#but you gave me 24 minutes to get a history and a physical on some one with an extensive substance use disorder

[humofnight]

hmmm. Gonna buy myself microwave popcorn I think

[honeipie]

I love love love your bakugou works! i was wondering if you could write something about him and like izuku, eijiro, shoto, and the reader all being firefighters. i just think ab katsuki in that black tank and the fuckin firefighter pants😋

24 HOURS

katsuki bakugo x reader

synopsis: dating your coworker can be fun sometimes

authors note: tysm!! katsuki would be such a good firefighter tbh 🌞

3:00 PM

“okay this is weird” currently you were in the passengers seat of your boyfriend’s pick up truck on the way to the fire station. luckily, you had both been called in for 24 hour shifts at the same time. katsuki rolled his eyes turning down the street.

“what?”

you motioned over to the radio which was playing your favorite playlist. the playlist that katsuki would complain so much about each time you put it on.

“you haven’t said a word about my music since we’ve gotten into this car” once he hit a stop light you leaned over the middle console getting close to his cheek “what is going on? are you mad or something?”

he turned his head giving you the smallest, quickest peck on your lips “nothin’s wrong” you squinted your eyes skeptically as the light turned green.

pulling out your phone you went to text the firehouse groupchat.

———

y/n

my boyfriend is way to happy at the moment.. what’s going on

izuku

just know that you won’t like it!

kiri

oh he’s not telling you? brutal.

—————

you had just pulled up to the station when you had read the message “katsuki, not today” there were tires, ropes, dumbbells, and ladders sitting outside and in front of the trucks. katsuki gave your thigh a strong squeeze with a smirk.

“happy drill day”

drill day. the one day out of the month where the whole station of firefighters would get together and do drills over and over for a couple of hours. this was your least favorite day considering everything it entailed. of course you knew that you had to stay in shape physically. it was just wasn’t that fun when you already have a trail of sweat running down your back and ruining whatever makeup you at least tried to do.

5:45 PM

“i hate him”

“then why are you looking at him like you want to lick the sweat off his body”

“first of all gross, second of all i may hate him but i’m not blind” you watched the man who was facing away from you. he was currently showing some of the rookies how to turn their sled pull into pulling the real hose.

his back muscles could be seen shifting quickly as he tugged on the hose from the truck. when he was at the end of the hose his arms flexed for one final tug.

he dropped the hose with a loud plop. he placed his hands on his hips and you could see his slow, heavy breaths from there.

“well? i just showed you how to do it. wrap the shit back up and show me” all of them scrambled to get the hose untangled and back into the wheel.

katsuki turned to face you immediately noticing the way you weren’t training.

“why the hell are you here?” he looked over at mina who was checking something on her nails.

“well my boyfriend and best friend work here, and i’m bored, so i think you can put together the rest of the pieces”

“don’t you got people to revive or some shit?”

mina was an emt for the local hospital. her and kirishima actually met at a fire scene when she came over to check out some of his injuries, and the rest was history.

“look at you loud and wrong. i’m not on a shift right now so i decided make myself feel better about my career decisions by watching you people workout for hours on end”

katsuki shook his head clearly fed up with her and the conversation. you just had to pick her to be your best friend.

“just standin’ here?” he asked standing directly in front of you.

“i finished” you huffed out looking up at him. the heat from outside was already kicking your ass, but him being up close made you feel hotter.

“alright, it’s time to do farmers carry. two laps around the room with a minute break in between”

a frown rested on your face when you heard he wanted you to do more. it had almost hit the two hour mark and you were ready to wrap it up.

“i don’t think i can do anymore today. my body hurts”

he scoffed hearing your words “and you know who else’s body is gonna hurt? the people dying in fires because you couldn’t carry them out”

“i’ve done it before so i feel like that doesn’t count” you reached your hand out placing it on his waist “c’mon lieutenant, go easy on me? just for today”

you’d pulled the lieutenant card. sure, that was his rank and people called him that out of respect, but you? you just did it differently. the way you enunciated the ‘t’. the way you’d touch him, because you always touched him when you said it. this was a rare pull so you must’ve been tired.

katsuki raised his eyebrow at your words. a smirk creeped onto his face before he leaned down giving you a long kiss.

mina’s face scrunched up in disgust, and the rookies just mumbled about how his demeanor switched so fast.

when he pulled away he whispered softly in your ear “you just earned yourself another lap. now get those dumbbells and get to work” he turned going back to check on the rookies’ progress.

“well that backfired” mina kicked her feet against the mat.

“yeah, ya think?”

so you the farmers carry, then worked on the stair machine for your last exercise. after that you made your way over to katsuki. he was watching the rookies start on their cooldown stretches.

“i actually finished this time so i’m going to take a shower” you gave him a sharp pat on the back and went to leave, but he grabbed you wrist dragging you back.

“you mad?”

“hm.. not if i smell okonomiyaki when i get out the shower”

you moved your hand away continuing your walk to the bathroom.

6:45

“thank you katsuki”

he only grumbled in response taking a bite of his. kirishima frowned in the corner arms crossed against his chest “why didn’t you make us any? we worked out hard too”

“not enough ingredients”

izuku sat beside you drinking his smoothie “y’know i hate liars. i restocked that pantry yesterday”

mina stood beside kirishima one arm wrapped around his waist “i could give you some of those leftovers from last night”

kiri shook his head “nah, i don’t really want that-“ he shifted his head to see mina giving him a look “oh! no yeah i want that” the two retreated back into the station with nothing more than a wave. shoto almost broke his neck watching the two go inside.

“they’re not gonna have sex in the kitchen right?..”

“no! not in the kitchen. maybe that big closet on the way, but not in the kitchen” you put the last bit of okonomiyaki in your mouth “i’m actually surprised you caught onto that”

“i know right? got the social cues of a fuckin’ boulder”

“katsuki that’s not funny” but the smile on your face gave away that it was a little funny. all was interrupted when a car pulled into the station. all four of you got up to see who it was. a woman got out of the car and made her way to the other side.

“hi! i’m sorry to cause you the trouble, but we’ve done everything and can’t get it off” she opened the door to reveal a boy, about seven years old, with his arm stuck in a water jug “i asked my dad what to do and he said you’d be able to help?”

you all had to stop yourselves from laughing when he struggled getting his arm out of the car.

“don’t worry about it ma’am. we can get that thing right off” you assured her with a smile. izuku had already went inside to get a pair of pliers.

“i know it’s stuck, but can you you still feel your arm? move it around without any pain?”

as you asked he lifted up his arm and slammed it back down into his side. the force took him by surprise and he ended up falling over “i’m okay!” he went to get up his mother assisting him.

“stop being a fool and answer the nice lady’s question please”

“my arm feels fine”

10:00 PM

“alright,” you placed your cards down onto the table and started to rise “i’m gonna head to sleep”

the crew mumbled quick goodbyes already setting up for another round. you made your way through the station until you reached one of the bedrooms. slowly, you opened the door making sure to not make too much noise. after closing it once more, you went to strip out of your clothes into something more comfortable.

“scoot over”

a grunt left katsuki as he rolled over to one side of the bed. it was no surprise that he was already asleep. this man worked like clockwork. exactly at 8:30pm every day he would stop whatever he was doing and head up to bed.

you crawled up next to him wrapping your arms around his torso. katsuki didn’t care about that big spoon, little spoon stuff. all he wanted to do was get comfortable and rest.

your head rested on his chest listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

“i hope we don’t get any calls tonight”

“me either”

4:00 AM

“i knew you’d like this one”

you had bent over laughing at the sight before you. a teen had gotten stuck in one of the baby swings, so they had to call to get him out. you were asleep when they got the call and katsuki refused to tell you what it was.

“how does this even happen?” you tried to subside your laughter walking over to go help kiri get the poor, embarrassed teen out of the swing.

“it was a dare! i couldn’t back down the stakes were too high”

you wrapped your arms under his armpits while kirishima got around his calves. you counted down from three then started to pull him out of the seat.

“what is more embarrassing than this?”

“asking my crush out in front of her whole lunch table”

“well hopefully her whole lunch table doesn’t see that recording” you nodded your head over to his friends who were videotaping the whole thing. the teens started to go back and forth as you wiggled him out.

after making sure there was no little injuries on him katsuki walked over “all of you should get home. we decided not to call the cops, but someone else might”

they all nodded their heads in understanding waiting until you turned around to whisper “i should’ve gotten myself stuck. she was bad as shit”

you cringed at the words, but katsuki let out a loud laugh. you slapped him on his arm going over to the truck “it’s not funny!”

3:00 PM

you hopped back into katsuki’s pickup with a smile on your face “another shift completed. i can’t wait to go home and get a good nights sleep”

he threw both of your bags into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. after the early morning call, there were a few others. a couple of bush fires, and people stuck in an elevator. safe to say, you couldn’t wait for your two days off.

“i bet you can’t. got a hot date with one of those boys? if i remember they called you bad as shit?”

you rolled your eyes at his little joke.

“shut up! you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again”

he shrugged a smug smile on his lips as he pulled out of the lot.

“can i play my music?”

“fuck no”

“katsuki!”

taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾

lmk if you want to be added

[nonlethal2]

04/24/24

Well, last night on Instagram, I unfollowed/unfriended Kerr. After I did it, it felt like heartbreak all over again. Looking back, I don't know why it hurt so much being that he was still the same jerk he has become. Plus, why should I give access to a person who just tries to tear me down. I don't view him as a friend. I don't think he knows the meaning of being someone's friend. This all started when he I didn't know tracked me down on Instagram. He is and will always be blocked on Facebook.  He sent me a friend request, which I ignored. He took the request back. He sent another one, which I don't know why but accepted. Then, on Messenger on Instagram, he was back playing games like changing the theme to Willy Wonka and sending emojis. I didn't change it or acknowledge it. Then this was around the time Dave was in the hospital dealing with his foot and infection.  Kerr changed the theme to Winter Wonder Land. It has snow and a snowman on the background, which I thought was adoreable. I sent a heart emoji. Then Allan told me he was suspended  at work.  Here, he refused to take a drug test, and if you refuse, they could fire you. So I messaged him to ask him why he didn't test. Of course, he couldn't just tell me. I was worried at first that the reason he didn't test was that he was taking steroids or he was sick and taking some medication he didn't want people to know about. All he said basically was that he was suspended until he decided if he could have his job back or if he was fired. He then told me that with him being suspended, he was getting paid to go to the gym. Plus, he had enough money that he didn't need to worry.

I finally got it out of him that the reason he didn't test was because he wasn't able to sleep and he went to the doctor who wouldn't do anything for him so he decided to smoke. That's why he didn't test and told management the reason. However management instead of firing him, gave him the opportunity to resign from what he said so if a new employer called them to get his work history they wouldn't be able to say the reason for him being fired.

So he went to work at Asda distribution center, which I told him he wouldn't be able to do because of how physically demanding it was. He did quit there and got another security guard job in some refuge hotel. Seemed pretty sketch to me.

Anyway, he started sending me memes, which felt like he was making fun of me. For the most part, I would ignore it or send memes to try and get under his skin. Then we started this back and forth of what a man is.

He sent me this meme that said this sandwich causes brain cancer. That I don't need to worry since I don't have a brain. I replied back great that you are safe. Now you can leave me alone. He said boo hoo. That my life would be empty without him. I told him no it wouldn't that I have friends with a lot in common. I told him to go harass his son, future daughter in law, his brother, Susie. He replied back triggered? I will do that.

Than he said Before I go

Another definition of a man is someone who doesn't raise there hands and hit a female

Another one is when your wife is getting fucked by Another man u do something about it

Bye.

U will be in touch again

Like I said.u can't be without me.

I said back Not triggered. I don't need to waste time and energy on someone who always thinks he is right. Wants to hurt people. Yeah, and a definition of a man is to be there for someone in their time of need. To help them not continue to put them down and make them feel worthless. Not to play games by making comments on post. One minute blocking them, and the next sending friend request

I won't be in touch. You're the one who contacts me when no one else wants to bother with you. Just like you sending emails randomly.

Now this morning I go on Instagram and he has already sent me a friend request.  Are you serious??? I am suprised that he even noticed that I unfollowed him with all his gym following. 

[notanotherreidgirl]

I just had an idea based on my recent health experience: What if Spence had to wear a Holter for 24 or 72 hours to measure his heart's activity (maybe as part of the FBIs health checks) ? And he has to take notes of everything he does so that they can match it with the information collected so he cannot have sex or masturbate unless he's willing to justify his increased heart activity to a team of doctors. So, reader being reader, decides to drive him nuts, teasing him again and again because she knows he can't do anything about it. (Does he end up cumming in his pants because he's trying so hard not to touch himself and increase his heart rate?) ☺️🥰

Love ya! Have a great day!

Let's Get Physical

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, edging, blowjob, grinding, coming in pants

Word Count: 1380 (i'm inclined to just call this a full fic)

A/N: First, an apology. This has been in my inbox for quite a while and I am very sorry about the wait. Secondly, I made this entire scenario up after doing some minimal research on Holter monitors so it might not make sense.

Spencer gave Hotch’s door a light tap before taking a deep breath and then giving two sharp knocks. “Come in”

The door swung open and Derek patted him on the shoulder with a smile as he exited, no doubt having just received a glowing report regarding his physical health. Spencer dropped into the seat, casting a quick glance at the team of health professionals on Hotch’s couch and immediately regretting it. They were very clinical looking - pressed white lab coats, hair combed and gelled back, clipboards piled with papers, already scribbling away and speaking among themselves in hushed voices. “Ok Dr. Reid, we just have a few questions to ask you regarding your health practices and then we’ll take a look at the results from the Holter Monitor. Is that alright?”

“Um yeah. Yeah, that’s fine” he glanced over at Hotch who was leafing through Spencer’s notes with a raised eyebrow. The first few questions about his diet and lifestyle practices were easy but then came the dreaded evaluation of the Holter measurements. “Now we just have a few questions about some of the readings from the Holter. I see there was a bit of a spike right after you put it on that you attributed to nerves?”

“O-oh uh yeah, I was just a little nervous about having it on. That was it.” But that wasn’t the exact truth.

---

You had Spencer sit cross-legged on the bed without his shirt when he came home with the Holter. He was explaining how it worked as you studied the diagram detailing how to put it on. You slipped the wearable recording device over his head and climbed into his lap, surreptitiously rocking your hips into his as you untangled the wires. His hands encircled your waist, adjusting your angle so your clothed core ran against his entire length. You attached the electrodes carefully, kissing each patch of skin before covering it. His breath came out in soft pants as his release mounted and he squeezed his eyes shut. Just as he was about to come, you clicked the machine on and his eyes flew open.

“Wait, Y/N! I can’t - I’m supposed to keep my heart rate down.” The panic in his voice was evident and you smirked. If there was one thing you knew about Spencer it was that he liked succeeding. One might even say he liked winning - 3 Ph.Ds, prolific poker player, unsubs behind bars - so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that he was keen on passing his health evaluation. You trailed a hand down his chest, feeling the pounding heart he was trying to calm with deep breaths. “If you say so, doc”

---

The evaluator’s next question snapped him from his reverie. “That sounds fine but there was a concerning increase in your heart activity at 2 AM. It says here that you were exercising, specifically sprinting?”

Spencer dropped the pen he had been twirling and dove under his chair to get it. “Ah yes, I - uh - those are my nightly sprints.”

If Hotch’s eyebrows went up any farther they’d disappear in his hairline. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation when he spotted your face peeking out through an opening in his office blinds. You darted away quickly, sprinting back to your desk. Meanwhile, Spencer mentally chastised himself for his lack of self-restraint, saying that he was doing sprints at 2 AM was stupid but it was the only thing he could think of that could somewhat explain his elevated heart rate without revealing his actual activities.

---

He couldn’t sleep with the monitor on, tossing and turning in your arms until he rolled onto his back and let out a frustrated huff. You sleepily propped yourself up on your elbow. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

He scooted in closer, curling his body into yours and burying his face into your tits. He whined, “Can’t sleep with this thing on me”

“Oh, poor baby. Do you need me to make you feel better?” You dipped a hand down the front of his pajama pants and he automatically pressed his hips forward, used to you soothing him in this way after nightmares. He was already half-hard and you stroked him softly before sliding down the bed. His whimpers at the loss of your breasts exploded into loud moans as you swallowed his length, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and sucking at the tip before taking him back into your throat. Usually, you would take your time but you were feeling particularly wicked tonight, bringing a hand up to cradle his balls as the other forced his wild hips down onto the bed. Once again you pulled away just as his orgasm began to materialize and he threw his head back against the pillows, whines devolving into a choked sob. “We wouldn’t want to mess up your Holter results, now would we?”

Needless to say, he didn’t get any sleep that night.

---

“Well Dr. Reid, this kind of activity is most unusual and frankly quite concerning. Your heart rate even shot up right before you returned the monitor which you again attributed to nerves.” Spencer’s face reddened as he recalled the events that transpired that morning.

---

He was pacing down a vacant hallway in the basement of the Bureau, willing his nerves away. He was sure he would fail. Could you even fail one of these evaluations? Probably. If anyone could fail it would be Spencer. Between the events of the last 24 hours and the fact that Derek was going right before him, he knew he was screwed. And then as if the universe were conspiring against him there you were coming out of the printer room, heels clicking against the floor, hips swaying, a form-fitting blouse leaving just enough to the imagination. And Spencer had a very vivid imagination. Watching you float towards him was really all it took to have him standing at attention, heart rate skyrocketing. But you were ever the overachiever, threading his tie between your fingers and pulling him in for a kiss. Your knee came up between his legs and he automatically rocked into you, still worked up from your relentless denial. You ran your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss and applying even more pressure. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart. Trying your very hardest to control yourself. It’s adorable.”

It didn’t even occur to Spencer that he had to return the monitor along with his notes in less than 10 minutes, he was cumming in his pants as soon as the praise left your lips, whining into your mouth as he finally attained his long-awaited release. He looked down at you in shock as you stepped back. “Shit, Y/N! What do I do? They’re gonna call me up in 5 minutes!”

You gave him a mocking look of sympathy as you smoothed the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “Guess you better get cleaned up then”

---

“Dr. Reid, I’d like to see you again for a follow-up.” The doctor on the left scribbled their name on the bottom of a form and handed it to Spencer. He gave the paper a quick glance before looking over at Hotch with wide eyes. Help me.

Hotch sighed, taking the form from Spencer and giving it a quick scan before returning it to the evaluation team. “As we know, Dr. Reid has had a tumultuous history with these physical assessments. However, he is an invaluable member of this team and has proven himself in the field time and time again. I don’t see any reason to prolong this evaluation. Now if you’ll excuse us, I believe Dr. Reid was your last appointment of the day”

They protested but Hotch fixed them with his trademark stare and they stood up to leave. “Very well, but Dr. Reid will not be exempt from his yearly fitness test this time.”

Spencer gulped, watching them file out the room. He turned to Hotch thanking him as he took his file and turned to leave, glad it was over. But before he could leave, Hotch cleared his throat. “I take it Y/N will be helping you train for your fitness test”

[allthingsfangirl101]

Soulmate Tattoos–Zac Efron

Your Soulmate Tattoo is your soulmate's first words to you. For girls, their tattoo is on the underside of their left wrist. For boys, their tattoo is on the underside of their right wrist. The year before you meet your soulmate, your tattoo begins to appear. There is no ink, no colors, and no words. Instead, there is a red splotch where the tattoo will appear on the exact day the following year.

