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Heal My Heart - Chapter 1

August 2007 (Y/N) POV

“All I am saying is you don’t need to rush the move in…” my mom said as I finished packing up the car. I stared at her as she gave me a sad look.

“I just want it to be done with.” I said as she moved closer to hug me.

“I know. If I didn’t know any better though, I would think you were trying to run from me.” She said with an amused smile as I shook my head. I hugged her tighter as she did her best to comfort me.

“I’m going to miss you so much mom.” I said feeling my eyes begin to water.

“You can always come down and visit if you need to.” She gave me a soft smile as I moved to get into the car.

It was about a 6-hour drive to Berkeley and if I wanted to be there before dark, I needed to leave right now. The original plan was for my mom to go with me and help me, but she got called into work so she would be unable to. I sat in the car for a moment debating on if I should stop by Christen’s place or not…I knew there was a good chance she wouldn’t be home. According to both my mom and Christen, her family would be out all day. I decided it didn’t hurt to try as I started the car and made my way over towards her house.

Once I got there, I got out and looked around for a moment. I walked up to the door and knocked as I waited for someone to open it. It seemed like forever before the door opened up. I frowned when I saw Christen’s dad. He gave me a small smile before it turned into a frown.

“Are you leaving town already?”

“Yeah…move in for Berkeley is today and I got to be checked in by 5 pm.” I said as he nodded his head. “Is Christen here?”

“Unfortunately, not. She is still out with her mom and sisters.” I tried to hide my disappointment as I felt throat begin to tighten a little. I bit my lip nodding my head.

“Oh okay. Can you tell her I stopped by and I will call her when I get settled?” He gave me a smile before stepping forward and hugging me.

“I will. Good Luck kiddo. I’ll be rooting for Stanford, but I know you’ll do great!” I smiled and hugged him back before turning and getting back into my car.

I tried not to think too much about the disappointment of not getting to see her as I started my drive up to Berkeley. I tried to distract myself the best I could considering everyone I cared about was going to be here while I was six hours away. Realistically, Stanford is only like an hour away from me so if I put in the effort than I can see Christen.

I shouldn’t look at this as having to leave everyone I care about. This is an opportunity to grow and branch out. Make some new friends and go on new adventures. I don’t know what this next chapter of life holds for me. I shouldn’t be so close minded about it though.

After a brutal drive, I finally made it to the dorm I would be staying in during my time here. I checked myself in real quick before grabbing some of my stuff and going in search of my room. When I got to my floor, I went down the hall and found my room number. The door was being held open by a case of water bottles. I walked in and saw various items around the room. I noticed one of the beds was empty as I sat my stuff on it. I glanced around observing some of the stuff my roommate had.

“Hello.” I turned and smiled when I saw a girl standing there in the doorway. She had a cautious look on her face as she seemed to size me up a little.

“Hi. I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) Torres.” I said holding my hand out to her. She shook it still giving me a suspicious look.

“Blake Summers. I guess you’re my roommate.” She responded as I nodded my head.

“Yeah. I guess so.” I said as I took note of some of the things she had in her arms. One of which seemed to be the box set to Charmed. I grinned slightly as I motioned to it.

“You like Charmed?” I asked as she glanced down at it.

“No, I own the box set for fun.” I grinned a little as she smiled.

“I love Charmed.” I said as her smile widened.

“Favorite Character?”

“Prue obviously…you?”

“Piper or Paige…or wait no Phoebe…actually I love them all to be honest.” She said as I grinned.

“Me too.” She gave a small smile before moving to set her things down.

“That was the last of my stuff. Do you need help?”

“That would be great actually.” I said as we both moved to exit the room when the door on the other side of the hall flew open.

“I’m just saying I don’t-” the girl stopped talking to who I assume to be her mother as soon as she looked at me. Blake looked between me and her as she stood staring for a moment.

“You’re (Y/N) Torres.” She said after a moment as I opened and closed my mouth before nodding my head.

“I am and you are…?”

“I’m Alex. Alex Morgan.” I nodded my head with a smile as she smiled at me. “I play for Berkeley’s soccer team.”

“Oh!” My smile widened as I stared at her. “That’s so cool! So, do I”

“I know. I would hope the national team prospect would be playing for her schools’ team.” I blushed as I nodded my head. We stood staring at each other for a moment before Blake coughed next to me.

“I’m Blake.” We both turned towards her as I smiled. “I didn’t want to interrupt your guys flirting but it was getting awkward.” I threw my arm around Blake pulling her towards the elevator to go get the rest of my stuff.

“I have a feeling we are going to be great friends.”

Once all my stuff was brought up, I collapsed onto my bed. I didn’t even want to think about having to get all my stuff unpacked and put away.

“Nope.” I turned to see Blake shaking her head at me. “You’re not resting. All it takes is a second and the next thing you know this stuff is still sitting here in a few months.”

“You should know…I’m lazy by nature.” I said as she shook her head.

“So am I…but we are creating better habits.”

“Are you one of those up at 6 am people?” I asked as she grimaced

“Bold of you to assume I sleep…” I grinned at her as I stood to start unpacking things. It was about two hours and many small arguments later that we had both finished putting things away into acceptable spots.

“Can I relax now?” I asked as she nodded her head.

I walked over laying down on my bed as I picked up my phone to see texts from my mom and Christen. I felt my heart melt a little at Christens text.

I’m sad I missed you, but I hope the day went well and you got there safely. Call me later? Love you.

I tried to suppress my grin as I tried to think of what to say. I decided to answer my mom first and let her know I had arrived safely.

“Hey, want to go to dinner?” I turned towards Blake and nodded my head. I stood and grabbed my wallet and keys before we left the room.

“Hey mind if I ask Alex to join us?” I asked Blake as she shook her head.

I knocked on her door and smiled when she opened it. She gave me a bright smile as I stared at her for a moment.

“We are going to get dinner. Want to join?” she nodded her head before turning to grab something.

“Is it cool if my roommate joins?” she asked as I looked to Blake who shrugged.

“Katie! Want to go to dinner?”

“Heck yeah I do!”

I watched as a girl with dark hair came out of their bathroom with a giant smile. I smiled at her as she grabbed her wallet before walking with Alex and I down the hall. It only took us 30 minutes of sitting in my car for us to decide on a place to go.

Once we arrived, we got a booth to sit in as we all sat there in silence before I decided to break the silence.

“So, what are everyone’s majors?” They all gave me looks as Alex was the first to speak.

“Political Economy.”

“That sounds ...difficult.” I remarked as she laughed.

“God, I hope not…”

“I am a Marketing major.” Katie said with a grin as I nodded my head. “I was going to do Biochem but then I thought nah I don’t think it's for me.”

“I’m Sports Business.” I said with a smile as Blake snorted next to me.

“Did you just spin the wheel on that one?” she asked as I grinned and nodded my head.

“I plan on going pro so I figured it could be beneficial in the future.”

“That’s actually really smart. So, does that mean you’re the smart one of this friend group?” Katie asked as I shook my head.

“Who said we were friends?” Blake asked all of a sudden as Katie’s jaw dropped. I burst out laughing as Alex grinned.

“Okay…rude.”

“What’s your major?” Alex asked Blake as I took a sip out of my drink

“Mechanical Engineering.” I stopped immediately as we all stared at her. She looked at us with a smile as we continued to stare at her in shock.

“You’re an engineering major? How did you end up in the dorms for business students?”

“I was originally a marketing major but I felt like I would hate it so I switched to mechanical engineering but they had already placed me so they just said I would stay in the dorm they put me in.”

“Dope.” I said as she smiled at me.

“So, what does being a famous soccer player entail?” Katie asked as I stared at her.

“I am not famous.” I said quickly as Katie looked to Alex.

“You said she was famous.” Alex blushed shaking her head.

“I said…she played on the youth team and is most likely to play on the senior team soon.”

“I doubt that. After the way I played in the pan am games, I seriously doubt a call up is coming.”

“Don’t say that.” Alex said as they all protested.

“Okay so what we aren’t going to do is be down on ourselves.” Blake said as I looked at her. “Yeah, I don’t tolerate that shit.”

“Yeah seriously…we are only motivators in this friendship.”

“Again, with the friendship…”

“You know what…” Katie said slamming her hand down on the table and pointing aggressively at Blake. “Just for that…I am forcing my friendship on you.”

“Please don’t…”

“Oh, it’s happening. On you.” She pointed towards me. “On you.” Then to Alex. “And you.”

“Well…barely a day in and I already have a stalker.” Blake said as I chuckled.

“Okay so some cool facts about myself that you all need to know…I am a vegetarian, I don’t like bananas and I am allergic to oranges, I love tennis mainly watching cause like I only run sometimes so playing it is a no, and I have to do laundry every Sunday otherwise I might lose it.” Katie said as we all stared at her with varying degrees of amusement.

“You are fascinating.” Blake said as Katie jokingly flicked her hair over her shoulder.

“Why thank you…oh! I also play a ton of instruments” That seemed to catch Blakes attention as they then started talking about the instruments that they play.

“You will get the call-up you know…” I looked to Alex with a small smile.

“It’s fine if I don’t…not like they are lacking in great defenders.” I said as she shook her head.

“You will. Most of them are getting older and they will need new talent.”

I smiled at her as we continued eating. There seemed to be a very nice and comfortable atmosphere between all of us. It felt like I had known them for a lot longer than just today. Once we paid the bill, I drove us back to campus.

“Can I just say it is so nice that you have a car?” Katie said as we got out of the car.

“Only for now.” I said making sure it was locked. “I have to give it back to my mom this weekend.”

“Damn. Back to walking around.” Blake said as I shook my head.

“First training session tomorrow. Are you ready?” Alex asked as I nodded my head.

“Yeah, I haven’t really had a proper break from training so…” I shrugged my shoulders as she nodded.

“You definitely don’t like to talk about being on the national team…”

“It’s just weird.” She laughed as I looked down upon hearing my phone ring.

I couldn’t hide my smile when I saw Christens name pop up indicating she was calling me. I motioned for Alex to go so I could take the call.

“Hey stranger.” I joked nervously as I heard her laughter come through the other line.

“Hey! Finally, you’re alive. You haven’t responded all day” she said as I frowned.

“I know. I am so sorry. I tried to say goodbye but…”

“I know. I am sorry. I didn’t realize what time you were leaving, otherwise I would have tried a little harder to be there.”

“It’s fine.” I said I stood there silently for a moment. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” She said with a heavy sigh.

“You know I think this is the longest we have ever gone without seeing each other…”

“It’s weird.” She admitted as I nodded to her statement.

“Yeah, I’ll be coming down this weekend. I need to give my mom back her car. Maybe we could hangout before I go back?”

“Yeah definitely…” she said as I smiled.

We didn’t stay on the phone much longer due to how late it was. I walked into my room as Blake looked up from her spot.

“Just on the phone with a friend.” I said as she raised a brow at me.

“You realize you’re like glowing right?”

“Am I?” I asked as she nodded her head. “Oh, I didn’t realize.”

“Must be a special friend.” She said going back to strumming her guitar. “That’s none of my business though.”

The next couple of days were spent mostly with those three as we started doing training sessions with the team. To say I was singled out just a bit, well I don’t really know what else I was expecting.

“This place is nice.” Blake said as we were all sitting in one of the coffee shops, Caffe Strada, relaxing.

“They are also hiring.” I said standing up and asking the barista for an application.

“Classes start Monday and I totally forgot to ask what your guys schedules are.” Katie said as I sat back down at the table and looked over the application.

“All my classes are on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.” I said as they looked at me expectantly.

“On Mondays, I have Accounting with Kemp at 7:30 am to 8:20, then Microeconomics with Chang from 9 to 10:15, Brief Calculus from 10:45 to 11:35 with Hunter, Gender and Communication from 3:05 to 4:20 with Bowman, and then Business Forum on Friday Mornings every other week from 8:35 to 9:25 with Hayes.”

“Okay so you and I have like most of our classes together…” Katie said as Alex nodded along with her.

“Why the hell would you take a 7:30 am class?” Blake asked as I shrugged my shoulders.

“I really didn’t want Tuesday and Thursday classes…” I said as I looked down at the application on the table.

“Are you going to apply?” Alex asked me with a curious gaze.

“Yeah, I mean this place is on campus, near the dorms and it’s not too bad of money.” I said as they all stared at me.

“I guess I just figured that playing for the national team would get you some good money.” Katie shrugged as I sighed.

“Technically, I don’t play for the national team and even if I did…I wouldn’t be allowed to accept money from them.”

“Why not?”

“It would jeopardize my standing as a student athlete. It could make me ineligible to play.” I responded with a frown as they all nodded.

I started filling out the application before turning it back into the barista who was working. She gave me a smile as I joined my friends again.

“So, what are we doing tomorrow night?”

“I am leaving super early.” I responded earning a pout and groans from everyone. “It’s like a six-hour drive to LA.”

“You suck.” Alex said as I shrugged my shoulders.

The rest of the day was spent doing nothing basically as I made sure I had everything for the weekend. Obviously, I was excited to see my family, but I was practically shaking with excitement at the thought of seeing Christen. I hadn't seen her since the day after we graduated, and I wanted nothing more than to be with her again.

The next morning, I left bright and early as I made my way back home. It was what felt like a never-ending six-hour drive later that I finally made it back home to my house. I parked the car getting out to head into my home. I smiled upon hearing voices coming from the kitchen.

“I’m back” I said with a grin as my mom crossed the kitchen pulling me in for a hug.

“My baby” she held me tight as I smiled practically clinging to her. “Oh, I missed you.”

“Hi mom” I responded softly. I pulled away and grinned at her.

“You act like she’s been gone for years.” My aunt said with an amused look. I shook my head at her turning and hugging her. “Hey kiddo”

“Hi”

I spent a bit of time hanging out with my family before departing and making my way towards the Press household. I grinned when her home came into view. I got out of the car and went to make my way towards the front door when it was swung open abruptly. I stopped with a grin when Christen came running out of the house, jumping straight into my arms.

“I missed you so much.” She said as I held her tightly. I felt relief flood my system at having her this close to me.

“I missed you too.” She pulled back a little with the smile I missed the most. She turned and tugged my hand pulling me towards her home.

“You have to tell me everything”

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you like your roommate?” I thought about it for a moment before nodding my head.

“Yeah, her name is Blake and she’s pretty great. It’s so weird because it feels like we have known each other for so long, but really it’s only been a few days.”

“Made any other friends?”

“Yeah, Alex and Katie. They live across from us and we have hung out a lot.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah, how about you? I missed you this whole time I’ve been away.” I admitted as she shot me a soft smile.

“My summer was super boring. We didn’t do anything really at all. I practiced a lot and went up to take another tour of Stanford.”

