oh look i found things in my drafts


My little sister asked me to proof the final draft of her research paper that’s due Friday (she has tennis tomorrow so she can’t work on it then) and I was like, “Oh, sure. It’s a final draft so it can’t take that long. You’ve had it peer reviewed and you said the teacher looked it over so there should hardly be anything to correct.”

Over two hours later, I’m still sitting here with papers scattered around me. There are so many corrections. She’s used the word “best” fifteen times in two pages. There are sentences that switch tense halfway through. Who are these pronouns referring to? Everything is on fire and I’m about to break down every time I look at this paper. Not even on a grammar scale, it’s just completely unfounded and I can’t believe these are credible sources. You just cited that it’s the best medical care because it’s drug free, but now you’ve said that medications are prescribed along with treatments. What is the truth?

Thank you (Kastle fanfic)

It’s 3am and I just marathoned the entire season please don’t judge me. I just wrote it, it is a first draft and I am so sorry, its complete trash but this ship is slowly destroying me from the inside out so here goes…

My trashy Kastle (Krank is better imo) fanfic

It’s strange, Karen thought, trouble always seems to find me. Karen was looking down the barrel of a gun, once again working for the bulletin and her knack for investigative journalism has found her in a sticky situation. She found herself more calm and level headed the more these things happened, and oh boy did they keep happening. Occupational hazard it would seem.

She had been investigating a large corporation and the possible seedy underground business they were funding for the Yakuza, she had been careless and gotten herself caught.

The man shouted at her in Japanese, and she flinched, as calm as she was, it didn’t mean she wasn’t scared shitless.

She was in an abandoned warehouse in the north of Hell’s Kitchen, it was far out of the way and she doubted anyone would find her.

“Matt,” she whispered, “if you can hear me, I could really use your help right now.” Six months ago Matt Murdock had confessed to her a part of him that she had not been aware of, but once the puzzle pieces were connected it had made complete sense to her. He also had explained about his very impressive hearing abilities and hoped beyond hope that he might be listening.

More Japanese was being barked at her, and her level headedness was beginning to fade and panic began to set in.

There was another gang member behind her, she couldn’t see the second gun pointing at her, but she could definitely feel it at the back of her head.

Just as she had given up hope the sound of a gun went off.

At first she thought it was the gun pressed against her head. But the pressure of that gun left and she felt someone fall down behind her.

The gang member in front her was looking around the room for the source of the gunfire.

Without thinking Karen took that moment to punch the guy in the face. It was a strong punch, but it was enough to knock the guy back and enough time for her to grab the gun off of him.

In mere seconds she had turned the gun back onto the man in front of her.

“Let me go, or God help me I will shoot you” She shouted at him.

She was nervous, she had shot to kill in circumstances like this before, but she was hesitant.

She started to move towards the door and the guy launched towards her, before she had time to react the gun went off and the man fell to the floor.

She looked at the gun in her hands and dropped it, disgusted with herself.

She had done it again; she had taken another person’s life.

She fell to her knees.

What had she done?

She was so caught up in what had just happened that she didn’t notice the man standing behind her until he put his hand on her shoulder.

She flinched back and looked up at the man the arm was attached to.

It was Frank Castle.

The man who the papers had deemed as “The Punisher”.

“Good shot Ma’am” He said with an approving look.

Karen felt sick.

She stood up and stared at him.

“I just killed someone! And you’re impressed by my aim?” She shouted, she could feel tears brimming in her eyes.

He went to say something and then stopped. There were police sirens around.

“We can’t stay here; we need to move” he picked the gun up from the floor and grabbed her arm.

Before she could think about the consequences they were running.

After climbing up on top roofs and jumping narrow building gaps, she found herself inside a very small, very abandoned apartment building.

She was panting, her heart was going a million miles a minute. But Frank…Frank wasn’t even breathing heavily. The guy was calm and collected. As if they both hadn’t just killed someone.

“How do you do it?” She asks, astonished and disgusted.

He was putting away all of the guns he had attached to his person, the collection on his table was extensive before he started now the table looked extremely clattered and very unnerving.

“Do what?” He asks, but he knew what she meant. He started to remove his vest, it was the famous vest, with the skull painted onto it.

“How did you find me?” Karen asks, annoyed and persistent.

“It wasn’t on purpose I can assure you ma’am” There was a sting in his tone, but it was very faint.

The last conversation they had had included words like dead to me and monster. She wasn’t proud of those words, but she hadn’t exactly meant them either.

Not that it had had any effect on him, he still chose to keep killing.

Like she had chosen to do an hour beforehand.

“I’m no better than you are” she whispers, a tear in her eye.

He was in the middle of taking his shirt of when she said this and he chucks it to the floor.

“No better than what? A monster? A psychopath? No better than the man you swore was dead to you is that it?” There was pain in his voice, and she felt it deep in the pit of her stomach.

“Maybe I am a monster” The tear that was threatening her cheek fell and she looked down at the threadbare carpet.

When she looked up at him, he had taken a few steps towards her and his face had softened.

There was dark bruising around his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen.

“You’re not a monster” He whispers.

There’s silence for a moment.

“Neither are you Frank.” Her voice caught in her throat and she hated herself for it.

He scoffs a little at that.

“You may need to tell that to half of Hell’s Kitchen.” He relaxes a little.

“Can I get you a drink?”

She nods her head quickly and finds that her body is shaking.