The month that you are going to meet your soulmate, your red splotch becomes more defined. It begins to softly outline the edges. Seven days before you meet them, the words slowly start to form. The day before you meet your soulmate, the words finally appear in brown. That brown doesn't change to black until you're standing right in front of your soulmate and they have spoken the words to you.

My tattoo didn't start to appear until the summer after my third year of teaching. The minute the red splotch appeared, I couldn't stop glancing at it. That next year was horrible. I made note of the day, hoping it would help with the nerves, but it only made them worse.

When it got to the week I would meet him, I constantly rubbed the outline of my tattoo. And the second the words appeared on my arm the day before, I memorized them.

I'm so sorry, beautiful. I hope I didn't spill my coffee on you and ruin your nice dress.

I bit my lip when I first read his words. I couldn't help but start to imagine what he might be like. I spent the entire day thinking about him and our first interaction.

He's going to call me beautiful. He's going to spill or almost spill his coffee on me at a coffee shop. And I'm wearing a dress.

I woke up that morning, fighting the urge to go to the coffee shop right away. They don't tell us what time we meet our soulmate. I didn't want to sit in a coffee shop all day, waiting for him to show up. But I didn't want to miss him either.

Instead of overthinking this, I got ready at my normal pace. I took my shower, got dressed (making sure to wear my favorite sundress), curled my hair, and did a little more makeup than I normally wear.

There were positives and negatives to knowing the day you meet your soulmate. You can make sure you look nice, but it also leads to a lot of overthinking and anxiety.

I headed to the coffee shop, my hands shaking as I walked in. I got in line, nervously playing with my dress as I waited.

I gasped when I felt the burning. I looked down to see my tattoo changing color. My heart started beating really fast when I noticed the color was turning darker. Which means. . .

I was brought away from my tattoo when the guy who was in front of me turned around and bumped into me.

"I'm so sorry, beautiful," the guy said, his voice light and soft. "I hope I didn't spill my coffee on you and ruin your nice dress."

I could hear my blood pumping when I noticed the words this man just said were the words I'd spent the last 24 hours staring at. I looked up, my eyes widening when I saw who said the words on my arm.

This can't be right. There is no way this is my soulmate. I'm a high school history teacher. And he's. . .

My soulmate cannot be Zac Efron.

"It's alright," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "No harm, no foul."

Suddenly, he sucked in a breath. He slowly looked down at his wrist and let out a small chuckle. He looked up at me, his eyes filling with tears.

When his eyes drifted down to my left wrist, I rolled it so he could see it. He laughed and reached over, grabbing my left hand in his as he read the words on my wrist. I bit my lip when he intertwined our fingers, slowly looking up at me. I glanced down at our hands, our tattoos almost touching.

"Can I buy you some coffee?" He asked, his voice low. I hesitated, a small part of me thinking this was a weird twisted joke.

"I guess we should," I whispered.

Without letting go of my hand, Zac led me to the counter. I ordered my usual latte, my whole arm burning from his touch. I went to pay for my drink, but Zac paid for it before I could even get my wallet out of my bag.

Zac led me over to a booth in the corner, our hands never disconnecting. He politely waited for me to sit down first before taking a seat across from me, finally letting go of my hand.

All I could think was; no way. There is no way that Zac Efron is my soulmate. And how is he so relaxed about meeting his soulmate who is a complete stranger?

"So, we're soulmates," he said, laughing awkwardly.

"We are," I nodded. I cleared my throat as I wrapped my hands around my latte.

"This is kinda awkward," he chuckled. I looked up at him to see him smiling at me.

"I don't understand how people expect us to be so relaxed right now," I sighed. "You and I are complete strangers and because of a tattoo, we're soulmates."

"Well," he said, reaching over and grabbed my hands. "It's not like we're expected to run to the nearest church and get married."

I laughed, finally starting to relax. "I mean, we could always go to Vegas. I hear their drive-thru weddings can be quite beautiful."

Zac laughed, both of us relaxing. He let go of my hands and leaned back. When we stopped laughing, he was still smiling at me.

"I'm Zac," he introduced himself.

"I know," I awkwardly giggled. I felt my cheeks burning as I cleared my throat.

"Right," he smirked. "Do I get to know your name, Soulmate?"

"I don't know," I teased. "I kinda like being called, Soulmate."

He sent me a playful pout before breaking. I bit my bottom lip, my nerves resurfacing.

"Y/N," I finally told him.

"Y/N," he repeated. "Not as pretty as Soulmate, but I'll take it."

We both laughed as I playfully pulled my hands out of his. My breath got caught in my throat when the look on his face changed.

"My beautiful Y/N," he said, his voice so low it gave me chills. "Tell me about yourself."

I let out an embarrassed giggle as he leaned his elbows on the table, physically making himself look interested.

"Well," I said, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "I was born and raised in Burbank. I moved to LA to go to UCLA and I ended up getting a job at my old high school."

"You're a teacher?" He asked, perking up. I giggled at his excitement.

"Yeah," I said, tucking that same piece of hair behind my ear again. "I teach AP U.S. History."

"AP? Damn!" He laughed. "That's like the top class!"

"Kinda," I giggled.

He cleared his throat, slightly shaking his head. "So, what grades do you teach?"

"Mostly seniors," I smiled. "But I also teach a few freshman classes."

"You get them as they come in and come out."

I tilted my head, biting back a laugh when his eyes widened like he just realized what he said.

"That came out. . . So wrong," he said slowly.

"It's okay," I chuckled.

                                * * * * *

We spent the next fifteen minutes, talking about ourselves. The more of his life I heard, the more I realized we had nothing in common.

"You alright?" Zac asked after I suddenly went quiet.

"This can't be right," I said under my breath.

"Why not?" He asked, laughing slightly.

"It's just. . . You're the famous Zac Efron. I'm just a high school teacher."

I held my breath when he reached over and gently grabbed my hand, lifting my arm and turning it over to show my left wrist. He smirked as he slowly ran his thumb over my tattoo.

"See?" He said, dropping his voice. "Soulmate tattoos don't lie."

"Your soulmate should be another famous actress or a model," I stuttered. "Not a high school teacher who's been mistaken as one of her students. I mean, what are your fans going to say? Honestly, my students would lose it if they find out my soulmate is Zac Efron, but your fans might not be as excited."

Zac chuckled as he stood up and walked over to my side of the booth, sitting next to me. I sucked in a breath as he reached up and cupped my cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I held in a moan as I kissed him back. Zac slowly pulled away and leaned his forehead against mine.

"As far as I'm concerned," he whispered, "you're just the girl for me, Soulmate."

[keeptheotherone]

Mecation: Day 1 

Thursday

I once read social media described as an indulgence of the fantasy that others are interested in the details of our lives. I’m indulging in that fantasy this week by blogging about my Mecation under the guise of travel blogging ;)

If you follow me in even the most casual way, you know I’m a nurse. While I’ve enjoyed the vast majority of my 23 years as such, I don’t recommend it during a pandemic. The last 18 months have been the second-worst mental health period of my life, demoted to that position not because of the mildness of my symptoms but simply because at 15 I didn’t have the experience or perspective to realize my life was not, in fact, ruined forever.

COVID increased my personal vulnerability as a high-risk patient and made my job immensely more difficult in countless ways both small and large, but the worst part of the pandemic for me (so far) is it took away all my coping mechanisms precisely when I needed them most. Massage, pedicures, dinner out with friends, travel ... all gone practically overnight. Pre-COVID I travelled all the time--home to my parents’, long weekends by myself (Mecation!), annual visits to BFFs, conferences, tourism, the beach, my birthday, writing trips, international trips ... I always had at least one trip in the works, usually one booked and one (or more!) in the planning stages. 

When COVID started, all my close friends and family except for two lived out of state. One of those two was out of town but close enough to get together, but the other was a few hours’ drive away. I’m single and live alone; it was the most isolated I’ve ever been in my whole life. 

With my bestest friends over 500 miles away, I still feel that way sometimes. I haven’t seen them in a year. If it weren’t for COVID, it would only be 7 or 8 months (I’ve gone every January or February since ... forever). Then again, if it weren’t for COVID, I wouldn’t have been there last September; one had been hospitalized and I needed to see she was all right with my own two eyeballs. I expect it will be at least another 7 or 8 months before we get together again, bringing the total to about 20 months. One year we saw each other 5 times in 9 months, our personal best since college. 

I was alone on Christmas. Oh, I’ve spent December 25th on my own before; I’m a nurse. I’ve worked the night of the 24th or the 25th (or both), or whatever combination that didn’t leave enough time off to drive home. But I’ve never spent the Christmas season without my parents. Sometimes the week before, sometimes the week after, sometimes at my place instead of home, but always together. But last Christmas COVID was raging, the vaccines had just come out but were only available to first responders (I got mine on the 23rd), and my elderly parents didn’t feel safe to travel. So I spent Christmas without family.

Travel was not just a break from my daily routine and the stress of nursing; in many ways, the biggest benefit travel made to my mental and emotional health was giving me something to look forward to.  Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and ohhh, I was so heartsick last year! Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t visit my best friends of almost 25 years (more than half my life!). Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t lean on my dad or be hugged by my mom. Not being able to travel--and not knowing when I could travel--left this gaping hole in my future, and I had nothing to fill it with. 

I tell you this not to throw a pity party but to explain the significance of the trip I’m on right now. It is only my third this year: my dad and I spent a week in the mountains in February (my depression and anxiety was so bad then that was treatment, not vacation), I took a friend to the beach over my birthday, and now I’m a couple hours from home at a nice spa hotel. (I’m not counting my nephew’s graduation, which was emotionally challenging for multiple reasons, or helping a friend move from Florida. Moving is never fun.)

I started planning this trip in the spring ... May, maybe? You know, after the vaccine rolled out to everyone and case counts were dropping and it looked like we were gonna lick this thing and have a quasi-normal summer by the Fourth of July (yes, I’m American. That date is a proper noun here.). I had switched jobs in November (don’t ask) and gone on mental health leave December 29th, so I felt I owed it to my unit to put in about six months of work before taking any significant time off, especially since I came back at 24 hours instead of 36. That meant September.

I knew what I wanted to do: 4 or 5 days at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. I’d been before and loved the freedom of not worrying about every little expenditure (what can I say, I’m cheap), and a few days of Vitamin Sea sounded perfect.

Then came Delta.

All right, maybe going out of the country isn’t the best idea, I thought. Don’t want to end up with expensive reservations and then your destination closes to Americans, or you make it to your chosen island but can’t get back home. But I didn’t want to fly (ugh, airports!), I didn’t want to drive (rest stops and restaurants and gas stations), and while I thought about taking the train, it didn’t seem much of an improvement (and maybe a downgrade) on flying.

Then a friend mentioned a sleeper car, and I thought yes! That could work! I’ve never been to New England, I want to go to Boston, that area of the country has low case rates and the highest vaccination rates, this has potential! 

Then I looked at the CDC map. There were only four states that didn’t have high transmission at that time (early August, I think; I’d had to wait for confirmation that my time off had been approved): Michigan, Rhode Island, Maine, and New Hampshire. All four had substantial rates of transmission. Hardly ideal, but one thing I’ve learned this year is sometimes you have to make compromises to protect your mental health. It is true it doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you’re dead; it is also true it doesn’t matter if you’re safe if you want to kill yourself. (I’m not suicidal, I am receiving treatment, don’t anybody panic.)

So, now I’ve settled on Maine or New Hampshire by train via sleeper car (Michigan is too far for a 4-5 day trip and RI--meh). Well, as I got deeper into planning, turned out Maine or NH were awfully far too. Far enough I would have to overnight in a major city, which pretty much defeated the purpose of isolating in a sleeper car. Then I found out there were no sleeper cars on either train route.

So, now vacation is 5 weeks away and I’m back at square one. The Deep South, Texas, and Florida are imploding. Pediatric cases are rising--kids are sicker and make up a higher percentage of cases than they did last year. Scuttlebutt from my ICU colleagues is it’s bad--17/30 MICU beds are COVID and they’re all vented. SICU is being nicknamed “the ECMO unit.” The hospital has 18(!) ECMO machines and 12 are in use; the float nurse who tells us that didn’t even know we had 12 because she’s never seen that many in use at one time. Hospital-wide our numbers are equivalent to early February (we peaked in January). There were six--SIX--pediatric rapid responses in one day. 

And I’m going to travel.

It’s a big deal ... a big accomplishment, really, because of what it says about how I’m successfully managing my anxiety. April 1 was the first time I’d been inside a grocery store in more than a year ... and that wasn’t my idea. It was late April or May before I was comfortable eating in restaurants, even with the falling case count at the time. I’m still not sure if I’m managing my anxiety or reacting to the pressure by going to the opposite extreme (I have a history of that), but I know I’m less stressed, less anxious, have fewer obsessive thoughts, fewer physical symptoms, and am learning to live with this disease. 

So, here I sit at a marble-topped 5-foot-wide desk in my queen/queen hotel room at the end of a productive and enjoyable day. I slept in, completed the big goal of this weekend’s to-do list that I honestly thought would take several days, unpacked and organized my room (I arrived yesterday evening), reorganized my Favorites Bar and Bookmarks on my Mac, had an 80-minute aromatherapy massage, enjoyed a shower in the spa afterwards and even blow-dried my hair(!) before wandering around for a while to get the lay of the land and get some steps in (this place is huge!). Then I changed clothes and took myself out to dinner for my favorite food, Italian. 

That’s me in the picture up top, all dressed up :) Actually, I probably look pretty normal to y’all; like most people with depression, my personal hygiene sunk to new lows in the last year and a half, and as a low-maintenance person to begin with, that’s saying a lot. I bought that necklace as a bridesmaid and am not sure I’ve worn it since; this spring was her 10th anniversary. Yesterday I took out the cat-shaped earrings Dad gave me for Christmas. (Yes, they were gross. Yes, I cleaned them. Yes, I’m wearing them again now.) Just wearing a nice top, fixing my hair (no ponytail or claw-clip bun, my staples), and adding jewelry was a big deal ... especially since “no one” was going to see me. I did it just for me, to make myself feel good. And I did. (That’s another small pleasure COVID took away from me--lip gloss. If I wore any makeup at all, it was lipstick or gloss. Utterly pointless when you’re masked whenever you’re in public.)

I took my laptop to dinner and edited a couple chapters of my new Charlie/Amy fic (previewed during #ktoo turns 10), ran a couple errands, and headed back to the hotel since I don’t like to be out late by myself in an unfamiliar city. Forgot I put my receipt envelope in the backseat pocket and reorganized the glove compartment looking for it, then gathered a bunch of returns into a bag in the trunk. Hung out writing in the lobby until my Mac threatened to die, came upstairs and tidied up, put on my jammies, and talked to you guys :) 

[crystalsmentalhealth]

Talking about the Brattleboro Retreat in Brattleboro, Vermont

I recently spent two weeks at the Retreat and wanted to share my experiences both good and bad about it. 

I arrived at the Retreat in mid-June of 2021 after a four day stay at the Emergency Department of my local hospital. Originally I had not wanted to go to the Brattleboro Retreat because it was such a big campus and I equated that with busy and loud and impersonal. The Retreat would challenge my assumptions.

Getting There

I didn’t drive myself. As I said I spent four days in the ED of my local hospital and so I arrived via ambulance. The ride was stressful and nauseating. I was already stressed and nervous and the mountainous winding roads did absolutely nothing to help. I didn’t lay in the stretcher, but sat in a back-facing seat with no arm rests and with a blood pressure cuff around my left arm. 

The trip took about an hour and except for a few questions from the person riding in the back with me, it was spent in nearly complete silence, which again, did nothing to help my nerves. There was no reassurance or even light conversation.

My Arrival

When we got there, they grabbed my bags for me, probably because I wasn’t allowed to have them yet, and with one person before me and one person behind me, lead me up the stairs to the admissions office. We were met at the door by an admissions person and I was dropped off like an Amazon package. The ambulance personnel left and I was officially at the Retreat.

I was first led to Security. They dropped off my bags with Security, and asked me to empty my pockets. I had none and told them such. Then I was led to an exam room where the woman who was with me found a gown that would fit me and held it up in front of her. I was then told to strip completely. I balked, but obeyed. First went my shirt, then my bra, then I stepped into the gown. Then with that covering me, I wiggled out of my pants and underwear. She gave me a pair of hospital pants to put on so I wasn’t completely bare. Then I was shown a chair and given a pair of huge grippy socks to wear. One size fits all, I guess.

After that the lady took my blood pressure, my pulse, and checked my oxygen levels. Then she took my temperature.  My clothes and shoes were sent to Security with the rest of my things. I had off-brand crocs as shoes so I had no idea what they needed to check for, but off they went.

After the clothing change I was led to an office. I felt so awkward standing in a grey hospital gown, blue hospital pants, no panties, and those huge grippy socks, in front of two nicely dressed office personnel. They let me have a seat and the questions and paperwork began.

What was my insurance? Did I know about the extra inpatient days allowed? Who was my primary care physician? My therapist? My psychiatrist? My case worker? Did I have an Advanced Directive? What are the addresses? Did I want a male or female provider? There were so many questions! 

Then it was sign here, and here, and here, and here, and here.

After that I was given a green folder that said Welcome to Tyler 2 which contained various information that I would need during my time there. My patient Bill of Rights, how to file a complaint or grievance. That sort of stuff. 

Then it was off to another area and now they wanted a urine sample. I had already done two at the hospital and really didn’t need to pee, but I tried. I assume it was for a drug test, but I have no real clue.

Then I was sent off to another exam room, this time for a full physical. She asked me all about my medical history, whether I was having normal bowel movements or not, all about my diabetes, my family history (cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer, heart disease, cancer, kidney failure, cancer), she even checked my reflexes. The ARNP that examined me had the neatest notebook. It was electronic and I was fascinated by it. 

(At the time of writing this I’ve only been home for two full days and I still have a very clingy cat who is currently laying on my left hand so if you catch a typo that kitty has caused me, please let me know.)

After the physical I was given one outfit to wear back, sans bra because my bra was underwire, and I was sent to a seat to wait to be sent to the unit.

The lady who watched over me offered me something to drink while I waited and when she offered milk I took her up on it. Unfortunately it was 1% milk, which I really hate, but hey, milk, so I drank it while I waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. Before long a Security guard and a nurse from the unit I would go to came down and led me down one corridor, in one elevator, through a cafeteria, up another elevator, and finally I was on the unit.

Tyler 2 

The first thing I noticed when I got on the unit was that the bedrooms were singles. Yes! I hate sharing my bedroom in hospitals. At the worst, I’d once had to share with three other people stuffed into a two person bedroom. Two poor souls had had to sleep on cots. So I was very happy to see that I would have my own room.

I was shown into an interview room for yet even more paperwork and questions. All this is the business of the psychiatric hospital and it comes at the literal worst time of your stay, the beginning. When you’re scared and your nerves are raw, and your mental health is at it’s worst.

A three question questionnaire was first. Why are you here? How can we help? What are your coping skills? Depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation. I don’t know. Reading and journaling.

Then there was a check list of things that helped when I was feeling bad. I was fascinated to see that laying down in my room was one of the options. Most hospitals I had been in forbade that, with some going so far as to lock the doors to the bedrooms during the day so people didn’t sleep the day away. It was a pleasant surprise, and I checked that off along with a few others that I felt applied. 