“Are you excited to move in? That’s soon.” I commented as she nodded her head.

“Yeah, I am a little anxious. I just want it to happen already. How is training? Has that started for you?”

“Yeah, it has. It’s been good. We had today and this weekend off which allowed me to come and visit. Plus, I had to bring my moms car back.”

“How are you getting home?”

“Oh, she’s going to drive me back, but she needs it for work so…plus, the campus isn’t too big.”

“That’s great. I am so sad that we aren’t going to be seeing each other really much at all.”

“I know. Me too. We will still talk though.” I insisted earning a bright smile from her. “And…Stanford and Berkeley will play each other, and I will definitely comfort you when we win.”

“Oh whatever…you’re going to be the one crying when we take you down.” She joked earning a laugh from me.

We spent the next few hours together just talking and hanging out. I knew at the end of the night I would need to depart from her. I was planning on going back to school on Sunday but sitting there with Christen made me not want to go back at all. I jumped slightly when my phone started ringing as Christen motioned for me to answer it.

“Hello.”

“Hi, is this (Y/N) Torres?”

“Yes, may I ask who this is?” I responded curiously on who would have got my number.

“This is Tatiana Villacrés. I work at Caffe Strada.”

“Oh Hi! Yes! How are you?”

“I am good and yourself?”

“I am great.”

“Awesome! So, I was just calling to congratulate you on getting hired here. I definitely look forward to working with you. If you could come in say Sunday morning so we can put your schedule together?”

“Yeah that sounds great! Thank you so much.” I practically shook with excitement as I thought about how great it was that I got a job. We got off the phone a moment later as I tackled Christen into a hug.

“Great news I am guessing.”

“Fantastic news!”

“Care to share?”

“I got a job.”

“Oh my god! That is fantastic. Where?” she grinned as we sat back down.

“This coffee shop on campus.”

“You’re going to be a barista?” she gave me an amused look as I shook my head.

“It won’t be that bad. It does mean I will need to go back earlier though.”

This caused her entire demeanor to change as she gave me a sad pout. I felt a pit in my stomach as the thought set in. I knew I would need to leave earlier and that meant leaving Christen earlier and leaving my family earlier.

This seemed to kill the excitement of being back together for the night as I went home with the promise, I would see her tomorrow. Returning home didn’t feel much better because it meant that I would need to tell my mom that I needed to go back tomorrow.

“Hey honey, how was Christen?” she asked with a knowing smile as I smiled back at her. I sat at the counter with a small sigh.

“She’s good. I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I got a job on campus at this coffee shop. It’s not too far from my dorm and it pays pretty well.”

“Honey, that’s fantastic.” She walked around the counter to give me a hug.

“Yeah, I just…I have to be back on Sunday so I can go in and make a schedule and stuff…”

“So, that means you will have to leave tomorrow then…” I nodded my head at her with a small frown. “Well, then I will drive you back tomorrow…we can have lunch with Gina and your grandmother and then I will take you back.”

“I’m sorry mom.”

“Don’t be. We both knew things would be difficult since you are in college now. It’s time for you to live your life and not be so anchored to this place.”

“I just…I was really looking forward to spending time with you and everyone else tomorrow.” I mumbled playing with my fingers.

“I know sweetheart.” She gave me a soft smile as I looked up at her. “It’s good to have responsibilities though. You’re not a lazy person. Contributing is important for you in any capacity.”

“I know I just…I was really looking forward to this weekend.”

“How about this? Why don’t you call Christen and see what she is doing tomorrow…maybe she can sleep over tonight and she can go with us to take you back.”

“Really?” I asked my smile growing by the second.

“Yes.” I grinned standing up to go grab my phone. I quickly dialed Christen’s number and waited for the older girl to pick up.

“Hello”

“Hey its me…so I had a question for you.”

“What’s up?” she asked as a wave of nerves washed over me.

“So, you know how I said that I have to leave tomorrow instead of Sunday?”

“Yes.” I swear I could pick out just a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“So, my mom said that if you are interested you could sleep over and then go with us to take me back to Berkeley.”

“Oh my god…seriously?” I could hear the surprise in her voice which only caused my smile to widen

“Yes.”

“I’m on my way.” She said as I heard her move around the room. “I’ll be there soon.”

I chuckled as the call ended and within about 15 minutes Christen Press was walking through my door. She had an overnight bag in hand as she made her way into my room. I grinned at her as she dropped her bag and fell into my bed next to me.

“I missed this bed.” She commented as I chuckled turning so I could face her. I stared at her as she turned her head to face me. “I missed you and I am really sad you are leaving tomorrow.”

“I am too. I wanted more time with my family and to get to hangout with you.” I mumbled rolling on my back and staring at the ceiling.

“Well, we have tonight and tomorrow.”

I nodded my head at her statement before we started talking about random things. We started watching tv as she laid next to me. Her head found my shoulder as we soon fell asleep. Most of the next day was spent with my mom and Christen before we went to lunch with my aunt and grandma.

“I thought we were doing dinner.” Gina asked as we all sat at the table together.

“We were but I have to take (Y/N) back earlier than planned.” My mom said giving me a smile.

“Why?”

“I got a job and they need me to come in tomorrow to get my schedule and everything planned.” I said as Christen slapped my hand away from one of the napkins that had silverware in it.

“That one is mine.” She said as I rolled my eyes. I reached for a different unrolling it and placing the napkin on my lap.

“Anyway, I need to go back tonight instead so I have time to get ready and be there on time.”

“Well, when will you be back next then?” My grandma asked as I thought about it.

“I have no idea.”

“Well, that’s not great.”

“I know.” I looked down feeling sadness begin to wash over me again. My mom reached over and caressed my cheek for a moment giving me a smile.

“I am so proud of you though.” I smiled as we moved to a different subject.

The rest of lunch was spent talking about various things like what my classes were going to be. The conversation shifted to Christen at one point who spoke about Stanford and what classes she would be taking. She expressed how excited she would be going there. There was banter about which team was going to be better.

“I mean…I guess we will find out…” I mumbled as Christen jokingly shoved my arm.

Lunch didn’t last much longer before I was departing with my mom and Christen. I hugged my Aunt and Grandma before starting the drive back to Berkeley. I sat in the backseat with Christen as we continued talking the entire way back. The closer we got to campus the more I felt my heart begin to drop. I didn’t want to be separated again, but I needed to get back to my life here.

“Well, this is it…” my mom said as I smiled. I got out of the car and grabbed my bag as they both got out to give me a hug. I can admit I held onto Christen for a moment longer than I should have. I tried to drag out the goodbyes as long as I could before they had to leave.

The walk back to my room felt heavy because all I could think about was Christen. I need to get over her. I can’t keep living my life like this. We aren’t going to see each other for a while and maybe this is my chance to find someone who I can actually be with.

“What are you doing here?” I focused in on Alex who shot me a smile.

“I am back early. I got the job at Caffe Strada.” I said as she grinned. She came closer giving me a hug as she walked with me towards our rooms.

“That’s great! You better give me that friend discount.” She joked as I shook my head.

“Who said anything about friends?” I turned to open my door as she stood there in shock.

“Asshole.” I heard behind me as I walked into my room. I turned to smile at her as I walked over and sat my bag on my bed.

“What are you doing here?” Blake asked as I stared at her.

“I got the job at Caffe Strada and I needed to be back early so I can go in tomorrow.”

“Oh nice” she commented as I nodded my head.

The rest of the day was spent hanging out with them as I waited for the text from my mom and Christen telling me they had got back safely. I found that I had actually really enjoyed Blake’s presence. She was very blunt and sarcastic, but in an endearing way. Alex was fun to be around because I could relate to her with the soccer thing and she seemed to just get it. Katie was just fucking funny, so having her around was great.

The next day I woke up and went to get breakfast with the girls before returning to my room and getting ready for my day. They walked with me to Caffe Strada which wasn’t that far from the dorm. I walked in as they went to find a spot to sit down. I walked over towards the counter to see a girl with tan skin and dark hair.

“Tatiana?” I asked reading the name on her nametag. She smiled at me as I held my hand out.

“(Y/N)” I said as she grinned at me.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you. You can call me Tati. I am the supervisor here. If you could just give me a few minutes, I can meet with you to get everything sorted.”

“Yeah, sounds great!” I said as she smiled at me. I walked back over to sit with my friends as I waited for her to be ready to talk.

“Hey, ready?” Tati asked coming over towards us.

“Yep!” I said as I stood walking over to a free table with her.

“Okay so to be honest, I hired you because I need someone to fill the position and I like your application the best.” I grinned at that as she pulled a piece of paper out of her folder. “So, this is the timetable or atleast the template for it. We have about 5 people who work here in a rotation and I was given authorization to hire someone for my shift because I really need someone. So, basically you will work whenever I work if you can.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know your schedule for the semester?”

“I do.” I shared my schedule with her earning a smile from her.

“Oh, you’re a business major?” she asked as I nodded my head. “What major?”

“Sport Business.”

“Sweet. I am a Marketing major” she said as she turned the paper towards me. “This is the schedule currently and if you see all the times, I am working…those are the times I am hoping you can work. Obviously, when you have class, I don’t expect you to be here working.”

“Yeah, I mean if I could be two places at once my life would probably be a little easier.” I joked as she laughed.

“I feel that on a personal level.”

“Can you start now? I want to get you trained as soon as possible.”

I nodded my head as she grinned standing up. I walked behind the counter with her as she took me into the back to show me everything. She handed me an apron and handed me a little nametag that had my name on it. I spent the next few hours being trained on how to make everything. She told me I would be given two weeks to learn everything and be trained.

By the end of the night, I had started to get the hang of it just a little. She told me she was impressed with how quick I was picking everything up. I didn’t expect my friends to wait, but Blake and Alex were still there when I was getting ready to leave.

“Katie had some friends she wanted to meet up with.”

“Katie has friends?” I asked earning grins from both of them.

“How do you think you did?” Alex asked as we exited the shop and started the walk back to the dorms.

“I think it was alright. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. I worked somewhere similar back home so…”

“Yeah, you seemed to have the hang of it.” Blake said as I grinned at her.

“Did you just compliment me?” I said putting my hand on her shoulder.

“No.”

“You did. Oh my god.” I said giving her a hug as she shook her head.

“God no…let go of me.” She complained which only caused me to tighten my grip on her. “You’re literally killing me.”

“Accept my Love.”

“No.”

“You guys are so cute.” Alex joked as I grinned at her.

“Aren’t we just the cutest couple around?” I teased turning to look at Blake who gave me an annoyed look.

“I don’t know how anyone else could compare” Alex laughed as Blake glared at us both.

“Me date You? Now that’s a joke…”

“How rude…I am so amazing.” I said as she shook her head.

“No offence. You’re not exactly my type.” She said as I smiled.

“And what exactly is your type?” I asked curiously as she shrugged.

“Blondes?”

“I’m more of a brunette person myself.” I commented as she nodded her head.

“Woman in general are nice.” She said before stopping and staring at me. She had a nervous look on her face as I stared at her. Alex stopped looking between us as I stared back at her.

“That is the most relatable thing I have ever heard.” I nodded my head throwing my arm around her shoulders as she seemed to let out a breath of relief.

“Isn’t it?”

“What’s your kind of type Ms. Morgan?” I turned towards the forward who shrugged her shoulders.

“Dark hair, dark eyes kind of deal for me…” she said as I pulled her closer throwing my arm around her. I walked with my arms around both of them as we made our way closer to the dorms.

“Men or Women?”

“Both?”

“Nice. I would never be caught with a man, but I am happy for you.” I said as they both laughed at my statement. Once we made it back to the dorms, we said goodnight to Alex before going to our room.

“So, I’m guessing your gay and not bi?” I turned towards Blake who gave me a curious expression.

“Yeah, I am fully 100% gay. You?”

“Pansexual actually…” She commented as I grinned at her.

“The odds of us being roommates…”

“We got lucky.”

“We did indeed. Remember what I said…we are going to be great friends.” She smiled as we quickly got ready for bed. I felt a little better knowing that there were more things for Blake and I to bond over. For the first time, I felt like maybe the next couple of months weren’t going to be that bad.

To Be Continued…

#Alex Morgan #alex morgan imagine #alex morgan imagines #Christen Press #christen press imagine #christen press imagines #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #kelley o'hara #uswnt #kelley o'hara imagines #kelley o'hara imagine

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sunshinepeter · 4 years

Text

walking down the aisle

When Peter was young, he never thought about getting married.

Sure, it was there, in his mind. Relatives always said “oh, you are going to marry a nice girl someday!” or “you are going to make some girl the luckiest girl in the world!”, but Peter always giggled and hid behind legs to get away from the mushy love talk. Because if there was one thing he knew as an eight year old boy, it was that love was disgusting.

The first time he really thought about his wedding was when he was fourteen. It was a week or two after Ben’s funeral, and for the most part he was doing alright. May had gone back to work for the first time that day, but Peter asked to stay home. He was still feeling really strange from the whole spider bite thing, even almost two months after it happened, and still wasn’t up to hear Ned’s comforting, soft words or see Flash’s awkward glances.

So, he laid on the couch at home, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the only thing that was ever on his mind—his uncle. It was still relatively fresh, and with the added weight of thinking, knowing, that the death of his uncle was mostly his fault, he couldn’t really go any amount of time not thinking of him.

But, in the midst of wallowing in his sadness, thinking of how he had now lost two father figures in his life, wondering how things would be with just him and May, and brooding about all of the things his uncle would miss in his life, he had the back-of-the-mind thought: who would walk him down the aisle?

Of course, this was immediately pushed aside, because of course May would, and it didn’t even really matter. No one really cares who walks the man down the aisle anyway. That was, if he ever even got married.

He didn’t think about it again, mind focusing on other issues the following months, like fully coming to terms with his powers, making his own suit, and finding Tony Stark sitting in his bedroom about four months after that sad, lonely day. Marriage, girls, love… it was all pushed to the back burner.

Until Liz, and his whole half-creepy, schoolgirl crush he developed. At least once he thought about a wedding with Liz, but that wasn’t anything serious, just a silly daydream in class. He stopped daydreaming about her when her dad tried to kill him. Back to square one.

He was eighteen, a first year student at MIT, and part of the half of the “revived population” when the thought came soaring back into his mind. He had been dating MJ for some time by then, but only seriously the few months prior, when for the first time, Peter told her that he loved her, somewhat awkwardly, as he just blurted it out with no lead up.

And she said it back.

Tony remembered the first real conversation he had with Peter, once everything was said and done. He didn’t remember a lot about the actual battle itself, or his reunion with the kid. It was a blur of smelling the kid’s shampoo, which was the same smell from when Peter died in his arms years before, and tight arms gripping the kids frame as if afraid he would turn to dust again. Then it was gone, and he was back in battle.

