was a month later, that the team and orginization were going to be highlighting and honoring the kiddos from the pavilion. It warmed my heart to see how much the team was getting out of these little kids. So when I got a call from Joe Sakic himself, I was floored. They personally wanted me to facilitate the evening in whatever fashion I wanted and they’d provide anything and everything for us.
Martha and I walked hand in hand into Ball Arena, it was two hours before puck drop and we were going to see the team before the game started. Well, they were- I was just there as moral support for Martha.
Martha beamed as we walked through the tunnels, rambling on about seeing Cale again. Her and cale had become thick of thieves the few times he had been around. Sometimes on his own without the team, to see Martha and ofcourse me. We had been talking for pretty much the whole month and even had made it to two dates outside of my apartment, the other two were in my sanctuary. Cale had been so sweet and understanding, but it was only a matter of time.
Martha noticed Cale from down the hall and pointed at him, and began to get even more excited.
Cale and a couple of the other players were playing soccer, getting into the zone for the game, and relaxing a bit. “Martha, he’s busy. We will see him in a bit, ok?” I said leaning down to Martha’s eyesight and she nodded with a bit of a pout. “Were gonna go meet Sakic ok?” I said and she nodded as we headed towards Joe Sakic’s office with the nine other kids that could make it tonight. We walked past the group of players, with me attempting to keep them all in line, making sure they got to the first destination. They were like any other kids, they were excited to see the players and had to be reigned in in order for them to not disturb the players. We walked towards the office and saw the king himself, waiting outside of his office talking to my manager- Eric who wouldn’t miss this for the world.
“Hi, guys!! How are you doing?” he asked the kids as we got closer. All ten of them began to shout, and go crazy. It was a sight to see. I watched from behind them, taking in their excitement, and laughed at the whole ordeal. This is why I got into social work, to see things like this happen. And Joe Sakic was taking it all in like a pro, kneeling down and commenting on their jerseys and hats, etc. He was also quite the jokester too. After a few minutes of watching from afar, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Cale. I smiled widely, taking in his presence. “Hi Cale, how are you?” I asked turning around to give him my full attention. “I'm good, how are you today? Any surprises? I see you don’t have your cane.” he asked and I shook my head. “No, thankfully. It’s a good day.” I mused. “Well I am glad. You excited for the game?” he asked and I nodded, “This is actually my first in person game ever, so Martha promised me she’d show me the ropes. Her family being season ticket holder and what not.” I joked causing him to grin. Speak of the devil. “Cale!!!!!” Martha screamed jogging past the rest of the kids and Joe Sakic, and Cale opened his arms and kneeled to her height. Oh, how it would be lovely to kneel again.
Awhile later, the kids were running around or tempting to run around the locker room greeting all the players and having them sign their jerseys. I stood in the doorway leading into the hallway, feeling somewhat overwhelmed but kept telling myself to deal with it because who knows when this would ever happen again. I looked towards Martha who was in front of Nathan Mackinnon giving him pointers on how to not fall so much since the last game, apparently he kept falling. Nathan was enjoying this very much and played along with it, taking her notes and corrections very seriously. Even another player, Erik Johnson joined in with his so-called notes. Martha was a gem, everybody could tell. “You alright? Ever since we walked in here, you’ve been quiet.” Cale asked me as I stepped out into the hall for a brief moment. I was overwhelmed, overstimulated, and just wanted to find some coffee and a pretzel and call it an evening.
“Yeah-yeah I’m fine.” I said giving him a fake smile, which he didnt believe. “Im exhausted, I need to find some coffee and just chill. As much as I love all of this, it's overwhelming. Not gonna lie.” I confessed and he nodded. “Is there anything I can do?” cale asked, hoping he could ease some of the burden. “I’ll be fine, we will be heading to our seats shortly.” I said and he nodded. “Will I be able to see you tonight after the game?” he asked hopefully and I frowned. “Probably not Cale, I will be passed out as soon as the game is over. I know that’s not something you want to hear, but that’s me. I’m afraid.” I said and he shook his head, putting a hand on my arm. “How many times do I have to tell you, that whatever you can do is perfectly fine?” he said genuinely causing a chuckle to escape my lips. “Okay, ill text you though. No promises.” I said as the kids started to walk out.