Then, the nurse, and we’ll just call her Rose, asked me if I was hungry and told me that they always had sandwiches on the unit and that the kitchen which held milk, orange juice, flavored water, cold water, hot water, coffee, teas, and various snacks was open 24/7. I declined both sandwich and snack.

Finally, I was left alone for a couple of minutes and I had a moment to just breathe. It was a Thursday according to the giant whiteboard that had the day’s schedule on it. Most of the groups were over with.

A little bit later a bag was brought up with my clothes and another with the few things I was allowed to have: my Bible; two coloring books; two books (A Street Cat Named Bob and A Wrinkle in Time); my toothbrush, my hair brush, and my composition notebook; were given to me. The clothes I wasn’t given yet. I was told by a nurse that because of COVID they washed everything that came on the unit whether it was clean or not and I would get my clothes once they were dry.

I was then shown my room. Number 219 was to be my home for the foreseeable future. It was a fair sized room, the walls painted hospital blue, the floor had boring brown patterned tiles, There was a plastic chair, a twin size bed with a single pillow, and brown blanket, and bottom sheet. There was no flat sheet. 

There was a set of built in shelves and a small alcove with an unbreakable mirror and large shelf where I put my green folder as well as my other personal belongings that I was permitted to have. I hung around in there for a few minutes before wandering back out and awkwardly looked around.

It was soon 8:30pm and Rose, who was my nurse that night, offered me my bedtime medications. I accepted and went to bed. 

The Schedule

I slept fitfully that night. I was scared, they checked on me every 15 minutes, and it wasn’t quite dark when I went to bed. I woke up obscenely early the next morning, which is very unusual for me, but I attribute it to the uncomfortable mattress, the lack of my comfort item; a stuffed cat named Fat Cat that I sleep with, and the fact that my room had a double window that faced directly East. The sun rises at about 4:45am right now, so it woke me up at around 5:30am that morning.

I wandered out, thinking it was much later than it actually was, since it was fully light out. I sleepily blinked at the analog clock and tried to decipher it. Inwardly I groaned at the time. To kill time, I awkwardly wandered around the unit again, and I think I laid back down for a little while. 

Eventually I left my room again and it was 7:30am. Shift change. I can’t remember who my nurse was that morning, but by 8am it had become quite the busy place with the morning nurses, the mental health workers, the social workers, and the group leaders milling about the nurses station. 

I noticed that the whiteboard had changed with the day, and so I glanced at the Friday schedule.

8am - Breakfast 9am - Community Meeting 10am - OT Movement 11am - Psychotherapy 12pm - Lunch 1pm - Courtyard (yellow level) 2pm - OT Activities 3:30pm Shift Change 4pm - Courtyard (yellow level) 5pm - Supper 6:15pm - Game room/small courtyard (yellow level) 7pm - Wrap Up 8pm - Free Time 9pm - Relaxation 10pm - Phones/computer/TV off

Yes, we had a computer. Some guy we’ll just call J tended to hog it, but so long as it wasn’t group, before morning shift change or after 10pm or 11pm on Friday night and Saturday night, anybody could use it. Of course Facebook and YouTube were blocked, but Vimeo wasn’t. Can somebody please tell me the difference between YouTube and Vimeo? 

I didn’t really go to groups that first day, and I was on Red level, so I wasn’t allowed outside even if I had wanted to. I did however see the Social Worker, a very nice woman we’ll just call M. and my doctor via ZOOM, Dr. L. 

All of the staff was really nice to me, and the unit, which at that point had a census of 19, was actually fairly quiet for the most part.

When 8am hit, and the breakfast trays arrived, I asked where I should go to eat. I was told I could eat on the porch, the day room, or in my room. Eating in peace alone in my room. Yes, please. I took my tray, got a carton of milk, and walked down the hall to my room. 

When I pulled the lid off my plate, I discovered eggs, home fries, and a corn muffin. I also had some fruit. I cautiously tried the potatoes and found them to be quite good, but couldn’t eat anything else so I took my tray back.

I hovered awkwardly around the schedule board until somebody brought me a chair.

Then it happened. My stomach began churning. I went to the nurses station and told one of the three nurses that I had a bit of an upset stomach and could I have something for it? She looked up something and told me I could have some Tums. She sent me to the med window and used some fancy machine to dispense the Tums. I stuck them in my mouth and chewed. I swallowed. It was then that I knew I had made a mistake. I literally felt the Tums hit my stomach, felt my stomach cramp, and then I was vomiting. 

After that experience and the cleaning up thereof, I got my morning meds at around 9am, and soon found myself back in the interview room, this time with a nutritionist. At least I think that was Friday. It could have been Monday. Regardless, I talked to her about being sick (it wasn’t the first time, I had gotten sick back in the ED as well), my lack of appetite, my diabetes, the medication for diabetes I was on (2000mg of Metformin and .5mg of Ozempic). She gave me some information the nutritionist I had talked to from my doctor’s office had already given me, then ordered Glucerna for me three times per day.

Glucerna is the diabetics version of Ensure for those of you who don’t know.

I slept a lot that day, and I’m pretty sure I refused lunch and maybe supper. They checked on me - and everybody else - every 15 minutes, but otherwise didn’t pester me.

The next day, of course, started the weekend. I can’t remember the exact schedule for the weekend, but it was far, far more boring than then weekday. There was just Community Meeting which I wandered into but didn’t participate in, a couple more courtyard opportunities than on the weekdays, more free time, Wrap Up and Relaxation. Relaxation happened at 9pm, but I already considered that bedtime as that was when I got my bedtime medication.

Sunday was just a repeat of Saturday with one bright exception. Sunday Sundaes. At around 2pm we got ice cream with sundae toppings that we could have on it. I don’t think I got it that first Sunday, but I can’t quite remember.

Monday doesn’t bring any particular memories except that that’s when I started attending a group here and there.

Meeting Nathan

Then Tuesday came, and I met Nathan. Nathan was a Psych intern who is now no longer there, so I’m not afraid of using his name. Nathan did 11am Psychotherapy, but had been on vacation the week before as well as Monday. I liked him instantly. He spoke quietly, thoughtfully, gently, and never pressed for answers if the person didn’t want to or couldn’t.

At first, we only spoke in group, but after one group disintegrated into chaos he ended it early and offered to speak to me one-on-one. The one-on-one time I got with Nathan, which eventually became every weekday, became the best, most helpful part of my stay at the Retreat. Some of his questions were hard. They were either highly thought provoking or brought on strong emotions, but he was very skilled in not pushing too hard and always bringing me back to the present if I got too lost in the past. 

I think I opened up more to Nathan in the week and a half that we spoke than I ever did in the two years I’ve seen my normal therapist. 

The Nightmares

I’ve suffered from nightmares for a very long time. In my nightmares I’ve been raped, had my home invaded, seen demons, had my parents stolen away by a dragon (that one happened twice. Same stupid dragon too.), been kidnapped, been chased around Wal-Mart by paramedics with a stretcher, and so on and so forth. The nightmares I suffered at the Retreat were something else entirely.

The dream I remember most, and let me list off some trigger warnings real quick: blood; abortion; abuse; infant death; decomposition; bad parenting; bad medical professionals, was about this young woman who tried to do some sort of home abortion that got botched. She went to the hospital and they sent her strait to surgery where they cut her open with no painkillers or anesthesia. The baby was tiny, but healthy and viable, so they took her out of the young woman’s womb, and haphazardly stapled the woman’s abdomen back together. 

Then the dream began to focus on the baby, but not in linear time, but rather in snapshots. In the first snapshots the baby was fine. Pink, perfect, beautiful little girl dressed in frills. Then the next day’s photographs and the baby’s face was turning black in places. The next; her eyes turned murky and there was more decomposition. Mind you, while she’s decomposing, she’s still alive. Then her little fingers turn black and fall off, and it continues like this until the fifth day when the baby finally dies.

The mother, who was recovering from her own trauma, couldn’t have cared less about her baby.

The nightmare turned weird after that and I don’t remember what happened next, but I continued to have vicious nightmares during my stay there.

Dr. L tried to treat them with Prazosin. but I found that it made my nightmares more vivid. Then she tried to get me in a deeper sleep so the dreams wouldn’t wake me up, but that only got me caught in the nightmares and unable to wake up. 

We never did figure out how to ease the nightmares and keep me asleep at the same time. Right now we’re trying a higher dose of Gabapentin, also known as Neurontin. I guess we’ll see how it works out.

Strange Characters 

There were some...interesting characters at the Retreat. There was one guy who we’ll call J. You may recall him from my complaints about him being a computer hog. He suffered from delusions of grandeur and I believe psychosis. One time I was in the open area near the nurses station he began staring at me suspiciously. Then, after a couple of very awkward moments he asks me, “are you an Imperial or a Rebel?” I told him I had no idea what he was referring to. Miss J who was sitting near by goes, “she’s an imperial, she’s a good girl.” Then J nods and says  “I know she’s my sister in Christ, so she must be good.”

I still have no idea what he meant by Imperial or Rebel. Is it a Star Wars thing? If so I thought the Rebels were the good guys. I’m so confused. 

Miss J was a homeless woman who had been there for nearly nine weeks. She was very nice to me, but she mumbled a lot and I had to keep asking her to repeat herself. 

M was a strange old lady. She would sit at the nurses station and laugh and laugh and laugh as loudly as she could, then all of the sudden she’d be declaring one of the housekeepers an angel on earth and how he should be protected and how everybody else was basically garbage. She eventually got taken out via ambulance.

A was another strange woman. Having been there since May 27th, 2021, she was there involuntary, She talked to herself a lot, drank loads of coffee, walked in and out of groups, and was best buddies with a woman who liked to be called Rabbit, as her real name, the same name as A, triggered her. A and Rabbit were thick as thieves and fed off of each other’s chaos.

Rabbit liked to sing at the top of her lungs when she was happy and when she was angry she would file a grievance, announce loudly that Obama was her father and that you (the nurse she was screaming at) aren’t her boss. She was nice enough to me, but I went out of my way to be as non-intrusive as possible.

Then there was D. D was 30-years-old, claimed to have 12 children. D was volatile, a substance abuser who enjoyed “a drink, some weed, and some coke”. Pretty sure she didn’t mean the soda. D had a shadow who had to write down what she was doing every five minutes. I don’t know exactly why, for the most part, volatile or not, she was pretty chill. She dressed provocatively and the first time she spoke to me it was early morning and we were on the porch.

She asked me why I was there. I told her depression. She asks my why I was depressed. I admitted that there was a lot of trauma in my past. She tells me she’s been (tw:rape) raped all her life, and then proceeded to tell me that I shouldn’t be depressed because I was pretty and thin. Now. I’m smaller than D was, because I’ve never had children, let alone 12 of them, but I’m 5′3″ and 210 pounds; thin is not an adjective I would use to describe me. 

She then proceeds to tell me that I needed a better bra. I was wearing a soft low support sports bra, so yeah, my chest area was very un interesting. I told her I was just wearing something I could sleep comfortably in. She told me to shop at Victoria’s Secret for some better bras and I’d feel great. 

After that, D decides to mention the gray in my hair. She says “you should get extensions to make your hair long and pretty, or better yet, shave your head and wear wigs. It’s what the black girls do.” She then went on about how wigs could really look good and how I’d have so much fun with it that I’d forget all about being depressed and how there were some sites where you could buy some good wigs for really cheap.

As I recall, I was fairly unresponsive during her spiel and walked away as soon as it wasn’t rude to. 

The Really Bad Day

I don’t recall exactly what day it was, time blurs for me on a good day, and I wasn’t having any good days while I was at the Retreat, but one day was really bad.

TW: Suicide TW: Self-Harm

I was really, really suicidal, and I told the nurse I was talking to that. She asked if I had a plan, and for the first time I really did. I told her I would wait until right after a check - remember we got checked on every 15 minutes - then I would take a pair of my pants and wrap them around my neck and strangle myself. 

Then she asked if I intended to follow through with the plan. I wanted to, I really did, but I also didn’t want to cause trouble, and that’s a huge issue with me, so I told her no. And that was the truth. I was suicidal, I did have a plan. I had a detailed plan actually. But I didn’t really intend of following through.

As you might expect, she had to report that to my doctor. Dr. L. spoke to me about how I was feeling and later, about five minutes after I had gotten on the computer to use Duolingo to distract myself, (See, I was using coping skills.), the nurse I had spoken to, and who I liked quite a lot, came to me and said that Dr. L wanted them to temporarily confiscate my clothes and take the sheet and blanket off my bed. It was to be replaced by blankets that couldn’t be ripped. Nurse E told me it wasn’t a punishment, it was a safety precaution, but I was so embarrassed and felt punished. I was allowed to keep the weighted blanket they had let me borrow, and my pillow, but other than that they took every bit of fabric in the room.

I don’t know if it was a good move or not. I just know that I wanted things back to ‘normal’, as though anything in a psych hospital could be normal, but the next day I lied to Dr. Lambert and told her I was feeling better. She said I could have my stuff back, but for some reason when I asked a nurse later on, she told me that there were no orders about it from Dr. L. 

I asked again the next day and was finally able to get my linens and clothes back. I even got an extra pillow, for which I was very grateful for as my original pillow had been quite flat and hard.

The Road to Discharge

I was originally supposed to have been released on June 29th, a Tuesday, but I had to admit to Dr. L that I just didn’t feel like I could be safe at home yet. Not to mention that we were still trying to deal with my nightmares and sleep issues.

Dr. L and M, my social worker began giving me assignments to do. I was to fill out a safety plan, which I did. M had me write a letter to my regular therapist about the changes I needed her to make to improve our sessions. I am terrified to read it to her, but I really need to. I was given a huge stack of DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) information and worksheets to fill out, Nathan had me write something about a cousin of mine who had passed away due to an overdose of Fentanyl, and so I wrote her a letter telling her how much I missed her, how I was angry she was gone, disappointed that she couldn’t tell me she was back on drugs, how I was angry at her mom for getting her hooked on drugs in the first place, and ways I could have helped if she had just let me.

Meanwhile, people found out that I could make things out of the Model Magic that they had in the Contraband/Sensory room. I made I can’t even remember how many cats for people. I also made roses, and one dragon. 

I was also writing dark poetry, just trying to purge my dark thoughts and get them out on paper.

Nathan continued to have one-on-one therapy with me each weekday, even if he only had half an hour.

I was meeting with my social worker daily, which they normally didn’t do, but when she realized that I wouldn’t go to them if I needed something, she decided to head it off, and meet with me, even if it were only a couple of minutes, each week day.

Finally, we decided on a day. Friday, July 2, 2021. I was so nervous, but so excited to come home and see my furbaby, Loki. 

When the day came, I dressed in the nicest clothes that I had brought, which was a pair of elastic waist jeggings and my pink Cat Mom t-shirt which everybody loved. I only went to one group that day, and that was Psychotherapy, and I had my meeting with Nathan. I had one last meeting with Dr. L. and my social worker. My nurse that evening gave me my treatment plan which had my diagnoses. (Major depressive disorder, severe; Borderline Personality Disorder; and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Just as supper arrived I got the word that my ride was there. 

Final Thoughts

Being at the Brattleboro Retreat was a difficult experience, but it was also a positive experience. In the beginning I was mad I wasn’t at the place where I had wanted to go, which was the Windham Center, but by the end of my first week there, I had decided to make the best of where I was. I didn’t like all the nurses, I definitely had my favorites and those I dreaded, not that they were ever mean to me, but I’m not sure, there’s just people you don’t like, you know? 

I was on a great schedule while I was there. I was up no later than 8am and went to bed around 9pm, I ate at specific times. I got my medicine at specific times, and that routine was very comforting. Did I keep to it when I got home? 

No. It’s currently 12:26 in the morning and I’m working on this still. 

I’m still drinking my Glucerna, no matter that it costs me $40 a week for three a day, but I just don’t want to eat. Oh, I nibble. I’ve eaten some chocolate graham crackers and sipped on a 20oz Vanilla Coca Cola over the last four days. I just don’t eat. 

I learned, while I was there, that it’s okay to speak up, to take up space, to have a voice, even if it’s quiet, I learned that it’s okay to get angry or ask for help. I can ask people for what I need. I don’t know how well I’ll be able to apply what I learned, but that’s always the hardest part of learning any new skill. 

I know that this has been a huge amount of reading, but I wanted to give you a detailed example of what a psychiatric hospital is like. I hope that it informs you and I hope that if you’re heading to a psychiatric hospital or treatment center that maybe after reading this you’ll have less fear and anxiety because you have some clue as to what to expect.

I would also like to let my readers know that these are just my personal experiences in an American psychiatric hospital. I have no idea about British hospitals or European hospitals or even hospitals in other parts of the United States. My experiences in hospitals in Florida is a stark contrast to my experience in Vermont hospitals. I find Vermont’s response to medical care and psychiatric care in general is substantially better than Florida’s. I’ll do a post on that later.

Ask for help. Take up space. Use your voice.

National Suicide Hotline: 800 273-8255 Crisis Text Line: Text START to 741741

By the way, if you need me to tag another trigger word, please just send me a message and I’ll edit the tags to take your trigger word in consideration.

[unsaidmar]

WC: 2.5k (long winded girl, I know)

Plot: They share stuff and it changes how they see things. Connection ensues. 

CW: Mentions of death, illness, hospitals I guess, violence.

a/n: Hello y’all. This is part two of whatever the fuck is going on inside my pea brain. Hope you enjoy.

Part one, the meeting. 

Two; It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

She laughed at the awkwardness of the text and the perfect grammar Dr. Spencer Reid maintained while texting. Ollie made a mental note to care a little more about the phrasing of her own texts, especially considering the circumstances. To say she wanted to impress him was an understatement.

“Good, germs are yucky.” Sent at 7:45 am.

“Also, hi. Good morning” Sent at 7:45 am.

Good morning? Too much too soon? She fell victim to her overthinking for at least twenty minutes after sending her last text, realizing she had to slowly build up the courage to ask about the next time they would be seeing each other, which apparently would have to wait, since Spencer had an inconvenient schedule and could be out of the state in a matter of 20 minutes.  Ollie exhaled and stood up from her awful office chair to go and make herself some coffee, hoping to stop her mind from reeling and sending her into her usual never-ending pit of despair and anxiety that came with stepping out of her comfort zone.

A ping echoed in the room and her screen lit up, displaying a text from the one person she had been thinking about. Ollies mother would be crying laughing if she saw the state she was in, positively losing hair over the fact that a cute, smart, witty man was texting her back. A man she had spoken to for the first time not even 24 hours prior.

“I’m a nice person, I’m funny sometimes, I offered him coffee.” She whispered to herself, rationalizing every aspect of their interaction. “That’s how friendships start” She laughed bitterly. “I’m here… freaking… wishful thinking, and maybe he has a significant other… maybe he doesn’t even like women… maybe he just thought I was nice and he thought ‘yay, a new friend’… fuck” she plopped herself back on the chair and threw her head back.

Lia would have known what the right thing to do is, she would come up with a cool thing to text back on the spot, and she resented her absence like she had a million times before. Ollie had gotten used to writing her letters like her best friend was living somewhere else in the world and she would eventually read her friend’s attempt at keeping her updated, which she knew was not healthy and definitely not helping her move on.