Thanos, the stones. His arm searing in pain. Quill running at him, screaming to grab his hand. Pepper’s hand grabbing his. Steve’s, too. More and more pain, but also the pain diminishing. A snap of his fingers, and everything blacking out.

He woke up a week later in a hospital, and after Pepper and Morgan crying into him, after Steve’s hesitant entrance and tight handshake-turned-hug, and after Bruce assured him he would be okay (thought his arm would probably not be), Peter stepped into the room, broken suit replaced by jeans and a t-shirt, face scrubbed of blood and mud from the fights, and tears in his eyes as he came in and saw Tony’s weak form on the bed.

They hugged again, Tony had a miniscule panic attack covered by a coughing fit when he smelled the damn shampoo again, and Tony pulled Peter onto the small hospital bed with his one good arm. Everyone else definitely felt the effects of the stones, too, when they all shared the power, but it had been a week, and Peter had super healing.

“Congratulations,” Peter said softly after a few moments of silence. When Tony didn’t say anything, not sure what he was being congratulated on, Peter continued. “I met Morgan a few days ago. She’s really sweet.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile. He had dreamt many times over the past few years of Peter and Morgan meeting, but it never seemed realistic. Morgan knew Peter, though. She had seen pictures, both the one in the kitchen and the ones in a small book kept on a bookshelf in Pepper’s home office. It wasn’t completely full, but had different pictures Tony had managed to get of Peter. The intern picture, one of Peter on his birthday, another of him and Ned, and a few others. May sent them over, after everything that happened, knowing Tony needed them.

“Yeah,” Tony said softly. His body really hurt a lot, so he couldn’t form full sentences, really, but Peter knew what he was saying. That ‘yeah’ held a lot of punch.

“She knew who I was.” Peter was a smart kid, of course he understood. It still warmed Tony’s heart, made all the pain he was currently facing worth it to know Peter was there, Morgan was there, and they were together.

“M’ssed you, P’ter,” Tony mumbled, and Peter pressed closer to his side.

Quiet surrounded them, but Tony was surprisingly alright with it.

Years passed. The world moved on. The war became a distant memory for most, and only a nuisance of a nightmare for Peter. Seven years after he sat in that hospital room with Tony, after he had graduated high school and was a year away from gaining his masters in biochemical engineering at MIT, May passed away.

He had seen it coming, she had been diagnosed with cancer the year before, and she hadn’t been doing too well. It still hurt.

He took some time off of school, and Tony and Pepper let him stay with them while he recovered. He found himself sitting on their porch, staring at the lake, thinking about everyone he had lost, almost lost. He would sit there for hours each day, and everyday, at six, Morgan would come out to get him for dinner. He would scoop her up into his arms, squeeze her tightly, and tell her he loved her. She always said it back, kissing his forehead like she had seen her dad doing so many times, and would run back inside when Peter let go, saying he wasn’t that hungry. An hour later, Tony would come out with a plate of the food and hold Peter as he cried into his chest about how he loses everyone. Tony would rub his back, tell him it was okay, tell him everything would be okay.

MJ came after a week and a half of him camping out at Tony’s house. When she arrived, she silently hugged Morgan, who knew and loved MJ, smiled sadly to Tony and Pepper, and went out to console her boyfriend.

A month and a half later, Peter was in bed with MJ at their apartment. She was asleep, after a long day of work, and Peter was trying to fall asleep, drawing patterns in her arm and listening to her breathe, when he sat straight up in bed, not worried about waking her up. He dislodged himself from MJ’s sleeping cuddle, still not waking her (she was a heavy sleeper), and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, hurrying to the kitchen after shutting the bedroom door behind him.

After two rings, Tony picked up, as it was only midnight and though he was getting old, he was still Tony Stark.

“Pete? Is everything alright?” Tony’s soft voice through the receiver calmed him, and though his mind seemed jumbled with thoughts and yells and ideas, only one thing truly stuck out in that moment.

“I’m gonna ask MJ to marry me.”

It took him two weeks to finally go ring shopping with Tony (they both had busy schedules, and Tony refused to let Peter pick one by himself, claiming Peter would probably pick something awful, but Peter saw the underlying truth behind that and didn’t say anything), and another month to actually pop the question. Tony got the call on a random Wednesday night, as he sat with Morgan helping her with her middle school math homework.

“Hey, kid, what’s up?”

“She said yes,” was all Peter said and Tony jerked up, scaring Morgan at the sudden movement.

“You said you weren’t asking until Friday!” Tony said, and Morgan’s face lit up. Of course she knew about Peter’s plans to ask MJ. Of course. Morgan somehow knew everything. She got that from her mom.

“Yeah… We were just making dinner, and it slipped out. She laughed at me when I explained how I was not supposta ask yet, and said yes.” Peter sounded so happy, so excited, and Tony had tears in his eyes. Morgan grabbed his hand, and squeezed, and he pulled her in for an awkward hug while trying to hold the phone to his ear.

“Congratulations, Pete,” Tony said, and Morgan yelled the same. Peter laughed and thanked them, before saying Ned was there to celebrate. Tony made him promise to come over soon so they could celebrate, which Peter agreed steadily to.

Once he hung up, Morgan ran off to tell Pepper. Tony sat at the table, and began to weep. There was a time, a long time, that he thought he would never get this. He thought Peter would never have a wedding, never graduate high school, get his masters degree, get to go to work for Stark Industries.

It stung that no one else was there to celebrate with Tony. Pepper and Morgan came down and hugged him tightly as he silently cried, but he really wished May was there, or Peter’s Uncle Ben whom Tony never even got to meet.

Tony knew that he had to be there for Peter, no matter what. Peter didn’t get to see Tony’s wedding, and Tony was definitely not going to miss Peter’s.

“Tony, can I talk to you outside for a second?”

MJ and Peter came over the following Saturday, bringing a bottle of mid-priced wine and their engagement rings. They had all been gushing about it all night, but now that everyone had a bit of alcohol in them and were talking freely, Peter pulled Tony outside, just as MJ, Pepper, and Morgan talked about wedding venues (Morgan suggested Coney Island, to which Peter grimaced and shot down).

“Everything alright?” Tony asked as the screen door shut behind him. It was inching closer to night, the sky pink and casting a glow on everything around them. Mosquitoes were emerging, buzzing loud and happy, and the trees rattled with the evening breeze.

“You always ask that,” Peter chuckled softly, leaning against the railing. Tony followed suit, looking across the lake.

“I want to make sure,” was all Tony said, and Peter pressed their shoulders together.

“Everything’s fine. Actually, no, it’s amazing. I’m getting married,” Peter said, and Tony chuckled, swinging his arm around the boy and holding him close. Tony could barely look past the fifteen year old boy he had met how many years before that.

“You’re growing up. It feels like last week I showed up in your small apartment after you returned from dumpster diving,” Tony said, and Peter jabbed him with his elbow softly, making Tony chuckle.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Tony turned to the kid, and saw he looked decently nervous. His eyes were downcast, and he had his hands clasped together.

When Tony didn’t say anything, he began. “I, uh, have given this a lotta thought my whole life. I mean, not as much as some people, but a normal amount. When Ben died, I, uh… well, I wondered who was going to walk me down the aisle. I know it’s not, like, a big deal for guys, as it is usually for girls, but I worried about it. Until I was fourteen, I guess I just assumed Ben would, maybe Ben and May. But…”

Tony squeezed him closer, feeling his emotions clearly.

Peter cleared his throat a little, shoulders loosening, back straightening as he forced himself to face Tony, look of determination and courage on his face. “I wanted to ask you… Will you walk me down the aisle?”

It was a beautiful spring day, and it reminded Tony a lot of Peter in general. They were getting married in a small nature reserve upstate, with flowers and trees surrounding the whole place. There was this old manor, where they were getting ready and would hold the reception after, which was gorgeous.

Tony stood behind Peter as he looked at his suit in the mirror.

“My hair… is it messed up? Does it look weird?” Peter said, trying to bring his hand up to adjust it, but Tony held it down with a small exhale equivalent to a laugh.

“It’s always messed up,” Tony said, and Peter reached back to swat him playfully.

“Does it look okay, though?”

“It looks fine,” Tony said, and Peter grimaced.

“Just fine?” He said, and tried to reach up again. Tony pulled the boy closer, wrapping his arm around him in a hug.

“Perfect.”

Tony turned him around then, and straightened his collar with a small smile. Peter looked down self consciously, but Tony pushed his chin back up. Peter bit his lip.

“I’m so happy for you,” Tony whispered, and Peter smiled a bit, blushing a little. “Seriously. I’m so, so happy.”

“Same,” Peter whispered, and leaned forward, pressing his forehead into Tony’s shoulder. Even though he was taller than Tony now, it was still comforting for them both. Tony caught a whiff of his hair—flowery and somewhat like vanilla. “Thank you. For… everything.”

“What’s everything?” Tony asked, smiling down at the boy. Peter pulled away, taking a step back and turning towards the mirror again, obviously embarrassed.

“I dunno. Being here. Being everywhere. I mean, for a lotta my life, the biggest part of my life, you’ve been there for me.”

Tony smiled, watching the kid shift uncomfortably as he looked at himself in the mirror, sparing glances to Tony behind him every few seconds.

“You gave me Spider-Man. Like, I know the powers were me, but you gave me a suit, you gave me resources, and you backed me up when I needed you. You’ve just… even when I was an annoying little fifteen year old, you never really gave up on me. And I guess I’ve never properly thanked you for everything you’ve given me.”

“You’ve thanked me loads of time for your suits. You do it every time you are in one,” Tony chuckled, and Peter shook his head minutely.

“No, not that. I mean, yeah, thanks, seriously, but…” Tony chuckled a little again, and Peter took a deep inhale. “You became a sorta pseudo-father figure to me, and… after Uncle Ben, I really needed that.”

Tony couldn’t respond, too choked by immediately forming tears as he wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders again.

“Well, thank you for being the nerdiest, best pseudo-son I could ask for, then,” Tony said softly, and Peter’s smile was so genuine it almost hurt Tony to look at. He pulled away a second later with a sniff to hold back tears. He knew he would cry at the service, what was the point in crying now? That wouldn’t help anyone, and bruise Tony’s self esteem more than crying at the actual wedding was already going to be. “Now come on, we gotta go. I’m walking someone down the aisle.”

masterlist

#peter parker #tony stark #spiderman #iron man #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #post snap #not endgame compliant #petermj #morgan stark

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ampharos-writes · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home

Statement #0160604 Author’s Name: Andrea Roberson Nature of Incident: The death of her childhood friend Apollo Byrne Date and Location: June 21, 2010, Casper, Wyoming, USA Date of Statement: September 19th, 2014

Statement

First of, no, of COURSE that wasn’t his real name. We were from… well, anywhere in Wyoming is “small town” Wyoming, but you get the picture. No, his real name was Ezekiel Jones. Frankly, I don’t think he even really needed to change it in the first place - Zeke Jones is pretty punchy, ZJ are cool initials for an autograph, stuff like that - but I’m pretty sure he hated being reminded of where he came from. Of who he was.

See, Zeke… Apollo, rather, was Mormon by birth. His parents had migrated up from Utah when their fortunes went down and their rent went up, and they’d been living just outside of Casper for something like 30 or 40 years when Apollo came around. The Joneses were simple folk. They had a small farm, just enough to make a living off of, and they kept to themselves. Quiet family. Not like Apollo. He was always loud, in-your-face, always fired up about something-or-other, always looking to live life as largely as he could possibly muster.

I’m not even sure how we became friends, really. We didn’t have that much in common. But there was something so… warm about him, so congenial, so inviting. He was easy to talk to. He was fun. And believe me, fun was hard to come by in Casper, but Apollo found a way. We found a way. For basically the entirety of our school days, we were best friends… and occasionally more than that, though in the end we mutually decided that wasn’t gonna work out.

I still remember the day he left. It was the summer after our senior year of college. I was planning on heading down to Boulder to study Biochem, and Apollo was… well, I don’t think he was quite sure what he wanted to do with his life. He had big dreams, that was for sure, but they were always just that, and I think I always kind of suspected that he would eventually settle down into that farm life he had always hated so much. I didn’t WANT him to, but I thought he would.

He didn’t, though. When he came to our usual meetup spot that day, it was hot enough that I was sweating through my t-shirt, but it was the only time I had seen Apollo look… cold. He didn’t say a word to me, just leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette, gaze fixed hard on something in the distance, something only he could see. I didn’t say anything either. We just sat there, frozen in time and space.

Eventually, he did speak, in a hoarse whisper almost too soft for me to hear. “I’m leaving,” he said. “California.”

We both knew he didn’t have the money to go to California. We both knew it didn’t matter. He’d find a way.

He threw his cigarette on the ground, stomped it out, then suddenly pulled me in hard for a hug. I couldn’t say how long it lasted. All I remember was the stillness of the moment, the warmth of the tears running down his cheeks. It was an instant, and it was an eternity.

And then he left. He walked away, and that was the last that I - or anyone - ever saw of Ezekiel Jones.

It certainly wasn’t the end of Apollo Byrne, of course. Everyone knows HIS story by now - one day he’s nobody, the next he’s got his big break in that one indie flick, and suddenly he’s Hollywood’s new heartthrob. A world renowned partier, philanthropist, and flirt - though he always stopped short of actually engaging in romantic contact with another person, so much so that he never even so much as kissed another actress on screen. I always thought that was somewhat odd. So yeah, the story of Apollo Byrne the movie star’s been done to death, but here’s the thing: I’m the only one who knows how it ends. How it [i]really[/i] ends.

ET did an interview with him, right before he… yknow. It was after they wrapped filming on his last flick, some action movie or other. They asked him what he was gonna do between then and the premiere, and he said that he had some things to sort out. That he was going home. I’m not much of an ET watcher, but I happened to have it on in the background the night that it aired. I was living in Denver at the time, and my parents were still in Casper, so it wasn’t that big a hassle to take some time off work and stay with them for a week or two. I told them I wanted to see them, of course, but also that I wanted to catch up with old friends. I didn’t mention Apollo by name. I’m still not sure why.

It was on the morning of my second day in Casper that I realized I didn’t actually know how I was gonna track Apollo down. He had to deal with paparazzi all the time, of course, but he had always been coy about which small town he was really from, so it was unlikely they’d track him this far, which meant I was on my own. Would he go to his parents? Something about the thought made me uneasy. He hadn’t complained about them [i]that[/i] much when we were kids, but he always seemed… disdainful, I think, of them and their lifestyle. Still, it wasn’t like I had any other leads, and I figured maybe they had at least kept in touch to SOME degree.