They sit in silence while Frank makes her a warm cup of coffee in the run down mess that can be considered a kitchen at a stretch.

He places it in her hands.

“I didn’t mean what I said you know” She stumbles over her words. “I was angry and scared. I wanted to prove to you that you were the man I thought you were.” Her voice gained strength the more she spoke.

“You mean the man you wanted me to be” His tone was thoughtful, if a little sad.

“I guess so.” The coffee was warming her up and relieving the panic she felt.

“I’m sorry that I can’t be that person” his voice was sincere and it made her insides feel warm.

Either that or it was the coffee.

Coffee has the supernatural ability to bring normalcy back into any situation.

She was feeling herself again, and as she was doing so, she noticed that he was still topless.

To say that he was toned was an understatement, his chest was broad and strong, his muscles jutted out and there were scars beyond what she had never imagined.

Assuming that she had ever imagined him topless.

He was standing very close to her.

Her breathing hitched, and as if he had noticed he stood back slightly.

“You were the only person who ever saw me for me. Thank you, I just wanted you to know that” He sounded tense and his voice was rough.

She smiles at him; she reaches for his arm reassuringly.

“You have dealt with more than anyone I know, all that pain…it has to go somewhere. It’s just unfortunate in the way you choose to channel it.” He tenses slightly at her touch and then relaxes.

“That may be true ma’am but I ain’t ever gonna change.” His face became guarded, but she could see something in his eyes.

“It’s okay to feel that pain Frank, what happened to you…to your family, was unforgivable, and unforgettable. I’m not saying it’s an excuse, but I understand.”

He pulls away then.

“How? How can you understand? It doesn’t make sense, how my little girl be there smiling at daddy one minute and then next I’m holding her lifeless body in my arms. How can you understand that, because I can’t” His fists were clenched and his eyes were watered.

He had never shared that much with her. She didn’t know what to do, or say.

“I’m so sorry Frank” she breathed out stepping closer to him.

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

“This is all I know how to do ma’am; this is all I am now.” He was shaking his head hands in his hair.

Karen did something on impulse, she couldn’t explain why she felt the need to, she just did.

Her arms wrapped around him and he collapsed on the floor, her on top of him.

She continued to hold him like that for a long while.

She found herself stirring and opened her eyes, her head was lying on Frank’s chest. It seems that she held him for so long that the pair of them had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.

It was still dark outside, but as she looked up at him she could see the features of his sleeping face. The man was in a world full of pain, but right then he looked peaceful, he looked younger, apart from the bruises on his face he looked…innocent, serene. He wasn’t guarded or tense, he was relaxed.

As she tried to get up from the floor, he stirred in his sleep, his arm wrapped around her and he pulled her tighter in his chest. Her stomach tightened.

“Frank?” She whispered,

Suddenly he tenses and goes to sit up, but he realises that he is not in danger, his emotions go from panic to confused.

“Karen?” He whispers looking at her.

Her eye brows raise.

“I didn’t think you knew my actual name, seeing as the only thing you’ve ever referred me to it ‘ma’am’” She says slightly teasing, but undertones of seriousness.

He looks at her confused.

“You think I’m trashy enough to wake up with a woman in my arms and not know her name?” He was teasing and it was nice for Karen to hear, she wasn’t used to it, but his relaxed nature gave rise to something in his chest.

“Well, I’m glad of that.” She giggles, it seems like that several months had been washed away, and she was just lying there with man named Frank, not the punisher.

He coughs slight and sits up, she sits up to.

“Thank you” he says seriously, his tone changed so suddenly, she already missed the teasing.

“For what?” She asks.

“For everything. From the time you visited me in hospital and helped me remember my family…” he paused and swallowed down his pain “to just now when you made me forget for just a moment.”

She smiles at him, a genuine happy smile, her hair had come undone and was falling into her face.

Without seeming to think about it he brushes the hair out of her face and behind her ear, the both of them still sat on the flood in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room.

His hand remains on her cheek, and he strokes away a stray eyelash from her cheek.

She finds herself leaning more and more into his hand.

He swallows once again, and Karen hopes that it’s for a different reason.

“Ma’am?” He breathes, his face inches away from hers.

“Yes” her response barely audible, her tongue flicked out and licked her lips and she stared into the face of a serial killer, into the face of a man who lost everything, into the eyes of a man who made her feel things she knew she shouldn’t.

“May I?” He asks, as he leans in closer to her face, they are just centimetres away from touching, she nods slowly, and his lips press against hers.

She wasn’t sure what kind of kiss she was expecting from a man who had killed 37 men at last count, but it wasn’t this.

His lips were gentle, they pressed against her with a light urgency that seared into her lips, she pressed harder but he still remained so gentle. His hands brushed over her hair as she grabbed his arms, he presses a few small soft kisses against her mouth and her cheeks and her brought her up into his chest, arms wrapping around her shoulders, he placed a lingering warm kiss against her forehead.

“Thank you” He repeated.

And once again for the second time in all the months she had known Frank Castle, she felt normal, like their lives weren’t as complicated as they were, and it was nice. Even if just for a moment.

let’s all take a minute to appreciate that John Watson, who Isn’t Good At This Sort Of Thing, who has a self-proclaimed preference for keeping his emotions under wraps, who wouldn’t even let himself be seen crying by a tombstone in a graveyard after the death of his best friend, couldn’t help but to well up in front of a room full of people when Sherlock Holmes announced that he felt proud and honoured to know him.