The thing is, Lia’s death was not a surprise at all. It was a possibility to the point of actually being expected. She had been diagnosed as a terminal patient for a little over a year before she passed and almost everyone around her had made peace with the fact that she could go any day and that life would have to go on without her, but no amount of grief counseling and encouraging talks with Lia’s family could have prepared her for the unimaginable pain Ollie felt when it happened. She had heard about experiences that made the world turn upside down and how some life events made you go numb and make your legs give weight, but had never come face to face with a happenstance that painful.

She figured she was going to have to carry the burden of her loss till the day she died, and even then, the words “I missed you, till the very end.” would be carved in her grave.

Coming back from her spiral, she remembered how she fell down the rabbit hole in the first place. She took her phone with the intention of texting Spencer back and smiled at how stupid she had been to worry about seeing him again.

“Hey, arrest made successfully. Are you busy right now?” Sent at 7:57 am.

Sighing with relief, Ollie smiled and tried to sound casual with her reply as to not sound like seeing him again was the only thing she had been thinking about.

“I’m the boss, I can un-busy myself. Why? Were you charmed by my Keurig?” Sent at 8:00 am.

Spencer was not the kind to send sassy texts, or any text for that matter. This was completely new to him and he was determined to get it right, so he channeled the Derek Morgan that lived within him and prayed to whatever deity was looking out for him to make him sound cooler than he was feeling.

“I’m a sucker for coffee so, yes.” Sent at 8:05

 “I’m a sucker for you, apparently” Ollie nearly screamed at how quickly that came out of her mouth. “Fucking loser, dear God” She shook her head, scolding herself and whatever hamster was in charge of her brain and thought process.

“Mi oficina es tu oficina, then. I’ll be waiting.” Sent at 8:07

Twenty minutes later, he was there, coffee cup in his hands. After what felt like no time at all, they were four coffee cups deep into their conversation and had learned a lot more about each other. Turns out Spencer had a day off after they landed from an away case, he had a thing with germs, his favorite color was purple and his co-workers were more his family than just the people he happened to work with. He liked a bunch of sugar with his coffee and had an eidetic memory that was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.

He was impressed at how this girl was not what you would expect her to be, every aspect of her seemed to make no sense and at the same time, it made perfect sense. This purple haired girl had ADHD and a PhD in history, she was the oldest daughter of two of the most stubborn Mexican immigrants and had a sister that made even the most patient of humans go mad. She loved music, and was not ashamed to admit that her taste in music was far from sophisticated. “I am Taylor Swift’s bitch; I know the words to every single one of her songs! Same goes for One Direction too” She argued when Spencer said that it couldn’t be that bad.

A blaring ring halted their conversation to an unexpected stop. Ollie picked up the office phone with an annoyed grimace and exchanged a few words with whoever was calling.

“Hold that thought, I have to go sign a thingy at the front desk” She dashed out of her office and left Spencer there.

For the first time, he felt compelled to look around and fixate on the details. There were a few old looking pictures and some newer ones with people who looked a lot like her. There was one picture that caught his attention, isolated from the rest like it deserved a spot of its own. In it, there was a red-haired girl that looked around Ollie’s age, one of her arms around her waist and the other one cradling her head that was laying on her shoulder. Ollie’s eyes were closed and the red head looked like she was caught mid-sentence. Stuck to the frame was a little post it note that read “I love you, head ass. -Lia” It looked intimate, they were clearly comfortable with that kind of physical affection, and if Lia hadn’t called Ollie a head ass in the post it, he would have assumed they were together romantically.

Ollie came back in a hurry, apologizing for having to run out like that and sitting back down to resume their conversation.

“It’s okay, don’t worry” Spencer assured her. “I was looking at your pictures, I hope you don’t mind” He said, suddenly very aware of how invasive that could be.

“Not at all, those are there to be looked at” She shrugged, bracing herself for the question she knew was coming. Somehow, talking about Lia with him did not feel as dreadful as it had all those times she was asked about it before, perhaps it’s just him and his calming presence.

Sure enough, he pointed at the picture Lia had framed for valentine’s day and asked, “Who’s that?”.

“That’s Lia, she was my best friend. She is my best friend.” She smiled fondly, something that had never happened before when talking about this specific topic. Maybe sharing Lia’s memory with someone who didn’t know her was different. “She passed away almost a year and a half ago. 468 days ago, to be exact. She was really sick, it was inevitable” Ollie let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, reaching for the post it and tracing the words over with her finger.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been”

“It was… heartbreaking. Even with all that time we had to process the news, it still took me off guard.” She shook her head trying to ground herself. “Anyways, that’s a sad topic. I don’t want to bum you out with it.”

He knew the feeling all too well, he had apologized to several people when he rambled about Maeve, feeling like he had said too much and gotten too personal. He was not about to let this beautiful, vibrant soul feel the way he had for so long. Like he still did, truly.

“Don’t apologize, I get it. You’re not making me sad” He felt like he needed to elaborate to actually convey the message. “I went through the same thing with someone I loved too” he said, looking down at his hands, the very familiar feeling of oversharing creeping in. As he looked up, he noticed the sad look Ollie was giving him, but if the profiler in him was right, she was inviting him to share, not to stop.

“Her name was Maeve. She… she was a geneticist. She helped me through a rough time and she became my friend. It’s a long story…” he looked away.

“I want to hear it, long or not. But only if you want me to.” She gave him the warmest smile she could muster, which convinced him to keep going.

“Um, I started getting some headaches a while ago. I went to a few doctors but none of them gave me an answer. I reached out to Maeve for help and… We bonded, I guess.” He took a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to continue if you feel uncomfortable” she whispered in the most delicate tone.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’ve never told this story before. Everyone in my life that I care about was there to see it.” He said, meeting her eyes so she could see how honest he was being. The man got a hold of himself for a minute, and continued.

“Maeve had to go into hiding. She was being stalked by some woman she met at work. Beyond talking on the phone, we hadn’t even met. I had no idea what she looked like and vice versa. This girl, the stalker… She wrote a paper, and Maeve dismissed it because it didn’t have a good enough foundation. When she started stalking her, she scared her into hiding and eventually started dating her ex-fiancé to try and get closer to Maeve, assuming he knew where she was. They ended up finding her and confronting her. She shot herself and the first person I ever loved. Right in front of me and my friends. The first five minutes I got with Maeve face to face, were the last.”

Baring his soul to a person he had known for a whooping 18 hours was the weirdest thing Spencer had ever done, so unlike himself it was almost funny. But at the same time, he felt like it had to happen. By no means did he believe in fate or destiny, but this one moment made him feel like maybe whoever does believe in that stuff, is not completely wrong.

She was not a therapist. She listened because she was going through a similar thing herself and her interest in Spencer’s loss was not rooted in psychoanalyzing him and helping him cope. She was just a mundane human that did not look at him with condescension and pity, she looked at him like she, too, had found a person who wouldn’t ask her “And, how does that make you feel?” in a monotonous voice. They both knew better than to assume they had all the answers.

“Spencer, that’s horrible. I am so sorry you had to see that. Jesus, fuck. I- “She thought about her next words very carefully. “That’s enough to crush anyone’s spirit” She looked at him like he was turning green. The reason being, he did not look like he was crushed. He had a beautiful smile that shook Ollie to her core, he was easygoing and conversation with him was carefree and it flowed easily. If he had not told her about Maeve, she would not have guessed the man sitting right in front of her was as affected as her.

“How did you manage to get through that?” Ollie questioned, fully intending to take notes.

“I don’t really think I have yet…” Well, time to come clean. Spencer thought. “The whole reason I was here yesterday, and a lot more times before that one, is because she and I talked about this museum. She told me about some conferences she had attended here and we made plans to visit together. Doesn’t quite sound like someone who’s over the whole thing.” He fiddled with his fingers, suddenly too aware of how cold it was. “How did you get through Lia’s death?”

“Yeah, well. I don’t really think I’m quite there either. Not like I’m trying, anyways. I can’t seem to get away from the Grey Roots either” Mental images of two little kids running around with dusty books in their hands came to her and she couldn’t help the small smile she broke into.

“I’m a hopeless romantic at heart, I have always thought that the way Lia and I found each other was pure magic. We met when we were in the second grade, right in this museum, we were on a field trip and we clicked. It was crazy to me that I actually met my best friend at such a young age, and the kind that lasts forever too. It sounds like when people meet the love of their lives on their first try. It sounds dorky, I know”

“It doesn’t. If anything, it sounds like you consider yourself lucky to have loved her like you did. We need more people like that, people that believe in magic.” Spencer reassured her with a shrug. He wished he could believe in cute stuff like that, but he was happy Ollie led a life that made her believe.

“Yeah, but us crazy people, we get our hopes up too easily. Sometimes it hurts.”

“Tell me about it.”

And just like that, in the not so well-lit office of the head Conservator of the Grey Roots Museum and Archive, something in the world had shifted.

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

188 - S.R 

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader, Derek Morgan x Penelope Garcia

Warnings: Gore, crime, kidnapping, mentions of sexual assault, little bit of a sexual scene at the end

Wordcount: 3727

Summary: Hotch calls you in for a mission. However, your intelligence may prove as a downfall, as Dr. Reid becomes insecure, comparing himself to you. This leads to a break in the case, but is it too late?

A/N: So, once again, it looks like I’m switching things up just a bit. Let me know what you guys think! I love doing multiple different types of fanfiction, with many different characters. I will of course, still work on my Loki and Draco stuff. I also noticed that “Naughty” has reached over a thousand notes! Absolutely insane, guys. Thank you for all the love. I’ve now entered college and things are a lot different than when they were in high school. I’m a lot more invested in doing well in my classes, and it’s definitely been a large adjustment for me. Thank you all so much for your patience with everything. I also recently checked my inbox and found so much love as well as some requests that I will be working on. I’ve had quite a bit of extra time as I was exposed to COVID and I am currently in quarantine housing at my university. I’ll try to get them all done soon! Hope you enjoy this change of pace. 

“For this case,” Aaron Hotchner explained “we’re going to need all hands on deck. We’re leaving in the morning.” Hotch knew exactly who to bring in. The newest graduate of the academy - he had worked with her before, and she was extremely in tune with criminology, profiling, and she had several doctorates. However, he was nervous about how one Spencer Reid would feel about one piece of information. She had an IQ of 188. If Spencer were to find out this information, he would feel - inadequate. But Hotch knew that Y/N L/N was vital to this case. They were looking for a replacement for JJ’s maternity leave. She could be the perfect fit - at least for a while. He had made his decision. Picking up the phone, he dialed her number. 

You walked nervously into the BAU for what seemed like the millionth time. It was only 32, in all actuality. You’d only been asked to assist in a handful of cases, you had just graduated the academy and were therefore deemed “ready” only a few months ago. You were born ready, you thought. You took snapshots in your mind as you entered the building. You could easily tell you the exact differences between the surroundings on this day in comparison to the first 31 times. There was a cup of utensils on the very front desk starting on October 26th of last year to today. You could tell anyone exactly how many pencils and pens were there each time - including what color. October 26th - 5 black pens, 6 blue pens, and 3 pencils. 

You shook your head. There were more practical uses for your “genius” brain. “Stop it, Y/N” you told yourself. You entered the elevator, when you were stopped by a tall, lanky boy about a few years older than you. He was quite attractive, but you were awkward in these situations. When you were simply playing a part, it was a lot easier to “play” guys. However, when you were actually attracted to one? You couldn’t handle yourself. 

You let him in, immediately asking “what floor?” “7th” he answered, neglecting to make eye contact. However, upon glancing at the buttons, he realized that you too, were heading to the floor of the BAU. He couldn’t stop himself from making a slightly rude remark - accidentally, of course. “Do you have the wrong floor?” “Shit,” he thought to himself, facepalming internally. “There’s a cute girl, Reid. Don’t be an idiot.” 

“Oh, the BAU is on the 7th floor - right?” You responded quickly, to which he nodded. “My bad.” “No worries” you noted, kindly. 

The boy was wearing a maroon colored cardigan, a light blue button up, a navy tie, and black slacks. He had a brown over-the-shoulder bag at his side, and he twittled his thumbs quickly. “Was he nervous?” You asked yourself. Or bored? You couldn’t get a proper read on him. He made you feel - odd. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it. You couldn’t wait to get out of that elevator. 

After what seemed like days (26 seconds) you were out of the elevator. Thankfully, Agent Hotchner was there to greet you immediately. “Agent Reid, I see you’ve met Y/N L/N. She’s assisting on this case.” Hotch nodded at Reid, who had finally made the connection. “Not properly, but it’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.” Spencer made a point to smile at you, who came off as young and naïve. You had to have been a few years younger than he, Spencer thought. 

Hotch lead you into the debriefing room, where you met one Penelope Garcia. You immediately smiled at her presence, Penelope seemed to light up a room with no effort. “Oh, she’s a cute one, isn’t she!” She remarked, smiling at you. From a few feet away, in the doorway, Derek Morgan stared in amazement at Garcia’s kindness towards the new member. Derek then approached, going to shake your hand with ease. Afterwards, he let his hand travel to squeeze Penelope’s waist, teasingly. He lightly kissed her cheek. “Alright, you two. I need to debrief Y/N on this case. Go ahead and - do what you need to - elsewhere, please.” Hotch shook his head. The pair headed towards the door, where Morgan placed a large slap on Penelope’s ass. You winced, slightly uncomfortable with the sexual gesture. “Don’t worry - they specialize in different things here. Derek’s out on the field, while Penelope works as a technical analyst.”

You sighed in relief. You never did take well to sexually affectionate partnerships. You always felt - awkward. You never knew how to handle it. You assumed, however, that other people felt the same way. Hotch began going over the case, and you seemingly remembered every single detail. 3 police officers have been kidnapped in Boise, Idaho. You remembered the locations, the appearances, the crime scenes, and the badge numbers of the officers. In your head, you made a map of the unsub’s comfort zone. You began thinking of what the officers were kidnapped for - no dead bodies had appeared yet. Each were physically fit, attractive, between 25-30 years of age. There’d be more time to think of theories, you thought to yourself. Hotch, now exiting the room, gave a quick “wheels up in 30.” 

You took this as a signal to leave the room as well, leaving the file that Hotch gave to you on the desk. Soon, you’d both realize, that this was a mistake. Upon entering the plane, you snuggled soundly into a seat, hoping to get some rest before arriving in Boise. They had quite a while before arriving. You calculated, with turbulence and other factors, as well as averages, that they would be there in roughly 6 hours and 12 minutes. Your to-go bag was safely stashed in the backside of the plane for now. 

However, you forgot one key detail. The team was heavily up for a discussion with regards to this unsub and their victims. In order to prove yourself, you thought, providing information to the conversation was incredibly important. Even in your sleep, however, you could probably retain key points from the conversation. Nonetheless, you sat at attention, ready to discuss this police kidnapper. Suddenly, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Secured for takeoff, our approximate flight time is 6 hours 15 minutes.” You couldn’t help yourself. “Actually, with turbulence, average flight times, and wind speeds right now, it should be more like 6 hours and 12 minutes.” You cursed yourself immediately after the words came out of your mouth. Prentiss, who had not yet introduced herself, smiled and muttered a quick “Slow down there, Dr. Reid.” When she looked over at Reid, he looked relieved, as if you beat him to it. 

Prentiss now went to greet the you, apologizing for not doing so sooner. “Emily Prentiss,” she reached out her hand. You smiled, shaking Emily’s hand. “Y/N L/N. Lovely to meet you.” Hotch came out with several files, all pertaining to this case. You had worked with kidnapping of law enforcement several times, which is why Hotch felt you would be such an asset to the team’s efforts. 

“Alright, let’s begin.” Hotch sat down. Opening his file, he began to look over the scenes where officers were taken. “Each of the men were taken on duty. There’s no evidence of them being taken, besides the fact that they left their patrol cars out in the open. The keys were thrown out beside each one of the cars. No blood spatter at the scenes. They may still be alive.” 

“Maybe the unsub is a rejected or former cop?” Prentiss suggested, and the team nodded in agreement. “These police men are some of the most successful and attractive in the field. It’s possible that this unsub feels “less than” them.” Morgan added. Turning to a screen showing Garcia, “Baby girl. I need you to search for fired, laid off, or rejected police officers from the Boise Police Department. Check for within the last month first - that could have been our unsub’s trigger.” “On it, sugar!” Garcia signed out, ready to search for whatever was out there. 

“Reid, Derek, and Y/N, head to the abduction sites to analyze once we land. Prentiss and I will meet Rossi at the station to speak to the families, as well as any other officers that were on duty at that time.” You were excited, hearing Rossi’s name. You had met and worked with him several times before, and were a bit of a fan. Not that you’d ever admit it. 

“The faster we build this profile, the higher our chances of saving these men.” 

-

By the time you arrived in Boise, it was mid-afternoon. The first scene was relatively untouched, a parking lot in downtown Boise. Owen Thomas, 24, was on duty there, and was kidnapped around 10:30 pm. At this time, he stopped responding to any calls. You suddenly spoke: “It’s an obvious blitz attack. If our theory is correct, then the officers wouldn’t have responded positively to the unsub.” “Y/N’s right. These officers probably don’t have a good history with someone rejected from the force. It could’ve been someone they went to the academy with.” Prentiss agreed. 

Prentiss met up with Hotch during break, which left you and Reid. You were nervous. He made you nervous - more so than usual. You both weren’t very hungry, and decided a small coffee shop would be the best place to go. “So, did you just do generals at the academy?” Reid asked, and you smiled, nodding politely. “I’ve always found it difficult to only be interested in one thing. That’s why I’ve found myself pursuing so many different paths.” You stated. Reid stood in awe for a moment. He honestly felt the exact same way as you. “You enjoy aerodynamics?” He asked, and you nodded once more. He was obviously referring to the estimations you made on the plane’s route. “Yes, but that’s not one of my main studies.” Reid looked at you, perplexed, almost. “I have Ph.Ds in criminology, medical science, medicine, and modern languages. Two bachelors, psychology and engineering. I’m looking into another one as well.” 

Reid sat dumbfounded. He felt, for the first time in his life, less than someone else. Is this why Hotch called her in? As his replacement? 

“That’s cool - I have three doctorates and B.As.” You looked at him in amazement, now. It wasn’t everyday that you met someone as young as you with roughly the same amount of knowledge. “What are they in, Reid?” You asked him. “Ph.Ds in chemistry, engineering, and mathematics. B.As in psychology, sociology, and philosophy.” “Wow, that’s amazing.” He felt like you were teasing him, in a way. You weren’t, in all actuality. Reid just couldn’t seem to rationalize his emotions. You had a nice time with Reid. You just weren’t entirely sure if the feelings were reciprocated. Reid excused himself to the bathroom, where he quickly called Garcia. “Garcia, I need everything you have on Y/N.” 

Spencer, after being teased relentlessly by Garcia, would soon discover a lot about you. You were born in Y/H/T (your/home/town) and you studied, at a very young age, at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. You received perfect scores on both your ACT and SAT, and you had an IQ of 188. 

-

You studied last crime scene along with Prentiss and Reid, though it was getting dark. The most fresh, you noticed that some dirt nearby looked as if a body had been drug through it. This unsub, despite going through months of relentless physical and mental training - could not fully lift up the body of any of the victims. Instead, they had to be dragged to where the unsub wanted. None of the victims were presumed dead, which means the unsub was using them for something. Reid had disappeared, supposedly off into the crime scene further. 