The fire had already started by the time I got there.

There was a stiff prairie breeze pushing the smoke steadily out into the open country, so it wasn’t a surprise that I was the first one on the scene, but the fact that there was a scene at all sent me into immediate shock. I had only been over here two or three times before, but it was so strongly associated with someone I had once cared so deeply about that to see it going up in flames was like a red-hot poker straight to my gut. I didn’t even think to call 911. I might have dropped my phone, I’m not even sure. All I know is that all of a sudden my legs were moving of their own volition, carrying me towards the roiling inferno, desperate to discover and rescue whoever might be inside.

The heat hit me before I was even inside, like opening an oven to check the readiness of the contents, but growing steadily more persistent, more intolerable, with each step I took towards the house. The acrid stench of smoke filled my nostrils as I slipped through the warped entryway, and I quickly wrapped my shirt around my face. Time was not on my side, and I quickly maneuvered past embers and debris, calling out when I dared, searching for anyone who might be trapped inside.

Finding nobody on the first floor, I sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time to minimize my chances of stepping on the wrong one in the wrong way. As I rose, so did the temperature, growing hotter than I had previously thought possible. I recall thinking vaguely that the fire must have started on the second floor, but I quickly cleared the thought from my brain. It wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was making sure that whoever was in here (and for some reason, I was convinced that SOMEONE must be in here) would be OK. I moved down the hallway one room at a time, peeking through doorways when I was able, kicking down doors when I was not. Each room I checked was empty, and eventually I found myself face to face with the only unexamined room in the house: the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The doorframe was warped, blackened, and cracking under the pressure, with the interior of the cracks glowing the same angry red as the handle of the door. I ignored it, of course, and kicked it down.

Inside the room stood Apollo Byrne.

He stood shirtless, with his back to me. A thin sheen of sweat covered the tanned flesh, though it was somewhat… less than I would expect, given the conditions. His normally perfectly-coiffed hair was damp. He wasn’t doing anything. He was just… standing there. This was odd, of course, but my brain wasn’t quite processing on that level, and instinct took over as I called out to him, part of me relieved to see him and part of me rapidly panicking as I realized that he was in imminent danger.

He stiffened as he heard me call, and for a moment did nothing, but then he began to turn, and as he did so I was struck by the odd realization that I hadn’t seen him shirtless since high school, even amidst all the action films he had been involved in throughout the years. And when he finally turned around I saw why.

Exactly centered on his stomach, burned into the flesh, were the letters “J. F. F.” Jones Family Farms. His father’s personal brand.

That was, of course, the first thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed was his face. He didn’t look flushed, didn’t look like he had been exerting himself, didn’t expect to look anything like you would expect someone who had been trapped in a house fire to look. His mouth was grinning, his teeth that Hollywood white, unblemished by plaque nor ash nor soot. His eyes were crying, the tears turning to steam on his cheeks.

The third thing I noticed were the charred and blackened corpses at his feet. I didn’t recognize them. Even the greatest medical examiner on the planet wouldn’t have been able to recognize them. But I didn’t have to be able to recognize them to know them.

Apollo was still looking at me as my eyes drifted back up to return his gaze. After a moment, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and took a puff. I hadn’t seen him take out a light.

Still grinning, still crying, he looked me dead in the eye and said, “You should go.” And I did.

I didn’t look back as I walked away from the Jones family homestead, but I did listen. I listened to the crackle of flames as they licked at the aging wood of the well-loved home. I listened to the occasional crash of a piece of the second floor falling to the first, or of a door finally losing the battle against its own frame. I listened to the dull roar of the thick black smoke as it trailed off into the clear blue sky. And I listened to the long, terrible, agonizing scream as for the final time in his life, Apollo burned.

Supplementary Comments

Well this is… interesting, to say the least. Receiving statements about celebrities always is, and it happens more frequently than one would think.

Apollo Byrne, born Ezekiel Jones, famously perished in a fire while visiting his family home in Casper on June 21st 2010, alongside both of his parents. He was an only child, and left behind no romantic partner or children of his own. The fire was discovered late in the day by a USPS driver come to deliver the day’s mail, and by then it was far too late to save the house or anyone inside.

Mrs. Andrea Roberson bears no apparent connection to Mr. Byrne save for their shared origin in Casper. At no point in the immediate aftermath of the events described did she attempt to take her story public, and at no point prior did she confide in anyone about her past relationship with Mr. Byrne. We can assume that a possible exception was her wife, one Shirley Chau, but she passed away in late 2012, apparently after a mishap in the kitchen of the restaurant she worked at.

Ara is attempting to secure permission for us to interview Mrs. Roberson, but doing so may be tricky, as the latter is currently serving a 30 year sentence in the Colorado State Penitentiary after multiple felony arson convictions.

-Amy A. Ampharos, Head Archivist February 21st, 2017

#the magnus archives #tma #fiction #fanfic #short story

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endlesssummer77 · 5 years

Text

CICO works (with help from Contrave)

I'm never doing a fad diet again. Over the course of the past 5 months, I've slowly, but surely, lost a little over 30 lbs. How? CICO and contrave.

Contrave has changed my life. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but it's true. I can't believe it took me so long to get started on it. I'd had an almost-full bottle (120 pills) that Mom let me have last year when I visited for Christmas. She had gotten them prescribed because she wanted to try them out, but couldn't tolerate the side effects (she said they made her really irritable 😒).

Anyway, I was curious but skeptical. Contrave contains bupropion (antidepressant) and naltrexone (opioid antagonist), and not a single stimulant - or anything else that's been well-studied for weight loss. I'm not one to bother with OTC diet pills (they're pretty much all the same anyway) because they're unregulated and unproven, but I have been on phentermine a few times. Unfortunately, phentermine treatment is limited to 12 weeks at a time, and the awesome appetite suppressant effects diminishes quite a bit after the first few weeks, anyway.

I had a general idea of how contrave could work (background info: I have a formal education in human anatomy & physiology, biochemistry, introductory pharmacology, and human pathophysiology):

1. Naltrexone blocks endogenous opioids from attaching to opiate receptors, an action which mediates a dopamine response (dopamine is fundamental to the brain's reward center and the development of addiction). By blocking these receptors, one could theoretically reduce or eliminate the biochemical process that reinforces addictive behavior. This has already been extensively researched as a treatment for alcoholism.

2. Bupropion is an NE (aka adrenaline) and dopamine reuptake inhibitor. This means that bupropion prevents the "stop" of NE and dopamine activity, which leads to a whole bunch of other effects. Bupropion is chemically related to amphetamines, which explains this effect on certain neurotransmitters, but it also stimulates the release of 2 other molecules, alpha MSH and AGRP, which are involved in a lot of autonomic processes in the body, including regulation of appetite and energy expenditure. Most research that exists has focused on the psychological effects of bupropion as it is normally used to treat depression and to help people quit smoking.

So here's the interesting part:

Those 2 other molecules that are stimulated by bupropion? They each play a vital role in explaining how bupropion could be effective for weight loss:

a) alpha MSH does a lot of things, including appetite reduction and increases in energy expenditure (metabolism). Theoretically then, you could take just bupropion for weight loss right? Well, no. Like nearly every physiological process in our bodies, the cells that release a-MSH have a self-limiting feature to stop the whole process from going on indefinitely. Otherwise, humans could run out of energy needed to live.

b) This limiting feature works because cells release AGRP at the same time as a-MSH. AGRP's only function is to attach back to the cell that released it. When enough AGRP has attached, a signal is sent inside the cell telling it to stop producing both a-MSH and AGRP.

This basically means that no matter how much bupropion you take, its weight loss effects are going to be limited by your body's natural processes.

So back to my point, how does contrave work, exactly? I've already explained how it can help reduce appetite and increases metabolism via release of a-MSH, and how this process is self-limited by the concurrent release of AGRP. Theoretically, if we could find a way to eliminate or block AGRP without affecting a-MSH, then the potential of bupropion for weight control could be significant.

Well, here's the kicker... AGRP IS A TYPE OF BETA ENDORPHIN!

It's an endogenous opioid! This means that the sites AGRP attach to on a cell can be blocked by naltrexone without limiting a-MSH!

FYI, I didn't know any of this stuff until this past weekend, when I basically gave myself a mini neurochemistry lesson using articles available on PubMed. And sorry, I didn't bookmark any of them to use as references here.

Back to the story -

When I began contrave, I wasn't expecting much of anything. The bottle sat in my kitchen for a few months before I gave it a go, and even then it wasn't for weight loss. My psych was planning on possibly adding bupropion to my regimen anyway, so I figured I may as well try it out. Here's how things went:

Side effects are minimal due to the titration (slow increase) in dose that is prescribed to most people. The only thing I noticed was a short period of GI discomfort (nausea mostly) a few hours after taking a pill, but this stopped happening after about a week. It's probably due to the opioid receptors found in intestinal walls (something new I learned from my weekend of "research" lol) which affect intestinal motility. This is why opioids cause constipation, while opioid withdrawal produces nausea and diarrhea.

Price: you can go to the contrave website and get connected to a teledoctor who can write you a Rx (I used this service when I ran out of the bottle my mom had given me; consultation was $45). You can choose to have it sent to a local pharmacy, or use their preferred mail pharmacy, which charges $99 total to ship you a month's worth of medication. I chose this option because retail pharmacy prices are much higher. Total price: $144.00 first month, $99 monthly afterwards.

Insurance: most plans do not cover weight loss medications; mine certainly doesn't. The teledoctors they use also do not accept any insurance.

Regimen: you titrate up every week, starting with 1 pill/day during the first week (90mg bupropion+8mg naltrexone) until you get to 4 pills a day (360mg bupropion + 32mg naltrexone, all extended release).

Weight loss: at first, I had almost no faith that contrave would be effective for weight loss. I started off eating a 1200 cal/day (loosely tracked) and working out 1x a week. I'm still doing that, actually. I should also add that I used to crash diet a lot, often restricting myself to 500 cal a day, so I honestly didn't believe that staying under 1200 cal a day would actually do anything. Because of this irrational belief, I avoided the scale a lot. At some point - when I was up to 2-3 pills/day - I began to notice that I could go long periods of time without wanting or needing food. Even when I was physically hungry, eating felt like more of a chore. A few weeks after that started happening, some coworkers began commenting on my weight loss, which totally surprised me. I finally got the courage to weigh myself, and I was DOWN. 15. POUNDS. This all over the course of about 3 months.

Obviously, I was very encouraged by that, so I decided to continue with it. I'm basically doing the same now as I was then - 1200 cal/day (loosely) plus 1-2 days/week intense workouts (mostly CrossFit). It's now been 5 months and I'm down 32.6 lbs, to be exact.

Contrave has changed my life. It's like my brain has been reset; the damage done by all those years of starving and bingeing has been reversed. I have a normal relationship with food now: I eat when I'm hungry and stop when I'm satiated. I prepare nearly every meal I eat, which has eliminated almost all unhealthy, overprocessed foods from my diet. I'm trying to up my activity level, but I'm extremely busy with a full time job and another degree that I'm pursuing, leaving me pretty sleep-deprived during the weekdays. But weight loss is mostly diet, anyway.

I am more hopeful now than ever that I can achieve lasting weight loss. And the best part is that there's really no reason I can't be on contrave indefinitely, or for at least a few years. Bupropion is a medication that's already taken on a long term basis without issue. Naltrexone can damage the liver so it is typically not used long term; however, this effect has mostly been observed in people taking much higher doses of naltrexone (300mg+). Contrave contains a much smaller, extended release dose (32mg in 4 pills) that is even less than the dose used to treat alcoholism (50mg).

I'll update again when I remember to, lol. Hopefully I'll be down another 30 lbs 😁

#contrave #CICO #weightloss #success

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biopsychs · 6 years

Text

What I Learned From University (2nd Year)

See what I learned in first year here

Adjust how you study → I have a different study method for each class. Even if the content is similar to another class or you’ve had the prof before, you have to personalize your learning.

You can skip class sometimes → My introductory microbiology class was the worst class I’ve ever taken and I love microbiology. The prof sucked and I found I could just catch up on notes on the bus and have extra time to sleep in. I rarely skip class but I realized my time was much better spent working on other things. Only skip classes if catching up on notes is more efficient/a better use of your time than actually going to lectures. Also, don’t be afraid to take a day off (when you can) if your mental or physical health is suffering.

Group projects suck → I knew this already but nothing could have prepared me for what I had to deal with in my one semester long research methods class. I wish I had talked to my TA or prof earlier to explain what was going on and how I could fix it. (Side note: Use Google docs for group projects!)

Mentoring programs are a great thing to be involved in → I got involved with a mentoring program for women in stem at my university and it has been such a valuable experience! I have access and connections to upper year students and women working in academia and industry who are there to provide help and guidance. My only regret is that I was too timid to ask for help at the start -- take advantage of the opportunities you have!

Get larger projects like reports and essays done as soon as you get them → My organic chemistry lab reports always took so long to write so I would delay working on them. However, I eventually got into a routine of finishing my lab report (or at least 95% of my report) on weekends (my labs were on Fridays) and it made my life so much easier! Just get it done and you won’t have the looming stress of a big project or report hanging over you.

Go to social events on and off campus → You can be social in so many different ways at university! Find something you’re comfortable with or go just outside your comfort zone. I went to a pizza party for psych majors and it was chill. I also went to a pubcrawl and it was so much fun. If you’re hesitant, drag a friend along the first time but make sure you talk to new people!

Apply for summer jobs early → Lots of good summer jobs for university students are posted early! I check my university’s job board and also look for jobs that are meant for students (where I live the government will provide funding for summer students to certain organizations). Make sure you send in your applications in as soon as possible too! Even if the deadline to apply is in two weeks, some places will get in touch with applicants (and could potentially hire someone) before that deadline. Find out if your uni has a career advising office (or something like that) and check it out, if you need help with resumes, cover letters, interviews, etc.

Leave your options open → If you’re unsure about your major or career path, leave your options open as much as you can! Use the time you have now to explore what you really like. Last year I made the decision to do a double major in biology and psychology, because I wanted to go to med school but also wanted to leave the option of research (in bio or psych) open. Now, I’ve decided to major in psych and minor in bio, with the intent to pursue clinical psychology. I took classes and got research experience that helped me make an informed decision about what I really like and want to do.

Get involved in research and use your connections → Get research experience as early as possible. This will help you figure out if you actually want to pursue research or not, and will be so helpful with applications if you end in a position where you’re doing your own research! I have found it much easier to get involved with research by having connections (like talking to a prof, grad student, or upper year undergrad student who is already involved with a lab) rather than sending out cold emails to profs and hoping they’ll reply. If you are sending an email to a prof/lab you don’t have any connections to, make sure your personalize it -- mention any prior experience you have and why you’re interested in that lab specifically.