“Pretzel time, Eliza!!!” Martha shouted causing Cale and I to laugh. “And coffee!” Shelley, Martha’s mom added and I pointed at her with a grin. “You know it!” I mused before turning back to cale. “Have a good game.” I said and he nodded and thanked me before heading back in the locker room.
“Have a good time, James!” I heard from behind me, seeing Bo Byram and I rolled my eyes laughing and waving him off.
“Now let’s see what all this hockey fuss is about, Martha.” I joked causing her to groan playfully and ramble about everything that had to do with hockey. It was time to make notes if I were to continue to see Cale.
What Eliza didn’t know was that she’d be seeing a lot more of Cale inside and outside of work in the coming months.
…
And I know cale wasn’t featured a lot here— but he will be :)
I hope you guys enjoyed it!! I can’t wait to dive more into there relationship.
Let me know!
Please like, repost, and if you want to - give me a follow to get many more stories like this and others :)
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Wondering About How Cybertronians React to Disabled Humans
So I watched a Tik Tok by Dapper Manatee about how he copes with life by vocal stimming. And then it became a critique of how society treats disabled folks, and how it only gives the bare minimum. As a disabled person, yes. I wholeheartedly agree with all of it. I can’t count how many times I’ve been forced to drive my chair across an entire school campus because some inconsiderate schmuck decided to put freshman classes all the way on the other side of campus, in barely accessible portables. Not to mention the times where I had to drive up and down steep hills to get to and from P.E. in Elementary school. I swear to you, that I nearly tipped over multiple fucking times. And don’t even get me started on getting shoved into the special ed class for the first two weeks of sixth grade. Just don’t. Public schools in Alabama, Mobile specifically, suck when it comes to disabled accommodations. It’s blatantly obvious that they don’t give two shits about folks like me. They never have, and they never will.
Obvious trauma-based rant aside, that got me thinking: How do Cybertronians view physical disabilities? Do they even know about them? Are there any equivalents to them in Cybertronian culture? Or is every bot built absurdly perfect and without physical flaw? I know there are instances of mental illness in Transformers canon; more specifically anxiety, depression, and PTSD. But I’ve never seen a bot with a physical disability. And no: I don’t count Transmutate. They could walk, so they’re not gonna count here. Is there a bot that, somehow, isn’t able to walk at all, or walk without assistance? Because holy fuck do I need my boys (Starscream, Knockout, and Breakdown) to understand my frustrations. I need them to understand why I get angry when I can’t access a building without having to go around back. I need them to understand why I get upset when I have to park out in the middle of goddamn nowhere because some able-bodied shithead parked in a handicapped space. More importantly, I need them to understand how to properly handle encounters with other folks like me. Because something tells me they’ve never navigated that kind of situation before. If Knockout, or Ratchet, or any other medic met a disabled bot, they can just fix the problem, and then everything’s fine. But that ain’t how humans work. Disabilities are permanent, and Cybertronians don’t know that, and they’d probably have trouble understanding why.
They’d be even more confused when they find out that people often equate ability to intelligence. I can’t count how many times some stranger came up to me and pulled the baby talk on me. Or, the times they talked to the person I was with instead of me. Or, they thought they knew what was best for me. Or, how they tried to speak for me. I remember back in my freshman year of high school, an aid for a blind kid was legit shocked to find out that I can talk. The worst thing is, she said that to my aid, right in front of me. They didn’t even wait until I was out of earshot.
I wonder how my boys would react. Hell, I wonder how every Transformers character would react to all this. Would they understand just how disrespectful that behavior is? Would they recognize and change their own behavior? Would they go out of their way to correct others if they did those things? All I can do is wonder, and that’s the most painful thing about the Transformers canon to me.
TL;DR: Dapper Manatee made me realize that Cybertronians might not have seen disabled people before. And it made my trauma bubble up to the surface and made me think about their possible lack of understanding.
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