“Prentiss, I think we’re missing something.” You announced, and she nodded, agreeing. “Do you think the unsub could be a woman?” Her eyes widened, but she nodded. You immediately called Garcia. “Garcia. I was wrong. I was convinced by the overwhelming statistics that this unsub was a male. I think this unsub’s a woman. Look for woman in the area that recently lost family members, possibly an officer and a child.” “On it, sista. I’ll hit you back.” 

In the meantime, Prentiss reached out to Derek, Rossi, and Hotch to discuss the profile. They all agreed with you wholeheartedly. However, there was something on your mind. Reid. He had completely disappeared from the crime scene. You were worried. You tried calling his cell, which you quickly learned, was a failure. The call went straight to voicemail. God. No. God fuck. Not one of your own. Prentiss and yourself immediately called Hotch, who told you to get back to the station as soon as possible. You headed there, your mind filled with thoughts of Dr. Reid. 

Hotch realized that delivering the profile was the most important in order to obtain Reid safely. “I believe the unsub is a younger woman, who’s looking for replacements from a lost husband and child.” You stated as soon as you approached. Hotch nodded, hoping you would slow down and become less anxious. You wouldn’t. You simply refused to. Reid was out there. He was in danger, on your watch. 

“She’s probably around Reid and I’s age, so 20-25. She must’ve lost the child and her husband in some sort of freak accident.” 

“What are you proposing, Y/N?” Derek asked quickly. 

“I think the unsub is using the officers to become pregnant.” You shivered in horror at your own words, anxious at what would be happening to Reid. “Ask around, ask the officers here if something happened to one of their coworkers. It could be on the federal level as well.” 

“We believe the unsub we’re looking for is a white female between the ages of 20-25. She recently lost a husband or partner, as well as a child. This loss has triggered a need for family once more. She has kidnapped several officers as well as an FBI agent. We believe she gains their trust by either impersonating an officer or by asking for help in some way. Then, she lures them towards her vehicle or a more convenient location, where she manages to blitz attack and kidnap them.” Hotch started. 

“This woman is in a very fragile state due to this loss, and can become very hostile and aggressive if she has what she wants taken away from her. Though she may not be armed when we find her, it is very important to be cautious around her.” Prentiss stated. 

While the rest of the team was giving the profile, you were hoping that Garcia would be able to ping Reid’s phone at some sort of location that could lead you to him. Unfortunately, the phone was dead and the process, therefore, was unable to receive any location from Spencer. You were scared out of your mind, and Penelope’s nervous energy didn’t help you much either. 

-

A call back from Penelope distracted you from your nervous thoughts. “Sugar, I’ve found something really interesting to peg your brain with. I’ll let Hotch know about this soon. All of the kidnapped victims are from Nevada.” “Okay - I’ll think on that Garcia, and let you know. Maybe crosscheck the families from before and find out which of those moved to Idaho from Nevada in the last few years?” “I already checked, baby, and nada. I’ll check with Hotch and the others to see if they have any ideas.” 

You soon met up with Derek, Rossi, Prentiss, and Hotch once more. They had gotten Garcia’s call, and they were brainstorming ideas on who the killer could be. Somewhere, somehow, the profile was incorrect. “Okay, if I was a kidnapper - I’m taking law enforcement personnel. To fill some kind of void. But why would I have to fill that void?” You asked. 

“This person obviously underwent some kind of loss. Somehow. We just need to figure it out.” Hotch spoke. 

“Do you think there was another victim, originally from Nevada?” Prentiss asked. The team nodded in agreement, and Derek dialed Garcia’s number. “Hey babygirl, we might have a lead. Do you have any victims from Nevada or Nevada cases that involved a male victim who was kidnapped?” He started. 

“Quite a few. You’re gonna have to give me a bit more than that, sugar.” Derek nodded, before Hotch stepped in. “Garcia, were any of the males law enforcement? Possibly unsolved?” “Yes, yes.” She started, “one Ryan Walker, a police officer, was victim - in Carson City Nevada. They did find the perpetrator, 16 year old Ashley Davey. She was visiting on a school trip. He was able to I.D. her, as she kidnapped and raped him using chloroform and - viagra to get him up. This was after he rejected her advances - looks like she lured him by asking for directions and then using a taser to knock him out. Apparently he tricked her into believing that they could be together, and she let him out of his restraints, he made a run for it and escaped.” 

“How was she able to keep him, Garcia?” Rossi asked, curious. “Looks like her Grandma and Grandpa owned some isolated property in Carson City, she stayed a few days after the trip had ended. She had a ticket back but didn’t use it. And - oh my god.” 

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch questioned her. “Apparently the sex with Mr. Walker was also unprotected, she gave birth to a baby boy 9 months later.” “Where is the child now?” “Joseph Davey is currently in foster care, after the mother was deemed unstable by the state. Walker filed a restraining order, and Ashley is not allowed to contact him in the slightest. She spent several years in a correctional facility for troubled teens and young adults - and she is currently residing in her parents’ home here in Boise.”

“Address please” you begged. “Sending it to you now.” 

You immediately rushed towards the door, waiting for the team to follow. Yes, it was late, but you were deeply worried about Spencer. Who knows what could be happening to him right now. You took off towards the address, and once you arrived, you immediately noticed a shed near the back. That had to be it. You and Derek headed towards the shed, while Rossi, Prentiss, and Hotch headed into the house. It took one simple kick from Morgan for the door to slam open. Inside, you found several men. The three police officers, all tied up but - relatively sound. Spencer was laying on a small cot in the corner of the room, tied to the bed. You immediately went to him. He was drowsy, in an almost relaxed state. Each of the men were stripped down to mere boxers, they looked very cold. Derek undid knots for the three officers, helping them outside. 

Meanwhile, you struggled. Spencer must’ve fought more - that’s why the knots were so tightly bound around his limbs. You also struggled with the strange state Spencer was in. As soon as you released one arm, his hand was around your waist. “I want to fuck you.” Spencer stated, and you continued to work at the second knot. “Reid, you’re in a hypnotic state. Don’t trust yourself.” The next thing you knew, Spencer’s hands were settling on your ass as you worked at the last two knots around his ankles. These two were a bit easier. You decided to let his hands be, what harm could they do? He was just in a delirious state, you told yourself. However, once you released the last of his limbs, he launched himself upon you, grinding a bit on your heat. “Reid, Reid, don’t do this-” It felt good, and yes, you liked him and were attracted to him. But not like this. Not with his fragile mental state and aphrodisiac coursing through his veins.

You somehow got Reid up off of you, and you slugged his top half over your shoulder, his legs walking next to you with ease. As you walked out of the shed, Morgan and a paramedic were waiting. They took Spencer off of your shoulders, and a huge weight was lifted. He’d be okay after being stabilized at the hospital. Morgan went to assist the others, and you got the okay from Hotch to ride with Reid to the nearest hospital. 

-

You were the one that Spencer woke up to. He saw your face immediately, smiling almost instantly. “You okay, Spence?” He nodded. “What happened?” “Well, um- Ashley Davey kidnapped you, along with the other officers. You were given a pretty hefty aphrodisiac, so you were really out of it when we got to you. But good news - they ran a rape kit on you and there was no evidence of rape or sexual assault. We think we got there just before it was about to happen.” You sighed. Spencer looked at you gratefully. “Thank you, Y/N. I’m sorry I ran off at the crime scene. I was feeling insecure.” He stated. 

“It’s okay, Reid. But why?” You questioned, and he sighed. “My IQ is only 187.” You had to hold in a fit of laughter. “Spencer. Oh my god.” He looked at you, puzzled. “Only 187. I know, it’s a number. And it’s wonderful it’s a measure of your intelligence and ability. However, you don’t have to let that number define you. We’re both, technically geniuses. But we have different interests, different specialties. Our IQs do not define who we are. Us geniuses have to stick together, not tear each other apart.” Spencer smiled at your remark. He felt drawn to you, to put it simply. He reached out towards you for a hug. Afterwards, he lingered just a bit, and you looked at him. He had to have something to say. “What is it?” You asked. 

“Y/N, could I take you out on a date when we get back to Quantico?” He looked at you hesitantly. You could tell he was nervous. “Spencer Reid, I would absolutely love that.” 

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 24

Catch up here

ao3

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, mentions of sexual abuse/rape, drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut

Word count: 1187

Chapter 24 - The Requiem

God save us, everyone

Will we burn

Inside the fires of a thousand suns?

For the sins of our hand

Sins of our tongue

The sins of our father

The sins of our young

"I don't know why we don't get to hear about the trial! It's the most interesting thing to happen to any of us!" Aelin's aunt exclaimed.

"Are you serious, June?" It was Aelin's mother's turn to try to convince her sister to shut it.

"I don't see how that half-breed has the audacity to want to put his own family in jail!"

Lorcan and the rest of their friends were in the room next to the adults. He grit his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter. The muscle in his jaw ticked. The bickering in the other room was generally easy to ignore until his race came into play.

"He should be thankful that his aunt took him in at all after his mother offed herself!"

His fists hit the table. Everything bounced and clattered. Without thinking, he stalked into the other room and got in the bitches face.

"You have no idea what it was like to live with her. You have no right to talk about how my mother killed herself. You have no fucking right to talk about my life and my history. It's mine. You don't get to fucking gossip about whatever you choose to make your own fucking life feel better. I went through fucking hell for thirteen years. I was nearly beaten to death by Maeve's boyfriend. She didn't try to save me, she fucking encouraged it. I was raped, multiple times. My ribs have been broken more times than I can count and I have scars on my back from being whipped. So don't fucking tell me she didn't deserve what was coming to her," Lorcan seethed. He was only inches from her face when he finished. His body was shaking.

The house was silent. Lorcan made his way out the back door and stood on the balcony. He couldn't control the shaking. All he could hear was a roaring in his ears. That was the first time he admitted that his mother killed herself and he admitted to someone who didn't deserve to know. But now everyone knows. Everyone knew he had almost died, was raped, whipped, and his mother committed suicide.

His fists were clenched, knuckles white. He was sure his nails drew blood on his palms. The muscle in his jaw still ticked. The shaking wouldn't stop. He was so angry.

"Love?"

Rowan. He let out a shaky breath. Rowan reached for his hand and gently pried his fist open and threaded their fingers together. Lorcan closed his eyes. Rage filled his veins.

++++

Holy fucking fuck.

Everyone at the "kids" table was frozen. Some had a forkful of food half raised. Lorcan's reaction was more than called for. Aelin's Aunt June had been the largest bitch the entire night.

Rowan couldn't believe the things that came out of her mouth. It was incredible that she felt like she had the audacity to say that Lorcan should be thankful for Maeve, his lifelong abuser.

He really hoped Aelin's mom wouldn't invite her to any more family gatherings. The back door shut. Aelin got up and went to the other room.

"You need to leave now!"

Rowan sighed and followed his best friend. Thankful that she wasn't taking any of her aunt's bullshit.

"You are a terrible person," Rowan stated matter-of-factly to June.

He pushed open the back door and saw Lorcan shaking, fists and jaw clenched. His eyes were closed and tears streamed down his cheeks. All Rowan could do was carefully slide his hand into Lorcan's clenched fist.

"Love?"

They just stood there for several minutes. There was muffled yelling in the house. Rowan just gave Lorcan's hand a squeeze. The shaking had receded. His hands were still clenched and eyes still closed. Lorcan's breathing finally returned to normal.

"I'm not sorry."

"For what, Lor?" Rowan was confused as to why he would think he should be sorry.

"For blowing up at her and getting in her face," his voice was quiet.

"She deserved that. She has been a fucking bitch towards you all night." After a few moments, Rowan continued, "Aelin told her to leave before I came out here."

Lorcan finally opened his eyes and furrowed his brows, confused that someone would defend him.

"You know, more people care about you than just Mom and I." Lorcan sighed and his head dropped. "Let's go chill in the guest room, yeah?"

Lorcan didn't move. "I'd rather stay out here."

---

It was nice being outside in the bitter cold of Terrasen in the beginning of winter.

"I'm gonna go get our coats. It's freezing out here."

Rowan went into the house and he was left alone. He sighed and shook out his hands, he wasn't sure how long he had been clenching them. The cold air burned his lungs, his cheeks and nose were cold.

The anger and adrenaline left his veins and now he was numb. His childhood flashed through his mind. He remembered his mother on the floor, not what she looked like. He couldn't remember her face. Just the vomit on the floor, wrists cut, the blood pooled around her. He just kept thinking, hoping that she was just sleeping. Not that she wanted to leave him behind, that she didn't care about him.

Lorcan understood mental illness. He suffered with it everyday. But it was always hard to think that he wasn't the cause of her death. How could he not think that? He was five years old when his mother decided to kill herself. How was he not enough for her? Why did she think he would be better with someone else?

"Sorry that took so long, I had to go through all the coats to find ours," Rowan said as he walked out the back door with their coats.

++++

Rowan saw Lorcan sitting on the bench that was on the balcony, forearms on his knees, head bowed.

"Lor?"

He walked over and put his coat over Lorcan's shoulders and knelt down in front of him.

"I kind of just want to be alone," Lorcan whispered.

"Oh. Uh, yeah, sure. Um," he swallowed, "Can I get you anything?" Lorcan shook his head. "Okay, um." He stood, unsure of how to proceed. "Text me if you need me, okay?"

Rowan went back inside and leaned against the door as he closed it.

"Is he all right, love?" His mother was obviously worried. But he could only shrug. Lorcan had never asked him to leave before. It was a strange feeling.

++++

The night lost all its magic after Lorcan's justified outburst. After presents, the Whitethorn's helped clean up and got some leftovers. They left. Lorcan was silent the rest of the night. As soon as they got home, he went straight to his room.

Him and Barb sat in the living room.

"Mom, did you know Lorcan's mother killed herself?"

"No, honey. I didn't."

____

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like to be added to my Rowcan taglist.

@starlightorstarfire @thenerdandfandoms @tanvee1231 @inkstainedvictorian

[reversecreek]

ziggy strutting up to me like this gif as i hold up a crucifix n say begone begone vile beast BEGONE from my vicinity i will NOT buy u a happy meal wretched little boy...... some live action rp to start this off..... and SCENE. takes my bow. his pinterest is here n his playlist is here.

* dylan minnette, cis male + he/him  | you know ziggy benson, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of his life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to hand crushed by a mallet by 100 gecs like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole glitching televisions impaled by remotes, nonchalantly texting the babes as a stove fire ravages your kitchen & cartoons turned up so loud it fries your eardrums thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is november 24th, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt she/her  )

HISTORY;

from the second ziggy ws born he didnt stop screaming. within the first hours of his life he gave his father an ear splitting headache tht prompted him to say “that uncooked chicken’s fucking demonic” n joke abt popping “it” in the oven to roast. when this understandably received disgusted glances frm the nursing staff he ws all like “jeez alright alright i’m kiddin i’m kiddin can’t a guy have a joke around here?” n i feel like that sets up their dynamic so nice n sweetly <3 (sarcasm) (lips pursed)

frm day one he ws just honestly a rly hyperactive child. when he laughed he’d shriek it out at the absolute top of his lungs bc he’d just get this huge giddy surge of energy all the way to the very tips of his toes n it’d hit him like a shock from a fork in a plug socket. their parenting style ws rly just lazy tbh.... they didn’t have much time for disciplining him. ziggy’s mum wld halfheartedly be like “ziggy quiet now....” n then go bk to nuking whatever vegetables she’d defrosted until they tasted like dinosaur bones..... this wld not make any difference in ziggy’s behaviour

his father rly just took the stance that it ws ziggy’s mum’s job to discipline him or raise him in general which is. 🔪 please enter the 20th century sir.... get ur noggin sorted..... needless to say he wsn’t much involved in ziggy’s life n honestly generally jst didn’t like him. ziggy was a responsibility he didn’t want (accidental prregnancy) n in his literal words once said (blatantly while ziggy ws watching cartoons on the sofa) tht ziggy just “harshes my fucking vibe a lil bit”. 

he wound up leaving when ziggy was six ish.... ziggy watched thru a crack in the blinds as his mum tried to grab at his jacket to make him stay as he lugged out his suitcase..... she even tried to physically cling onto him so he cldn’t get in his ride bt the door wound up slamming n she sat on her knees watching the lights pull out the drive n even long after they were gone. ziggy didn’t rly kno what to do abt this (emotions hd never been smthn he particularly understood, his own or how to handle other people’s) so after watching her fr 5 minutes he went out n gently shook her shoulder n was like. mom come inside u look weird out here. FKGHSFHGSFHKGFHKSGSFGHK. this was him trying to show love <3

ziggy’s mum is like.... rly relationship dependent. she gets all her self worth n validation frm whtever man she’s dating.... so she went on this like.... wild rampage of jst. dating a very large string of men. they ranged frm dreadfully boring to downright awful n were always below her standards. ziggy quite literally hated. all of them. every last one. even one that tried to b nice to him by offering to help him do his math homework when he ws 13 (bc ziggy was struggling a lot w this) n in response ziggy loudly barked until the man gt scared n stumbled backwards into a dining chair on his way out of the room. KGHFHKSJHFJGSHKFG

while him n his mum hv a kind of strained situation (there’s a great deal of resentment from her end n kind of. blaming him fr “driving his father away” n it’s never spoken abt bt it’s very much Present in their relationship n honestly ziggy kind of resents her too fr bringing some of the men into their lives tht she did) there is. love there...... sometimes she’ll like. reach out to cup the back of his head n he’ll duck his head away n be like wtf are u doing checking me for lice? n she’ll jst smile like :)...... knowing that’s how he loves. KHSFGKJGHKSFGFHKGSHF. ugh we love men who know how to process their emotions yesssss king give us nothing <3

(abuse n violence tw) idk i won’t go into it too much bt even tho ziggy’s constantly like 🙄 when his mum shows him affection he wld quite literally. kill fr her n almost did one time.......... narrowly avoided getting charged w assault when one of her bfs was drunk n evil n he went into protective mode.... idk he. has gone thru a lot n seen a lot n so has his mum. they look after each other the best they kno how despite the negatives in their relationship.... it’s complex <3

literally got in trouble so. often. at school. he ws always hyperactive (undiagnosed adhd n also probably not helped by the fact he ws jst allowed to eat sm junk food w 459729457952 sugar percentage all hours of the day) bt when his dad left n like. dealing w acting out so severely at home where his mum’s bfs were concerned it rly escalated..... i jst think he ws like. literally a terror. probably got suspended so many times. maybe even was permanently expelled before he cld get his diploma honestly. set off a firework in school hallway. smthn absolutely reckless n stupid.

hs hd a bunch of jobs mostly in the service industry...... usually ends up getting fired.... worked at mcdonald’s fr a while n then one day he went in rly high n ate three cheeseburgers in front of a weeping child who hd ordered one.... promptly gt fired bt he ws like yo fuck this place i’m quitting n threw off his apron n was like who’s with me??? who’s joining the union??????? to the rest of the staff n they were all mostly like >_> <_< before security approached to forcibly remove him n he grabbed a cookie n crammed it into his mouth in rebellion mid frantic n frankly possessed escape.....

in terms of wht’s going on to this day w his living situation i honestly think he still lives w his mum. i can just see this. KHGFSKGHSFGKSFGH. in like. a ramshackle bungalow in delphinus heights.... having said tht she probably isn’t. there tht often nw she’s dating her latest man (jonas, somehow always sweaty no matter the weather, wears too many gold rings n smells like shoe cleaner) who owns a car dealership n thinks he’s a kingpin for it. still home sometimes tho.