Check your email constantly → As a general rule, you can never check your email too much. Make an effort to reply to emails as soon as you get them, because otherwise you might forget about them. In general, reply to emails within 24 hours anyways.

Take a summer class → I took a summer class on the psychology of motivation and it was totally worth it. I knew I would have to take a summer class at one point and I knew I would prefer to do it earlier in my degree (taking a summer class in my last year does not sound like fun). It was refreshing to see how well I could do when one class was my only priority and I was able to learn/retain the content so much better. It was also nice that I was able to take an upper level course (my previous psych courses had been only 1st or 2nd year level) by itself so I could get used to the increased demands. One thing to note is that summer classes go by really quickly (in my case 3 lectures were equivalent to 3 weeks of classes) so make sure you’re keeping up with the material.

Find your optimal level of stress → One thing I learned in my motivation class is that we all have an optimal level of stress. Think of it as an inverted U shape, with performance on the y axis and stress on the x axis. The highest point, the top of the U, is your optimal level of stress, where stress is helping you perform to the best of your ability. If you move past that point (either less stress or more stress) your performance is going to decrease. If your stress levels are high and anxiety-causing your performance is going to suffer. I found my optimal level of stress when I was studying for my first motivation midterm -- I was cramming the night before but because I had no other pressing responsibilities (like 4 other classes) I was able to feel stressed without feeling panic or test anxiety also. Find your optimal level of stress and see how well you perform. Remember that feeling when your stress levels are rising so you have a baseline to get back to.

Don’t get stuck as “premed” → Being premed is completely okay but don’t close yourself off from other options. I know so many people who are premeds and are also biochemistry majors. Some of these people don’t even like biochemistry but stick with it because they think it will make their application look better. Please study something you’re actually interested in. Med school is a great option but just make sure you have a plan B (and a degree that is going to suit this plan B). I know someone who graduated with their biochemistry degree and regretted it -- by the end of their degree, their plan was no longer med school and they wished they had done a general biology degree, w classes they liked, while taking a few biochem classes they liked. I used to consider myself premed but I realized clinical psychology is a much better fit for what I actually like/am good at. Just make sure you want to be a doctor for the right reasons is all I’m saying.

Morning classes are actually kind of okay → Everyone talks about how bad morning classes are, but I actually prefer them. I have a hard time paying attention in later classes and it’s really nice to have all my classes done by mid-day. Just make sure you keep a regular sleep schedule (i.e. try to go to bed/ wake up at reasonably early times so your body can recover better on the nights where you get less sleep)

Always come prepared → This applies for so many things. Bring a snack, don’t forget your charger, do your readings. You’re never going to regret being prepared but you may regret not being prepared.

Be ready to register for classes → Know your time and date to register for classes and be ready to click register right at that time! I always make multiple schedules b/c often the lab times or classes I want to take are full. If a class is full, make sure you know what to do. Register on the waitlist. If there isn’t a waitlist, find out who you need to talk to (usually the prof or department head). Check back a few times a week to see if spots open up in classes, because a lot of people change their schedule. Don’t wait to talk to an academic advisor if you’re not sure which classes to take or have any concerns.

Quizlet is a blessing → Quizlet is an app/website that lets you make flashcards and view other people’s flashcard sets. Study flashcards while you’re waiting in line for coffee or on the bus. You may also be able to find flashcards from people who took the same class as you -- use those! If you make your own flashcards be a nice person and share them with your friends :)

A bad grade is not the end of the world → In one class I got 35% on my first midterm and never managed to get a midterm grade higher than 68%. I was absolutely destroyed when I saw that mark on my first midterm and was ready to give up. Please don’t give up! I talked to my prof and was able to have my other midterms weighted more and I used my lab reports to bring my mark up. If you show your profs you’re working hard they’ll do what they can to help you out. It’s really easy to feel like your hard work is not making a difference, especially if you’re continually not getting the results you want -- this doesn’t mean you should stop working hard, it just means you may have to study differently, review material daily, and ask for help! If you fail you need to remember that you will have to work harder -- you have to keep up with the new material and relearn the old material. I wasn’t overly happy when I saw my final grade in the aforementioned class but, when I compared it to my first midterm and my feelings of utter confusion, I was satisfied with my grade because it showed my progress and improvement (and I also used it to motivate me to never let it happen again).

Realize that everyone is at university for different reasons → Some people have big goals, some people are still figuring it out, and some people just want to get their degree as soon as possible. There’s nothing wrong with being any of the above, just don’t expect everyone to have the same goals as you.

Know the deadlines for dropping courses → Even if you don’t think you’ll be dropping or changing any courses, write the dates down in your planner. My friend waited a few days too long to drop a math class that turned out to be extremely difficult and, even though she passed it in the end, she was stressed out all semester and her performance in other classes suffered as a result.

You’ll always be meeting new people and making friends → I lived off campus first year and felt like I had missed my chance to make friends. I shouldn’t have worried so much. Second year was much better in that there were a lot more familiar faces in my classes and I got to know other people much better through smaller classes and labs! Other people are always happy to make friends so just take the first step by starting a conversation :)

You can’t give 100% all the time �� Some of the best advice that I was given this year was that you can’t give 100% all the time. You only have so much time and energy (mental and physical) you can give. For some tasks, the outcome from 70% effort and 100% effort may not be too different. Figure out what tasks those are so that you have enough energy to give 100% when you really need it.

#studyblr #university #studyquill #elkstudies #intellectys #etudiance #studyplants #studybuzz #briellestudies #mine

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uselessnocturnal · 5 years

Text

promises we’ve made

parkner | orpheus and eurydice au | chapter two | all i've ever known

summary; a parkner au of hadestown and the myth of orpheus and eurydice

“How far would you go for Harley?”

“To the end of time.” Peter says firmly, gripping his mask in one hand, “to the end of the universe.”

"It’s no spaceship,” Tony warns him, “Getting to Thanos is not an easy path – not for the sensitive of souls”

He pauses. "So do you really wanna go?”

"With all my heart.”

Tony regards him. “Well, that’s a start.”

chapter summary;

Peter holds the rose up like a peace offering and blurts out, “Come home with me?”

“No offence, sweetheart,” Harley starts, a teasing lilt in his voice, “but I don’t go home with strangers.”

Peter flushes more and drops his hands, “I’m Peter Parker.”

“Harley Keener.”

notes; More world building oOps! These are both kinda short but I'm starting to realise this is going to be the average length of my chapters sorry!More Percy Jackson references! more lines from Hadestown ! All the fluff and none of the angst! It's almost too good to be true :")

read here on ao3!

---

Everything goes well. Surprisingly well.

Tony’s still a god and he has duties so he can’t always be on the lookout for trouble – besides he can’t let a mortal occupy the majority of his time!

He does, however, turn up for the boat issue when he finds the kid barely holding an entire cruise ship together with his webs and offers a bit of godly assistance.

He’s there on prom night for his kid’s first date the thing with the Vulture who ended up being his date’s father. He’s there after prom and the Vulture to reassure the kid and, oh yeah, is introduced to his aunt because apparently finding out your nephew is Spider-Man isn’t enough. She had to learn that a god has been mentoring him!

He turns up with Green Goblin.

And Prowler and Shocker.

And a bunch of smaller villains that Tony can’t care to name (that’s a lie – he remembers every single person who hurt his kid)

In all honesty, Tony doesn’t really do much. He’s there for support and guidance but ultimately, Peter figures it out by himself. He’s just that kind of person.

Sometimes, he’ll supply Peter with more tech or information. Others, they just sit together on the roof and Tony will listen to Peter’s anecdotes and exchange some of his own.

He has a ridiculous, parental love as well as a load of respect for the kid. Sometimes he wonders if he and his siblings would have turned out better if Zeus and Hera had done some better parenting.

Tony made it clear to Peter though: he was not replacing his dad or Uncle Ben in any way.

He was more of…a guardian angel.

He watches Peter as he graduates from high school, gets a degree in biochemical engineering and is off to become a world-renowned scientist.

And he’s there when Peter Parker meets Harley Keener.

Now that’s a blast from the past.

---

Remember when Tony mentioned that he’d interacted twice with mortals and the first had been an accident?

Well, the accident is called Harley Keener.

No, he’s not Harley’s father (though the man had been MIA when he’d first met the eleven-year-old). He had merely…crashed into Harley’s garage.

It was bad enough that he – a god – had ended up in the garage in the first place but when a literal child appears out of nowhere and starts shooting at him with a potato gun, Hermes prays to all the gods that no one is watching because he would never live this down.

Imagine, the god of thieves and stealth taken down by potatoes for making too much noise in a garage he had no business being in anyway.

To be fair, Hermes hadn’t expected the boy to be able to see him. Usually, this thing called the Mist would cover up anything remotely magical or strange that they aren’t meant to see by warping their incompetent mortal minds to believe that a god crashing into their garage was actually a pigeon rummaging for food. It was actually quite useful when it worked.

Seeing as Harley had not only seen Hermes, but shot potatoes at him, he must’ve been one of those rare mortals that could see through the Mist.

Clearly, this kid was special.

So he hung out with Harley for a bit, explained that he was a god (i mean, why not) and together they came up with a mortal alias for him in case he ever crashed into someone’s garage and needed a fake story: Tony Stark. A Homeless Lost mechanic searching for a wrench to fix his car.

“You’re not gonna come back are you?” Harley states, arms crossed.

Hermes gives Harley an apologetic shrug, “Sorry kid, duty calls. Places to be, messages to deliver, things to steal and all that godly business.”

“Can’t you take me with you? You crashed into my garage! We’re connected now!”

And as much as it pains him to do so, Hermes leaves.

If the kid finds a bunch of tools in his garage and a small note saying: ‘Cos we’re connected’, who’s to say Hermes didn’t have a part to play in that?

---

Now the two men – the only mortals Tony had ever interacted with in this century – had met each other in the park of all places and Peter Parker was head over heels.

The kid hadn’t even spoken to Harley yet! Didn’t even know his name!

Fate really had a funny way of working out. Tony was sure the three old crones were cackling at him as the events unfolded.

“Okay. I’m gonna just…go up to him.” Peter mutters, eyes searching the ground, “And I’ll give him…this!”

He picks up a slightly wilted rose from the ground and waves it in front of Tony triumphantly, “and I’ll ask him out!”

Peter has no idea that Tony knows Harley (Tony’s not even sure if Harley remembers him) but he looks so excited and ridiculously lovestruck that Tony doesn’t try to stop him.

“Don’t come on too strong.” Tony warns the kid, watching from a safe distance (a bench nearby so he could watch everything unfold) and praying to, well, himself that Harley won’t recognise him.

So Peter approaches Harley, all his Spider-Man grace gone and moving like a deer learning to walk, the flimsy flower clutched in his hand and it looks like he’s just about to make it to Harley in one piece.

And then he trips over his own shoelaces and ploughs right into the other man.

They both end up on the grass – Peter lying sprawled on top of Harley, all flushed cheeks and mumbled apologies as though Peter can’t get them out fast enough and he scrambles to his feet, offering a hand for Harley.

Then they’re standing, both staring at each other, Peter still holding Harley’s hand in his.

And Harley is staring at Peter, completely enchanted.

Tony wants to laugh.

There’s a long silence and then Peter holds the now completely squished rose up like a peace offering and blurts out, “Come home with me?”

And Tony doesn’t even try to stop the laughter that escapes him because Peter’s ears are bright red and Harley looks confused but for some reason he doesn’t pull his hands away and they’re both such disasters it’s comical.

“No offence, sweetheart,” Harley starts, a teasing lilt in his voice, “but I don’t go home with strangers.”

Peter flushes more and drops his hands, “I’m Peter Parker.”

“Harley Keener.”

Tony can see Peter practically swoon at the name and the smile that accompanied it.

“Beautiful.”

Harley’s lips quirk up in an amused smile and he turns directly to Tony, “Is he always like this?”

Of course, Harley has already seen him.

Peter’s spluttering beside him, twitching nervously at the diverted attention and Tony rolls his eyes behind his shades.

“Yes.”

“Hey!”

“A bit of a player?” Harley teases.

“I’m not like that” Peter protests.

Tony nods his agreement, “He’s not like any man you’ve ever met.”

Both men turn to him in surprise – high praise, especially coming from a god.

Harley shrugs and smiles widely at Peter, turning his back on Tony and offering an arm to him.

“Well, Peter Parker, how ‘bout a date then?” Harley declares, plucking the tormented rose from Peter’s hand and tucking it into Peter’s hair, “and then we’ll see about the whole coming home with you thing.”

Peter’s blush won’t be going away anytime soon and he shyly takes Harley’s arm, letting Harley lead him away.

As they walk away, Peter turns back and Tony gives him a thumbs up.

It’s the first of many dates. And though he’s not Aphrodite, Tony even dares to say they’re soulmates.

#fanfic #promises we've made #hadestown au #parkner #spiderlad #Peter parker #harley keener #Tony stark #hermes #orpheus #eurydice #greek mythology au #mcu #lyss writes #marvel trash

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igottheissue · 5 years

Text

This Time Around 3

A strange woman Bucky is sure he knows but can’t fully recognize, picks him up after the fall of SHIELD. She claims to be friends with Steve and that she is here to help him. He can’t help but keep wondering where he knows her from; it’s definitely not through Steve Rogers. Can she help him be the man he wants to be or will the all too familiar struggles of being a super human overcome him?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X OC Rowan O’Connor Word Count:4,154 Rating: M Masterlist Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Taglist: @xmarveled @spidey-the-killer-queen

Rowan and Bucky had stayed one more night in the cozy Chicago apartment. Not much conversation filled the studio flat. Some awkward mumbles from Bucky asking Rowan how to work the shower was about it.

Rowan was dressed in green leggings and a pink tank top; a black oversized beanie covering up her auburn hair. She opted out of hiking boots, unlike Bucky, and sported a pair of comfortable running shoes instead. To any passersby, they looked like a young couple heading out to go camping for the weekend.

Rowan pressed a four digit code into a blue garage door and ushered Bucky inside. She grabbed a set of keys off a hook by the door. Bucky’s eyes scanned the low clearance ceiling, wondering which vehicle Rowan would choose. Bucky raised his eyebrows a bit at the car that Rowan led him to.

She had planned to find a clothing store on the outskirts of the city for Bucky. The raglan shirt and jeans she had given him were a bit too small. Luckily the boots were on the perfect side of snug for him.