PERSONALITY:

ziggy spends his days working shifts at an ice cream parlour (one he got fired from once bc he broke in high n ate sm ice cream he was lay on the floor in the bk pants unbuttoned stomach bulging sm calling himself garfield saying he had too much lasagna. they hired him bk tho bc he has a harem of middle aged women who lust after him n it brings customers....) or like. cruising parties...... setting off fireworks.... skateboarding...... breaking into abandoned buildings.... filming stupid jackass type tricks....... playing guitar hero...... getting drunk at the arcade..... sometimes busking fr cash in a tossed dwn hat (very badly) (thinks he’s sick at it however)........ or alternatively...... fucking chicks aha...... fuck.......... not exclusive to chicks tho just had to sound despicable bt :smirk: he’s bi Baby.... 

i won’t lie he’s kind of an asshole................ never rly was taught properly how to empathise with ppl so like he struggles w that....... sometimes he’ll say smthn tht’s genuinely just quite mean n doesn’t need to be said but he doesn’t rly realise it’s like bad. n he’s like. what’s the deal haha why are u mad...... 

fuckboy. genuinely jst. rly summarises it well. insatiable. sleeps around wildly. will say he’ll call u back n then will not call u back. lies like oh babe i’m moving to france tomorrow fuckkkkkkkkk sucks so bad that we can only have one night but let’s make it special yeah? tits? n then they’ll see him casually skating past them on the street a week later n be like well clearly he’s not in france. ziggy doesn’t care.

calls himself a “genius inventor” bc he once gutted a vintage analog television n made it into a fish tank. it literally leaked water a bit. still convinced he is a literal visionary never seen before never done again. he’s like i’m on the brink of greatness. i’m the next einstein.

has a bit of a god complex where he thinks he’s the sexiest person in any given room n it’s kind of funny bc like dylan minnette’s sexy to me bt tht isn’t a widespread opinion n ur being a bit bold ziggy...... regardless has confidence thru the roof tht isn’t rly deterred by anything or anyone.....

dyes his hair 49729572459752 colours every colour under the sun. sometimes all at once jst different patches. wears lots of tie dye tshirts n basketball shorts even tho he doesn’t play basketball. rly colourful sneakers. just lots of loud colours tbh. often wears a paper clip in his ear as an earring. pierced it himself. someone probably recorded him doing it fr his insta story. probably was drunk.

drives a vespa around tht is baby blue with pastel yellow polka dots. it has lots of tin cans attached to the back by string like on those cars when u just got married. he did not just get married. u can hear him arriving frm over a street away.

almost never pays fr anything bt is always like “yo it’s my treat” n then either dine n dashes or u have to pay

his idea of romance is nuking a hot pocket as breakfast in bed n then complaining he’s hungry n eating half

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

fuckboy antics: he’s insatiable. rabid. notorious. mayb they fkd n he didn’t call........ jst completely ghosted........ mayb they were genuinely into him n he honestly built up kind of false pretences abt them having a connection n then jst dipped..... cld  b good fr angst n drama <3 someone please egg his house he deserves it <3

high skl heathens: locals tht were equally chaotic in hs..... just picture him having this group of misfits tht were like so loud n always getting up to no good doing god knows what god knows where.... probably gt arrested together breaking into an old abandoned hospital one time........... rly just doing the absolute most at all times............. probably so loud........... drinking n smoking far too much.....

an attempted teenage relationship: i’m like. tentative to even put this one bc i just feel like ziggy wld be a shit bf. KJHGFSHGFHGSFHGFKGHFKSG. but. maybe it ended in drama.....i’d say this wld probably be a girl bc in hs he probably ws less open w his sexuality... maybe ziggy cheated on her or she cheated on him................ angst........ strife.... we love it we love it........ i crash my car into the bridge... i don’t care... i love it... sudden icona pop moment me stood on stage singing karaoke.... it’s just gone 7am as i write this so i apologise if this is losing any. coherency. smiles so sexy....

last adolescent plot i swear: i picture when ziggy was expelled he somehow amassed a large group to protest w signs outside the school fr him to be accepted back. it didn’t work. he threw a party when he received news he hadn’t got back in anyway. maybe ur muse was involved or helped organise this or was violently opposed.

enemies: ppl who just. don’t like ziggy bc like honestly that’s so fair n valid. KJHGFKGHKSFGHSGKHSFHG..... mayb he like. exploded their mailbox one time when they were younger. mayb he skated over their toes. mayb he fucked their bitch aha fuck................. (joking btw) (don’t condone misogyny) (hashtag feminism). cld be fun to play around w

fwb: probably hs a few of these......... mayb they’re cool w things being no strings attached n lax n at ease w ziggy being the mess tht he is in general..... mayb they want more bt ziggy cannot provide...... mayb they literally don’t get on at all n this is their only mutual ground n they keep coming bk to each other.... :smirk:..... whatever u Farncy....

maybe ziggy’s mum dated ur muse’s dad at one point???? we can discuss this if u think it fits..... cld be fun to play around w............

coworkers: past or present r fun..... mayb they were like WTFFF is this guy fking ONNN at a past job (he’s had a few in the food service industry so pretty open in tht area)... mayb they work w him at the ice cream parlour now..... cn discuss the dynamic probably wld be dependent on the muse involved fr like. how he’d act n stuff.... :yum:

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Love your Huwumi fics!!! Can we get some Meet Cute 24 for them? Thnx

Well here’s another idea that’ll most likely escalate into something bigger lmao! Please enjoy this little bit of cute, flirty fun!

If not for Akiko’s insistence and offer of a discount, she wouldn’t have done it. Or so she told herself.

As far as Fuyumi was concerned, she still didn’t understand why she was expected to attend big, ritzy events to help promote her father’s business. After all, it wasn’t like she worked for or with him. She was a grown adult with her own career and her own life to live! She wasn’t obligated to do anything just because her father said so! 

But even still… She liked to maintain friendly relations in her tense family. So when her father had offered to reimburse her the cost of some ballroom dance classes so that he could take her to an upcoming gala in two months time? She was… unenthused, but had agreed nonetheless. When she’d mentioned it to her dear friend, Akiko, she had jumped on it like a starved alley cat on a chicken nugget.

"You should take the class I teach!" she insisted before taking a small sip of her coffee. She made a face. "Ugh! They put way too much caramel syrup in this."

"I thought you taught salsa, flamenco, and ballet fundamentals?" Fuyumi asked. Akiko and her mother, Umeko, ran a dance studio together. Fuyumi had attended some of the ballet classes there back in high school but, once she entered college, hadn’t had the time to keep up.

She nodded, stirring her drink with her straw. "I do. But I'm also teaching pole and ballroom right now," she said. After deciding her drink was mixed up enough, she took another sip. She still made a face, but this time it was a bit more restrained. "Anyway, we're starting up a new six-week session this Friday. The class runs from 6:30 to 7:30, and I know you can make time that night."

Fuyumi let out a small whine and took a sip of her own drink, becoming immediately overwhelmed by the thick vanilla flavor. She swallowed hard and made a face. "You weren't kidding about them going hard on the syrup," she mumbled.

"Right?" Akiko laughed. "But back to the point at hand! The ballroom session we run doesn’t just teach the waltz; we also do the basics and intermediate steps of the cha cha and the tango! That’ll most def impress all those stuffy old douchebags you’ll be spending the night putting up with!”

Fuyumi whined a bit louder as she tried mixing her own drink up to try and distribute the syrup a bit more, maybe water it down a little. “I don’t know,” she trailed uneasily. Sure, it would be nice to be able to go to the gala and put her best foot forward, but more from the sense of just looking good for herself rather than out of spite. She loved Akiko but the other young woman was motivated by only a few things and vengeance was one of the biggest.

“Please sign up? For me? If you do, I'll have an even number of students to pair up! And I’ll even give you a discounted rate on the classes so you aren’t hurting as bad for cash while you wait on your dad to pay you back!" the other pleaded, fluttering her big brown eyes. 

She snorted a bit at it before rolling her eyes. ”Okay, okay, you win. I’ll sign up,” she said, giggling when her friend openly whooped in delight. She took a sip of her drink again and found it… slightly more palatable. She then indicated the other woman with her cup. “But just know I’m only doing this for the discount! And you better draft up the receipts as if you charged the full amount!”

“Of course! Only if you agree to not tell mom that I gave you a discounted rate,” she said, tilting her head and waggling her eyebrows at the other suggestively. They stared at one another before devolving into giggles.

And before Fuyumi knew it, Friday night was upon her.

She swallowed as she walked into the packed room at the studio, the crowd thick enough that it was hard to catch glimpses of herself in the full length mirror against the opposing wall. She considered going over to talk to Akiko, but could see her preoccupied with introductions from some students. Instead, she headed over to the far wall where people were setting their bags down, the odd sensation of eyes on her making her move a bit quicker. She set her bag down and quickly tossed her hair up in a messy but tight bun before tugging self-consciously as the tank top she was wearing as her eyes scanned the room. Oh, gosh, should she have bought some proper dancer’s clothes? She had thought about it going out after work on Thursday, but there had been a last-minute staff meeting that zapped up what little free time she had before she needed to be home to have dinner ready on time. She had figured that the old tank top and capri sweats she’d grabbed would suffice for one class but maybe that was presumptuous of her. 

She was snapped from her musing by a loud clap. She jumped and glanced over at where Akiko stood in front of the group with one of the male instructors by her side. “Okay, everybody, we’re gonna get you guys partnered up! Everybody stand with your back to the mirror and in height order, please,” she directed before turning to say something to her associate.

It was as she moved to join the others in the class that the sensation of being watched returned. From the corner of her eye she caught a flicker of movement and turned to face her watcher. She froze as she locked with sharp eyes of liquid gold settled in a tastefully scruffy face. He was physically fit, wearing a breezy tank top that showed off the defined muscles along his arms and dipped a bit low around the neckline to hint that there was more where that came from. His hair was a gleaming blonde messily pushed out of his face with a black headband. And then there was her deepest, darkest weakness; a light bit of facial hair along his chin and jaw. He was an attractive guy, to put it mildly, and must have confidence, given how he didn’t flinch away when her eyes sought him out. Instead, he slowly leaned back against the balance beam poised just in front of the mirror, tilting his head and flashing her a smirk, looking more like a model on set than some rando in a dance class.

She answered with a small smile of her own when he followed it up with a wink and wandered off to find her place in the line up.

Akiko did a quick scan of those present before she started matching up pairs. She took Fuyumi's wrist and led her right over to Mr. Golden. "Todoroki, Takami, you two will work together," she said, tilting her head out of the young man's view to wink at Fuyumi's pinkening face.

Takami was quick to take her hand with a small hum. "Todoroki-Chan, is it? A pleasure to meet you," he hummed, lifting her hand up to press a quick kiss to the top of her hand.

Fuyumi wished she could slap her cheeks in that moment but instead she politely cleared her throat. “Charmed,” she said gently, forcing herself to regain her composure.

“Oh, I am,” he practically purred.

She flashed a quick glance at her friend, greeted by the other’s dark brown eyes gleaming in amusement. “Okay, Takami. You can flirt with Todoroki on your own time, not my dime. Let’s get everybody on the floor and start with the basic moves, shall we?”

Fuyumi squared her shoulders, heart hammering as Takami led her to join the other pairs in the the lines, Akiko and her partner already having scrambled to the front and starting to give the overview of what the goal was for that days class. Fuyumi was rather relieved that there was a moderate breath of space between their bodies for the waltz steps, as it gave her some level of physical separation from her partner while still being close enough to exchange sly glances. Additionally, it seemed like Takami had a little bit of experience with some kind of dance before, given how easily he took the lead. Fuyumi herself had participated in other dance courses and, while the waltz lessons were new, also had a basic understanding of what to expect. She briefly wondered if Akiko also had some information regarding the prior dance history of her students to assist with picking partners, but couldn't say for certain.

She could, however, say for certain that her partner was charming and that she kind of liked the flirty looks they were exchanging.

“So,” he breathed quietly, at a point where Akiko stopped to help a different pair at the front correct their steps, “what has forced a fetching young lady such as yourself to a class like this?”

She felt a small smile turn up on her lips, a brief flash of courage sparking in her. “Hmm. That’s a rather strange way to put it. Do you think I have a reason other than humble interest behind being here?”

He cocked his head back a bit. “Call it a hunch, but… I get the feeling there’s more to this than a ‘humble interest.’”

“Is that so?” she hummed as they were instructed to return to their starting position to go over the steps again as a whole.

“I’d love to hear more about your reasoning. Maybe over coffee? Or dinner some time? My treat, for getting your phone number and to pick your brain a little,” he said.

She let out a thoughtful hum, sliding her hand slowly up to just a bit beneath his shoulder. Internally, she delighted in being able to touch the muscle she’d been quietly ogling not too long ago. She noticed the light way he shuddered at her touch and a part of her was thrilled by the subtle reaction. “I’ll tell you what,” she drawled. She didn’t miss the way his palm on her upper back flattened a bit more, shifting her just a hair closer and pressing a bit more of his warmth into her, as she spoke. She met his eye fully as she spoke. “If you can encounter me outside of the classroom, on the streets during the day… I’ll give you my number and we can have a little meetup.”

His eyes widened a hair before his grin shifted to more of a smirk. “Oh, so you’d like to play a little bit of cat and mouse? I like that,”

“I had a hunch you might,” she purred back, delighting in the playful back and forth between them. She normally wasn’t this forward or responsive to someone flirting with her. But when it got a guy like this to look at her like that, who was she to complain?

“Well, before we start the game proper, can I at least get the privilege of your full name? To let me know who to be listening out for?”

“Todoroki Fuyumi,” she said. “And what about you? I think I have the right to your name as well.”

He smirked and leaned a bit closer, “Takami Keigo,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper, right as the music clicked back on and they resumed their practice. Fuyumi had to suppress a shudder of delight as they moved, step by step, along the dance floor.

She would need to thank Akiko and Father for their instances after all.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Sorry I know it's a lil late, but if you're still taking oc asks (these ones I mean), maybe 13, 19, 24, 38/39/40, 43, 45, 47, 64, and/or 74/75/76? again, for any OC you'd like

It’s never too late to ask me about my OCs! I could talk about them until the cows come home! X3 Not to mention, this is great since I’m currently working on my next chapter and I needed a little break! So, thank you! ❤️❤️

***

13. How many siblings does your OC and what is his/her relationship with them?

So, the only OCs that have a sibling are Fane and Mhairi. Fane is Mhairi’s brother and Mhairi is Fane’s sister. Fun fact: orginally these two were supposed to be twins when I made them because they looked very similar (Fane had platinum blonde hair like Mhairi and their overall faces had like features). Now, they’re three years apart (Fane is 24 and Mhairi is 21). 

As to their relationship, it is 100% wholesome and devotion incarnate. Everything Fane does and has done is for Mhairi, and he takes the role of both a father and a brother for her. It’s one of the few times Fane is actually soft with another person. Mhairi is his whole world until Inquisition, and it makes everything later one even harder for him. *side eyes* Mhairi is in the same boat as Fane because she is highly obsessed with showing him that she can handler herself and that he doesn’t have to keep running himself into the ground to keep her safe and happy. She constantly bakes him his favorite treats, gifts him with raw materials for his weapon crafting, crafts him articles of clothing and trinkets to elicit a single smile to his face. Mhairi just wants him to be happy above all else since she can tell something changed him, but she doesn’t know what. As such, she does become a tad jealous when Fane and Solas’s relationship comes to light, but only because she’s just as protective with him as Fane is with her.

19. What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them?

I wrote a fic about this actually! It was told from Solas’s POV, but it gave glimpse into how Fane responds to children. Fane adores children and he secretly craves a small family--just one child because he wants to give the love his mother had given him. Gentle, calm, and patient. He just thinks he doesn’t have it in him for that, especially because of what he is. (hint: watch for fics that have the appearance of the baby dragon that Solas and Fane adopt. It’ll be important waaaaay later. *winks*)

Estoria is along the same lines as Fane. She loves, loves, loves children. When she was traveling as a mercenary, the band would occasionally visit smaller cities where there were alienages and Estoria would spend her free time there. She would sing songs to the children, teach them how to do menial, but important tasks like washing clothes or planting crops, and would tell them stories of her time on the road. Deep down inside, she would adore a little girl of her own because she wants desperately to be a mother. 

24. Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates?

So, surprise! Fane doesn’t actually ‘hate’ or ‘dislike’ anyone (other than his father lol). But if we’re talking in terms of the inner circle, again, he doesn’t hate anyone, he just feels indifferent towards them. The only one that he shows any kind of passionate distaste for is Cassandra, but most of that is from a lack of communication on both their parts in the beginning (Fane is not in a good mental state during Haven’s arc due to being framed divinity and the slow realization of what he is making him lash out violently). 

Mhairi though...eheheh. She doesn’t like Solas. At all. For a very long time. They butt heads constantly because of elven history, religion, and magical theory, but also because of Mhairi’s main insecurity of being abandoned. She’s worried Solas will take Fane from her and that frightens her beyond belief. *side eyes AGAIN*

 38. How does your OC react to and handle stress?

Reacting to stress, Fane either becomes incredibly overwhelmed and irate, or he shuts down completely. He turns into a shell that simply walks through the halls with a dead stare, or he becomes the warped version of what he is--breaking, smashing, and snapping anything in his path. When that happens, in either form, Fane hides away in the more desolate parts of Skyhold where no one can find him (other than Solas or Cole). He’s like a cat, actually. He can see everyone else, but they can’t see him. He’ll do that until he calms down enough to where he isn’t overcome wit the urge to snarl or crack open a noble’s skull.

39. How does your OC handle anger?

Badly. Well, Fane does anyways. Pffft. Mhairi tends to cry when she’s angry, so also badly. Estoria...ohhhh, boy. Watch the thorns because they are laced with poison. All my OCs handle anger badly. That probably says something about me, huh? *curls up in the corner* 

40. How does your OC handle grief?

Due to his abuse, Fane rarely cries--he was commanded not to for five years and the fear of doing it lingers. However, when he does cry it’s because of something utterly heart breaking. In fact, every time the group goes to fight a dragon, Fane scurries off at the end of the battle to literally crumble into a heap of snot and tears because it physically hurts him. It’ll be revealed more in my fic as to why, but just know it’s a..bad time. Again, Fane’s go to is to be alone with his emotions until they settle down. It’s a bad habit of his and one that takes a lot of support from Solas, Cyfrin and his sister to work out.

Mhairi is very open with her emotions (her and Fane anathema to each other). So, when their mother passed and their father disappeared, she was inconsolable for months and the feeling of abandonment lingers with her still. Usually, Mhairi just goes to Fane or Cyfrin if she’s feeling lonely or grief stricken and just...cry until she passes out.

43. What kind of sense of humor does your OC have?

Fane’s humor is morbid. Cyfrin and he get locked in discussions of dark, dark humor. Such as:

“If you don’t stop commenting about how my eyes will make a ‘lovely’ ballad, I will crack your skull and make a vase. I could use some bright macabre decoration in that dismal aravel, anyways.”

“Do I at least get to be painted in pretty floral patterns and intricate designs of trees? Maybe roses?”

“I’ll make the roses blue. Just for you.”

“Ah-ha! Now we’re talking! A man after my own fluttering, flying heart!”

“I’ll make your heart fly in a minute..”

“A confession?! I knew it would be a joyous day!”

“Just shut up, Cy.”

I’m serious. This is them and I have no shame. *laughs nervously* It’s all empty, though. Cyfrin helps Fane relax a little and never judges him for his darker aspects. If anything, it helps mitigate a potential outburst because Fane can look as it as a joke rather than something that genuinely hurts him. Unless he’s in a really foul mood, then Cyfrin adopts his more caring side to calm Fane down. (I have a lot of thoughts with these two. Just wait. Juuuust wait.)

45. What are some things that annoy your OC?

What doesn’t annoy Fane? 🤣🤣 But specifically, Fane can’t stand when someone is willingly ignorant nor can he stand when they’re filled with disgusting forms of pride.

Estoria is highly annoyed by racial labels. She was taken in by a human, and as such, she got to mingle with a lot of different races throughout her time as mercenary. She got to see those races as people and when organizations like the Chantry and what have you only see race and see it as a bad thing sometimes, she goes off the handle. Estoria doesn’t shy away from being an elf, but she doesn’t believe that’s all she is nor does she believe anyone else is just their physical race.

47. How easily does your OC forgive?

Fane is slow to forgive, even if that person is highly dear to him. However, it does depend on what happened in the first place and there’s a big, big plot point later on in my story that shows a heavily development in this characteristic. 

Estoria is an easy forgiver. She’s very openminded and realizes everyone has their struggles, but if it’s something truly deplorable with no other reason besides causing harm or death or gaining influence then that changes quickly.

64. What are some habits your OC has picked up?

Fane has picked up on a lot of habits due to how long he’s lived and what his nature entails. He has a habit of squeezing his arms if he’s agitated, crossing them in an attempt to steady himself, and growling. Fane growls constantly, even if he’s not irritated. It’s an involuntary reaction from being a dragon. 

He also has a habit of tracing patterns in wood with his eyes--pointing out shapes and faces. He also has a habit of..twisting the truth. *side eyes once AGAIN*

74. What is your OC’s favorite color?

Fane -- Blue (Don’t look at me like that.)

Estoria -- Grey (reminds her of her father’s eyes)

Mhairi -- White (she likes the symbolism of purity)

75. What is your OC’s favorite scent?

Fane -- Gladiolus

Estoria -- Rain

Mhairi -- Vanilla

76. What is your OC’s favorite animal?

Fane -- Wolf (DON’T. There’s more to it, I swear!)

Estoria -- Cats (she used to play with them in alley ways)

Mhairi -- Halla (she adores being around them since her mother would take her to them when she was little)

****

Thank you for the ask, lovely person! Have a splendid day! ❤️❤️

[shiemishuzenji]

100 OC Question Meme!

created by marchenvillain <3

Your Wings edition: Shiemi Shuzenji!

1. What’s a unique skill they have? Is their any reason why they can do it? Shiemi can harness the power of the sun in order to heal wounds. Her Quirk is a mixture of her mother’s (who can bend light) and grandmother’s (who can heal wounds). 

2. What are their favourite possessions? Why? (sentimentality, history, price, etc) The necklace that Hawks gave her is very important to her. She sees it like a symbol of their love. 

3. Do they get jealous easily? If so, what usually causes it? She gets insecure, but she never acts on her jealousy. Often times, if women fawn over Hawks, she gets all up in her feels.

4. Are they a good gift-giver? What do they tend to give as gifts? She’s more of a practical gift giver. She pays attention to what someone really needs and she’ll get it for them.

5. What’s their reputation like? Does this reputation contrast what they’re really like? People (especially when she worked in the hospital) hail her as a good doctor but one with little to no social skills. She’s quiet, so a lot of people think she’s mean. Others, like her old boss, like her polite and respectable nature. 

6. Do they prefer to have a big social circle, or a few close friends? Definitely a few close friends. She’s content with Aizawa, Kayama, and Mic. 

7. What’s their “type”? What romantically attracts them to another person? Men who are confident! If one looks at her track record, her old boyfriends in high school were all jocks who loved the limelight. Hawks is cocky, but a lot of that haughtiness is a facade. She loves that he knows how to tone it down and come back to Earth. 

8. What does their dream house look like? She’s a simple woman: a modern white home with a huge lawn for a garden. She’s always wanted to plant sunflowers. I’m a huge horror fan, so for some reason, I’m envisioning the villa from The Human Centipede… Just the outside! eheh... is that weird?

9. If they could change one part of their appearance, what would it be? Shiemi is actually very lithe; her mother says she’s got no meat on her bones. She would love to bulk up! Also, her cup size is a B. She would change that, too, if she could.

10. What’s a simple thing that brings them joy? Well, Shiemi’s love language is acts of service. It really warms her heart when people help do things with or for her!

11. What is their dream pet? A cat! A fluffy white one. Maybe Aizawa had some influence on her? ❤️

12. What’s their position in their friend group? (leader, mom friend, chaos goblin, etc) The voice of reason. She likes to have practical fun! She’s not as rigid as Aizawa, but nowhere near as wild as Mic.

13. How forgiving are they? What do they consider unforgivable? Shiemi is definitely forgiving, so much so that it is sometimes her downfall. However, she believes there is no excuse for villainy.

14. Who do they go to in a crisis/emergency? Any particular reason why they choose that person? Hmmm, it’s funny because most people go to her in an emergency since she’s got that nifty healing Quirk haha! Shiemi has plenty of people to depend on like Midnight or Recovery Girl, but Hawks is the one she always turns to when she needs saving.

15. How good are they at conversation? Are they a small talk master, bad at initiating, etc? The only person she likes to make small talk with is Hawks, really. She’s not much a talker, and prefers to let others do the talking. This is why she and Aizawa click so well because they both can appreciate silence.

16. What food do they absolutely hate? She actually doesn’t care for greasy foods. Pizza, for example, upsets her tummy. 

17. Do they show a lot of affection, or are they pretty reserved? She’s not into PDA, but she loves to be held and kissed. When she’s sad, she almost always needs a hug. ❤️

18. If you had to represent them with a flower, colour, and animal, what would you choose? I feel like she’s more of a white lily, which I hear symbolizes humility and devotion. Her color would be blush pink, for her more timid nature and her affinity for that color. As for an animal, I think she’d be a snowshoe hare!

19. What’s their unusual quirk? (Quirk with a lowercase q, haha) Shiemi has always had very strong intrusive thoughts, and I’ve made this obvious from the first chapter. I based this on my own struggle with intrusive thoughts, so Shiemi and I can relate on the issue of fighting our inner voices to be better people.

20. Are they easy to wake up in the morning, or grouchy and sleepy? She’s an early bird! Very easy to wake up in the morning.

21. What’s their ideal date like? She loves night walks on the beach followed a busy night of makin’ love ;)

22. What’s their silliest or most unusual fear/phobia? Probably spiders. She’s not the type to scream when she sees one, but if it’s big and hairy, she’ll leave the room.

23. Is their pain tolerance high or low? Pretty low, all things considering. She knows how to fight, she just doesn’t like to because she can’t really handle her own.

24. Are they a fussy eater? Nope! She’ll try just about anything. She understands the importance of eating healthy, so she makes sure to eat her veggies every day. (Unlike me…)

25. What are their dreams like? As the writer, I’ve always made her dreams symbolic. They often reflect her true feelings or the things on her mind.

26. Are they technologically savvy? Yes! Working in the hospital, she’s a quick learner, and working in the hospital, she’s had to learn how to use all the equipment.

27. Are they forgetful? What do they tend to forget? (plans, phone, keys, etc) No, she tries to be very organized. The most that she forgets would be if she’s got a lot of work to do, she might forget one assignment.

28. Describe their morning routine. Open the curtains first (she needs sunlight), drink black coffee, watch the news, take a shower. Suuuper adult of her, I know. She’s a creature of habit!

29. Are they a good cook? If they are, what do they like to make? She’s an okay cook. Certainly not as good as Hawks! She can make basic food, but a lot of it lacks flavor -- something Hawks has had to teach her.

30. Do they consider themselves a “hero” or “villain”? Hero! Definitely. She’ll heal anyone in need, but she works for the heroes, on the side of good.

31. What holiday do they like the most? (Christmas, Easter, Valentine’s Day, etc) Christmas. It’s the one time of year she gets to spend with her whole family. Even though tensions are high, she still loves her family more than anything.

32. What are they like at parties? Party animal, or awkwardly sitting in the corner drinking punch and reading? She’s the wallflower. She’d rather grab a bite to eat and sit back, people-watching.

33. Are they adventurous, or do they prefer to stay in their safe zone? She prefers to live life on the safe side. Though life with Hawks definitely makes things exciting!

34. What’s their favourite drink? (Coffee, tea, juice, hot chocolate, soda, etc) She loves coffee; preferably black coffee. Her go-to drink at Starbucks is a venti black cold brew or a cappuccino.

35. Are they good with children? Yes! Her serene nature tends to calm kids down. She especially used to love healing kids at the hospital.

36. Do they trust easily? What would you have to do to earn their trust? She’s normally very wary of people. She automatically has her guard up when approached by someone new, but honestly it doesn’t take much for her to let down her guard. For example, she was cautious of Twice when she met him, but once she saw that he and Mr. Compress needed help, she immediately dropped everything to help. Blame her big heart, I guess!

37. Are they a hopeless romantic, or is that stuff just not for them? God, YES!! When she first met Hawks, she tried to act all tough, but she’s such a SAP! In her relationships, she devotes everything to her significant other.

38. Do they get lost easily, or are they good with directions? Nah, she’s great with directions. She tries to have a good understanding of her surroundings.

39. Are they superstitious? She doesn’t believe in superstitions; she’s more of a woman of science.

40. Do they like physical activity, or staying inside? She enjoys a bit of both. She especially likes to go for walks, but doesn’t mind spending the whole day inside reading a book.

41. What would they dress up as for Halloween? A zombie nurse -- and I mean that in the laziest way possible. She would put on her uniform and paint her face and call it a day haha

42. Do they like fast food, or fancy restaurants? Fancy restaurants, for sure. She’s a bit of a snob. She’ll eat fast food if she’s on the go, but she grew up in the lap of luxury, and really enjoys the finer things in life.

43. Are they a chaotic bastard, pure angel baby, or tired mom friend? Pure angel baby. SHIEMI MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS.

44. Do they have a good attention span? Yes, especially when it comes to her friends. She’ll sit there and listen to someone talk for hours.

45. Are they always late, on time, or early? Shiemi thinks that if you’re not 15 minutes early, then you’re late.

46. Do they cry, gasp, laugh, etc, while reading a book, or do they remain relatively stone-faced? Stone-faced. She might furrow her brow if she’s into it, but she’s more internal with her reactions.

47. Do they keep a diary? She stopped carrying a diary when she was a teenager and her parents read through it without her permission.

48. How dramatic are they? She’s not haha She cries easily, but that’s just because she feels very deeply.

49. Do they put a lot of effort into their appearance, or do they just make themselves presentable and go? She’s comfortable with her looks, so she mostly curls her bangs and thinks it good to go.

50. Why would they be a good partner for a road trip? She would be president of the backseat! Delivering snacks, giving directions, listening to you talk and talk for hours!

51. Why would they be a BAD partner for a road trip? She’s not much for small talk. If it gets quiet, she’ll let it happen and whip out a book.

52. What topic should nobody bring up around them, lest the other person be subject to a massive ramble/rant? Anything bashing on heroes, or criticizing hero society. She’s so deep in it that she’s blinded to its flaws. She’ll defend Heroes till the day she dies.

53. Are they clumsy? No, she’s too cautious!

54. Are they a law breaker, or stickler for rules? Stickler for the rules. Not as bad as Iida hahaha but she doesn’t do anything she’s not supposed to. Blame her strict upbringing!

55. Choose a vine you think perfectly encapsulates their character. I LOVE THIS QUESTION! I feel like she’s: “Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does >:( ” or “Is there anything better than pussy? Yes, a really good book.” OOH, OR “How do you know what’s good for me? THAT’S MY OPINION!!”

56. Do they like to share? Yes, my girl is very giving  ❤️

57. What’s the most chaotic thing they’ve done? Have sex with a bird man she just healed the night before :U Shiemi has a high sex drive

58. Which friend do they immediately become a zero-braincelled idiot around? She gets all smitten around Hawks tbh She can compose herself around everyone except for him. Then she’s just a puddle of GOO

59. Do they love or hate surprises? She does not like surprises! They make her uncomfortable and awkward.

60. What sappy thing will they cry at? (romance movies, cute cat videos, etc) Would they deny crying about it later on? She’ll cry during sad movies, but she’s stopped being ashamed of being a crybaby

61. What’s their favourite and least favourite subject in school? Health and science are her best subjects, but her favorite was literature! Her least favorite was probably physical education just because it took her away from the books!

62. Do they take a lot of photos? If so, what of? She prefers professional photos; her camera roll is practically empty!

63. Do they wear makeup? Blush, mascara, foundation, but she only ever wears makeup for special occasions.

64. Describe what their social media would be like. Instagram: “NO PHOTOS” but plenty of tagged photos from Mic and Midnight. Facebook: articles on social issues or new medical breakthroughs.

65. Do they give people a lot of nicknames? No, she doesn’t, actually! 

66. What nicknames do others call them by? She thinks it’s sweet when people give nicknames to her -- e.g. “Doc,” “songbird,” or “sunshine.” Side note: I was really into Yagami Yato when I first started writing, so of course Hawks calls her “Baby bird.” And now I really regret not being more original because goddamn... I’m not gonna go back and change it because Yagami doesn’t own the nickname, but just know that I am upset

67. What’s an outrageous story about them nobody believes? Uhh, that’s a great question. I can’t think of anything, to be honest.

68. Are they easy to fluster? What would you have to do to truly fluster them? Yes! Despite being so cool, calm, and collected, it’s easy to make her blush. Hawks is a pro at getting her all worked up!

69. What’s their dream vacation like? She dreams of traveling, preferably somewhere along the Caribbean islands where she can bask in the sun and discover new plants and creatures.

70. Are they a good liar? She is a notoriously bad liar, mostly because it eats her away inside. She can make a lie work if she commits to it enough, but she’ll always come out with it eventually.

71. What do they want to do in the future? She wants a family. She’s always wanted to be a working woman and come home after a long day to her family. She wishes that a certain someone would be a stay-at-home dad...

72. How do they feel about love? Again, she’s a hopeless romantic. She believes in having strong bonds with both family and friends, but she does dedicate most of her energy into her romantic relationship. 

73. Are they more book smarts, or street smarts? oh my god, BOOK SMARTS. She wouldn’t last a day on her own out there, but man she could recite a whole scene from Shakespeare if you asked her to.

74. What’s their guilty pleasure? Sex. She doesn’t come off as promiscuous, but she would get some every day if she could.

75. Is there anyone they consider their rival? No, in fact Shiemi tends to keep to herself. She’s respectful and supportive of everyone. She does  have enemies, of course, like Dabi or Mr. Compress.

76. Do they have any notable physical features? Her eyes are described as gray, but they’re more purplish-gray. 

77. What’s their music taste like? Classical music takes up most of the space on her phone; Joe Hisaishi is a composer that she admires a lot.

78. What’s something they’re really bad at? Keeping her opinions to herself. She’s brutally honest, to a fault. 

79. Do they have a good sleep schedule? Yesss, her whole life runs on a schedule!

80. What’s their aesthetic sense like? Oh, I’m not sure how to answer this? 

81. What’s something they’re really proud of? Her degrees and awards make her feel accomplished. She has a hard time seeing her worth, but the diplomas on her wall are proof, to her, of what she can do. 

82. How would they spend a free day? In bed, reading a book, snuggled up beside Hawks  ❤️

83. What are they like as an s/o? Lowkey, kind of clingy. She loves attention and wants to spend all her time with her significant other, doting on them, making them feel good.

84. What’s one thing they like that they don’t want anyone to know about? Her sex drive (> w >);;

85. Do they have a sweet tooth? She doesn’t; she’s more of a savory or salty person. I actually really like this dichotomy between Hawks and Shiemi, for some reason? The fact that she takes her coffee black and he takes his sweet is kind of nice.

86. How would you describe their fashion sense? I once had a beautiful professor at university who only wore maxi skirts and nice blouses. Her fashion sense inspired my vision of Shiemi a lot. If she’s not wearing her hero uniform, you can find her in a pink maxi skirt and a white blouse.

87. Do they like spicy food? She can definitely handle her spice, but she wouldn’t choose it!

88. Are they lucky? Do they believe in luck? By all means, she has the worst luck! Can’t say that she believes in it, though.

89. What would they get into a petty argument over? Shiemi stands her ground on her opinions, but she’s more or less an agreeable person. She doesn’t like to argue or cause tension, but she will if it means standing up for herself.

90. Are they a good artist? She can’t draw and she’s got that doctor handwriting lmao

91. Do they prefer hot or cold weather? Hot! Shiemi’s Quirk is most powerful if she’s in direct sunlight. When the sun is behind the clouds, it takes more energy and time for her to heal someone. Despite all that time in the sun, the poor woman can’t tan!

92. Can they play an instrument? Her parents made her play piano when she was a child, but she doesn’t dabble in it anymore.

93. What type of movies do they like to watch? Romance and mysteries! Her favorite movie is Titanic. She cries every time!

94. What does their room look like? Neat and organized. She’s got a lot of bookshelves in her room and a nice set up for her computer space.

95. How do they feel about bugs? Scared? Fascinated? She’s fascinated by bugs, but from a distance. She won’t touch ‘em!

96. What’s their sense of humour like? (Dad jokes, morbid humour, basic knock-knock jokes, stand up comedy, etc) She laughs really hard at stand up comedy. Since she’s a little more serious, she can appreciate how goofy Hawks is!

97. What do they keep in their bag? Cell phone, earbuds, portable charger, folding scissors for emergencies, Band-Aids, and if she’s not wearing it, she’ll fold up her lab coat and put it in there, too.

98. How competitive are they? She’s only competitive with herself. She doesn’t have to be the best, but she can’t stand being the worst. (I’m the same way.)

99. What would they wear to a formal event? Describe their outfit! She actually wore that beautiful red dress in chapter 10! If you Google “Elizabeth Banks Vanity Fair 2020” it’ll pop up. 

100. If you, the creator, met them, would you two get along? Yes! I think that it’s impossible for any author/creator to make a character without at least adding some personal elements in them. Shiemi isn’t a self-insert, but she and I share a love of reading and we’re both overachievers. So I think she and I would make great friends!

[purplesurveys]

1200

Have you ever felt a baby kick? Yeah, when my mom was pregnant with my brother.

What color pants/shorts are you wearing? I have red shorts on at the moment.

When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Last Friday, I’d say? Hahaha. Counted down the hours and minutes before the Butter MV drop, celebrating and freaking out with Army when it finally came out, watched the OT7 VLive that happened that afternoon, and streamed the video for nearly 24 hours straight so we could break some records, all of which we ended up achieving. It feels great to stan a group again after being out of the loop for so long lol.