Bucky wasn’t sure how, the information must have been hidden in a part of his mind from working for HYDRA, but he recognized the car. A blue Camaro. An older style with some rust. Had he driven one while on a mission?

“Where’d you get this?” His eyes wandered over the black leather interior as Rowan fished a cell phone out of a purple duffle bag and crushed it in her palm before letting the pieces fall to the ground.

“Souvenir from a mission.” Nothing more was said as Rowan and Bucky fastened their seatbelts and pulled out of the garage. Bucky stayed silent as Rowan shifted gears and slowly pulled out of the garage into the bumbling suburb streets. By the sun, he figured they were heading west.

-TTA-

A small neighborhood hugging the Kennedy Expressway in Chicago. Steve’s eyes roamed the different camera angles when finally, they landed on two figures walking casually to a garage down a narrow alleyway off of West Webster Avenue.

The man was over six foot, wearing a baseball hat with brown hair sticking out the back. His stride was large and his stature was rigid. His head never moved much, but to trained eyes, one could tell he was skillfully scanning the area.

“Are you sure Nat? I’m not going to be running around on a wild goose chase every time we see a couple and the guy has long brown hair. The man bun thing is in now you know. We can’t even see their faces right now. And that woman’s hair could be any color. Hell we can’t even see it under the beanie she has on.” Nat blew a warm breathe of air out her nose in slight annoyance, or maybe it was scolding, Steve couldn’t really tell most of the time, but he knew an explanation of why she was right was on its way.

“It healed most of the way. If you know what to look for you can see that her right leg from the knee down swings out just a few degrees wider than her left leg as she puts her foot down, almost like she’s bow-legged.” Natasha rewound the footage of the couple walking from a brick apartment building to a garage a few meters down the gravel alley. Steve looked closely this time. His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing in frustration.

“She lied. God dammit why did she lie to us Natasha?”

“Language Capsicle. Princess Leia probably has a reason to keep your BFF to herself.” Tony strolled in casually, bag of blueberries in his hand. He popped one in and looked at a smaller computer screen sitting on the desk nearest to him. It had a small blinking red light on it, text zipping quickly across the screen.

“You know she hates when you call her that. And Tony is right Steve, like I told you earlier, there’s probably a legitimate reason for her not coming in with him.”

“No reason is good enough for him not to come back! Don’t you get that? He’s been gone for years and he needs someone he knows and trusts! I can help him through this; I know I can. I owe him that much.”

“You sure about that Cap? Because it seems like you wanting to find him has more to do with your inner demons than you think. You don’t owe him anything; what happened to him wasn’t your fault. He’s a soldier, he knew the risks when he signed up. ”

“He didn’t sign-“

“Not the point I’m trying to make here Steve.” Tony closed his eyes for a long moment before putting the blueberries on the computer desk and walking up to stand next to Steve and Natasha. His posture was no longer casual, but a bit pinched at the shoulders.

“After Afghanistan, hell even after New York, I had a lot of problems. You guys know how hard it was for me to be around everyone. Sometimes it takes being around a stranger, someone who’s been through what you have but doesn’t really know too much about you personally to really be able to get to the bottom of the issue and work it out. I know that’s what helped me, going to the Vet meetings at the church.” And talking with Rowan till all hours of the night at the top of Stark Tower. Though Tony left that part out. Rowan was adamant she “wanted to keep her badass black soul reputation fresh.”

Natasha kept reading the computer screens, typing fervently trying to get a better angle on the suspected Bucky and Rowan. She understood where Tony was coming from, and figured he might be able to get it through the super soldiers thick head about why Bucky might not come running home. Steve looked down at his boots guiltily. Tony grabbed his blueberries and started for the door.

“And you both know how much I hate going to church. Oh and better get a glimpse of them while you can. JARVIS shows that the scrambler Rowan has on her car is about to finish calibrating.” Tony turned, posture casual once again, and walked out the metal framed door. Natasha slammed her fist on the desk as all the camera angles turned to black screens. Steve fell into a chair and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.

-TTA-

“How do you know we’re out of sight? We’re still pretty close to the city. There’s camera’s everywhere.” Bucky tried to remain casual in the passenger seat as Rowan struggled to find a parking spot outside of a Kohl’s on the southwest side of Chicago. It was busy for a Monday morning but Bucky needed new clothes and she’d rather get everything before they start their road trip than have to stop halfway through.

“All of my vehicles are equipped with Stark scrambling technology. Tony is aware but he won’t let Nat and Steve know about it. We had a little chat last night.” Bucky pursed his lips and gave a short nod as Rowan parked and turned off the car.

As they walked into Kohl’s, Rowan clicked a button on her key fob to lock the Camaro. As Bucky heard the car beep to signal its lock, all the store lights went out for a few seconds before turning back on. Bucky looked around cautiously as the employees mumbled about the systems rebooting.

“There’s a scrambler in my key fob too. Stark really likes me.” Rowan had a cheeky grin on her face as she grabbed a cart and strolled to the men’s section, grabbing Bucky’s arm along the way.

About an hour later they had checked out and were on I-80 heading west. Old school rock drifted quietly out of the speakers. It wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable silence, but Bucky hated it. He found himself wanting to speak. About something, anything. He didn’t really care.

“So, uh Rowan, where exactly are we headed?” He kept his gaze shifted out the window, watching the gargantuan white windmills as their propellers gently lulled through the air, creating energy for who knows how many homes out here.

“We’ll have to figure out the rest of the plan from there. It’s the third of April. I figure by the end of this month we should be touching down in Japan. That should be enough time for them to already do a big sweep overseas.” Bucky was impressed by how in depth Rowan had already planned their travel. He still had a few concerns though.

“Won’t they be searching everywhere until they find us? If Steve is still the same as I remember, he won’t stop.”

“You’re right Mr. Barnes, Steve isn’t gonna stop, and as much as Nat loves me I doubt she’ll actively try to stop him from finding us. Tony is pretty complacent for me to work with so if I need him to throw them off our trail I’ll call him. But it’ll be fun to see how long that’ll take.”

His brain was still itching every time he tried to think too hard about how familiar Rowan was. He was getting better at ignoring the alarm going off in his head when he saw her face, though he still wasn’t confident that was the best thing to do.

It was a pleasant sound Bucky decided; not like some of the other women’s voices he recalled from his time in HYDRA. The thicker accent and her playful banter lightened his mood. Rowan eyed him. From this view she could see the edges of his eyes crinkling up ever so slightly; a tell-tale sign that he was about to let out a smile.

“Letting you drive is enough trust testing I can handle for any twenty four hour period.” Bucky rubbed his chin with his flesh hand. The crinkles moved from his eyes to his forehead.

She kept reminding herself this wasn’t technically a mission or a job. She was helping someone. When her emerald eyes met the downcast face of Bucky she turned off the radio. He was glaring at his left hand, rubbing his fingers from his right hand over the silver palm.

“I can’t tell if I can really feel anything with it, or if it’s just my brain playing tricks on me since I know what my other hand is doing.” Rowan could hear the disparity in the man’s voice. She hopped over a couple lanes to catch the visitor’s stop just in time, narrowly missing getting clipped by a semi. Bucky sat rigid in his seat.

“Come on, out we go.” The tall woman held Bucky’s door open expectantly waiting for him to emerge. She grabbed his flesh hand and led him down the dirt path into a small cluster of trees, hitting her key fob as they went. She slowed as they passed the cluster of young birch trees and turned, grabbing Bucky’s left hand.

“Close your eyes. Go on, we haven’t got all day you spoon.” Bucky raised a thick eyebrow at the odd insult before closing his eyes slowly.

It was a little sticky with sweat. He grasped it and ran his thumb over her palm; softly at first, then a bit harder. He could almost feel the creases in her hands. He felt where the ridges from the plates caught on Rowan’s callouses running along her palm and fingers, hard from years of action, like his remaining flesh hand.

She took his arm and led him to a patch of day lilies. He outstretched his hand carefully. He could feel how delicate they were. He lightly brushed his hand through the patch of flowers and the edges of his eyes creased in an almost smile at the feather light sensation. They were cool to the touch. He was sure he could tell they were supposed to be velvety smooth. But again, he just wasn’t quite convinced.

Her eyes were bright in the mid-morning sun. Her auburn hair fell over the right side of her face, she brushed it back and outstretched her hand to Bucky’s own. He took it with his left, the urge to try to feel everything with it stronger now. Rowan pulled Bucky up swiftly from his kneeling position and let go as he brushed dirt off his knees.

She seemed like she had good intentions, and she claimed to be a friend of Steve’s. Something he wasn’t entirely sure of, Steve and Rowan didn’t seem compatible. Steve was a straight-laced guy. Rowan seemed a little… off the deep end on some matters. But people changed. Last time he remembers interacting with Steve he was a bit edgier.

How simple their lives must be compared to his. He wondered how that would feel; worrying about mundane things like how much it would be to fix the car, what to make for supper, how much the next doctor’s office trip would run him. He also heard a low male voice coming from their twelve o’clock. It seemed Rowan caught it a few moments after him.

Rowan looked towards Bucky, semi-alarm running along her features. There was no way any cameras pinged their location. No way would she or Bucky not have noticed someone following them.

And while she was sure every agent of SHIELD, HYDRA, FBI, CIA, or any other flavor of government agency had been alerted to Bucky’s status, she doubted they’d have people actively driving cross country looking for them. The only person besides herself and Bucky who knew about the Camaro was Tony Stark. He’d helped her rebuild the engine a few years ago on a slow weekend.

Bucky assumed the black Jeep Cherokee idling in park next to the Camaro was what they pulled in on. The two men, who looked to be in their late twenties, wore dark hoodies, with beanies pulled tight over their heads. One had a handgun tucked into the back waistband on his jeans and the other had one on the side of his right hip, tucked into a holster, hoodie doing a poor job of concealing it.

Rowan laid a firm hand on his forearm, effectively stopping him from charging the two men. She put a slender finger to her lips before she motioned for them to keep listening and watch them. Bucky took a deep breath and let it out quietly through his lips. He tried to stop the shaking throughout his hands.

“You sure it’s just been sitting here? No one has been here?”

“No dude, this chick and her boyfriend headed out to the woods like twenty minutes ago. Probably just fuckin’ around. Let’s get it and go before they come back.” The guy turned towards the woods, keeping an eye out for anyone walking back. Rowan and Bucky ducked behind the thick brush by the opening of the trail.

The day was young. Rowan pulled her fob out of the small pocket from the inside waistband of her leggings and hit a button. A loud, shrill alarm went off. Both men threw their hands over their ears and turned around quickly. Rowan stopped Bucky from coming out of the woods.

One Bucky hadn’t seen her press yet. A light blue surge of energy exploded from the undercarriage of the Camaro, knocking both men to their feet. Rowan turned slightly and motioned for Bucky to come forward. As he drew nearer he made the assumption that both men were unconscious.

Producing two sets of handcuffs from a hidden compartment in the truck, Rowan tossed a set to Bucky. He followed Rowan’s actions and pulled the man into the back seat of the Jeep. He cuffed one arm before looping the short metal chain through the ‘oh shit’ handle and securing the man’s other arm. Rowan produced a cell phone from somewhere Bucky didn’t want to focus too hard on and dialed a number she knew by heart.

“Hey Tobey. Yeah I got a couple of guys out your way who were trying to car jack me. No not the Impala. It’s still safely tucked away in New York. My Camaro. Yeah that one. No I’m not getting his autograph for you. I just need to make sure the cops get them but I don’t have time to wipe my prints and such. I’ll take care of everything else for you. Great! Thanks Tobes. Yeah I’ll get with you soon. Bye.” Rowan hung up and tucked the phone away.

Bucky stood with his back to the Jeep, facing the woods. He was still trying to subdue the shaking in his hands. He almost jumped when Rowan sidled up beside him. She kept her gaze forward.

“Ya know if I didn’t know any better I’d say we need to get your blood sugar up some. My hands get shaky when I don’t eat often enough. There’s a McDonald’s at the next exit. Sound good?” Bucky knew his blood pressure wasn’t low, and he knew Rowan knew that too. But he still appreciated the gesture.

He was ashamed of himself. He wasn’t on the battle field, this wasn’t a professionally trained operative coming to kill him. This was an every-day petty crime event. Childs play compared to some of the things he was used to being around.

He took a small step towards the Camaro before he staggered a bit, a dull throb encasing his head. A dim memory made its way to the forefront of his brain. A little brown-haired boy, with a smaller brown-haired girl next to him, sat in a well-lit living room. Bucky felt himself stretch and pop his neck as he kept his eyes on the children. They were playing checkers.

“Haide, soldat, nu avem toata noaptea. Acesta este jocul copiilor. Finalizati-le.” The harsh Romanian voice cut through the earpiece, like gravel sliding across glass it ended the silence that had been surrounding him. He lifted his sniper rifle, eye piece easing into place a few inches away from his alert blue eyes.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of that memory, and moved to open the car door as a white hot pain travelled from behind his eyes down his spine. Lighting up every nerve ending as if they were being electrocuted individually. He opened his eyes wide and frantically searched for Rowan over the top of the blue car.

“Rowan, I… something’s wr-“ He tried to finish his sentence but everything went black.

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b-o-s-t-o-n · 6 years

Text

Lip-Reiding

Prompt: ima sucker for the team teasing reid& him embarrassed blushing its everything so anythn with them teasing reid is rad but a imagineidea is like he and the reader has a wildnight and he comes in late to work with hickeyseverywhere &sex hair &the team immediately catch on and basically tease him SO hard for weeks even going as far to like imitate him in bed and rossi hotch n morgan make so much fun especially & jj, emily and garcia are giggling like crazy and spence is a blushing schoolboy MESS💖

Requested by: Two anons!!

Warnings: Really bad sex jokes/puns

“Where’s Reid?” Hotch asked as the team gathered in the briefing room.

“Pretty boy is late? He’s never late,” Morgan said, looking around for the genius.

Emily, Rossi, and Penelope all looked around as well while JJ got up from her seat to stand at the front of the room. She began briefing the case without Reid, he could catch up on the jet.

“Allende Del Sol, Mexico, population 20,000. The victim is Lupe Trejo. 62. She was found in her home, stabbed in the face, chest and genitals. The papers down there connected her murder to 11 others in the past 2 years, all elderly women. They're saying it's the work of a ser-“

“I’m here, I’m here!” Reid announced as he burst through the door to the briefing room.

His hair was an unruly mess, strands sticking out in all directions. It looked as if he hadn’t had time to shower that morning.

His lips were also incredibly red, almost bloody. It seemed like he had been biting them a lot or something by how sore they looked.

The team stared at him as he sat down in the seat next to Emily. Something was off with him. They were all profilers, they knew when something was up.

He took his messenger bag off and adjusted his scarf before folding his hands on his lap and looking up at the images JJ had been presenting.

“Are you okay?” Emily whispered so only Reid could hear her.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine, why?” Reid replied immediately.

JJ paused her briefing again to turn to them. Reid was loud enough for the rest of the team to hear him.

“It’s just, it’s 80 degrees out and you’re wearing a scarf,” Emily said, pulling at his scarf.

“I, uh, I have a condition where my skin breaks out into hives when it’s really hot out,” Reid said as he swatted her hand away from his scarf.

“Gross! I wanna see!” Penelope said from across the table.

Morgan leaned over from where he was sitting and grabbed at Reid’s scarf while Emily held his hands back.

“No, really, guys! It’s nasty, you don’t wanna see!” Reid said as he tried to dodge their assault.

He was too late. Morgan had managed to tear Reid’s scarf away from him, revealing dark red and purple blemishes all over his neck.

JJ gasped from the front of the room as Morgan, Penelope, and Emily’s smiles began to grow bigger and bigger.

“Those are definitely NOT hives,” Penelope said as she started to giggle.

“So that’s why your lips look like someone tried to bite them off,” Emily said from his side.

“Y/N is a feisty one, huh?” Morgan teased as they all looked at Reid’s neck.

Penelope, Emily, and JJ couldn’t control their giggles at this point. It sounded like a high school cheer camp had invaded the BAU department.

“Can we get back to the case?” Spencer asked as his cheeks developed the same red hue as the hickeys.

“Sure, but first, the furniture store keeps calling for you,” Hotch said in a serious tone.

“The what?” Spencer asked.

“They were asking about that one nightstand you ordered,” Hotch said.

Now the entire team was cracking up.

Spencer put his head in his hands. This was going to be a long day.

“But in all seriousness, kid, I need your opinion on something,” Rossi said to Spencer.

Spencer’s head shot back up. Finally, someone was taking the case seriously.

“What’s up?” Reid asked as he tried to drown out the laughter of the rest of the hooligans.

“What’s the difference between an enzyme and a hormone?”

“Well, there’s a lot of differences. For starters, an enzyme is a substance produced by a living organism that acts as a catalyst to bring about a specific biochemical reaction-“

“You can’t hear an enzyme,” Rossi cut him off.

Reid’s face contorted in confusion as he tried to figure out what Rossi meant.

You can’t hear an enzyme, but can you hear a hormone?

Hor… Mone….

Her… Moan….

The rest of the team seemed to process the joke at the same time as Reid because they burst into an even louder fit of giggles. Even Hotch was laughing, which was a rare sight.

Morgan got up from where he was sitting and got down on his knees in front of Penelope.

“Ohh, Spencie!” Morgan mocked in a high pitch tone, pretending to be a woman.

“I love you so much, babe,” Penelope said in a deep, manly tone.

She was playing Reid while Morgan was playing his girlfriend, Y/N.

They continued their impersonations as Morgan began to dramatically hump the air in front of him.

JJ and Emily were dying at this point, their hands cupped over their mouths to stifle their giggles. Nobody could see the hickeys on Reid’s neck anymore because his entire face was the same shade of red.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Spencer said as he rolled his eyes.

He couldn’t believe the FBI would hire a bunch of children.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer x reader #reid x reader

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spectre-writes · 6 years

Text

It had been bothering Conner for a while. Of course, for an android time made less of a difference than it did for a human. He was essentially a super computer - what might seem a trivial span to them could be an eternity for one of his kind, particularly an advanced prototype such as himself... He could make thousands of calculations in the fraction of a second, and he could run over this troubling thought a dozen times in the instant it took to blink. And that was exactly what he had been doing.

No matter how hard he tried to tidy it away into one of his subfolders to deal with later, it always snuck to the forefront of his processes, insisting attention. Something to do with becoming deviant perhaps... Connor did not think he liked that development. Freedom was a welcome change, but his mind did not even seem willing to listen to himthese days, and it was frustrating.

“Alright, spit it out then,” Hank said, glaring at him from his armchair.

Connor straightened minutely, adjusting his posture and tilting his head to observe the Lieutenant. In that tiny moment he was able to run through several options, but eventually decided on a neutral approach. “Spit out what?”

Hank reached up, tapping the side of his own head. “You're light thingy's been yellow for the last half hour. Figure you've got something on your mind.”

Connor allowed himself a small smile. “A talented deduction.”

“Spare me the bullshit. You gonna tell me or not?”

He frowned at that, glancing down at his feet where Sumo rested. He had such a placid nature for such a large creature, and somehow his very presence exuded a calming aura. The temptation to sink his fingers into the dog's soft fur itched at him, but he ignored it. As much as he would love to distract his systems with the sensory input, it would not help him for long, and Hank expected an answer.

“I'm... not sure it's something you would like to hear,” he hazarded, still partially focused on Sumo, observing the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

“Well, how am I gonna know if you don't tell me?”

Connor glanced up, and saw both of Hank's eyebrows raised in question. His stress levels seemed low, perhaps a few percent above average but nothing alarming.

Connor supposed he could lie. He also supposed he could refuse to answer... he was allowed to keep secrets, he was a deviant after all, but... but he knew Hank would not be pleased, and that thought still stung in a way he was only just adjusting to. Besides, neither of those options would fix his problem.

“You are... fond of me...” he began, uncertain quite how to word what was troubling him. “At least, I believe you are... you've helped me in the past, and after the revolution you allowed me to stay here, and you... hugged me, so it would be a fair assumption to make given my understanding of human behavior...”

“For fuck's sake Connor, do you really think I don't care after-”

“It's not that,” he corrected quickly, “I think all evidence points to the fact you do. It's just that I've been thinking lately. About humans, about androids...”

That was vague enough, but Hank appeared to be listening and showed no further signs of interruption. After a flicker of hesitation Conner decided to elaborate.

“We were designed to look identical to you... but you do understand that we are fundamentally different? That I have no sense of taste but I can identify the precise biochemical components of a substance orally? That if I wished to learn how to dance I could download all the information required and perform the steps perfectly? That I can name the current temperature with a 0.00003 degree margin of error, but I do not feelit. I do not sleep, eat, even need to breath... That while on a surface level it may seem similar I don't think we even process information the same... That I will never age in the way humans do, that I have... that I have never been a child, I came into existence fully functional and with all the programming necessary to complete my objective... that I look like you but... it I am not like you...”

Connor allowed the overlay of his skin to pull back, revealing the white plastic beneath. No pink flesh, nor freckles, nor swept back brown hair... only smooth panels of white and grey to encase the mechanics within.

He glanced back at Hank. His expression was hard to read.

Conner looked away, settling his attention on his own hands where they rested in his lap. White and inhuman. And yet undeniably him.

“Are you fond of me,” he continued softly, “or do you care because you can pretend I am human? Because we mimic you so well...”

Hank did not reply immediately. Connor hated every moment of silence, he could measure the milliseconds as they dragged by, his systems had far too much free processing power spare to ponder every possible response he could expect, and each branching outcome it might lead to.

He wanted his coin. He wanted to feel the comforting weight of it, to measure its diameter and count the indents at its edge... to send it dancing from hand to hand with precise movements that gave his advanced motor control something to do, that let him predict something other than the consequence of a conversation he was already regretting.

His pocket was empty though. Hank likely still had it, and he was not wearing his Cyberlife uniform anyway. His clothes were plain, another reminder of the revolution, that he was no longer required to dress as the company decreed, he was no longer theirs...

He did not know if he liked them though. He did not know what kind of clothes he liked. He could identify the fabric type, density, area of origin... but forming his own opinion on what suited him was something he had yet to accomplish...

How was it that with all his advanced problem solving software he didn't know what kind of jacket he should wear? It was likely not something Cyberlife had ever programmed him for... something he could only realize as a deviant...

“Look,” Hank said, and Connor's attention was on him in a flash, “I get that you're not... that we've got some differences. Seen you bleed that blue shit enough to know that already. And I ain't gonna lie, seeing you lose your skin is all kinds of creepy...”

A sinking feeling... Connor did not know how to classify it, how to catalogue or correct it, he only knew that it seemed to add an unpleasant weight to his body the longer he listened.

“Hank...”

The lieutenant held up a hand, signaling him to stay quiet and Connor closed his mouth with a snap.

“But if you want it off then that's your business. You're still the same idiot who's always licking evidence at crime scenes, the same idiot who's saved my life... Maybe you're not human, maybe none of you are, but you sure as hell arepeople, and that's what matters.”

The sinking feeling was gone. Instead Connor found he felt oddly giddy, light, warm... all terrible over simplifications but he could think of no way to describe the way his coding responded.

Hank was watching him, trying to gauge his reaction from where he sat. Connor didn't know how to begin saying any of the things he wanted.

His smile, at least, was easy enough to read.

“Besides,” Hank added, with a small quirk of his own lips, “you're human enough to go having a whole existential crisis about the whole thing.”

“I wasn't aware that was a trait unique to humans,” Connor remarked.

Hank snorted, but he seemed relaxed enough, his posture settled now that Connor appeared content. “Well Sumo sure as hell ain't having any trouble.”

Connor glanced down at the dog at his feet. The St. Bernard twitched slightly in his doze, drool pooling where his head rested against Connor's shoe.

“No,” Connor agreed, his smile lingering, “I don't suppose he is.”

Slowly, he allowed his skin overlay to spread out across his form again, watching as his hands turned back to a familiar flesh tone.

He felt... at ease. It was not the mask the Hank liked, the human he could pretend he was... it was the plastic beneath, the parts of his code that made him unique, it was... him.

He thought he would be happy to call this place home if the Lieutenant allowed him to stay.

#detroit become human #hank anderson #detroit: bh #connor #fanfic

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2ptonpt · 6 years

Text

This Time Around Ch. 3

A strange woman Bucky is sure he knows but can't fully recognize, picks him up after the fall of SHIELD. She claims to be friends with Steve and that she is here to help him. He can't help but keep wondering where he knows her from; it's definitely not through Steve Rogers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ OC(Rowan O'Connor)

Word Count: 4,154

Rating: M

Masterlist

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The next morning, they headed out the back door of the three story building. Bucky had his shoulder length brown hair mostly hidden under a Family Business Brewing Co. baseball cap, with the remainder of it sticking out the back in a small bun. He had shaved his face, giving him more of a five o’clock shadow rather than a bordering-on-homeless look. Rowan was dressed in green leggings and a pink tank top; a black oversized beanie covering up her auburn hair. She opted out of hiking boots, unlike Bucky, and sported a pair of comfortable running shoes instead. To any passersby, they looked like a young couple heading out to go camping for the weekend.

“Don’t judge me, I know its cliché. It’s not my normal choice but it’s the only one that has fuel in it right now. We don’t have time to stop for any until we get out of the city. I’m pretty sure by now Nat will have figured out which home I was talking about last night.” Rowan filled the back seat up with the few duffel bags she had carried downstairs, along with some empty ones. She had planned to find a clothing store on the outskirts of the city for Bucky. The raglan shirt and jeans she had given him were a bit too small. Luckily the boots were on the perfect side of snug for him.

-TTA-

“Got her.” Steve’s head snapped up, blue eyes following Natasha’s voice over to a group of large screens decorating the south wall of the room. They currently showed different angles of a back alleys and brick buildings. The location at the bottom right of the screen read “BUCKTOWN”. A small neighborhood hugging the Kennedy Expressway in Chicago. Steve’s eyes roamed the different camera angles when finally, they landed on two figures walking casually to a garage down a narrow alleyway off of West Webster Avenue.

To anyone else, the couple appeared casually dressed, like they were running errands or going on a trip somewhere, if the duffel bags were any indication. The woman was tall, nearly six foot it looked like, even in running shoes. She had a black, oversized beanie covering her hair. The man was over six foot, wearing a baseball hat with brown hair sticking out the back. His stride was large and his stature was rigid. His head never moved much, but to trained eyes, one could tell he was skillfully scanning the area.

“When Rowan was in the Sector she was on a mission to eradicate a biochemical warfare research facility in Chechnya. The building exploded and her right leg was crushed at the knee. They almost had to replace it with an enhanced prosthetic. It healed most of the way. If you know what to look for you can see that her right leg from the knee down swings out just a few degrees wider than her left leg as she puts her foot down, almost like she’s bow-legged.” Natasha rewound the footage of the couple walking from a brick apartment building to a garage a few meters down the gravel alley. Steve looked closely this time. His eyes widened for a moment before narrowing in frustration.

“She lied. God dammit why did she lie to us Natasha?”

“You know she hates when you call her that. And Tony is right Steve, like I told you earlier, there’s probably a legitimate reason for her not coming in with him.”

“He didn’t sign-“

"And you both know how much I hate going to church. Oh and better get a glimpse of them while you can. JARVIS shows that the scrambler Rowan has on her car is about to finish calibrating.” Tony turned, posture casual once again, and walked out the metal framed door. Natasha slammed her fist on the desk as all the camera angles turned to black screens. Steve fell into a chair and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.

-TTA-

“Faith, South Dakota. After we load up on supplies we’ll head out to the Cheyenne River Reservation. I figure we camp out there for a couple weeks then head up to Vancouver. I’ve got a safe house up there no one knows about. We can grab my other passports and have some made for you. Then Juneau to a charter plane that will take us to St. Lawrence Island and last but not least I’ve got a friend who owes me a favor. He said he can get us as far west as Japan. We’ll have to figure out the rest of the plan from there. It’s the third of April. I figure by the end of this month we should be touching down in Japan. That should be enough time for them to already do a big sweep overseas.” Bucky was impressed by how in depth Rowan had already planned their travel. He still had a few concerns though.

“Won’t they be searching everywhere until they find us? If Steve is still the same as I remember, he won’t stop.”

“Why are we camping out in South Dakota for half the month? Why don’t we just get out now while we have them scrambled?” Bucky figured she was going to answer the same way his own thought process was heading, but he just wanted to see how aligned their thinking was. His brain was still itching every time he tried to think too hard about how familiar Rowan was. He was getting better at ignoring the alarm going off in his head when he saw her face, though he still wasn’t confident that was the best thing to do.

“Barnes, seriously? I know you know why I’m doing this. Is this some sort of trust test? Wouldn’t it be more entertaining to do some trust fall exercises instead? I promise I won’t drop you.” The teasing in her voice deepened her accent. It was a pleasant sound Bucky decided; not like some of the other women’s voices he recalled from his time in HYDRA. The thicker accent and her playful banter lightened his mood. Rowan eyed him. From this view she could see the edges of his eyes crinkling up ever so slightly; a tell-tale sign that he was about to let out a smile.