What was the scariest moment of your life? A few men have lunged towards me - just to get attention, I guess? - in the past, while I was just peacefully walking. I always hear them snickering once I’ve flinched, and I always ended up crying once I’ve processed the situation.

Have you ever heard of Leonard Cohen? I know of the name, but I have no clue who he is or what he does (did?).

Pancakes or flapjacks? I don’t even know what flapjacks are, so let’s go with pancakes.

What kind of computer are you on? I’m using a Macbook Air.

Do you eat Chinese food? If so, what's your favorite dish? Yes. Minced pork with eggplant.

What are you usually doing at midnight? On weekdays, I spend it in bed, either watching videos or already reading fanfics to get ready to turn in. On Friday nights and weekends, I will usually be found on the rooftop taking a survey or two.

Have you ever developed feelings for a friend, but you were already with someone? No, I’ve never developed feelings for another person while in a relationship.

If so, how did it turn out?

Give me your brief definition of love. I will always stick by this quote, “Love never says, ‘I have done enough.’”

What is the most beautiful part of the human body, male or female? This is subjective, of course, but personally I find it to be thighs.

What kind of shoes do you wear? I’m not wearing any at the moment; but in general, I like to wear sneakers.

What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Physical violence.

Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? Nope.

Do you like the smell of coconuts? Not so much. I like coconut milk, though.

What is the heaviest you think you can lift? I think my personal best was like 60 or 70 lbs, back when I had weight training classes for PE in college. I remember being in so much pain once I gave the 80 lbs barbell a shot.

Do you take Tums? No.

Have you ever walked on a pier at the beach? ...Ugh. I’m pretty sure I’ve taken this survey very recently but I might as well just take it again because I don’t feel like searching for another. Anyway, I haven’t... at least not that I can remember.

How about under one? Definitely not.

At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? I was around 12 when I was starting to feel confused about getting nervous around Andi.

Do you feel that way around anyone now? I don’t.

Do you ever talk to yourself or think deep thoughts while on the toilet? No haha but I usually bring my phone with me to keep me company.

Do you ever sing to yourself? Pretty often.

What is a sound that relaxes you? Ocean waves.

How hard has it been to reach your main goal in life? I don’t have a main goal set in life. I just live in the now and try to do things or make decisions that would keep me consistently happy.

Do you remember the song about hoes in different area codes? HAHAHAHAHA definitely took this recently; this is so embarassing. No, I still don’t know about this song.

What is your main heritage? Filipino.

What kind of pickles do you prefer, if you like pickles? I hate pickles and I find them absolutely nasty, but there are other pickled things I like, like radishes.

What kind of cheese do you prefer, if you like cheese? Mozzarella and feta.

If you could have a sea creature as a pet, what would you want? No thanks. I’m not capable of providing them proper care.

How about a farm animal? I would just stick to dogs.

So, do you have hoes in different area codes?

What is the most annoying song you can think of that came out recently? I’ve been in a BTS bubble for a solid month or so and I honestly can’t tell you my opinion about songs that have recently come out, because I literally don’t know any.

What is a song that you hate to admit you like? There isn’t any I’m guilty about.

What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? Knowing I’ll feel accomplished once I do it.

Do you ever use Urban Dictionary? Never anymore. I used to browse through it only when I was a lot younger.

Do you find the definitions on there to be generally funny or stupid? Both.

What comes to your mind when you hear the word 'transformation'? The Transformers series, lol.

What was something you regularly played with as a child? I always liked clay and I never really graduated from that interest, since I find the texture fascinating and fun to play with.

Have you ever given in to peer pressure? Sure.

If so, what did you do? I had my first sip of alcohol at Kaira’s 18th birthday and I was feeling left out since literally everyone else was drinking. For vaping, Gabie introduced it to me; and for smoking, it was another case of FOMO that made me want to try it out.

What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? My back.

Do a lot of people check you out when you're in public? Idk? I don’t take note of that kind of attention, anyway; I would find it creepy.

How many people do you know for sure to be interested in you right now? Zero.

What is a good name for a turtle? I think it would be the same process as the way I think it would be for any other pet; it would depend on their personality, their aura, etc. 

Can you imitate any accents well? If so, which one(s)? Not really. I can read Hangul and am familiar with the different tonalities used in Korean but I wouldn’t say my imitation would be considered spot-on.

Do you like having your ear nibbled on? Yes.

What makes a good kisser a good kisser? When they know how to use their tongue in a teasing way, for one. Eugh it’s too early for this lol

How many times a year do you have a family thing? What even is a family thing?

What are the best things to put in a smoothie? I don’t like smoothies.

Do you ever eat with your eyes closed and just focus on the taste? Yup, especially when I’m either eating somewhere pricey or when I’m eating at one of my favorite restaurants.

What do you dislike most about where you live right now? It’s a pretty uneventful city, and if I want to have some fun I always have to go to Manila.

Has anyone ever given you a rose/roses? Yup.

Are you watching your weight? No.

Have you ever became really good friends with someone you found online? Yes. Aliyah and I are still friends and I’m glad we’ve been able to maintain our friendship even after mine and Gab’s falling out. It’s a shame the three of us didn’t get to meet in real life though, and it will 100% never happen now. I also used to have a group of Twitter friends back in my wrestling stan days but it’s been a very long time since we’ve gone our separate ways. I have yet to find friends on Army Twitter but I really doubt I would get to build established friendships any time soon because EVERYONE IS SO YOUNG OVER THERE

What makes your best friend your best friend? They understand me better than anyone else does.

Do you have a drunk uncle? I have a couple of them.

Do you hear weird noises in your house at night? Nope.

What is something you do that is generally more like something the opposite sex does? Ignoring this question.

What is the girliest thing you do, if you're a girl? Also ignoring this.

What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? I find line tattoos to be pretty cool and beautiful in general. The minimalist look it goes for works really well.

Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? That vase I molded during my Vigan trip :) It was the first (and so far) only thing I’ve made from scratch, and even though I didn’t get to take it home, I’m still glad I had the opportunity to try pottery.

Do you only eat the middle of the oreo, if you eat oreos? No? That’s pretty wasteful. I eat the whole cookie.

Do you know anyone with a huge ego? Hahahahaha. Yes.

If so, is there anything else about them you actually like? Not anymore, no.

Have you ever used a racial slur, even jokingly? Most likely as a stupid teenager when I didn’t know any better.

Do you have any friends who are more like siblings to you? Angela and Laurice.

If so, what about them do you like most? They’re very easy to talk to, and they’re both selfless and generous.

What is everyone else in your house doing right now? My mom is making dinner while I believe everyone else is just on their phones waiting for the dish to be made.

What is the most money you've ever had at one time? I don’t remember the exact amounts anymore but my mom used to hand me cheques and regularly assign me to pay for me and my sister’s tuition back in grade school and high school, since she had work during the day and didn’t have time to stop by the school herself.

How long do you think it would take you to run a mile? I don’t know but definitely longer than what would be considered a decent duration for a fit person.

Look down. What do you see? I can see my legs but just barely since it’s dark out.

What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Topics I don’t know too much about.

What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? BTS, my field, and history.

What kind of mood were you in most of today? Comfortable. We had the aircon on all day and I just watched BTS MVs and live performances, and I don’t really feel bad about being unproductive for once.

Has anyone ever walked in on you naked? Just once or twice.

Tell me an inside joke you have with someone. Togepi.

What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Tell me hurtful words.

What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Idk...maybe cut them off unexpectedly? I'll usually have no problem doing this with people who make me uncomfortable.

How do you feel now about the first person you ever dated? Nothing. She’s not in my life.

How about the last person (your last ex)? She’s the same person.

What is the best invention ever invented? The internet.

What is something that needs to be invented? Not a completely new invention but I wish programs that can identify songs for you, like Siri, can be more improved to be able to recognize songs just by humming the tone. So far they can only name songs if you play it clearly for a few seconds, but it can be a hassle if I wanna have access to a certain song but only remember the melody and otherwise have no idea what the lyrics are or who sang them.

Describe your eyes. I don’t think they’re anything special. I don’t count them as a striking feature of mine.

What always makes you burp? Eating quickly. And beer.

What is something you hate doing that most couples do? There isn’t anything.

What's your astrological sign? Taurus.

What are you doing tomorrow? I wanna finally watch the Friends reunion special since I didn’t feel like watching it today. I also have a press release to write for one of my clients – they requested for it Friday and want it by Monday :(

[cake-writes]

Breathe (Lecture 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Mixed Delivery (Social Media & Written Parts), Eventual 18+

Summary: Bucky takes a history class at his local university in hopes of catching up on the last few decades, on everything he’s missed whilst under Hydra’s control – but he winds up learning a lot more than what’s on the syllabus. He learns how to heal.

Written for @the-omni-princess​​’s 1k writing challenge!

(Formerly Hope & Happiness; I decided that I needed a better title!)

TAG LIST: OPEN

💛 This fic is interactive. Here’s how it works! 💛

So I took the time to find an actual university course to complement this story because I’m just that invested, you guys. (I’m also a huge history nerd, lmao.) The syllabus and lectures are real, and any content relating to these in my story is straight from the source.

Lectures are recorded and available for a listen! Most written chapters will correspond to a lecture; I’ll list which one at the top of the chapter if you want to learn along with Bucky. Each one is about 40-50 minutes long and in English. Click here to access them!

This is definitely optional, though, so please don’t feel pressured to listen, but if you’re a history nerd like me then you may want to take a look!

Wednesday, August 24

Lecture 1: Introductory Lecture

Although Bucky had been on campus a couple of times before now – first to apply, and then to meet with an advisor as all new students were required to do – he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sheer size of it. Universities these days were massive: cities within a city, buildings upon restaurants upon shops and all he wanted to do was learn.

That was all he’d ever wanted to do, really. Learn about himself. Learn what made the world tick. Learn all the things he didn’t know. He’d always excelled in school, and once upon a time he’d started to save money in order to attend university. Didn’t know what he’d study – just knew that he wanted a degree in order to support the family he thought he’d have one day.

Ambitions for the future.

Then came the draft. Because hadn’t yet been able to save enough, he’d been shipped out to the European Theater – sent to hell, not to college.

Ambitions for the past.

Two years spent in cold, wintery foxholes gave him an opportunity to think, but all he could think about was the stench of death surrounding him, surrounding his unit, surrounding every waking moment of his life at war. Not his death, of course, but it may as well have been.

Bucky learned to hone in on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, the rush of adrenaline in his veins, the sensation of his boots in mud and snow. He learned to focus. He learned to survive.

And all the while, he lived with the very real possibility that he wouldn’t make it through – and, well, he didn’t. Not really. Some parts of him never made it back; what little remained became the property of Hydra. Mind corrupted, soul shattered, will broken into sharp, jagged shards of glass.

Fragile. Breakable. Erased, but still alive.  

Bucky may have survived, but he’d never really been right since – never really been whole. Physically and mentally, with too many pieces of himself missing or damaged, one constant stayed the same: a desire to learn. He’d gotten through the war and Hydra’s harsh training because that quality was a part of him – one of the only parts that made it through.

Battle-worn and weary from surviving – not living, not really – Bucky finally had the opportunity to take a step back from the battlefield to just… exist. To live. To breathe. In taking a leave of absence, he embarked upon another journey: to rediscover the man he used to be.

It would be difficult task, he knew. The twenty-first century was far cry from the 1940s, a far cry from home, and the sheer size of the college campus only served to remind him of that. In fact, he was only able to recognize that he was still in New York because this school happened to be the very same one he’d once planned to attend so long ago. Staten Island University. Right across the bridge from his present-day apartment in Brooklyn, not to mention his old family home.

Home.

But this unfamiliar new century was his home, now, so he sought to learn what he’d missed over all the decades he’d lost to Hydra. In the process, maybe he’d learn about himself, learn what made the world tick, learn all the things he didn’t know.

What better place could there be to do that than at a university?

Bucky soon found out that his education would be paid for by the United States government for his service in the military. Ironic that the very barrier which forced him into war was the same thing being gifted to him now. The GI Bill. A reward for his patriotism. A thank you for his sacrifice.

Flowery words for a bribe meant to keep him silent. Call him jaded.

Worse still, if Bucky thought tuition was expensive back then, he didn’t know what to call it today. He’d been rendered speechless when he found out what a single class would cost, but rest assured, Uncle Sam would pay for it so that he didn’t have to.

Physically, it only cost him an arm but mentally, it cost him so much more.

U.S. Society and Politics Since 1945. Mondays and Wednesdays at two o’clock. Three credit hours, whatever that meant. He signed up for the class after his first meeting with an advisor – thought that it might do him good to put his past behind him and learn.

Bucky arrived about twenty minutes before the class was due to start, all nerves and first day jitters – absolutely ridiculous when he really thought about it, so he tried to put it out of his mind and selected a seat in the very back row in hopes of not being noticed.

Counting seats proved to be a good distraction. Three hundred seats. Would there really be that many students? Save for a handful of his new classmates scattered about, the too-large lecture hall seemed like it would never fill. Sure enough, however, it eventually started to – not all three hundred seats, but close enough.

It wasn’t until then that Bucky realized he might have been woefully unprepared. Just about everyone else had laptops sat out front of them, and while he could use one – clunkily – he still preferred something more a little more tangible. All he’d brought along was the required textbook, a notebook, and two pens, one of which he’d been rolling in between a gloved thumb and forefinger for the last few minutes. 

That was a nervous tic of his, one he’d picked up in the army, except today it was a pen instead of a cigarette and he sure could have used a pack of Lucky Strikes right now. A cigarette would have done wonders to take the edge off, but he didn’t smoke, not anymore. Frustrated, he dropped the pen back down onto his desk and slumped down in his chair.

Had school always been this nerve-wracking? He couldn’t remember.

A snort drew his attention, and Bucky glanced to his left to find you sitting a few seats down in the same back row, watching him in amusement. 

It caught him off-guard.

“Is this your first class?”

A innocent question, unprompted – untainted.

While Bucky knew that there would be some socializing required, especially in the discussion section of the class, never in his wildest dreams did he think that anyone would be willing to strike up a conversation with him. He had half a mind to say ‘no’ and ignore you as long as possible, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. He opened up.

“How could you tell?”

You shrugged. “You’re fidgeting, for one. But mostly because you don’t have a bag.”

Why would he need a bag? He was only taking one class.

At his doubtful look, you spoke again, voice light and airy, “Don’t worry. You’ll learn.”

Well, that was foreboding. Then again, you seemed like you would know. You looked slightly older than most of the other students who were likely fresh out of high school, and you appeared to be all sorts of prepared, what with a leather laptop bag on the chair to your right and some brightly-coloured notebooks, binders, and a few thick textbooks all strewn about the desk in front of you.

A laptop bag, but no laptop. Strange.

Bucky wasn’t really sure why he wanted to know, but he nodded to your books and asked anyway, “What else are you taking?”

“Mostly upper-level psychology classes. I’m in my final year. What about you?”

“This is my only class,” he admitted, and to him, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. He was only taking the one class with no particular goal in mind, but here you were, taking at least four other classes judging by the number of textbooks on your desk.

You had a goal. 

He didn’t.

You didn’t ask why, though; instead, you offered him your name, along with a bright smile.

“Bucky,” he found himself telling you way too easily.

“Well, Bucky, it’s nice to meet you.” You paused, then, before you made an offhanded comment of, “I think it’s really good to have a friend in class, you know? Mostly so you can steal their notes when you skip.”

A joke, perhaps, but Bucky took it literally. That may have been the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “I’m not gonna— Who pays thousands of dollars in tuition and then decides not to come?”

Your brows rose in surprise for a moment or two, but then you laughed at his stick-in-the-mud response. “Oh no, you’re one of those. What a goody two-shoes!”

Don’t worry, you’d said. You’ll learn.

But the mischievous sparkle in your eyes let him know that you were just teasing, and what’s more, he actually didn’t mind. No, he kind of liked it, having some normal human interaction for once – not whatever the hell he’d grown used to at the compound. Between blood-spattered banter in the field and too-dark humour used as a coping mechanism, his interactions there were anything but normal.

Bucky also liked that you had no idea how wrong your sentiment was; not that he’d never admit it. This was the first time in a long, long while that he’d been treated like a regular person – not enhanced, not a science experiment, not an Avenger – and he had no intention of shattering the illusion anytime soon.

“I’m not giving you my notes, either,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Super goody two-shoes. My mistake.”

When he opened his mouth to respond to your sassy one-liner, however, the professor’s voice sounded from the front of the lecture hall. You gave him a final wink before you turned to face the front, purple pen already poised and ready to go.

Good afternoon! Can you hear me in the nosebleeds? Yes? With me? Okay…

Forty-five minutes passed in a blink, and most of the students quickly started to pack up their belongings – but not you. No, you stayed in your seat and continued scribbling away at something in your notes, seemingly having zero plans to leave anytime soon. Bucky couldn’t help but be curious as to why you weren’t packing up, but it wasn’t any of his business and he didn’t ask.

Armed with a new syllabus and a daunting list of required readings for the week, he pulled himself to his feet and collected his own belongings; only managed to push the chair back in and take about two steps toward the door before he heard your voice again.

“Hey, Bucky, wait.”

He turned around to see you still reading through one of your textbooks, not even looking in his direction, but in your outstretched hand was a bright pink sticky note.

What?

“Come on,” still focused on your reading, you waved the post-it, pink paper flapping in the makeshift breeze but staying stuck to your finger anyway, “Take it. Here.”

Hesitantly, Bucky stepped closer and accepted the proffered note. Upon it, he found that you’d hastily scrawled your name and phone number, along with what he assumed was meant to be a smiley face. The drawing was god-awful, and a welcome distraction from the way his heart had immediately leapt into his throat because a woman had just given him her phone number.

Her phone number.

“Th— Thanks?” he stammered, unsure.

Now, he certainly wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but this—

“Don’t get any weird ideas,” you interrupted his train of thought, finally pulling your eyes away from the textbook to look up at him. 

Gorgeous, glimmering, big doe eyes focused right on him, now, and seeing you up close like this, a fleeting thought crossed his mind about how attractive you were. He blamed it on the fact that you’d just given him your number, and now his brain only wanted to overthink what he’d interpreted as the first sign of potential interest from the opposite sex in – well, far too long. 

Bucky hadn’t been expecting that at all, and he wasn’t particularly interested to pursue such a thing, either. At least not right now. He still needed to get his head on straight; still needed to figure out his own problems before he took on someone else’s.

Even if you were a pretty little thing he might have taken dancing, once.

Then you added, “If you have any questions, just shoot me a text, okay? I remember how lost I was when I first started, especially because I’m a,” you did some air-quotes, then, “‘mature-aged’ student.” Another snort, one much less ladylike than before. “Mature-aged. I’m not that old!”

So it was a friendly offer. Nothing more. Not like the implications in the 40s – and Bucky thought, then, that if you were considered to be ‘mature-aged,’ he didn’t want to find out how he’d stack up.

“Thanks,” he said again, this time a little less unsurely. “I appreciate it.”

Another one of your bright smiles brought a sense of calm over him, a feeling that carried over even when you poked fun at him again, “Then I guess I’ll see you next week, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes.” 

“Yeah,” he responded, feeling the corners of his lips turn up just a little at your goodnatured teasing. “See you next week.”

And when he left the lecture hall, fluorescent pink post-it stuck to the inside of his notebook, Bucky’s footsteps felt just a little lighter than before – and so did his heart.

Part Two