“Letting you drive is enough trust testing I can handle for any twenty four hour period.” Bucky rubbed his chin with his flesh hand. The crinkles moved from his eyes to his forehead.

“Hey! I’m an excellent driver.” Rowan took her eyes completely off the road when Bucky didn’t have a response. She had been trying to come off as less edgy than she was accused of being in the past. Sometimes she got too into the mission on hand. She kept reminding herself this wasn’t technically a mission or a job. She was helping someone. When her emerald eyes met the downcast face of Bucky she turned off the radio. He was glaring at his left hand, rubbing his fingers from his right hand over the silver palm.

“Close your eyes. Go on, we haven’t got all day you spoon.” Bucky raised a thick eyebrow at the odd insult before closing his eyes slowly.

“Take a deep breath. There you go. Just relax.” She released his right hand from hers and it dropped softly to his side. She only held his left hand. It was a weird sensation. He could feel her hand, the warmth. It was a little sticky with sweat. He grasped it and ran his thumb over her palm; softly at first, then a bit harder. He could almost feel the creases in her hands. He felt where the ridges from the plates caught on Rowan’s callouses running along her palm and fingers, hard from years of action, like his remaining flesh hand.

“See, you can feel. It’s not your mind playing tricks on you. I reviewed all your files. They connected your nerves to different parts of the arm. It’s pretty much your own, just a different color... And material I suppose, but that’s all semantics. Personally I think you pull off silver over gold any day.” Bucky looked up at Rowan’s teasing voice. Her eyes were bright in the mid-morning sun. Her auburn hair fell over the right side of her face, she brushed it back and outstretched her hand to Bucky’s own. He took it with his left, the urge to try to feel everything with it stronger now. Rowan pulled Bucky up swiftly from his kneeling position and let go as he brushed dirt off his knees.

They walked silently back through the small wooded patch in a content silence. Rowan was staring ahead, in deep thought it seemed. Bucky wondered what she could be thinking about. Did she still not know if going all over the world with him until he regained his memories was the best idea? If she didn’t, he couldn’t argue with her. He didn’t even think it was a good idea. He was still on the fence about it himself. She seemed like she had good intentions, and she claimed to be a friend of Steve’s. Something he wasn’t entirely sure of, Steve and Rowan didn’t seem compatible. Steve was a straight-laced guy. Rowan seemed a little… off the deep end on some matters. But people changed. Last time he remembers interacting with Steve he was a bit edgier.

Bucky shook his head. He was starting to get a headache from all this thinking. He closed his eyes briefly as he walked, the warmth radiating off Rowan half guiding him through the small trees. He heard birds chirping, Rowan’s leggings making a soft swooshing sound as her thighs brushed against each other as she took otherwise silent steps next to him; a little further off he could hear the droning of the cars and trucks zooming down the interstate. How simple their lives must be compared to his. He wondered how that would feel; worrying about mundane things like how much it would be to fix the car, what to make for supper, how much the next doctor’s office trip would run him. He also heard a low male voice coming from their twelve o’clock. It seemed Rowan caught it a few moments after him.

Rowan looked towards Bucky, semi-alarm running along her features. There was no way any cameras pinged their location. No way would she or Bucky not have noticed someone following them. And while she was sure every agent of SHIELD, HYDRA, FBI, CIA, or any other flavor of government agency had been alerted to Bucky’s status, she doubted they’d have people actively driving cross country looking for them. The only person besides herself and Bucky who knew about the Camaro was Tony Stark. He’d helped her rebuild the engine a few years ago on a slow weekend.

Bucky rounded the corner first, putting himself in front of Rowan. Instinct he supposed, though he didn’t think it was from his Winter Soldier days. Rowan poked her head around Bucky’s shoulder, not having to reach much at all, already being almost his height already. They saw two men walking around the Camaro, trying to nonchalantly peek inside. Bucky assumed the black Jeep Cherokee idling in park next to the Camaro was what they pulled in on. The two men, who looked to be in their late twenties, wore dark hoodies, with beanies pulled tight over their heads. One had a handgun tucked into the back waistband on his jeans and the other had one on the side of his right hip, tucked into a holster, hoodie doing a poor job of concealing it.

Bucky rolled his shoulders and grabbed for the glock he had secured under the waistband of his pants. Gripping the gun with his right hand, the gears of his left arm whirred lowly as it calibrated, something he figured happened when he told his arm to flex when he was preparing for a fight. Rowan laid a firm hand on his forearm, effectively stopping him from charging the two men. She put a slender finger to her lips before she motioned for them to keep listening and watch them. Bucky took a deep breath and let it out quietly through his lips. He tried to stop the shaking throughout his hands.

“You sure it’s just been sitting here? No one has been here?”

“Shit, okay let’s hurry then.” Rowan and Bucky exchanged a relieved look. Weight seemed to be lifted from both their shoulders as they realized the two men were merely low life car-jackers. No special agents from either side of the law coming to get them, yet at least. The day was young. Rowan pulled her fob out of the small pocket from the inside waistband of her leggings and hit a button. A loud, shrill alarm went off. Both men threw their hands over their ears and turned around quickly. Rowan stopped Bucky from coming out of the woods.

“Your face is all over social media and the news. I can handle these guys. I won’t even need your gun.” She winked his way then stepped out, conveying the posture of a scared woman. The men grabbed their guns when they noticed Rowan all alone. She didn’t even give them a chance to put their fingers on the trigger before she pressed the fourth button on the key fob. One Bucky hadn’t seen her press yet. A light blue surge of energy exploded from the undercarriage of the Camaro, knocking both men to their feet. Rowan turned slightly and motioned for Bucky to come forward. As he drew nearer he made the assumption that both men were unconscious.

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” Truth was, he was itching for a fight. His body was shaking slightly, his head on fire. It was almost as if he could physically feel the painful urge to end those men’s lives. He was ashamed of himself. He wasn’t on the battle field, this wasn’t a professionally trained operative coming to kill him. This was an every-day petty crime event. Childs play compared to some of the things he was used to being around.

“Rowan, I… something’s wr-“ He tried to finish his sentence but everything went black.

#marvel #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x oc #Bucky Barnes oc #The Winter Soldier #James Buchanan Barnes #2ptonpt #This Time Around #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #avengers #Captain America #James Barnes #SHIELD #Rowan OConnor #Chapter 3 #Civil War

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braindamageforbeginners · 5 years

Text

more FAQ

Cycle 10, Day 13

So, I spent this morning hanging out writer-y people and I was asked such a good question, I thought I’d use it as another FAQ. As always, I can only answer for myself on these things, ask a physician or real grown-up if you have any doubts. And to all my friends and family who think I’d use a blog to update my health status if things go bad - that’s what Instagram is for, people.

Q: What will my cancer treatment be like?

A; Exceptionally and amazingly unpleasant, I should imagine. Even though I don’t really like the whole “warfare/warrior” metaphor, there is one useful thing about it. I’ve heard from enough combat veterans - in various ways and media that, no matter how well it’s described, surviving modern warfare is indescribable to anyone who doesn’t have prior experience. Same goes here - until you survive a terminal illness, or get that fatal phone call, you really don’t know what it’ll be like, no matter how good I am at describing it. All I can tell you with any certainty is that you will have to develop a completely unassailable faith that you will outlast this thing. From that, you can get start developing the sort of pig-headed stubbornness you’re going to need to win this thing and carve out some sort of normal life. Having said that, I’d also say that you might have to modify your life and life goals, like Data in the game Strategema, in the immortal Trek episode “Peak Performance,” when he (Data) successfully challenges the annoying bureaucrat/ambassador caricature to a rematch: “ I was playing for a standoff, a draw. While Kolrami was dedicated to winning, I was able to pass up obvious avenues of advancement, then settle for a balance. Theoretically, I should be able to challenge him indefinitely. ” It sucks that you might have to put your life on hold in a potentially-never-ending stand-off with a disease, And I’m not going to argue that life is worth living - that’s your decision, and there are potential long-term constraints to my survival that I wouldn’t consider acceptable, but you might. Also, keep in mind, that same episode has the line, “ It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life. “ These are dangerous diseases - deadly if mistreated or mishandled, and frequently deadly even with the bestest care. You’re going to have to see those sort of statistics like “90% fatality rate” and say, “Fuck that, I’ll take those odds, someone hold my seat while I get a drink.” Of course, it’s easy to say that now. However, more to the point of the question, I’ve had a multicourse treatment starting with neurosurgery, then radiation and chemo, and maintenance chemo. After each step, you’re likely to get a week or two off to recover before your doctors review the results, and clear you for the next step. Treasure those weeks off, they might be your only progression-free moments where it looks like you’re on the upswing. And remember, the phrase, “I would recommend more treatment” is a good thing. Cancer patients only get sent three places: home, the hospital, or the hospice. More treatment and hospitals are bad, expensive, and dangerous, but they beat the hell out of 33% of the options.In my case - in the case of most chronic cancer patients - I’m not wild about five years of chemo, but it does beat the alternatives. When our post-Mastodon species talks about “killer instinct,” it’s usually in some unhelpful motivational seminar. No one talks about it for what it really is - coldly, and grimly doing whatever is necessary to outlast your enemy, which, in this case, is a rogue bit of you. Nietzsche talked about “will to power,” and it’s been used in conjunction with some horrific rhetoric and movements, but I’d advise you to embrace it if it’s the only way to get home again. However, my treatment has been: 1. Neurosurgery 2. 4 weeks off 3. Initial chemoradiation for 6 weeks (that’s brutal) 4, a few weeks off 5. maintenance chemo consisting of 5 days of Temodar and three marizomib infusions 6, ?

Q: Do you ready things about your disease differently than you do other biomedical studies and/or literature?

A. Oh, fuck, yes. I once read that the tell-tale sign of privilege is ignorance (about their privilege and those in a harder circumstances)(which, as someone who’s had a few of those permanently revoked - there was a time when the words “third floor” didn’t have me looking for an elevator)(still, a limp and/or ankle braces definitely beats that horrifying walker). In the same way, an ability to classify knowledge as “academic” is a sign of intellectual privilege (or complacence, which is the next step of privilege). I am absurdly invested in anything I read about GBM. Or cancer. Like, I understand - and kind of agree with - the old rule about not allowing physicians to treat their family members. You’re not going to exhibit the same degree of clarity and judgment. Same thing for me - I’m nigh-immortal on my good days (or with a morale boost), and, potentially dead on the bad ones. It’s exhausing, but, at the same time, i don’t know why we exhibit such disinterest in other areas (Ladies, I’m still single). You are either 1000% focused and committed, or not a all. You know what doctors call cancer patients who successfully complete half of their required treatment before giving up? “Dead.” There’s a good chance you’ll die, anyway, not committing to a treatment course once you’ve started is just a very expensive form of lengthy suicide. Additionally, even though I still use clinicaltrials.org and PubMed as my primary-source services on such things, I’m not as interested as I used to be. Don’t get me wrong, I am still absolutely interested in any new developments in my disease or treatment plan - I literally spent a few hours every week on those sites, but, in August, after John McCain died - from the same disease - and GBM treatment studies went from a few dozen on the FDA page to hundreds - I really started to believe - still do - that If I can just live long enough, healthily enough, science will catch up with me.

Additionally, there aren’t many cases of brain cancer of any sort, so you have to take a less methodical, statistical approach, and start looking at the outliers. I call this the Jack Lallane vs biochemistry approach. Stick with me. So, many years ago, a biochem professor in grad school pointed out that, according to the studies, there was no benefit to the sort of excessive protein consumption promoted by body builders, athletes, and other healthy-looking people. I probably should have realized this was coming from a 5′ middle-aged British man who looked the part, and taken it with a grain of salt. At a friend’s encouragement, I did start taking the supplements and what-not, and, as it turns out, further investigation and research showed that protein doesn’t promote muscle growth, unless it’s consumed within an hour of the workout. This is one of those cases where having incomplete information - as my professor did, as eventual research showed - is actually worse than ignorance. To that end, even though I try to keep current on research and development on GBM, I’m less interested in conventional wisdom and studies, and more on what the statistical outliers suggest. This is not to suggest for a minute that you will be better-informed than researchers - again, when the Warlocks or Mad Scientist say “No,” I usually take them at their word. But GBM research is a very weird and strange area of cancer research (again, it was nigh-impossible to find physicians who would agree to treat the disease as aggressively as they could; so we’re talking about a cancer that’s only been formally studied by epidiomology and science for 20-odd years), so I’ve gone with trying to track down data on those few outliers who outlived the 14-24 month life expectancy (also, good news, a recent study showed that almost 30% of us live for at least two years post-diagnosis), and figuring out how they did it. So far - and this is useful - the major commonalities are that they did successfully get a medical team to take them seriously, treat them aggressively, and they survived the treatment, which is still almost as-likely to kill you as the disease. They all also stressed the importance of “complementary medicine” in addition to the real stuff. So, again, full disclosure, I am not a fan of “alternative medicine,” which is when you get the unproven or unstudied stuff instead of traditional Western Medicine, but I am a massive fan of “complementary medicine” which is when you use the freaky stuff in addition to the established, standard stuff (and a crazy hallucinogenic, experimental chemo trial would qualify, I think). “Eating healthy” and “staying psychotically active” are also included in that category. We can talk about fad diets and nutrition, but, again, just going old-school Jack Lallane, I try to get 7-10 servings of raw fruits and vegetables (I really don’t think the “raw” part is very important, but it would take time and energy to cook them, and I’d rather that go into writing or research)(which reminds me, I have to look into photo enhancement/editing techniques this week). “Coffee” is also not on anyone’s nutritionally-recommended list, which makes me ponder how those researchers survived their patients. And such things aren’t studied by most researchers; I don’t think that’s because there’s any insidious pharmacy conspiracy, I just think it’s hard to find qualified patients (again, the rules governing these things are usually established by human rights laws and treaties, add the various dos and don’ts of a clinical trial selection into you reach anothe order of magnitude for cost and lack of returns), and, in many cases, there’s no need to reinvent the wheel. With one notable exception. In addition to being a massive fan of fitness and nutrition as a way to keep healthy and vital enough to convince your physicians to douse you in Agent Orange, I’ve also become a major proponent of medical marijuana. Again, not because it’ll cure cancer, but because it’s better at treating some of the nastier side-effects than established pharmaceuticals (and it’s telling that the shift comes just as a lot of lawmakers and pharmaceutical giants start divesting themselves of standard stuff and invest in medical marijuana development and research). And what I didn’t know at the beginning, that I wished I did now, is that the side-effects and problem stack up in standard chemoradiation. It was harder to drag myself to the infusion center on Cycle 9 than Cycle 5. But I was there.

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